The Taming

To Feel You

Kneeling before her, he placed his other hand on her knee to massage it over her skirt. Vaguely noticing she didn't jump or recoil from his touch this time.

"Is this a game? Do you toy with me?" He took another drink and eyed her warily over the rim. "Am I playing a fool in your hands?"

It's been years of casual touches, getting close, then drawing back. I'm more confused than ever.

"Would I find you so pliable?" She arched a brow.

"You would." He looked at her steadily. Mesmerizing turquoise eyes intent on her face. "I'm clay in your hands..."

"Clay hardens."

Me too. Every time I look at you. Bast nearly spit his wine at the immediate thought entering his mind.

She gave him a quizzical look.

"My usual crude tongue would run far from my control should I respond to that, My Lady."

"You know well, I'm no Lady."

I disagree.

"Are you trying to provoke me?" He gave her a questioning study.

She met his look with a lift of her chin. "How is my statement provoking?"

"I disagree with you. Heatedly." He glanced into his glass. "You may be the only true lady I've ever known."

She was startled. Eyes huge as she stared at him in disbelief.

"What?" He asked.

"Sometimes your sweet words seem remarkably genuine."

They are. I am.

"I'm always genuine." He said softly.

"You always pour syrup from your lips." She said skeptically.

"Only on you." He tilted his head. Trying to banish the imagery that evoked. "I can be quite cruel."

She gnawed her cheek and considered him a moment. "I believe you could be."

You've no idea.

His brows lifted pointedly. "Quite."

She suddenly rocked forward to swat his glass from his hand, letting it shatter on the floor as she slid to her knees before him, her hands catching his head as her lips met his. Heated with passion and rough with unspent emotion.

What is this?

Bast was pressed back onto his rear, his palms catching his weight as he met her kiss. Startled when her darting tongue delved into his mouth to taste him as deeply as he consumed her. Matching her desire, he barely noticed his hands lifting, of their own volition, to rove her body. Pressing her lower back to mold her to him.

She shoved him backward.

With her weight atop him, and balanced as he was with his hands on her instead of supporting him, he'd no ability to catch himself.

Elsabet landed atop him. Nearly knocking the air from him. She didn't pause, pressing her soft body to his.

Stunned at her uncharacteristic behavior, he pushed her up so he could draw a few long breaths and force out words.

Think, Bast. He fought to restrain himself as he clung to his tenuous control, desperately trying to shake the fog of ale and wine.

"Elsabet, what is it you'll ask of me in return?"

I promised her freedom. And I'm not sure I'll give it to her. He realized.

"Does it matter?" She whispered against his mouth.

"No." He recognized, knowing she didn't fully know the meaning of what he said.

Catching her against him, he rolled her to the floor. Helping her lean up enough he could tug her skirts and shift up her body.

"Your shirt." She whispered, shoving at it when he lowered to return to her lips. "Off."

He caught both collars and shredded it, letting it fall from his shoulders.

Elsabet's hands roamed over the black markings twining his chest and back. "They're only visible in faded light. During the day they're gone."

"Weaker. Hidden." He dismissed. Growling as he pressed against her. Growing more fevered in his hunger for her.

A hand lifted to cup her breast. Feeling the warm crest between his fingertips. His other hand slid between them to slide lower.

"Sebastian." She cried out as his fingers applied pressure to her most tender area.

He swallowed the sound with his lips as he began to massage her at the crux of her thighs. He adjusted his weight to slip a finger into her warm crevice. Coaxing her inner lips apart to where her heated core warmed his hand. He eased a finger into her. Feeling her tighten convulsively around him.

She gasped and arched her back. Offering him better access.

He growled, nipping at her neck as he buried the urge to sink in teeth. And mark as mine.

He somehow managed to focus on her wildflower scent and the warmth of her inner walls wrapping his finger.

He began to stroke her until he felt her writhing in pleasure.

Feeling her warm heat dampening his fingers.

Making his body harden for her until he nearly ached. He slid a finger into her tight heat and massaged it in and out of her. Watching her rise onto her elbows and lift her hips to meet his touch.

Wanting more.

Soon she threw her head back and moaned so loudly that the sound echoed through the long aisles of the library and up into the vaulted ceiling. Her hips lifted and her legs shivered. Her walls clenched around his finger and vibrated as she climaxed.

That one word would haunt his thoughts. He'd hear that soft voice calling his name over and over again, in his mind. Taunting him tortuously.

He felt the last shudders of her body easing from its satiation and knew what he needed.

I want to feel that around me. He realized he desperately needed to feel that around his staff.

He slowly began again. Building her back up to that peak once more.

She shuddered once and just as she tightened to climax, she snatched his wrist to still him.

"No." She shook her head.

He froze, aching with need. "You want me to stop?"

"No. I want to feel you when I reach my pleasure."

He swallowed hard. Staring at her in pleased shock. "As you wish."