He broke off, as if he’d run on too far, too fast, and his intense gaze dipped, darted away.
Kett grabbed his face and kissed him.
She’d never expected to hear something like that from anybody. She’d never even allowed herself to think of it. Romance and pretty words weren’t for scarred, damaged people like her. Eithne and Beyla and Giselle, delicate feminine girls, inspired speeches like that.
Part of her said it was just Bael talking bollocks again, but it was only a small part, and being drowned out by the big, loud, desperate need inside her to believe him. And that scared Kett more than anything else. She’d never wanted to believe anyone so badly.
She let Bael go and both of them were breathing hard. His eyes blazed green fire at her.
“I love everything about you, Kett Almet,” he said again, and Kett tugged him toward the sofa, tumbling and smiling and even laughing. It felt so damn good to laugh. She’d forgotten the last time she really laughed hard at anything.
Bael kissed her neck, her shoulder, pushing her shirt open and then tugging it off over her head when it got in the way. In a grand gesture, he threw her shirt into the fireplace, where his fireball gobbled it up.
“Uh,” Kett began to protest, but Bael just smiled wickedly and said, “Sweetheart, you’re not going to need it,” and smoothed back her hair to kiss her extravagantly, pulling her body against his until she was almost in his lap.
He kissed her so magnificently, Kett might not have minded if they didn’t do anything else. There was something so wonderfully liberating about giving in and knowing she couldn’t fight against him anymore. She was stuck with him, and she might as well take advantage of that.
She slid her hand inside his shirt, over the smooth skin of his stomach, feeling the muscles jump at her touch. Smiling against his mouth, she slid one leg over his, wrapped it around his waist and kissed him on and on as he worked his thumb over her nipple, through her bra.
The lace created a wonderful friction against her extremely sensitive flesh. For once, Kett was grateful to Nuala for buying her fancy underwear.
Impatient to touch more of him, she tugged at his shirt, and when Bael gave her a smoldering look she ripped the fabric off him and tossed it on the floor.
“Nice,” he growled, and rewarded her by sucking her nipple into his mouth through the fabric of her bra.
The hot wetness of his mouth through the softly abrading lace made Kett’s head swim. Her fingers dug into his hair and a moan escaped her lips. His tongue tortured her through the bra, until her hips were bucking and her back arching as she tried to get more of the glorious heat and pleasure. Digging her fingers into his arms, she moved one of his hands to her other breast and fumbled behind her own back to unfasten the bra.
When the fabric went slack, Bael looked up and grinned at her, then yanked it off and tossed it away. This time it didn’t go in the fire, but Kett wouldn’t have cared if it had. Bael’s mouth was back on her breast, this time with no barrier between them, and she thought she might come just from that.
His hand slid down her stomach, caressing her and making her muscles tense. His bare skin was heaven against hers, hot and smooth and dusted with just enough soft hair to tease her flesh. Every inch of her felt extra sensitized, especially where he touched her. Even the brush of her own hair against her shoulders was driving her wild.
Bael’s fingers unfastened her fly and slid inside, just a little bit, teasing her dark curls but not darting any lower. Maddened, Kett tried to wriggle out of her unyielding leathers but was tangled up in Bael so much it was impossible.
His teeth scraped her nipple and she realized he was laughing. “Want a hand, sweetheart?”
“Yours seem to be otherwise occupied,” Kett panted, but Bael withdrew them to help her peel off her leather trousers, underwear and boots. Naked, she curled against him, loving the rough denim abrading her bare thighs.
Then she stopped, because the thigh she had curled around Bael’s waist was her right one-and the scar on it seemed to have faded dramatically.
She jerked her head up to stare at Bael. “Did you do that?”
“Reckon so,” he said, stroking it. “I can do it again if you’d like, see if it fades more.” She shivered as his fingers tickled a sensuous path up her thigh. “How does it feel?”
“Wonderful,” Kett moaned, and he laughed.
“I meant the scar. The muscle. Inside. Has it eased?”
But the only muscle Kett could think of inside her was the big one threatening to burst out of Bael’s fly. She rubbed her hand over it and he shuddered. She unfastened the top button and felt his whole body tense.
Kett swung herself over him completely, straddling his thighs and pressing her bare body against his. His chest was broad and firm against her breasts, tiny crisp hairs tickling her into distraction as she slid her hand up his neck to his cheek and kissed him, hard.
Her other hand delved between them, freeing his cock and palming it, feeling its thickness and its strength, smearing the drop of liquid from the head all over. Bael’s fingers gripped her hard, his hand tightening on her breast almost to the point of pain, and he bit down on her lip.
“Kett,” he said, kissing her face madly, “I wanted to take this slow, and stroke you and lick you, I wanted-”
“I want you to fuck me,” Kett said, ravenous for him, and when she rubbed the sticky head of his cock against the slick, wet folds of her pussy, he groaned and pushed inside her.
She sank down, taking as much of him as she could, reaching down to free his balls from the confines of his clothes and pressing herself against them. He felt so damn good inside her, filling her up completely. She rose and fell, arching her back, pressing her breasts into his hands. Bael went one better and dipped his head to suck and bite on her nipple.
Afraid she was going to orgasm immediately and end it too soon, Kett tried to slow down, but Bael was pounding into her, sliding deep into her slick heat, his hands everywhere, guiding and stroking and driving her mad.
She couldn’t sustain it. Gripping his shoulders with both hands, she abandoned herself to the driving pleasure building in her and rode him to a hot, screaming climax.
She was barely aware he’d come, trembling and shaking as she was, breathing hard, her body heavy against him. Bael held her, stroked her back, kissed her hair. She thought he might be trembling too.
“You never, ever disappoint me,” he said softly against her temple, and Kett looked up at the simplest and fullest praise she’d ever received.
She kissed him, safe and loved and more content than she could ever remember being.
Kett cuddled against him, warm and quiet, and Bael tugged at the blanket she’d been wearing, draping it over her bare back and smiling at her murmur of thanks. She was delicious like this, boneless and lazy, her body soft and sated, snuggling up to him like a sleepy kitten.
She dozed for a while but he stayed awake, watching the flicker of the floating ball of fire he’d created. Rain spattered against the windows, blown in fits and jerks, and a draught came in under the door.
Bael manifested another fireball just by thinking about it, lengthened it out into a narrow shape about a yard long and floated it down to the gap under the door. A draught-excluder made of flames.
He was astonished he could do such a thing. No matter how much his father and Albhar had tried to tutor him, he’d never been able to master the simplest of spells. But then, this didn’t seem to be about spells. This was about power, innate magic. The sort Albhar had so little of.
His former mentor had made up for his lack of power by learning every spell there had ever been. Including, apparently, one that involved the death of his pupil, his friend’s son, and in fact the man who kept him in such luxurious style.