He followed the path of her tongue as it darted out to wet both her lips, and then her fingers, as they deftly unbuttoned a part of her shirt, exposing the barest hint of her cleavage.
“Do you have any fetishes?”
Interesting. The heat coiled stronger in his stomach, and he carefully adjusted himself, so if an erection did start popping up, he could hide it. Though a part of him wondered just how she’d react to seeing it. A little bit too enthusiastically. “I wouldn’t say fetishes, exactly, but there are some things I’ve enjoyed. I enjoy, for example, blindfolding. It’s simple, but when you remove a sense, it enhances the others. I like when you have a body underneath you, hot and steaming, placing something cold upon it to get that involuntary shiver out of a person. Maybe swilling cold water in my mouth and then kissing along the skin…”
Her eyes seemed to grow wider and wider as he continued, and he finished off with, “The last one I’ve found interest in is choking someone.”
She seemed to stop breathing for a moment, before saying, “That’s dangerous!”
“That’s the point.” He could tell she was burning with curiosity, perhaps wondering why on earth someone would want to be choked, so he elaborated. “It’s simple. There’s a power dynamic in sex that people enjoy. The person who is submissive enjoys the feeling of having their pleasure, trust, sometimes even life in another person’s hands. They enjoy surrendering. As for the person choking… they become acutely aware of what they’re doing. Knowing the other person has put so much trust in them, knowing they have to pay attention to their partner, to study their reactions. And you have to be careful, too. Always communicate. Always make sure both parties are comfortable. Just lightly press, enough to constrict some of the airflow, but never any harder than that. The intent isn’t to hurt. It can create a euphoric effect in the brain, so I’m told…”
She shook her head, gulping more of the whiskey down, eyes glazed over slightly. “It just – it seems like only something a sick person would do. I mean, aren’t you taking pleasure out of hurting someone else?”
“It’s not about the pain,” Garek said, now shifting his legs up as he imagined Elena putting all her trust into him, whispering heatedly into her ear for him to do anything to her, anything he could possibly think of. His skin rippled with the faint shiver of arousal. “There isn’t pain. And if there is, then it’s being done wrong. But I think it’s more fun with the idea of trust and power. Obviously you don’t just do it. You’d need to talk with your partner first, because self-preservation instincts might ruin the whole thing.”
“Shit,” Elena said softly, those perfect lips of hers parted, so that he could see the glint of her teeth and the wetness of her tongue. “That’s… I’ve never thought about that.”
“Shame,” Garek murmured, but she didn’t seem to hear. A surge of excitement went through him when he saw her eyes flick to his lips, back up to his face, then discreetly peek between his legs, though he’d positioned himself well. That seemed very much like interest, “I’ve got the next question.” He wrestled with himself internally, wondering if he might be reading the atmosphere wrong, before plunging on with, “If I was to kiss you right now, would you hate it?”
Her previously open body language stiffened, and her face went utterly blank. “Um,” she said intelligently. “Pass.”
“Oh, you’ve used up all your chances there,” Garek said, a gleeful smirk on his face. He rubbed his hands together, before taking another glug of drink. Now this was his kind of game. His eyes ran over her body, picking up extra details, and the nervous swallow in her throat.
He wondered just how much further he could push her.
7
Elena
It’s only a game, she thought. Just a game, asking questions. It wasn’t supposed to affect her this way, though maybe part of the blame lay on the gut rot swilling in her stomach.
But right now, a strange, unquenchable fire danced along her veins, as her mind contemplated more and more just throwing all her cautions to the winds, crossing the distance, and straddling Garek. Lust sure was inconvenient at times. Appearing without warning, sending a horrible kind of itch down below and over her skin, warping her thoughts until the curiosity grew into longing.
She also bet that rat-thief bastard knew exactly what kind of effect he had on her, judging by her evasive responses, and the bloom of embarrassment and something else she couldn’t conceal from her cheeks. Couldn’t exactly blame it on the cold weather, either.
“One more question left for me, two for you,” she said, her voice escaping out her lips as a whisper. It’s just a game. Why not just choose to quit it? Easiest option available to her. And Garek’s last two questions might be loaded. Shit. Her mother had warned her off this man. Convinced he was dangerous. That whatever it was between them needed to be quashed. Did she want things to escalate, or to steer them away from dangerous waters? The sensible thing, of course, would be to steer away. The other, slightly more exciting thing meant carrying on and seeing where it inevitably went. Because now that she thought about it, it had been a while since she’d been given any sort of release. Except for maybe a tiny one the other day when she’d been struggling to sleep and he’d quite possibly crossed her mind at one point, in a way that sent an itch throughout her whole body that refused to simmer down until she finally sorted herself out.
Danger or not, she still felt drawn to him all the same. “Mine is… if you could escape from here and get your powers back, join your buddies at the den, but it meant doing something awful to me and the dragon – would you do it?”
Something changed in his demeanor. “Oh, I wouldn’t ask questions I don’t want to hear the answer to, if I were you.”
“Well?” she said. She expected him to say yes. To remind herself that right down to the marrow, he was a thief. A person who exploited others for a living. Like her.
He stared at her with those mesmerizing caramel eyes for a moment, before saying, “Pass.”
“Motherf…” Elena swallowed down the insult and hit her fist against the floor. “I should have known. Of course.”
“You were the one who set the rules, not me,” he said, his voice whiskey-low and raspy. He discreetly dangled one arm in front of himself, covering up his hip area. “Now I get two. Mm… what could I possibly ask you…?”
She waited for him to say his question like a criminal anticipating the executioner’s axe. Meanwhile, her thoughts occasionally darted to what he’d said about his fetishes – all things she hadn’t actually tried in her incredibly vanilla sex life.
“What are you thinking about right now?”
“Really? That’s your question? I hate you,” she replied, taking a rather aggressive swig of the overpowering whiskey, feeling the burn trickle down her throat before deciding she’d rather have her insides intact, and shoved the mostly fill bottle away.
“No you don’t,” he said, and she froze.
No, she hated him. Or… she didn’t.
And that frightened her more than anything else. “If you must know, I was thinking about how much of an annoying ass you are, and how I think that smirk should be punched off your face.”
“I see,” he said, in a tone that suggested he knew perfectly well that what she’d said was a lie. “One more question then. Simple yes or no answer.” He shifted himself slightly, and suddenly, Elena became all too aware that Garek happened to be turned on. Visibly so. Her throat closed up, and her eyes honed on the bulge in his pants. He let out a discreet cough, and that helped to refocus her attention on his handsome face. “I want to take you to bed. Will you let me?”
Elena’s brain had a miniature meltdown at that point, instantly warring between hell no and hell yes. Sensible and irrational. Control and loss of it. Calm versus sweet, shivering desire.
She opened her dried-out mouth, throat unclenching, and uttered one word. “Yes.”
His smile grew wicked. One moment, they’d been suspended in a ki
nd of sacred place, the moment between decisions, actions and consequences, eyes locked on one another, her mouth parting slightly, perhaps to say something else, perhaps to revoke her statement – and the next, he had surged forward, rough and graceless, to press his lips into hers.
Flames seemed to transfer from him directly into her mouth, zipping down her spine in a molten flood to crash between her thighs. Every thought in her mind tumbled out, and her body reacted of its own accord, hands reaching out to meet him, grasping at his neck and hair as he pulled her closer by the waist, his kissing frantic and needy.
Swept up in the current, her lips slid and bumped against his, and behind her closed eyes, she felt like she was seeing the vibrant colors of the universe bursting in them, unable to process the barrage of emotions and tactile contact and breaths, their pants, taste and smell with anything else other than a matching hunger.
Fingers bit into her sides, and she stumbled backwards, in about three steps hitting the back of Garek’s bed. Garek’s initial spark of boldness triggered a similar emotion in her, hands at first clumsy and scratching, growing surer by the second.
Holy fuck. If this was what kissing Garek felt like… just touching him, then anything more might seriously kill her. There was the nausea, burrowing inside her body, the faint tinge of their magic and connection gone wrong, but it was vastly overriden by the burning, crackling passion of two bodies coming together, whipped up in twin tornadoes of rising lust, breaths shortening, brains rippling with need.
“Maybe,” she managed, in a desperate sort of gasp when he drew his lips away long enough to push her onto the bed, “we’re going too fast?”
He dragged his eyes away from the scrutiny of the bare, pale flesh of her throat and pulsepoint, and stared at her with eyes like black holes. “I don’t think we’re going fast enough,” he said, voice low and rough, and god, that voice did things to her. It went right through her bones, and she wanted nothing more than to just drag him close and crush their bodies together, skin to skin.
What about our magic? Isn’t there something wrong with it? It took every ounce of self-control just for her to say, “This could be a huge mistake. We – we don’t know how the broken magic affects us. If – if there’s something more to it that could hurt us...”
Part of her wanted him to nod, agree, and gain the strength to pull himself away from her. The other, less rational part wanted him to go fuck it and continue whatever this was, and wherever it was leading. Because right now, her willpower was at an absolute minimum, and she was very happy to blame the alcohol for it, because admitting she might have wanted this without liquid courage was a little too much to process right now.
Slowly, he crawled over her, taking quiet, deep breaths. “True,” he groused, reluctant to let the word out. “This could be a terrible, terrible mistake...” His mouth pressed against the flesh of her throat, tongue in a heated slide. Tracing the shifting contours of her skin and her rapidly thundering heart. She felt that pulse everywhere, blood rushing in her fingertips, cheeks, behind her eyelids and ears, and certainly in the place where his mouth touched skin. “And believe me, I’d love to be the responsible one, leave you alone, and make the smart decisions. But I’m not feeling very smart right now. Or responsible,” he added in a whisper, and she trembled violently in response.
“Me, either,” she admitted.
Well, fuck.
No one seemed to want to stop this. Any protests, any resistance died in Elena’s chest, and she grasped Garek by the collar of his white cotton shirt, dragging him down on top of her, so that their mouths joined together once more. Every cell in her body was humming, yearning for more contact, more closeness, to get all these damn clothes off. Any trepidation, any gnawing slivers of doubt drowned themselves out with the immediate desire for intimacy. Garek’s spare hand was already ascending Elena’s thigh under her skirt, hungry for skin. The thought of his desire for her flared up her own further, because nothing felt so good as knowing the other person wanted you, when you equally wanted them back.
It was as if their own imaginations, their awareness of the deep, underlying attraction fed off each other until it threatened to burn into a crisp, and he greedily shunted a knee between hers, pressing up into her center, beginning a soft, languid grind on top. She rocked with him, hands traveling everywhere, fingertips dancing beneath his shirt, leaving blazing trails across her skin. A groan rose from deep in her chest, swallowed by his lips upon hers, and the frenzy only grew ever stronger.
More. She needed more. His tongue touched hers and tangled roughly, hot darting movements that had her rising up into him, even though they were already impossibly close.
“Can I –” he began, tugging at her top, and she let out a small growl, shaking it off herself.
“You can take everything off.”
His eyes seemed to go wider at that, and his ragged breaths stopped for one shivering moment, before he did just that. Fingers brushing her skin, lips pressing into not yet explored places upon her neck, behind her ear, as he worked on divesting her of the rest of her clothing. He seemed reluctant to stay away from her for long, and she felt equally reluctant to lose his warmth, or risk quelling the burning passion within, crying out for more, for his touch, for the promised pleasure.
“You like that, yeah?” he whispered, hot air hitting that sweet spot behind her ear, and she moaned in response, yanking his shirt so tight that a button pinged off. “I’ll take that as a confirmation.”
“I’m liking everything you’re doing,” Elena admitted, body swirling with emotion, with bolts of electricity crackling in her stomach and lower, as if all it would take would be the slightest touch to launch her into the stratosphere with bliss.
Jesus. In all her life, all her interactions, less than stellar relationships, and brief forays into the delightful yet messy world of sex, she’d never felt anything like this before. As if his very touch risked her erupting into flames, and if every heartbeat in her was that treacherous organ trying to leap out of her chest and join his. It was everything she’d ever dreamed about, and then some. An elemental, primal force between them that demanded a trade of their bodies and souls.
And just when she thought it couldn’t possibly get better, then his hand slid along her bare skin, finally brushing the underside of one breast, while his leg wedged hard into her center, causing her thigh muscles to quiver, and for her to rock harder against his leg, chasing possible release.
“Not yet,” he rattled harshly, adjusting his leg so that she couldn’t get any more traction against it, instead enjoying the delightful exploration of her body. “I’ve still got plenty to learn… and want to take my time...” His teeth nipped at her ear, before he added, “Because I plan to make you come screaming.”
Oh. Oh. An involuntary gasp left her lips, and her mind not so much processed the words as imagined the sensation of drowning in so much pleasure that she emptied of lungs of air and words, probably enough for people to hear for miles around. If anything, the strange void inside her, the result of the magic castrating her connection, helped enhance the experience. Like they needed something of each other in an attempt to replenish whatever was missing.
Not happy with him wearing clothes, she pinched at them until he got the hint, and parted from her long enough to expose his chest, and leave the shirt and pants as a wad on the ground. He still wore underwear, though she had nothing on now, and she shivered as he took in the length of her body, eyes appreciative, an almost awed gasp bursting out of his lips. Seeing the way he looked at her, like she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen did things. She couldn’t entirely focus under that kind of delightful scrutiny. She took her own examination of his form; starting with his rounded face, high cheekbones and mess of hair framing just past his neat, flattened ears, and those wide, dark and curious eyes which were whirlpools of desire, sucking in her attention. Onto the muscled body, wiry, toned and suited to someone who had practiced thievery and slipp
ing into thin spaces. Her hand reached out to trace a thin scar just below his right shoulder, as if he’d been pierced by an arrow.
“One of the stall merchants didn’t take kindly to a young boy making off with his fruit,” Garek supplied with a wry smile, before dipping his lips to taste along her neck, nipping at the pulsepoint, which elicited a whimper out of her, and a squirm. “But that’s a story for another day. I have something much more interesting in front of me now...”
Her hands continued tracing along his skin, feeling along his arms, mapping the bumps and hairs and smoothness all along there, everything that made him Garek. His strong, earthy scent helped ground her, though her thoughts and any coherent sentences being strung together constantly threatened to elude her.
There was something glorious in the movement, in the brush of their skins together, sending fire and lust through their veins. Something heart stopping about the thought of what they did and what they would do, the anticipation sending her body to a heightened state of excitement. Her breaths came short and fast, as did his, leaving huffs of warmth against her skin as his mouth trailed downward, tongue dabbing at her collarbone, before his lips placed a gentle pressure just below the bone, leaving speckles of purple as a mark.
“Garek,” Elena pleaded, though she wasn’t exactly sure what she was pleading for. Him to stop teasing? Him to keep doing what he was doing? Both options seemed equally viable, equally able to made her giddy with desire.
Her eyes fixed on him when a sudden, stray thought entered her mind. She didn’t want this time to be loving or gentle. She wanted roughness. The flame of two people working out the knots in their system, rather than two people who wanted to take their time. She grasped him by the hair, and he stopped his ministrations near her breast, one eyebrow arched in a silent question.
“I want you to fuck me,” she said, her voice rough and foreign to her ears. “Hard.” She pushed him off her, enough so she could adjust her position. Something hard. Something she could feel the force of, decadent, a little humiliating, but at the same time, filling her with the excitement of surrendering to someone, letting them take what they wanted. She rested herself on her knees, and Garek’s eyes widened, before he seemed to take the hint.
Captured By The Royals Page 9