Faery Queen (27 page)

“What are you doing?”

“Waking you up.” His voice sounded raw and husky from sleep and sex. She liked it.

Nipping the sensitive flesh, he grinned. “See? You're awake now.”

“How long did I sleep?”

“Too long.” It didn't feel like too long.

When he'd finally exhausted her in the hot springs, he'd picked her up and carried her back to her bed. After quickly drying her off, he'd set her down and got in behind her, muttering something like, “It's about time you let me in this bed.” Too tired to ask what the hell he meant, and enjoying the feel of his strong arm around her as he drifted to sleep, she instead buried her head in the pillow and quickly dropped off.

Now here he was, dragging that gorgeous body up and over hers, his warm, wet tongue leading the way.

“You taste good.”

“Coming from a dragon, that compliment can be a little scary.”

He nipped one butt cheek, then the other. “Be nice, woman.”

She didn't want to be nice. She wanted to play. Especially since she never had before. At least not in bed. “Why should I be nice?” she teased. “You're not nice.” And my, but she did enjoy that about him.

He kissed her lower back, right where her spine met her hips, then licked at it. “I don't know how,” he murmured against her warm flesh.

“Perhaps I can show you how easy it is to be nice.”

Slowly his eyes lifted to look at her face. “Oh, I think I'd like that,” he breathed out huskily.

She pulled from his grasp, raising herself on her knees while he leaned back, his hands flat on the bed, propping him up.

Turning, she moved to his side and placed her hand on his chest. She stroked the hard, smooth skin and marveled at how her merest touch caused ripples across his body. And that was only with her hand.

Leaning forward, she used the tip of her tongue to tickle one nipple. He let out a harsh gasp, followed by a moan when she suckled him into her mouth. She slid her mouth to the other side and did the same. He shuddered and moaned again, making Talaith smile.

Who knew she had this kind of power?

Talaith slid her hand down his chest and her lips and tongue followed. Before she even reached his straining erection, he'd lifted his hips as if expecting her to take him in her mouth. Her arrogant dragon.

Instead, she licked it from base to tip and back again. Then she followed the pulsating veins, avoiding the head except to occasionally tickle it with her nose.

“Talaith,” he groaned.

“Aye?” Her tongue slithered up the underside of his shaft.

“Don't torture me, woman.”

“Torture you? Me? The weak human torturing a dragon of such awesome power and intellect?”

He grinned at her teasing. “Yes, evil witch. You're torturing me. At least have the decency to admit it.”

“I'll admit nothing.”

“So I noticed,” he muttered while his eyes watched her every move.

She ignored his comment, unwilling to ruin the good mood with the reality of her situation. She had no idea how long before the goddess came for her, and she didn't want to waste a second thinking about anything but him and how he made her feel.

Talaith wrapped her hand around the base of his shaft, marveling at its length and width while enjoying the taste of it, of him. She licked fluid off the tip, teasing the slit with the tip of her tongue, forcing another broken moan from him.

His hand slid into her hair, massaging the back of her head with his long fingers. “Talaith…”

“Mhmm?”

He growled and she fought her desire to laugh.

“Stop teasing me, wench. You're being heartless.”

“I find using the word ‘please' quite effective at these moments.” She nipped the base and his body jerked in response. “Begging would be even better.”

When he didn't answer, she glanced up to find him staring off, frowning.

Leaning back a bit, she stared at him. “Gods, you've never said please, have you?”

“I'm thinking.” He was silent for a few more seconds, then… “No. I never have.” He looked down at her, one eyebrow raised. “And I don't plan to start now.”

Anyone else—king or peasant, husband or child—she'd feel insulted. Yet she wasn't because she knew he wasn't being cruel or cold hearted. Just a dragon who never had to say “please” and “sorry” before. And if she thought for one moment she would end up spending the rest of her life with him, she'd have some real concerns.

Since that wouldn't happen, as he'd reminded her the day before, she wouldn't worry.

“That's a real shame, dragon.” She ran her tongue across the tip, blew on the wetness she left behind. “Because without it…” Her open mouth hovered over his shaft for several seconds and she could hear him swallow in desperation, anticipating her sucking him into his next life. Instead of doing that, she snapped her mouth shut. “I can't help you.”

“You evil—”

“Ah, ah, ah.
You
be nice.”

Snarling, his hand still tangled in her hair, he pulled her close then pushed her onto her back. He lay across her, his mouth claiming hers.

Wicked, wicked thoughts flowed through her brain while Briec's hands moved across her body, his tongue thrusting against hers.

She moaned and writhed under him, and he pulled back just enough to say, “We both know I can make you beg long before me, sweet Talaith.”

“My, my, we are…” she arched into his body as one of his hands slid between her thighs, “…sure of ourselves.”

“It's a gift.”

“A gift for you. A curse for the rest of us.”

He smiled as he teased her hard nipple with his tongue. Digging her hands into his hair, she silently urged him to take it into his mouth, but he only chuckled, opting to blow on it instead.

Bastard!

Will this Elven warlord be conquered by lust?

 

Lords of Ch'i

(c) 2006 Ciar Cullen

 

Cast out by an usurper to her clan's throne, warrior Silver SanMartin throws herself at the mercy of her compelling enemy, Jet Atraud. The sexy warlord rules his Elven clan with an iron fist, but Silver finds she lords some power of her own. Jet can't keep his eyes—or his hands—off his lovely captive.

 

In a battle to gain self-control and maintain his ten-year oath of celibacy, Jet tries to focus on the task at hand—conquering the enemy clans. Despite his strong will and best intentions, Jet cannot ignore his growing love for Silver. But can a sworn enemy be trusted?

 

Enjoy this excerpt from
Lords of Ch'i:

Silver looked up again, and a shock of electricity ran through her at Jet's intense stare. He looked from her eyes to her lips, and let his gaze wander to her breasts, pushed high by her gown. His eyes burned as she he assaulted her senses.

“You're rather strong-willed, Silver. I don't buy your apology for a second. And I think I rather fancy that about you. You'll make a good bodyguard. What do you think of the gown? It's been in my family for many generations.”

“Lord?”

“Yes?” He continued his sexual appraisal of her and her breathing quickened in longing. She let her gaze wander down his smooth stomach to his rigid cock, straining against the black silk wrap.
Surely he can hear my heart, it's so loud
.

“Do you like what you see, Silver? You can't seem to pull your gaze away for long. Do you know the whole time we've spoken, the whole time you've cried over the conflict and your brother, you've filled the room with your lust. You've stared at my mouth and my chest, my stomach, wondering how it would feel, how it would be between us. Am I wrong?”

“You are quite wrong, Lord.”

He laughed a little and motioned her to come closer. “I'd like a closer look at you in my ancestor's garb. You must admit, it suits your figure, which is…” Jetre took in a quick breath. “Adequate.”

“Adequate? My figure is adequate? Why are we discussing my body? Your oath, your…”

“Have I broken my oath, Silver?” He worked his fingertips from her collarbone across the swell of her breasts. His touch blazed a fiery trail across her skin and his energy seeped into her veins.
Which burns
, she wondered—
the touch of an elf or the touch of a lord
? He slowly unfastened the clasps of her dress until he exposed her breasts. His calloused fingers and palms brushed across her skin like a kiss as he cupped one breast in each hand. His moan stirred her to quivering. He caressed her as if he'd found a priceless treasure he'd sought for a lifetime. Silver fought the sensations he evoked, but surrendered and cried out when he rubbed his thumbs on her nipples.

“Jetre.”

“Yes?” He continued his slow circles. “You find this unpleasant? Should I stop?” Jetre looked at her from beneath his dark lashes as he leaned in to suckle on one breast. His hot mouth assaulted her senses, his tongue darting across her nipple, his lips pulling and pinching. A low groaning sound came from far away, and Silver realized in shock it was her moan, her lust filling the air. She laced her hands in an errant strand of his luxurious hair and pulled it towards her face, smelling his scent—dark spices and male magic. When he moved to her other breast, the new pleasure sent her to the brink of orgasm, and he kept her hovered there for minutes. He broke away suddenly and looked into her eyes.

Silver panted, aching, throbbing, ready to push him to the ground and assault him. “You're no virgin.”

“How dare you. Do you understand how you insult me, Warrior?”

“I honestly couldn't tell you what I think right now if my life depended upon it.”

Jetre arched a brow. “It will come to you.”

Silver's hands shook at the conflicting, overwhelming emotions consuming her. This man, this gorgeous man, her sworn enemy, now her master—was he seducing her? No, simply playing with his prisoner. No more, certainly. A tiny dagger of regret pierced her heart. Silver shuddered, the memory of his mouth on her still making her tingle, still making her throb and moist and ready.

What I wouldn't give to lay with him, to feel him inside me…
She cursed to herself. Too late, he heard it.

“Tell me, let me hear what you want.” His voice grew low and languid, his eyes nearly hidden beneath his black lashes. “Tell me what kind of lover you imagine me? What draws you? My look? My manner? Or my power?”

All of those. None of those. Don't let him hear any more.
Thoughts poured out, desire and longing overwhelming her, betraying her.

You're the most beautiful creature. Take me now or leave me be. I don't want to feel this way.

“Yes you do.” His voice was such a low whisper Silver thought she might have imagined hearing him speak.

Jet sat up straight, eyes now wide, spell broken. “I'm not one to take advantage of my position with a woman, with anyone. You aren't required to placate me in a sexual way.” Jetre snorted. “Perhaps that's only my ego. I couldn't stand the thought of forcing myself on a woman. I've always assumed no woman would reject me, which is quite disturbing. Perhaps you don't want me?”

Silver groaned. “Don't mock me, Lord, you read my thoughts clearly enough. It's bad enough that I've betrayed my kind. Don't make me betray myself.”

Jetre ignored her words and stood, pulling the cord from his hair.

That's his way? Play with me for a moment, send my world reeling, and dismiss me like a scrap of garbage.

“You'll help me dress now, and we will eat and drink with the soldiers and their families. I intend to speak to the crowd of your presence here. Some of it will annoy you, badly, especially when I speak of your brother. Try to show restraint. Understood?”

“Yes, Lord.”

He turned and nodded. “Silver, in private, you may call me Jet. I'm a little less formal than most of the lords.” He held out a finger. “In private, mind you.”

She nodded. “Jet.” She tested the nickname on her tongue.

“One thing.” Jetre turned away again. His voice was quiet and Silver struggled to hear him. “Was it right? Did it feel right, what I did? When I kissed your breasts?”

It was the last question she expected from him, the most amazing thing. The great Lord Jetre, wondering if he had given her any pleasure.
How to answer him?

“Because my ten years end in a matter of days.” He pushed his hand through his hair and laughed at himself. “I don't want it said the oath made the lord incapable. How embarrassing. Is this your nature—to bring out the inner truths of a person?”

“How will I protect you from the women who will storm your quarters when your oath is complete? They'll be more dangerous than Fire and Metal combined against you.”
And how will I bear to watch it?

Jet laughed. “As appealing as that picture might be, I must pick only one. The second part of the deal.” He shrugged.

“I see.” A small knife poked at her heart unexpectedly. No doubt the woman would be Wood and was probably already betrothed to the lord. An elf, of course.

“You didn't answer my question.” Jet toweled down and Silver turned away. From the corner of her eye she saw him step into his dark leather pants and pull on a thin, collarless, long-sleeved, black shirt. He went to the dresser and placed a kohl stick against each eye, blinking and wiping the excess from his cheeks.

“The woman will be quite fortunate, Jet. I hope that satisfies your ego.”

He inclined his head and smiled very subtly. “It does. Might I practice on you again some time?”

Silver closed her eyes. The pain came in very faintly, like the smell of a coming summer rain shower on the breeze. She wanted her sworn enemy, and she meant nothing to him. A plaything, a practice toy.
Well, there are worse fates than being the whore of such a man.