Chapter 3
Kaelun
I’m halfway up the wall of the temple when I realize I’ve miscalculated. My room—such as it is—is a forgotten cavity high at the top of the temple spire. I’ve grown so used to making the climb every day I didn’t stop to think about how a girl like Yalina is going to follow me.
She stares up at me with wide eyes. “You live up there?”
I start descending, feeling a little sheepish. “Yeah. The rent is great. Listen, if you’re scared of heights—”
“I want to go up! Show me how you did that.”
I laugh. Pointing where the occasional brick pokes out from the surface, I say, “You put your feet and hands on these and feel your way up.”
She looks a little taken aback but reaches for the nearest one.
I stop her. “It’s easier with no shoes on.”
“Oh!” Slipping her feet from her shoes, she tries again, looking around at me with a smile when she steps up onto the first one. “I see!”
She’s a fast learner. Soon she’s scaling the wall, and I climb up under her, watching to make sure she chooses the best hand and footholds.
“To your left!” I call, when she reaches the loose brick near the ledge.
She deftly moves left and grabs hold of the brick on one side of the loose one.
“That’s it. Now pull yourself over.”
She reaches over the ledge, and there’s a moment where my heart leaps into my mouth as her feet stretch up and leave the last foothold. Then she’s over, looking back at me with a huge grin on her face. “I did it!”
I grin back. “Yeah, you did.”
A moment later, I’m over the ledge too, standing and brushing the dirt from my tunic and all of a sudden wishing I had somewhere nice to take her or somewhere comfortable for her to sit down. I spread out my hands. “Well, this is it. It’s not much, but it’s home.”
She looks around, and I’m grateful I only have a few possessions or I would have left the place in more of a mess.
I wasn’t expecting company. My bed is a roll of blankets and padding I’ve collected over the years.
It’s a haphazard mess of colors and patchwork pieces of fabric.
Garish colors and patterns clash, rolled out directly on the floor.
An old broken lamp is propped up in a holder next to the bed on an overturned wooden crate.
There is a basin of water I have to fill by hand, carrying a bucket on my back as I scale the wall.
At least the stained-glass window is nice.
The four parts of the elongated oval represent the four elements—earth, fire, wind, and water.
Curling blue waves clash against brown rock, and orange flames lick white clouds representing the air.
In the daytime, it stains the room—a forgotten, boarded up attic at the top of the temple—a mix of colors to match my crazy bedclothes.
Yalina does a quick circuit of the room and then stands by the ledge looking out over the city. “You really can see the palace from here.”
“Told you it was nice.” I really wish I had something tasty to eat or something to drink other than water. I make a poor host. My smile falls. “Sorry. It’s not much.”
She turns to me, and I’m lost in the depths of her eyes for a moment. She steps closer, and my body lights up with energy. “Can I ask you something?”
“Uh huh.” I am mesmerized by the way her full lips move as she talks.
“What if you only had one night of freedom, to do anything you wanted? What would you do with it?”
I’m drawn toward her like the little brown moths that sometimes dash into the flame of my lamp at night. What would it be like to run my fingertips over that perfect, impossibly smooth brown skin?
What did she ask me again? “Why only one night?”
“Because I have to get married.”
Ah, so this is her last breath of air before she submits to a match she doesn’t want. A final hurrah, a daring adventure.
I can understand that. I’d do the same thing in her shoes. Hell, I’d probably run away rather than marry someone I didn’t love or commit to anything I didn’t want with my whole heart. “It doesn’t matter what I’d do,” I tell her softly. “What would you do? What do you want?”
I guess I asked the right question, because her pupils dilate and her gaze drops to my lips. “I would find out what passion tastes like before I run out of time.”
Something sizzles between us, like flame consuming all the air, leaving me hot and tingling all over. Yalina tips up her chin, slides her arms around my neck, and kisses me. I’m dragged under a wave of desire and lust so powerful I can’t do anything but give in to it.
She’s just as perfect as I imagined, perfumed and sweet and still tasting slightly of sugar. Beneath that there’s a richness, a power that burns bright. It flares until I’m blinded to anything else but the feel of her lips on mine, the urge to keep tasting, exploring, taking what shouldn’t be mine.
Coaxing her lips apart, I tease at her mouth with my tongue until she lets me in. She moans as I slide my lips and tongue against hers, picking up this new skill as quickly as she picked up the climb to my attic room.
Soon she’s all but taken over, threading her fingers through my hair, pushing back the scarf until it drops to the floor and her hands can rove over my neck and shoulders restlessly.
Her body presses against mine, supple and curved and feminine in a way that makes me long to grab her, press her down against the mattress, cup handfuls of her ass, her breasts.
I don’t want to scare her, though. My errant rich girl has probably never had anyone take such liberties with her body before, so I hold myself back, trying to stop my swollen and aching cock from nudging into her belly and alarming her.
She tugs at the hem of my tunic, pulling it up and sliding her hands beneath it. My muscles jump to attention, and something else jumps too, needy for her touch, wanting to be free.
She giggles, teasing her fingers over my sides, finding all the exquisitely sensitive places—well, some of them.
“Is this OK? Can I touch you here?”
“You can touch me anywhere.” The words come out in a rush before I have time to think about them. I’m not really expecting her to act on them.
Next moment her hands dip under the waistband of my trousers and my brain pretty much turns to mush. I melt in her hand like the spun sugar when she wraps her small fist around me experimentally. I can’t help the way my hips thrust forward.
She looks up at me in wonder. “You are so hot here. And so smooth.”
“And hard as fucking stone,” I mutter, dying a little more as her tentative touch strokes me down and up. The lamp flame flickers as pleasure courses through me.
“Hmm?” She is distracted, and frankly, so am I. What am I doing? I should be touching her, kissing her. Not standing here stupidly with my dick in her hand like I have no idea how to please a lady.
“Do you want to see all of me?” My voice comes out more like a croak, but she doesn’t seem to notice.
She grins. “Yes please.”
Dear gods, when she levels that warm smile at me, I am nothing more than a puddle at her feet.
Quickly I strip my trousers off, taking her hands and drawing her down onto the bed with me.
She follows me easily, eyes sliding over my form like her hands did before.
The sensation is almost as intense. I stretch out, trying to look casual but inside secretly dying for her to touch me again.
Yalina stretches out beside me and wriggles closer. Then she reaches out and strokes up my thigh until her questing fingers find my cock once more.
I groan as she brushes me with her palm.
She smiles. “It feels good when I touch here?”
My hips thrust forward before I can stop them. “You could say that.”
She strokes a little more firmly. “Do you ever touch yourself like this?”
I laugh. “Too often.”
“Show me.”
Cupping my hand around hers, I guide her to hold me the way I hold myself. Hand wrapped loosely around the shaft, our joint fingers curled beneath the sensitive head. Then I stroke. Slowly at first, but of course Yalina quickly picks up the rhythm and pressure.
Our gazes lock as she takes over, speeding up until the tip is weeping and my ball sac is tight and aching. I relinquish my hold and let her take the lead, relishing the feel of her touch, the passion in her lidded gaze.
This is fast becoming too much.
I place my hand back over hers and still her. “Wait. It could get messy.”
She grins. “Oh well.”
Gods help me! I jerk in her grip as she starts stroking me again. “Yalina, wait. What I mean is, let me return the favor. Make you feel good too.”
“Oh.” Her mouth drops open. Then her full lips curve into a smile. “OK.”
Before I know what’s happening, she sits, drawing her tunic over her head and wriggling out of her pants.
For a moment I’m breathless taking her in.
Her small breasts sit high on her chest, and the long dark nipples are tight.
Her narrow waist flares to wide hips and strong thighs and below the small curve of her belly there is a thatch of perfectly shaped hair.
Beneath her arms there is none that I can see, not on her legs or the backs of her arms either.
No, she’s completely smooth. How many servants does this rich girl have?
She crawls over me, and I have one startling moment where I wonder if I should even put my hands on this goddess of a woman. She’s so far out of my reach she may as well be the sun in the sky and me nothing but a bug on a leaf.
Then her warmth and wet heat cover me as she slides her pussy over my erect dick and leans in. Her hair slips over her shoulders and onto my chest. Her breath tickles my skin. “How will you make me feel good?”
Mouth watering, I cup her ass and draw her higher up my body until she’s hovering near my face. “Come ride me.”
I try to pull her down, but she resists. “On your face? What if you can’t breathe?”
I wrap my arms under her thighs and draw in a deep breath full of the scent of her. I’m so close I can almost taste her already. “If I die, I die.”
I lift my head and take my first lick, and after that she subsides quickly onto my tongue, which is good, because I’m going to be here a good long time and her legs might get tired.