39. Slow Burn
Slow Burn
Mariana
Teach me. His request hung in the air between us, patient and heady.
Under Faren’s touch, my skin had been lit by a burst of sparks, zinging and zipping in all directions. My lips still tingled from the phantom scrape of his stubble; the path he had traced across my chest still burned with need; and, low in my belly, a molten, liquid heat continued to flourish.
His earnestness only served as further kindling.
For most of my life, sex had been an inconvenient necessity; no matter how sensitive my magic was, I could never fully curb the craving for human contact.
It’d been over a year since I’d last taken a man to bed, and that experience had been like all the rest: brief, mostly clothed, with a nameless but reasonably gentle-seeming stranger.
The last time I’d been with a man I held in any regard was Grinnick, and even then, my magic had tensed.
But Faren’s request was like a spell I’d never learned, unlocking something vital in the dark caverns of my heart.
The words, confusingly, made me want to cry.
I hadn’t realized until this moment how afraid I’d been of Faren uncovering my strangeness and using it against me; now, I was certain he wouldn’t.
His request made me feel understood in a way I’d never felt before.
It made me want to explore my magic in a way I’d never wanted to before.
But: “I’m not sure I know where to begin.”
“You like ordering me around,” Faren said. “Do that.”
My attention dipped to his chest again. “Take off your shirt.”
In one fluid tug, he cast the fabric aside.
His skin was smooth and golden. Firelight licked across his torso, catching in the hollow space between his pecs, the ridges of his ribs and abs.
He really did look like a drawing come to life, the lines of his collarbones and the taper of his waist in perfect proportion.
“I like the way you look at me.”
My attention snapped to his face, where his intense gaze and parted lips made him appear as ravenous as I felt. “And how is that?”
“Hungrily,” he replied.
When normally I prided myself in being unreadable, I relished his ability to read me now.
I rolled onto my hip, sitting sideways with my knees bent, and dragged my hand over the contours of his bare chest and stomach.
His skin was warm, and his muscles—perhaps his magic, too—rippled under my slow exploration.
“I await your next command,” he murmured.
“What a good knight,” I teased.
There was something about all that highly trained brawn bending to my desires—supplicant and eager—that made my core clench. He already knew I liked pushing him around—we’d sparred together plenty—but did he know it also made me feel safe?
I pressed on his sternum, urging him to lie back.
He acquiesced, folding his arms behind his head as I straddled him.
His erection strained against his trousers, and I ground backward against it, making him groan.
He felt rigid, and big, and I liked it. After another lazy grind, I bent forward, trying to keep hold of my excitable magic as I pressed my chest against his and kissed him.
He returned the kiss with enthusiasm, arms shifting out from behind his head; I felt the heat of his palms hover over my waist. “May I?”
I nodded, deepening the kiss.
His hands landed on my hips, fingers smoothing across the bare skin just above my waistband, underneath my shirt.
The sparks in my skin flickered and flared.
I hummed, pressing closer, and his hands spread wide on my back.
Between my thighs, his body felt taut with need—and yet his touch was measured, careful.
He was holding back on my account, and that knowledge made me feel empowered—
—and guilty.
This time when I tensed, it was because of my mind, not my magic.
“Too much?” Faren asked, removing his hands from my bare skin.
I sat up, staring down at his handsome face. “I feel bad for you.”
“Makes sense. Having a beautiful woman sitting astride me is pure agony. I deserve no less than pity.”
“I’m serious. Is this not tedious for you?”
“Tedious?” He seemed genuinely baffled. “On the contrary, Mariana, you’re driving me wild.
” Faren’s hips shifted, drawing my attention to his erection nestled against my ass.
“But I’m more interested in driving you wild.
Would you be more comfortable on the bed?
Perhaps with fewer articles of clothing?
“I don’t usually disrobe all the way.” Embarrassed, I glanced toward the window, our packs—anywhere but his face. “More bare skin means more sensation, and…”
“Do you keep your clothes on for you, or because previous partners haven’t deserved you?”
I gave him an arch look. “Do you think you deserve me?”
He gave my thighs a sensual squeeze. “I want to.”
He was so pretty beneath me, with his ruffled hair and flushed cheeks. The bed did sound more comfortable. And as overwhelming as being naked could be, I wanted to be naked with him.
Abruptly, I stood, bringing a few pillows with me. Faren was quick to follow, removing the furs from the mattress and replacing them with one of the blankets we’d been using on the floor. Once the bed was remade to our liking—the two of us still standing at its foot—I pointed at Faren’s pants.
“Off,” I said.
He did as I asked, working his buttons with swift fingers.
He paused when I flung off my shirt. “Fuck, Mariana,” he breathed. “Your tits might be even more perfect than your ass.”
I scowled playfully at him, even as my pulse thrummed. “You know, for a Mighty Knight, have quite the dirty mouth.”
“Chastise me all you want, sweetheart, but I know you like it.” With a smirk, Faren removed his trousers.
My mouth went dry at the sight of him. “On the topic of perfect body parts…well done.”
“Oh, don’t tell me that,” he warned. “It’s too good.”
“So you do like praise,” I teased, echoing our long-ago conversation in Yar.
“From you? Absolutely.”
This time, it was my turn to ask, “May I?”
“You can touch any part of my body, anytime you want,” Faren said, moving closer, until the backs of my knees met the mattress.
I took him in my hand, circling my fingers around his cock.
I gave him a few reveling strokes. His eyes were closed, fists respectfully at his sides.
With my unoccupied hand, I grasped his wrist, bringing his hand to my breast. His eyes opened, and he smiled, cupping me more firmly, rolling his thumb over my nipple in that decadent way he had before.
I arched up, nipping at that freckle under his chin—the only thing I could reach with our height difference.
Faren bent to kiss me properly, all tongue and teeth and urgency.
When at last we had to break for air, he inclined one eyebrow at the remaining clothing between us: my pants.
I gave him a faint nod, releasing his cock from my grasp, and he began undoing my buttons one by one.
We both watched his hands work, nimble but not rushed.
I shimmied out of my trousers and undergarments, casting the rough fabric to the floor.
I had a brief and soaring sensation of liberation, followed by the acute awareness that I was fully bare—with another person. And now that Faren knew about my magical defect, I felt particularly exposed.
I held my breath as he took in the faint remnants of my bruising, the scars that crisscrossed my arms, shoulders, and legs. He traced a particularly gnarly old gash on my bicep, then lifted my arm to kiss the puckered line of healed tissue.
“Exquisite,” he whispered.
“Hardly.” I glanced down at a trio of pale claw marks on my right thigh. “My body is a war zone.”
He cradled my arm higher, pressing a kiss into crook of my elbow, my inner wrist. “Your body is strength and beauty incarnate. You should be proud of it.”
Despite the warm temperature of the room and the fire in my veins, my skin pebbled.
He continued his slow perusal, discovering more injuries to lavish with adoration.
His thumb swept the underside of one breast, finding the ridge of a rib that had cracked and re-healed.
His mouth discovered a series of thin nicks where my collarbone met my shoulder.
A big hand gripped my waist, then my ass, locating a thin scar on the back of my leg.
He kept his pressure firm and steady—just as I liked—drawing pleasure from places that only remembered pain.
“Tell me to stop at any point,” Faren said, “and I’ll stop. Got it?”
I eased out of his hold, crawling backward onto the bed. “Same goes to you.”
Faren climbed after me. “Remember what I said about wanting you more than I want the sun to come up tomorrow? I’m hoping it doesn’t, so we can continue this in perpetuity.”
“Pretty words,” I quipped, lying back against the pillows. “The dirty mouth has range. What else are you thinking?”
“That I want to fuck you senseless, but you’re so cunning, I’m not sure it’s possible.”
I tipped my head back, laughing at the compliment and the giddy rush of lust it sent spinning through me. “You should give yourself more credit.”
Faren’s smirk turned genuine as he settled his weight beside me and drew the blanket up to our waists. “What can I do for you now?”
My magic resumed its hot hum. This was a lot of sensation at once: the worn fabric of the sheets, the weight of the blanket atop me, Faren’s body heat beside me.
Needing to center my overstimulation, I grasped his wrist again, guiding his hand down my neck, between my breasts, along my belly, and back up, awakening and focusing my senses.
“Keep doing that,” I whispered, arching up to kiss him.
He touched me as if there was nothing else to do but this: the steady reverence of his hands traversing my body up and down, and the languid glide of his tongue against mine.
Soothed by his slow caress, the frenetic feeling in my skin subsided.
I became grounded, rather than dizzy. Relaxed, rather than tense.
And then suddenly I craved more.