Happy to be rid of the thing, I tossed my crown next to hers. She reached up, combing her fingers through my hair that spilled down, arranging it over my shoulders. “I like your hair,” she murmured. “I like it like this.”
I risked touching hers, as I’d longed to do all evening, sliding my fingers down one long lock. “I like yours,” I replied. “Is this your natural color?”
She smiled a little and shook her head, reaching for the chain holding my cloak on. “This has to be hot.” It gave, then fell, sliding down. Her fingers trailed down, too, wandering over my shoulders, smoothing the silk over it, as if testing the texture. She reached the belt holding the sword and my bagiroca. “Perhaps it’s safe to go unarmed now?”
“With you in the room? Doubtful.” My wry remark made her laugh, and she undid the buckle, lifting the bagiroca with a surprised lift of her brows.
“What’s in this—rocks?” she teased.
“Yes, rocks.” I undid the thong and showed her. “Some from the mines. Others from places I conquered.”
She considered me. “And then you swing it to smite your enemies.”
“It’s a good weapon. Simple. I like my rock hammer, too. The sword is for show.”
“Though you can use it.”
“Well enough to get the job done.”
She cocked her head, an odd smile on her lips. “You’re an interesting man, Conrí.”
“Is that good?”
“I think so. I hate being bored.”
I laughed a little, though it came out choked. “I’ll try not to bore you.”
Reaching up, she began undoing the ties on my shirt, working her way down and spreading open the silk. I shrugged out of the sleeves and tossed it aside. She smoothed her hands over my chest and shoulders, exploring. Her touch roused me further, impossible as I thought that could be, my cock straining against my pants. When she met my eyes, hers were lustrous and gray as smoke in the candlelight. “Touch me, Con. I want that, too.”
I put my hands on her smooth shoulders, her skin even softer than the Calanthe silks, smoother than anything I’d ever touched. Her eyes drifted closed and she trembled. “My hands are rough,” I said, realizing how they must feel to her.
“Yes,” she agreed, pink tongue darting out to lick her lips. “I like it. More. Touch me more.”
That broke through whatever paralysis had held me back. Without conscious choice, I seized her tantalizing breasts, filling my hands with their luscious beauty. She arched like a drawn bow, throwing her head back and digging her nails into my shoulders as she cried out.
“Sorry, sorry,” I muttered, though I seemed unable to let go of her now that I was touching. I tried to back off, to be gentle.
She groaned, pushing into my hands. “No,” she gasped. “It’s good. So good.”
Needing no more encouragement, I rolled her nipples, fascinated by their hardness compared with the plump flesh of her breasts—and then rapt by the way she undulated, her face contorted in a combination of pleasure and pain.
“Is this right?” I swallowed my pride to ask.
“Just follow your instincts, warrior man,” she answered on a moan. “You’re doing just fine.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.” I stilled my hands, images of things I’d seen men do filling my mind.
“Con.” Lia had my face in her hands, holding me so I’d look into her eyes. Which were full of a compassion I hadn’t expected. Also a reflection of the same heat driving me. Far from cold. “You’re not hurting me. I’ll say so if you do. This is us, you and me. And it’s good.”
She wore those shoes with the spiky heels that made her taller, so she only had to lean up a bit to find my mouth. Kissing me, she slid her hands behind my neck, drawing me down and into the sweet, hot redolence of her scent and flavor. My hands, still on her gorgeous breasts, moved again, making her pant and squirm. She pushed into them. “Use your mouth,” she whispered.
I used my mouth on her throat first, trailing along the swanlike length of it, the powdery flavor of her makeup like another perfume. She made gasping, mewing sounds—nothing of the regal queen in them, only needy woman—that drew me on. Holding her by the waist as she bowed back over my hands, I found her nipple with my lips, kissing, then sucking.
She writhed, holding on to my shoulders with a fierce grip, nearly sobbing in pleasure. “Good. Yes. Good.” She chanted the words in between incoherent cries, as if she knew I needed to hear them.
“How do I get you out of this?” I growled, plucking at the intricate metal that encased her ribs.
She laughed throatily and turned in my hands, holding her hair aside. “There’s clasps, like on a necklace,” she said. “But if we can’t find them, you can cut it off me. Or just lift the skirt and leave it for my ladies to undo.”
“I can do it,” I said. After the extended tease, I was done with tantalizing glimpses. I wanted all of her skin, all of her naked. Finding the fastenings now that I could see them, I undid them easily. The bodice gave way, peeling off her and leaving its imprint behind. Following the slow slide of the threads, I eased the gown over the sweet curve of her hips, letting it fall down her thighs to pool at her feet.
Her skin gleamed in the candlelight, a pale glow. In an entranced state of wonder, I traced the lines of the small of her back, the flare of her hips, the sweet dimples at the top curves of her enticing buttocks. I pressed a kiss to the deepest curve of her back, centered at the narrowest point of her hips, delighting in the texture and shape of her.
In that gallery of art, there’d been countless paintings and sculptures of naked women, and I understood the impulse now to re-create that pure beauty. If I’d had the least bit of artistry in me, I would’ve wanted to paint and mold its likeness, too.
As it was, I could only celebrate the reality, the sensuous flesh of a woman. I kissed and tasted her skin, the urgent hunger demanding more and more. She moaned, writhing against my grip on her hips, her hair swinging around to veil the delicious view of her naked ass.
“Bend over,” I told her.
With a shudder, she complied, laying herself over the desk she’d been working at earlier. She still had on the tall shoes, so her ass rode high in the air, a clear signal. I hadn’t done this, but I’d seen it done—by animals, too—and figured if the base soldiers and hound dogs could find their way, I could, too. I pushed her hair aside, exposing her again. “Spread your legs.”
Oh yeah. Her sex opened, layers of it unfurling like one of her orchids, all shades of pink warmed by the golden candlelight.
I ripped at the laces on my trousers, tearing the unfamiliar clasps—and groaned at the sweet release of my turgid cock springing free. Holding it, I touched her exposed sex, surprised to find it slick. Surprisingly hot, too. She moaned and wiggled, panting heavily. Trying to be gentle, I prodded, seeking the entrance I knew had to be there.
“Higher,” she gasped.
“Show me.”
She reached between her legs, sliding her fingers through the folds. I almost couldn’t take it, the sight of her delicately jeweled fingernails moving against that intimate female flesh. She dipped a finger into herself. “Here,” she sighed.