He flipped his hand over, revealing a black satin eye mask. “Tie this on.”
She laughed. “Please tell me you did not come expecting?” She plucked it from his hand and held it up by a string, but she couldn’t deny she’d hoped that by lying down in such an open and exposed section of the garden she might entice him to come out and join her, and maybe even initiate an encounter, exactly as he was doing.
Yes, the siren in her had instigated the entire scenario.
His smile slipped, turning from jovial to predatory. The gleam of sexual need winked at her from the depths of his golden amber eyes. His animal was ready to play. Shaking with nerves and anticipation, she quickly tied the mask on.
Immediately his scent of sulfur and smoked cherries surrounded her, and for a brief minute she wondered if that was her kryptonite. Smoked cherries, peaty whiskey, and cloves, because anytime she smelled it on him it drove her absolutely wild.
Then she yelped, because powerful hands were scooping her up.
“Today I will taste you as I’ve dreamt of doing since my fingers had you by the fire.”
“Good heavens.” What a horribly silly thing to say and she might have even been mortified, except that his skilled hands were already jerking at her pale green day dress.
“Lift your arms,” he ordered.
Shoving them high into the air, she moaned when he shucked her gown off her. The breeze kissed her naked flesh and the fact that she could not see him, but he could see all of her, made her feel wicked and naughty and completely turned on.
He laughed. “You’re a siren true.” His heated words feathered along the curve of her neck and her body flared to life as he traced the line between her breasts.
Moaning at the exquisite sensations he brought out in her, she dug her fingers into his biceps.
“What are you going to do to me today?” Her excitement echoed through her breathlessness.
She didn’t have to wait long to figure it out. She was shoved roughly against the tree trunk. The bark bit into her flesh and it was a delicious mix of pain and pleasure.
“You like that, don’t you?” he asked between nips at her collarbone.
Shaking, she clung to him for dear life as her world tilted on its axis. His silky wet tongue glided along her flesh, made her ache and her blood sing.
Large, hot hands traced the swells of her breasts and she grunted, twisting her face to the side, wishing she could toss the mask off and look at her lover as he now looked at her.
But she could imagine what he looked like. Ebony skin gleaming in the hot sun, glowing red eyes, and that sensual, smoldering look of his that made her wet the moment he turned to her.
“Rose-tipped nipples. Gods, woman,” he said breathlessly, and then his mouth was upon her and she cried out, digging her nails into his scalp, demanding he stay where he was and worship her.
She’d never allowed another to touch her this way. To hold her, to caress the intimate flesh of her body. Cold and hot, nerves a riotous explosion of too much and not enough, his touch consumed her.
His teeth scraped and she cried out at the shocking flare of pain that was quickly soothed away by his wet tongue and warm kisses.
“I’ve studied you too.” His words were gentle, even while his touch was not. His hand was kneading her other breast and she couldn’t help but thrust into it, wanting more and more.
“And what have you discovered?” she ground out.
Then his lips were on her, teasing around the hardened tip, and she whimpered, clamping onto her lip with such force she almost broke skin.
“That a siren”—he licked at her nipple like it was a treat and as he did so, his palm cupped her lower stomach, his fingers dancing right above her aching, wet center—“likes it hard, and rough, and fast, and just a little bit—”
He slipped one finger inside her, and a throaty, full-bodied moan exploded from her throat.
“Dangerous.”
She was fully alive. A creature of touch, of sensation, she wasn’t Shayera in this moment. She was her siren, an animal ruled by her passions, by her baser and most elemental need.
Sex.
“Above you is a tree limb. Grab it.”
She obeyed without compunction.
He moved away from her, dropping his hands, but even in total darkness she felt his gaze burn through her. “Do you have any idea what you look like right now?”
Digging her fingers into the rough bark, she could only imagine. Pale, naked, with her red frizzy hair whipping like charmed cobras around her head.
“Tell me,” she whispered.
“Like a vision.” She heard his smile, the awe of his words, and could not understand it.
She was just Shayera. A troublesome little redheaded hermit.
“Spread your legs for me.”
Shivering, and not from cold, she parted her thighs and then trembled when his finger ran along her wet slit.