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Harth watched, wide-eyed as, with a sly grin that made her stomach twist and flutter deliciously, Tarkyn yanked her towards him by her hips. Her hands slapped on his arms as she flailed, afraid that she would fall. But Tarkyn, still smiling, wrapped an arm under the hollow of her lower back to take her weight. Then, with hooded eyes and a voice rough with desire, urged her to wrap her legs around his waist until she laid on the bed, her back on the furs, the rest of her pressed tightly against him.

For a moment they just stared at each other, Harth strangely thrilled by the sense that if he dropped her, she would fall to the floor-and yet... she knew he wouldn’t. Then he leaned closer, his eyes never wavering from hers, and every move, pressed them against each other.

Harth blinked. Her back was on the bed, but everything below her waist was held by him, or locked around him. One wrong move would dump her to the floor.

He had her at his mercy.

But Tarkyn, standing between her thighs, eyes blazing with heat and delight, leaned over her, cupping the back of her neck in his long fingers, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw.

“How-”

Then he arched his hips and pressed himself along the seam of her. Harth’s mouth fell open and she slumped back to the furs, her body tingling as Tarkyn smiled, then drew back before doing it again.

It was, Harth realized, an echo of where this would end-but it seeded a different kind of ache-not just the hollowness within, but a swirling rush of sensation in her skin. He drew pleasure out of her in slow, sliding thrusts, drawing the hardest part of himself along the softest part of her until she was beginning to gasp and twitch with each pass.

.....

And then as she relaxed into it, her hips finding the rhythm, hands gripped on his arm and shoulder, he smiled wickedly and pulled her knees higher, leaning over her, urging her to lock her ankles behind his back, which changed the angle and offered a whole new wave of her pleasure.

Her eyes began to close of their own accord. She fought it, desperate to watch the beauty of him-the gleam of his muscles as his skin began to sheen in sweat, the roll of his jaw as he fought against the call of his own pleasure. But still he didn’t enter her.

“Harth... you’re so beautiful,” he rasped.

She wanted to respond-to argue that between them, the beauty was all his. But he’d just planted one hand on the furs right over her shoulder and used it to brace her as he pressed again-harder, holding himself against her at the peak-and pleasure screamed through her, almost to the point of pain.

His name became a soft cry on her lips, her eyelids fluttering as she tried to keep him in sight, but fought against the urge to give all her attention to the jangling pleasure he was wringing from her body.

“Tarkyn...”

“Do whatever feels good, love,” he breathed, drawing himself against her again so that her breath stopped. “Only tell me if you don’t like it.”

“I like it. I like all of it!”

He chuckled and the sound was so warm, so full of love, she made herself keep her eyes open to look at him again, heedless of how her jaw went slack with every pass.

Tarkyn, eyes blazing, flickering between his warm brown, and his beast’s gold, stared at her as if she were the most riveting sight in creation.

Then she watched his shoulders ripple and clench as he curled himself almost in half, still braced on one arm, to take her breast in his other hand and open his mouth over it.

Harth gave a little cry and arched against him. But he only groaned and set to the task of loving her, never once closing his eyes.

Even when Harth’s began to roll back in her head with the sheer bliss of it all.

*****

~ TARKYN ~

With her legs curled around him and her ankles locked at his back, Tarkyn leaned over Harth, planting a hand just above her shoulder and fisting the furs to give himself traction as he rolled his hips to press against her again. His body screamed joy and rising pleasure, but he was determined to take his time. To savor her, and let her savor him.

Staring down at her, watching her cheeks pink and her breasts bob every time he rocked against her, his body threatened to revolt and tip him over the edge before he’d even taken her.

But he wouldn’t allow it. Harth’s jaw was slack, her eyes beginning to glaze, her eyelids fluttering as she fought giving in to her pleasure.

“Tarkyn...”

“Do whatever feels good, love,” he breathed, drawing himself against her again, inwardly cheering when her breath stopped. “Only tell me if you don’t like it.”

“I like it. I like all of it!”

He laughed delightedly and her eyes flew wide again. To his eternal joy, Harth fought valiantly, straining to keep her eyes open and on him, gasping, her gaze alight as she raked it down his body.

Seeing her drink in the sight of him made him feel powerful. Invincible.

And yet, he couldn’t take his eyes off of her, either. She was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen, her skin lighter than his, but flushing, blushing as her blood rushed to the surface, her skin pebbling and hair standing up.

Unable to resist, he curled himself to take one, rivet-hard peak in his mouth. Harth’s hips bucked against him when he sucked.

Groaning the mating call against the pillow of her, he knew he couldn’t wait much longer. He drew back intending to take himself in hand, to guide himself into her, bracing for that wave of pleasure-but before he could, Harth took hold of him again and he froze, trembling.