A Shadow in the Ember (Flesh and Fire 1)

Mind thick with desire, it took a moment for me to register that he’d stilled. My eyes opened. “Is…is something wrong?”

He gave a small shake of his head. “No. It’s just that I…” He kissed the spot he’d nipped at. “I have never heard my name spoken like that. It’s a strange feeling.”

I skimmed my fingers down his arms, wondering how that could even be possible. “Is it a bad feeling?”

“No. It’s not,” he said, sounding surprised by his admission. I wasn’t sure what to think of that.

But then I was completely lost again as his lips began to move once more, trailing tiny, hot kisses down the line of my throat and over my collarbone. He moved lower and lower until his chin grazed the swell of my breast. My fingers dug into the taut skin of his arms as his cool breath danced over the turgid nub of flesh.

“You know what?” he asked.

“What?” I stared at the top of his dark head, my heart pounding.

“You can call me whatever you like.”

A light laugh spilled out of me. “I’m not sure you really mean that.”

“I do.” His head shifted, and his lashes swept up. Swirling silver eyes locked onto mine. “Anything.”

I couldn’t look away. His gaze held mine as his mouth closed over my breast, drawing the sensitive skin into the recesses of his mouth. I gasped at the shock of the coldness against the heat of my flesh. Another throbbing pulse darted through me as his hair fell forward, sliding over my skin.

He eased off, leaving me breathless. He kissed the space between my breasts. “Wouldn’t want this other one to get lonely.”

I grinned as my head fell back against the damp grass. “Is that the one kind, decent bone in your body rearing its head?”

“Perhaps.” His tongue swirled on the nipple of my other breast. He drew the tingling peak into his mouth, dragging the edge of a fang across it. Another sharp cry left me. “But,” he said, sliding his tongue over the stinging flesh, “I think it’s all the wicked, indecent bones in my body guiding my thoughtfulness.”

I bit my lip as his mouth closed over the skin there once more. The feel of him…it was quite wicked, and then his thumb moved along my inner thigh in slow, maddening circles again, coming so, so close to where a steady ache of need thrummed. I waited and waited, wondering if he would touch me. Hoping that he would. I needed him to, but that thumb, those fingers of his, drifted closer and then away, closer and then away, all while his mouth, lips, and teeth teased my breasts.

Need, wonder, and the intense fire he lit within me flooded every part of me with liquid heat. My patience, never my strong suit, failed.

I slid my hand down the corded muscles of his arm to where his hand remained on my thigh. His wandering thumb stilled, and his fingers splayed wide, grazing the dampness gathering between my thighs. My fingers ran over his.

His head lifted, and my eyes opened to find him staring down at me in a stark, hungry way that sent another wave of shivers through me. “What do you want from me, liessa?”

Something beautiful and powerful…

That’s what I wanted.

His lips parted, revealing the tips of his fangs. “Show me.”

Eyes locked with his and heart thumping, I slid his hand from my thigh to where I throbbed. My hips jerked at the cool touch against my hot, damp skin.

Radiant wisps of eather lashed through the silver of his eyes. “Show me,” he repeated, voice rough as he skimmed one finger along my center. “Show me what you like, and I will give it to you.”

I could barely breathe as I molded my hand to his. Never in my life had I done something like this. But it felt…so natural. So right. And yet so enticingly scandalous. I moved his thumb with mine, drawing those circles around the bundle of nerves. What air I managed to breathe snagged.

“Is that all?” he asked, his voice a dark, sinful drawl. He moved his thumb under mine. “Or is there more you need, liessa? More you like. Show me.”

It was as if his voice carried a compulsion, one I had to obey. But I was in complete control as I pressed one of his long fingers against my softness, into the heat and wetness. I gasped at the feel of his cool finger parting my flesh before sinking slowly into me.

Ash’s gaze left mine then, falling to where our hands were joined. His chest rose sharply as he watched me—as he watched us as we moved his finger, working it deeper and deeper. And still he watched as I lifted my hips, moving against his fingers and his hand. He didn’t look away. He didn’t even blink when I pressed in another of his fingers, piercing my flesh with it. I didn’t think he breathed. I thought maybe we both stopped as his fingers filled me, stretching my flesh until I felt a bite of discomfort followed by a ripple of acute pleasure.