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*****

~ JAYAH ~

Skhal had been mostly quiet but intense, but when he took her in his arms, his kiss was deep and slow, and his hands, when he reached for the buttons on her shirt, were shaking.

She almost broke the kiss, almost made him talk to her—he must be truly fearful if he was trembling!

But then his hands slid inside her shirt, his fingers drawing softly up her side before cupping her breasts and taking the weight of them, while he thumbed her nipples slowly, but firmly.

Jayah’s breath came faster and she leaned into his touch, working on his buttons first, then sliding her hands under the sides of it to push it from his broad shoulders. When it hung off his elbows, without breaking the kiss he took his hands away just for a moment, just to let it slide to the floor behind him, heedless of the food spilled there. But even those brief seconds made Jayah ache to have him back.

Then he was, his fingers starting in her hair, then dragging slowly down her neck, her shoulder blades, then resting at the base of her spine, pulling her against him and his growing arousal.

He dropped his chin to kiss his way under her jaw, and Jayah let her head fall back to give him more room, but began working on the buckle of his belt. He couldn’t be comfortable still restrained in that unforgiving prison.

.....

He groaned when she got his fly open and immediately reached for him. His teeth grazed her throat and his breathing got harsh. But after she’d stroked him a few times, he caught her wrists and pulled her hands up to his chest, pulling out of the kiss enough to meet her eyes for a moment and speaking in that deep, rough gravel that always made her skin shiver.

“Let’s just… take our time,” he said hoarsely, tracing the line of her jaw. “Forget about everything and just… take the time. We haven’t had enough time,” he said, his voice suddenly tight and his expression darkening. “I will make the most of this.”

Jayah lifted a hand to his precious, unshaven face, staring her adoration at him, searching for the right words.

But he gave a little growl and kissed her again, sucking in a deep breath when she met his kiss with her tongue.

His hands trailed up and down her sides as he walked her backwards, then he ran his fingers along the inside of her waistband until he found the buttons and began to free her from the last of her clothing.

Jayah sighed happily, eyes closed, reveling in his touch. When he laid her down on the furs, she lifted her arms to call him to her, relieved when he followed immediately and crawling over her with his big, weathered body, his hands gentle but firm.

But to her surprise he didn’t immediately lower himself between her thighs, or rub himself against her. Instead, he stayed on all fours—first cupping the back of her neck to pull her up into his kiss, then letting her lay back as he watched himself stroke her.

His fingers were rough, calloused, but he used them so tenderly, the texture of his skin only added to her shivers.

He traced fingers down the cord of her neck, then along her collarbone, his eyes fixed and bright, his mouth slightly open, his breathing harsh. Then he dragged those fingers down to circle first one breast, then the other, growling when her nipples hardened further, rising to meet him—the ache in her only partly soothed when he finally touched those puckered points. She arched into his touch and closed her eyes, frustrated by the hollow ache at her core—but tantalized by it too.

“So beautiful,” he rasped. “So simple and so beautiful.”

Unable to lay still as he continued to stroke and trace the lines of her stomach and sides, returning to her breasts between each exploration, she stroked her hands up his chest, over his shoulders, gripped his biceps, then cupped hands at his neck, tempted to pull him down.

But she barely tightened her grip when he dropped his shoulders and leaned down with an approving growl to tease first one nipple, then the other with his tongue.

“Skhal,” she gasped, her hips pressing upwards, seeking him. “Please.”

He chuckled, but didn’t move faster, only opened his mouth over one of those peaks and sucked deeply, humming at the taste of her while she breathed and rippled against him. But he was relentless, keeping his ass in the air and away from her, but dragging his kisses down, tasting the underside of her breast, then the skin over her ribs, dipping his tongue in the hollow of her navel.

And then, as his breathing harshened he slid his entire body against hers, drawing himself back up, his firm, muscular chest drawing friction against her skin, her breasts, her nipples, raising goosebumps as he finally dropped his hips and pressed against her, hard, giving a small moan as she arched and they held together, bodies shaking, before he eased away, to kiss her neck again.

Again, and again in a tantalizing slide that grew ever more desperate, he rocked against her, his mouth open, breath hot on her neck, her shoulder, in her hair, his hands exploring, teasing, tracing the lines of her body.

Jayah began to shake with the pure tension of holding herself back. Then, on the next roll, Skhal lifted his head and locked eyes with her, opening his mouth as if he would speak, but Jayah bit her lip and lifted her hips so that he entered her shockingly, gloriously, and they both groaned.

A shudder rocked down his spine as they joined and Jayah could have wept with the light that blazed in his eyes—pure, unadulterated love and desire only for her.

But she put a finger to his mouth when he looked like he might speak, then pulled herself up to kiss him, rocking her hips slowly, taking him, feeling every inch as he eased slowly in, then out.

Then Skhal slid his fingers to the nape of her neck, gripping her there as he arched, tilting his head to deepen the kiss, but drawing slowly, inexorably in and out of her until she quivered with need.