Page 217 of Vasmora

“For what?”

She slipped beneath his arm, her bottom lip tucked between her teeth as she backed herself away. “To remind you that I’m not easy prey.”

Zevander couldn’t contain the smile pulling at his lips, as he slowly turned around to follow her movements. His gaze feasted on every curve of her body covered in tight leather. “I’m not one to play with my food, either.”

She pulled the laces just above her breasts, loosening the bodice as she slowly inched her way to the balcony door. Tugging one arm free, she held the garment to her chest as she slipped the other arm from its sleeve. When she darted for the door, something predatory kicked in, and Zevander shadowed after her, his body growing harder every second she denied him.

A cold gust of wind blew into the room when she swung the door open, giggling as she dashed through it, onto the stony balcony.

The moment he stepped through, she spun around, a coy smile lighting her eyes as she backed herself to the balustrade, her hair blowing in a gentle breeze.

Magnificent.

He drew the dagger at his thigh, eyes focused on the hammering artery in her neck, the parting of those exquisite lips, the obvious signs of her excitement.

Her gaze fell to the weapon and back. “Is this what it’s like to be your quarry, Scorpion?”

“No.” He ran his tongue along the edge of his teeth, gaze trailing throat to thighs, while his mind debated where he’d bury his face first. “This is what it’s like to be my sole desire.”

The winter air raised goosebumps across her skin, visible from where he slowly, carefully edged closer. Zevander raised his palm, sending radiant warmth across her body, and within seconds, her cheeks flushed with rosy heat.

She tipped her head back, eyes fluttering shut while the snaking heat moved through her veins, and he could feel every pulse as he pushed it deeper into her muscles and bones.

Beyond her, the two crescent moons sat opposite each other, slinking closer to their eventual merging. Even through the gloom of thick clouds, faint rays poured over her skin, as if they, too, were desperate to touch her.

He stepped closer, and her eyes flipped open, the silver of her irises glimmering like stars. Had he ever seen anything so beautiful in his life?

Had he ever wanted anything so badly?

Another backward step left her pressing against the balustrade railing.

He paused his steps, plucking his thumb against the dull edge of the knife. “Seems you’re trapped.”

“Is it considered a trap if I long for it?”

He stepped closer. Closer. Hands braced at either side of her, he caged her in, and his lips found her ear. “Turn around,” he whispered. “I want the moons to bear witness to what I do to you.”

Slowly, she twisted, giving him her back, and Zevander went to work unlacing the remaining threads of her top, and watched it slide from her body, exposing her naked breasts to the night.

“I’m surprised you’re not jealous of the moons. Gawping at me the way they are.”

“I am jealous. Of every ray of light that touches you.” He pushed her long, inky hair aside and kissed the smooth stretch of pale skin between shoulders that glowed in the moonlight. “Every drop of rain that wets your skin.” His lips traced the delicate curve of her shoulder. “Of the sun that kisses your face every morning.” Cupping her jaw with one hand, he reached around, resting the blade on the balustrade, and ran a gentle finger over her stiff nipple. “The wind that steals your breath.” He urged her head back and seized her mouth, giving a tug of her nipple, pulling it to a hardened peak, and she gasped into his mouth. “By the end of this night, I’ll be jealous of the sky that hears your pleasured cries.” He ran his hand over the smooth surface of her leather trousers that clung precariously tight to her ass, and drew his hands around to the front, unloosening the laces. “Nothing escapes my animosity when it comes to those who long to touch what’s mine. I want you all to myself, moon witch.”

“It must drive you mad.”

“You have no idea.” He slipped his hands inside her trousers, his fingertips grazing the soft seam that split for him like a perfectly ripened peach. “Already wet.” Up and down, he dragged his fingers, gathering more of her arousal with each sweep.

She rested the crown of her head against his chest, releasing a long, resonant purr that was broken by a sharp breath when he gently massaged her clit. The way she writhed against him, her arm reaching back to clutch his shoulder, foot hiked between the stone pillars for leverage, had him smiling in satisfaction.

“Do you see the moons? Watching you? If only they had fingers to touch you themselves. All they can do is bear witness.” He slid his hand up the column of her throat, gripping her jaw. “But I know what you feel like inside.” His finger met her soaked entrance, and he pushed inside, letting the soft warmth slicken his skin. He drew back slowly, her body trembling against him, and plunged again. Two fingers.

In and out, his fingertips explored her most vulnerable flesh, noting every ridge along the velvety texture of her walls. Zevander had been trained to pleasure, had learned a woman’s anatomy both inside and out, but everything about her felt uncharted, untouched. Quiet moans drifted into the night, and she ground against his aching groin like a roused feline gluttoned on catnip.

Fuck, he couldn’t stand another moment.

He pulled out of her, sparing a moment to suck the arousal he’d gathered from his fingers, eyes damned near rolling back in his head as that sweet flavor hit his tongue. With fervent hands, he pushed her leathers down her thighs, allowing her to step out of them, and unlaced his own to spring his impatient cock free. The moment he lined himself to her entrance, Zevander paused.

Don’t ruin this.