Ashla reached to touch him, amazed once again to find there wasn’t texture to match what she could see. The white and pink tears in his dark skin were so stark and ugly that they ought to have a thickened feel to match the many, many streaks of pain he had suffered. But his body had healed everything except the disruption of color that showed his history of agony.
“Trace,” she whispered softly, tears rimming her eyes. She leaned forward and kissed the first place of old hurt she could reach. Her arms wrapped around his sides and chest, her palms pressing flat against the crisply curling hair of his pectorals. She continued to rain kisses against the ghosts of the past, pausing only when he took hold of her hand to thread her fingers tightly through his.
Trace’s eyes were sealed closed as he felt her lips and silent tears drifting down the length of his spine. The part of him that couldn’t bear to be touched on his back dissolved away for her. Her pity did not insult him, because he knew exactly how she meant to give it to him. Her desire to heal him turned his heart over in an increasingly tight space. When she stopped to rub her face against him, her tears had gone and she was ready for the next step. He could sense it as strongly as he knew his own mind. He turned to face her, dark eyes rife with grief and reconciliation. There was powerful emotion to be found as he exposed it to her. Then he gathered her up tight and close, seeking her mouth with deep need and the starving strokes of his tongue. He kissed her until she could barely keep her balance; kissed her until she was holding on to his body as if he were there to save her life. She was everything he had needed all these long years of recovery, he thought starkly. Every touch was a balm and a fire; one to soothe, one to burn away the remnants of the evil past.
She aroused him madly, just as she had before, the planes and scope of her soft body just as craved as it had been in Shadowscape. It overran him like wildfire, again that blessed burning that told him he was alive and in need. Trace broke from her mouth by sinking to a single knee, his nose running the entire length of her sweet-smelling body. He couldn’t believe how exotic the real depth of her scent was as it ran over and through him. The disparity in their heights brought him just beneath her breasts, and he instantly framed her between his hands, making an offering of gorgeous pale flesh under maroon silk. He found her easily through the material, her nipples already hard in anticipation of him. He bit at her gently, making her squeak softly in that way he was learning to get seriously turned on by.
The dress she wore was tied to her body in a knot beneath each breast and then together in between. They were small but serviceable ties, and they were also completely at his access.
But first…
Trace slid his hands down her slim sides, shaping her hips and thighs slowly as he distracted her with the flutter of his tongue through damp silk. She buried her hands in his hair, all but demanding he keep his mouth to her breast. She didn’t seem to take note of his hands until she realized they were running quickly up the backs of her legs beneath her skirt. She tried to squirm, but stopped when a nip of his teeth warned her to keep still for him. He looked up, wanting to see her flushed face as his fingers met nothing but bare skin along the curve of her backside. Then he slid his fingers forward over the crests of her hips, enjoying how she shivered and trembled under his simplest touches. He nuzzled her slowly beneath one breast, and then the other, watching her pant for breath and feeling the restless shift of her legs. Just as his thumbs caressed the smooth mound of her sex, his teeth tugged free the last tie between her breasts and the dress slid down onto his arms.
Ashla hadn’t expected to be suddenly naked in his hands, but she was. She was also feeling the combination of his mouth returning to her tender nipple even as his thumbs toyed against her sex, playing with the dampness already present at the very edges of her flesh.
“You’ve removed your hair,” he noticed, sliding a fingertip into the cleft left exposed by her meticulous grooming.
“I…” She flushed, especially when he grinned up at her. They both knew very well why she had taken such special care in grooming herself. She had anticipated being with him again. “Don’t get cocky,” she breathed.
“Never,” he assured her. “Now come down here.”
He swept her dress out of their way, and then coaxed her down onto the floor. The dormitories all had mats covering the polished marble or wood, protecting it from the traffic and the rambunctious students. They were firm enough to walk on with comfort, but softer than perhaps even carpeting. Still, Trace took care as he laid her out before him. He felt as if he had not taken proper time to pay respect to her differences or even to her feminine body in general, and he was going to change that.
Ashla was racked with a continuous little shiver, but he knew that was from the intensity of her arousal and her curiosity over what he was planning. He cupped her knees in his hands and slowly stroked her legs along the insides of her thighs, methodically parting them as he went, until he could go no farther and his hands were framing the exposed heart of her. He simply drank in the sight for a moment, the display of pink flesh glistening with wetness he had inspired. It made his rock-hard cock pulse with randy anticipation. Impatient anticipation. He was bathed in the pure sexual scent of aroused woman, the power it had over him incredible as his heart raced in an effort to fuel the action his body wanted to take so badly.
“You are so magnificent,” he uttered to her as he stared, the words tumbling out of him so roughly and so emotionally, she had no choice but to see the truth of them. She had felt self-conscious up until that very moment, but now Ashla’s entire body relaxed into his guiding touch.
When he didn’t take advantage of her wanton sprawl, she moaned and squirmed with need. Instead, his hands were shaping all the bare swells of warm, smooth skin he could reach. Soon, she realized, there wasn’t a single spot on her body that hadn’t received his erotic attentions. Except the one place that craved him most. Her breasts ached with the stimulation of his caresses, her nipples throbbed with the dipping tugs of his teeth and tongue. Her hips lifted in offering as his hands sculpted them again.
“Tell me what you want,” he said, his low tenor sly and sexy.
“Oh, please,” she gasped.
She meant please don’t make her voice her needs, because of her shyness and self-consciousness, and Trace wasn’t going to stand for that. Not this time. He bent over her and, taking his hands away from her, blew a warm stream of breath against the swollen tip of her clitoris. She caught a spasm through her body, her back arching at the sensation and proving how incredibly sensitive she was.
“Tell me what you want,” he echoed as he turned to kiss and then lick a line of stimulus up the inside of her thigh. The darker undertone of musk in her arousal increased so sharply it was enough to intoxicate senses as sensitive and starved for her as his were.
Suddenly he reached for her and rolled her over before she even realized what was happening. On her stomach now, she had to struggle to see him, but he reached out and turned her head back around, pressing her cheek to the floor.
“If you want to know what I am going to do back here, all you have to do is tell me what you want. Then that is what I will do. And believe me when I say far more than your curiosity will be satisfied.”
She went hot along her skin at the promise, and again at the touch of his mouth against her spine. He bridged himself over her legs and took her hips in his hands, lifting her slightly so her bottom was in the air. He continued his slithery sensual kisses all down her spine until she was leaving a wet puddle on the mat beneath her and he had reached the line where her tailbone met her bottom. She felt him shift his grip until he was spreading her cheeks open for his ongoing progress. Ashla’s heart reacted with panicked eroticism. She was screaming what she wanted in her head, but she couldn’t connect it to her voice. She was afraid of what he was doing just because she wasn’t used to the bold exploration or being the focus of so much attention.
“Trace!” she croaked out a
s his tongue danced in a wicked tease against her.
“Speak,” he beckoned, breathing the word over damp places that fired with unexpected sensitivity.
“I w-want your mouth on me,” she gasped, her face burning as she hid it against the floor.
“My mouth is on you,” he pointed out, reminding her of it with a nip on one buttock.
“Please…”
“Say it, jei li. It’s just you and me here. I want to hear it, and you want to say it. Don’t think and don’t hold back.”
Say it, he begged her against the mind they sometimes shared. His body and psyche were screaming in need for her. His skin was damp with sweat from holding himself in careful, controlled reserve. Not to mention his exploration of her pretty backside had aroused all new hungers as well. But he wanted to untie her reserved tongue, to teach her that she had to tell him everything. Not just about the needs of her body, but all of her needs.
Trace was almost on the edge of a whole different kind of euphoria, and when she hesitated just long enough, he was actually grateful for it. He stole what he wanted, his tongue rimming the dark pink bud of nerves she probably never even realized she had. Humans attached shame and taboo to the strangest things, and then just as much eroticism to it when they thought to break those taboos. Ashla cried out in shock the first time he did it; then, confused response the next. The more she reacted, the harder Trace got. It was so intense for him that he groaned with savage need, gripping her tightly. If she didn’t speak soon, he was going to give in to her. He didn’t want her to get away with that, damn it! He wanted her to scream for what she deserved! For all she needed and wanted.
“Oh, God! Trace!”
Trace surged up the back of her body, finding her ear under the wild mess of curling gold. “What? Tell me. ‘Oh God, Trace…’what?” He settled his hips against her bottom, his still clothed but very prominent erection nestling into her. “Tell me to suck your sweet little clit, honey,” he coaxed her. “Tell me to lick your pretty pussy until you come in my mouth. Tell me you want my tongue deep inside you…”
“Yes! Oh, God, please! Yes. I want all of that!” she groaned, writhing under him in heat at the mere suggestions. Trace realized then what a truly passionate and sexual creature she could become once she had shed bad memories and ridiculous cultural hang-ups.
“But you didn’t say it,” he taunted softly, reaching to slide a hand beneath them, his fingertips tickling the drenched outer lips of her flushed and waiting sex. Searing Light, how he wanted to make her come! Not just once, but a thousand times. He wanted her to explode like a sun in supernova, even if it burned him up in the process.
“Yes! Lick my pussy and make me come,” she gasped on a sob.
He was off her in a flash, flinging her onto her back and once again sliding hungry hands up her thighs until she was spread open like a pretty pink sacrifice just for him. He knew, even before he bent to do her bidding, that she was already about to burst. The tantalizing game of anticipation had chased full sensitivity and rich blood flow below her waist, making her plump, ripe, and ready. He skipped preliminaries, saving it for a less intense breaking point, and gently spread her labia to make a path for his tongue. When his mouth closed over her, Ashla bucked, filling his mouth with wet, swollen flesh. Her clitoris rubbed fat and demanding against his lips and he gave it a deep obliging sucking.
Ashla screamed, her hands latching hard in his hair, holding his head between her thighs as she burst into violent orgasm. Rich and sweet, a stream of juices burst into his mouth and Trace knew he could have climaxed just off the lusty flavor and scent, as well as her wild cries for him. It took everything inside him, every moment of discipline and control he had learned in his whole life just to keep that from happening. When he came, it would be deep, deep inside her, and nowhere else.
“Trace! Trace!” Ashla gasped and gasped for breaths as she rode the hard, unfamiliar crest that both thrilled and frightened. It was extreme, to feel so much at someone else’s bidding! As her body trembled into weakness and repletion, making her limp and helpless beneath him, she could only stare at him in wonder and shock.
Trace rose up on his knees, very obviously licking his wet lips. Ashla flushed hot in more places than just across her face as she watched him reach for the front of his slacks. Then he seemed to think better of the idea, and stood up instead. She was too jellied with postorgasmic weakness to follow him, so she was grateful when he scooped her up off the floor easily. He brought her to her bed, laying her on the soft pillows spread over it in decorative style. Then he finished shedding his clothing, displaying the intensely colored length of his cock. She could see the urgency he was feeling in the visible throb of that amazing staff of flesh even before she saw it in his dark, molten eyes. He took hold of her under her knees and slid her to the very edge of the bed. He paused only long enough to slide another pillow under her, raising her up perfectly to meet him.
She could tell by the ticking of his jaw muscle that he had his teeth tightly clenched, a sign of how tautly he was reining himself in. The idea intrigued her, tempting the boldness he himself had been encouraging from her. With her focus slowly revolving around to Trace’s needs, a sense of control slid through her. He had toyed with her, albeit for her own good and ultimate pleasure, but she wanted very much to know what that had felt like for him. The only way to know that…
Trace caught his furiously hard cock in his hand and moved forward toward her. All he could think about was the snug heat and bliss of plunging into her. It would be so sweet. So incredibly sweet.
“Wait.”
He looked up with a blink of surprise, barely recognizing her voice in the low purr of command. There was something in her eyes he had never seen before, either, something strong and…wicked.
“Ashla,” he warned her, knowing he was working on a hair trigger of patience.
“I’ve never tasted you,” she said as she wriggled herself upright. Her hands slid up his chest as she gained her knees, her beautiful figure braced before him in a pose of striking feminine seduction. “I want to taste you,” she whispered hotly against his stunned lips as he felt her hand drift down over his to touch him. He let go of himself to make way for her, his eager staff leaping up at her first light caress before she caught him snugly in her small hand.
How could he deny her after so much time spent making her voice her desires? She was just continuing the lesson, only he feared this time it would be him in the position of student. He had spent hours in classes learning how to prolong his release in the face of unbelievable stimulus, but how could any of that prepare him for the sight of her licking her lips as she stroked him so lightly it made every nerve strain to her touch?
“Lie down on the bed,” she instructed him, letting him free so she could shove pillows out of the way, dumping them to the floor impatiently. He obeyed her command with a smile in his eyes. He knew he was jumping into the sun, but damn it, he was proud of her fearless hunger.
When he was settled, she lay down perpendicular to him, her head pillowed on his belly and facing away from him. He stuck another pillow behind his head, raising himself up just far enough to watch her carefully study his body.
Ashla started with a single finger, touching the darkly purpled head where it was oozing slightly sticky fluid. She was overwhelmed with the raw scent of an aroused male, the sexual musk of animal desire making her shiver with delight. She could hear him breathing under her ear, the quickness quite telling.
She tracked her single finger down his length, all the way from the tip to the soft web of skin that led her through a nest of pubic curls before introducing her to the taut sac beneath. Here she used her full hand to cradle him, hearing him make a low, rumbling sound in his throat and smiling because she knew what it meant. He was malleable here, but she felt the hardness of his testicles within as a testament to his readiness for her. Her smile turned sly as she reversed her path slowly and stroked her fingers up along bumps, ridge
s, and prominent veins. He twitched and pulsed as her hand closed around him, and she felt his hand fall on her back and hold against her tightly.
Trace learned a whole new form of torture as her butterfly touch searched and explored him. When she finally rose up from his stomach, Trace was in a full sweat of need. Then she leaned over him and blew warm breath all along his shaft, trying his own trick against him and succeeding quite merrily. His cock jumped in its stimulated delight, drooling a fresh stream of pre-cum for her, and that was what finally lured her in. Her curiosity sent out a teasing pink tongue to touch the head of his penis, testing his taste almost cautiously.
That was when he realized she had never done this before.
It came to him in a dawning rush of clarity and overwhelming excitement. He was going to be her first taste of this decadent delight. Him and no other. Just as he had been the first to make her come.
Him and no other.
The possessive flood of emotion that broke over him made him tense and she felt it. She backed off, misinterpreting, and his soul cried in dismay, his erection weeping in reflection.
“Please, jei li, don’t stop,” he ground out, not caring what it was going to take to keep control. He would. Even if he died of heart seizure, he would maintain control for her.
It was all the encouragement she needed. Clearly pleased with her first taste, she returned for another, this one broader and using the whole flat of her silky little tongue. Trace groaned as his eyes rolled closed for a second to immerse himself in the sensation, but half the thrill was watching her. Beautiful, blessed Darkness, he could watch her forever. It was burning in his memory as she leaned closer and her gleaming curls of pale gold tumbled over him, dancing against his turgid flesh and tickling like hundreds of the tiniest fingers.