Keep talking, Ky, I urged.
I would harden for you in an instant and slip myself into your wet heat. I'd merge my sex with yours and give you all the pleasure I could impart. I would suck at your breasts; take them into my mouth and flick their hard nipples with my tongue.
I cried out, the pain receding beneath a jolt of lust. Slate growled and lifted onto his forearms. I felt him move over me but when he spread my legs wider and worked himself inside, it was another man's voice that made me tremble. No, not a man, but damn if he didn't sound like one.
Feel him and imagine it's me, my love, my Queen of Song. Let me have this small part of you, Kyanite went on. I would surge into you, over and over. I would press our bodies tightly together and grind the bud of your pleasure between us until you cry out as you do now. I would pull myself from you only so I could push your silky thighs up and feast on your sweet womanhood. I would lathe my tongue across your wet flesh and slip it inside you. Then, once you drenched me with your desire, I would return my body to yours and slam deeply until there would be no separating us. I would make you mine in all ways; taking you everywhere a man can take a woman. I would demand pleasure from you in as great a quantity as I gave. And you would scream for me, Elaria. Oh, how you would scream. I dream of it. I listen to your cries when you're with them and wish for it with all of my being.
Slate pumped faster, his muscles flexing beneath my hands, and I let go of Kyanite to focus on the lover in my arms. I couldn't keep listening, not when I was past the pain; past the point where I needed him. Because it had begun to feel like an indiscretion. A betrayal of the man who was physically making love to me; trying his best to pleasure and save me. But I couldn't simply abandon Kyanite either.
Thank you, Ky, that was beautiful. I'll never forget it.
Of course, my love. He went silent, doubtless sensing what I felt and what I needed. The perfect man, if only he had a body to match.
“El,” Slate growled against my throat. “Tell me the pain is gone.”
“It's gone, baby,” I assured him. “You can open your eyes.”
Slate opened his eyes and met my clear gaze with relief. I hadn't realized that he'd been as absent as I'd been; blinding himself to my agony so he could save me from it. My heart clenched; compressing in love so large and aching that no other word could describe the feeling. Compressed; as if an enormous thing had been shoved inside my chest. How vast was Slate's love for me? And how wondrous was it that my love for him matched that vastness?
“I love you, Zone Lord,” I whispered.
“I love you too, Spellsinger.” Slate kissed me tenderly before rising onto his knees to push my thighs up, just as Kyanite had described.
My eyes went wide as Slate pulled out and dove for my sex. Mind reeling, I succumbed to the pleasure of his lapping tongue and expert fingers but I didn't close my eyes. I couldn't. I needed to see that it was Slate; his mouth upon my sex and his molten stare searing me. For a second, the silver glinted like steel; sharp and possessive. Slate's jaws closed around my flesh as if he would consume me, and I screamed my release.
We're good, RS murmured wearily into my mind. For now.
Chapter Eighteen
“Love is a strange thing,” Slate murmured as he stroked my hair.
The pain was just a memory now. It was a sharp one, fresh and bleeding, but dampened by the pleasure that had followed it. So much pleasure. Slate had made love to me savagely. Extensively. Inventively. It was as if he believed that the more he made me climax, the more he could satisfy the RS's needs. As if he could stop the magic from growing by sheer force of will and the power of his body.
It was a damn good effort.
Now, I cuddled against Slate's sculpted chest and stroked the rock-hard curves idly. His arms held me tightly; his strength unfailing. I had a feeling that he'd make love to me again if I showed any inclination. I didn't. I was exhausted. Even my immortality couldn't keep up with Slate.
“Why do you say that?” I asked sleepily.
“It's labeled as one emotion when it's actually a composition of several.” He looked down at me and instead of the smile I expected, he frowned. “There are so many feelings in love; both emotional and physical. It's a craving like no other.” His hand lowered to my cheek then drifted to my lips. It hovered there, brushing my sensitive skin gently. “A driving urge to possess but also to free. A need to unite and support. Take and give. It's both clarifying and baffling. Uplifting and terrifying.” He dropped his hand to my throat and whispered, “I've never felt anything like this before.”
“Does it need to be dissected? Love is simply a strange and wondrous thing,” I laid my hand over his, bringing it down to my lap, and nuzzled closer to him.
“And possibly a weakness,” Slate murmured.
I moved back so I could look at him. “It weakens in some ways but strengthens in others.” I paused. “I'm sorry I scared you.”
Slate's jaw clenched and he looked away. “You're safe; it's over now.”
“Not entirely,” I insisted. “We'll have to find a way to keep the RS from growing. I think I should go to Coven Cay and speak to the Witches. Daha recommended it.”
“He did?” Slate slanted his gaze back at me. “When would you leave?”
“Today.” I sighed and got out of bed. “The
