She smiled—a genuine smile, not a seductive one—and stepped back to make room for him. He lunged for her, but his hands were gentle where they settled around her waist. He kept walking forward until he'd pressed her against the washtube wall, every inch of his huge, hard body in contact with her softer one.
"Leti," he rasped.
That was all—just her name. And then he went silent, stroking his large hands over her, as if just discovering the topography of her body for the first time. The washtube filled with water and he kissed her just before it was time to hold their breaths, his lips sealed on hers, as if keeping her safe from drowning. When the water drained and the light spray of scented oil coated their bodies, he stroked her again, rubbing it in. When she attempted to reciprocate, he pinned her wrists above her on the wall and continued his massage.
As his touch warmed her, she forgot about being tired, forgot about the drama and trauma of the night. She knew only Paal. His touch, his beautiful body. Heat coiled in her core and her legs began to tremble. He stroked up her legs, along her inner thighs, but maddeningly avoided her aching pussy.
Releasing her wrists, he slid his hands down her arms, along her sides, over her ass. He knelt in the tiny space and stroked down her legs, even picking up her feet and gently rubbing them, inspecting her wounds.
After he'd set the second foot back on the floor, he hooked his thumbs around her inner thighs and pushed them wider. Then—oh stars—then, he brought his face to her pussy and licked into her.
Although his reverence had been awe-inspiring, and incredibly sweet, she hadn't been sure if she appreciated it more than his rough passion. But she didn't have to choose, because as soon as he got the taste of her, he lost all control. He flung her leg over his shoulder and flattened her ass against the wall, opening her petals for his mouth.
She moaned as he turned feral, penetrating her with his thumb as he sucked and licked her clit, her inner lips. He pushed one well-oiled finger against her back entrance and she flinched, still tender from his ass-fucking during the night.
He stopped and looked up with bright purple eyes. "Too sore, little female?" His voice was soft, not the hard, demanding tones he usually used with her.
She wrapped her fingers around his horns to pull his mouth back on her. "No, Master. I like when you make it hurt."
He treated her to another epic tongue-lashing, but then he slid out from under her leg and stood. "No," he said softly. "I don't want to hurt you, lovely girl. Not tonight—this morning—whenever it
is. I only want to make you feel good."
She bit back the sigh his words produced. Keeping the barriers around her heart with this male was getting near impossible. Especially when he hit open the door to the washtube and swept her up into his arms, carrying her to the sleepdisk. He eased her onto her back.
"Spread for me, beautiful."
She bent her knees up to welcome him and he settled his hips into the cradle of her legs. He let her reach for his cock and guide it into her as their gazes tangled. Locked.
She held her breath, utterly destroyed and rebuilt by the intensity of the moment.
"I'm the lucky one," he murmured as he sank into her.
She arched her back and moaned.
"I didn't have to say goodbye to my female. I get to feel her beneath me one more time. Touch her sweet skin. Savor her taste."
"Paal." Now it was her turn to utter his name without any other reason than to say it. "Paal."
"That's it, beautiful. Say my name when I fill you with every inch of my passion." He rocked deep, with smooth, satisfying strokes. "Say my name when you take it deep."
"Paal." She reached for his horns, squeezing and releasing them.
Her warrior lost control, hammering into her with short, hard thrusts, his muscles bulging in his shoulders and arms.
"So good," she whimpered, matching the squeezing of her fists over his horns to his thrusts.
He roared and buried himself deep inside her, filling her with hot streams of his rainbow essence.
She squeezed her legs around his waist and took him even deeper, allowing herself to fly over the brink into bliss. Her inner muscles squeezed, inner thighs shook as she rubbed her clit down hard on the base of his shaft.
Paal jerked and shook her off his horns with an indulgent smile. "No nails in the horns, pretty girl. They're sensitive."
"I'm sorry," she gasped.
Again he rewarded her with the indulgent smile, his gaze soft and warm. "Don't be. I love to see you go over the edge."
"Paal," she murmured and he lowered himself over her, nuzzled her neck.