of his erection under the lush fabric.
She began to caress him through it, not attempting to push the sides of the robe apart. The silk slid over his hard, heated flesh and he made a sound between a growl and a groan as his teeth closed gently on the vulnerable angle between her neck and shoulder. The gesture was powerfully possessive and the image of a stallion she had once seen mounting a mare, his teeth bared as they closed on the arch of her neck, holding her for his domination, filled her mind with shocking clarity.
But she was no mare to be dominated. One-handed she pulled at the sash and the robe opened. She raked her nails lightly down the flat belly, into the dense tangle of coarse hair, down to touch him with a demand as fierce as his.
The response was instant. His right hand took her nightgown by the neck, twisted, tore it so that it gaped open, and he lifted her, stepped forward so she was trapped between his body and the door. Instinctively Tamsyn curled her legs around his hips, her arms around his neck as he held her there, open to him. She knew she was wet, was ready for him. She had been from the moment her tongue had touched the skin of his throat. With a growl as demanding as his she shifted and lunged, taking him into her in one glorious movement.
Cris made a sound of astonished pleasure and was still, his brow resting against hers, his forearms bracing him against the door on either side of her head. ‘Vixen.’ His voice was rough, naked, powerful and yet vulnerable. She had shaken him. Which was only fair. He had shaken her to her foundations and beyond.
The position was exquisitely, erotically, uncomfortable. The door was unyielding behind her shoulder blades, she had to lock her ankles together, harden her thigh muscles to keep from sliding on the silk that still draped across his hips, and she could scarcely move. It was bliss, but it couldn’t last. Cris was so aroused that he would take them both over the edge in a few powerful thrusts.
He began to move and she realised that she was wrong. He had the strength to move slowly, agonisingly slowly. Tamsyn could feel his muscles lock rigid as she hung on to his shoulders, she could hear the effort of control in his breathing, but he did not break. He was relentless and she could do nothing but let him fill her, pleasure her, drive her insane.
‘Cris…please.’ She had no pride left, all she could do was beg and gasp and strive to break free from the ropes of desire that he was tying tighter and tighter around her.
‘Not…yet.’
‘I can’t.’
‘You will.’ She felt his effort to breathe, to find more words. ‘Look…up.’
‘Why?’ Somehow she lifted her head.
‘I don’t…want…you screaming.’ His lips sealed over hers as he gave one more thrust and the ropes tightened and broke her into a thousand pieces and she screamed into the heat of his mouth and then she was flying, moving through the air, and the aurora burst behind her eyelids.
*
‘Tamsyn.’
She had been flying, so now she was lying on clouds. When she looked down, what would she see? The whole ocean spread out beneath her? She dragged open heavy lids and found her nose was buried in the thick fluffy coverlet, her body sprawled diagonally across the bed. It was an effort to turn her head towards Cris’s voice, but she managed it. He was lying parallel with her, on his back, his hands behind his head.
‘That,’ he said seriously as she blinked at him, ‘was infinitely preferable to having my throat cut.’
It made her choke with laughter, gave her enough energy to roll over and curl up against him. ‘I would hope so.’
‘Are you all right?’ He sat up, giving her an admirable view of his muscles at work, and ran his hand down her back. ‘Have I bruised you?’
‘Don’t know,’ she mumbled, kissing the only part of him that she could without sitting up, which happened to be his right hip bone. ‘Don’t care.’
‘I do not think anyone has ever kissed me there before.’ He sounded lazily content as he flopped back. ‘Do you think you can find anywhere else like that?’
‘I’ve got to do all the work of exploration, have I?’
‘I did all the work just now,’ he said reasonably, as though he was negotiating a deal. The almost-dimple was back at the corner of his mouth.
‘Very well. Lie on your stomach.’
He rolled over obediently. Tamsyn thought for a moment, then got up on her knees, straddled his legs and bent to kiss the tendon that ran up from his heel.
‘That’s one,’ he conceded.
She switched position, leant down and nipped one firm buttock, then soothed the sting with a kiss.
‘No, those have had kisses lavished on them.’
‘Don’t be smug. Just because you have a very superior rump—’
He moved so fast that she was pinned beneath him before she had a chance to retaliate. ‘Is it? Superior?’