39. Clash of Stone and Steel #2
Talyn’s face shifted, and Samhail pushed her away abruptly as Cyra’s image looked up at him.
“How about like this?” Talyn asked. “Would you rather fuck me if I looked like this?”
“Change back,” Samhail growled at her, taking another step back, “and don’t ever wear that face again.” His voice was low and menacing.
Talyn took a step back as well, seemingly surprised at the ferocity of his reaction, but she didn’t shift.
“Are you still in love with her?” she asked.
“I told you before,” he said, “gargoyles don’t fall in love, and even if they did, I was never in love with Cyra. I desired her once, but no longer.”
“You don’t want her anymore?”
“No,” he said in frustration. “I want you, Talyn.”
She blinked at him, and her features slid back into her own.
Samhail relaxed. He didn’t realize how much he meant all that until now.
There was a time he’d wanted Cyra. She was one of the few people he cared about deeply, but he’d been fine with not taking her to bed again until the day Talyn had come to him as Cyra and tried to seduce him.
He realized now, though, that it hadn’t been Cyra he really wanted.
It was Talyn all along. She may have looked like Cyra, but the way she’d touched him that day had most definitely not been like Cyra.
Cyra had never aroused his lust this much.
She was steady and even-tempered and alluring in her own way, but Talyn was fiery and forward and dangerous.
He’d enjoyed Cyra’s innocence, the way she brought out protective instincts in him he didn’t even know he possessed, but there was something about Talyn that stirred his blood and drove him mad.
His gargoyle nature appreciated her strength and her ability to fight, and he couldn’t help imagining what it would be like to have her writhing beneath him as he drove into her, taking her to greater and greater heights of ecstasy.
He wanted her legs wrapped around him as he buried himself inside her, wanted to watch those lush breasts bounce as he thrust into her and made her cry out with pleasure.
“You want me?” Talyn asked, taking a step closer to him.
“Yes,” he said, “but not tonight. When you’re sober. I want you when you’ll be able to remember and enjoy everything I plan to do to you.”
“And what if I want that now?” she asked.
He shook his head. “It’s not going to happen now.”
He recognized the gleam of challenge in her eyes too late. One moment she was there, and then she was gone. Samhail didn’t have time to react before she kicked the backs of his knees like she’d done in the jail cell, and he fell forward onto them.
He had to stop letting her do that.
Then she was in front of him again, and he was at eye-level with her beautiful breasts. They were full, with pert pink nipples that he ached to suck into his mouth. His hand twitched, eager to palm one of them, but he held himself in check.
Drinking and porting didn’t mix well, though, because Talyn swayed and stumbled backward. Samhail grabbed for her, and his hands wrapped around her hips to pull her toward him. Still unsteady, she fell forward, and he found himself with his forehead resting between her breasts.
He pulled back from her, but not very far. He couldn’t take his eyes from the two creamy globes so close to his face. Gods, how he wanted to knead that soft flesh, to take her nipples into his mouth and run his tongue around them, to gently bite them and hear her moan.
He settled for planting a few soft kisses between her breasts before trailing his lips lower to kiss her stomach. Then he forced himself to stop as he began to get ideas he shouldn’t. Now was not the time to lay her on the bed and lick her until she begged him to take her.
With some effort of will, Samhail pushed her carefully away from him.
The gods really did hate him. He needed to find a temple somewhere between here and Rowe and make a sacrifice or two. Or twenty.
“Samhail,” Talyn whispered. “I want you.”
He closed his eyes and shook his head. “All that ale you drank wants me,” he said, opening his eyes again. “When you can say you want me without the alcohol giving you courage, then I’ll be more than happy to fuck you until you forget how to walk. Until then, you need to go to bed.”
Talyn searched his face for something as he knelt there quietly, letting her look at him. Her eyes were starting to get heavy.
“Let me put you to sleep,” he said softly.
He still gripped the enticing swells of her hips, and he fought the urge to run his hands all over her body. She was finally starting to calm.
Talyn nodded, and Samhail released a breath of relief.
He stood up and turned her around to guide her back to the bed.
He pulled down the covers, and she dutifully climbed in.
He thought briefly about making her put her clothes back on, but she was being cooperative, and he didn’t want to risk sidetracking her. Naked would have to do for now.
Talyn’s eyes fluttered shut as he pulled the covers back up over her body, and sleep finally seemed to wash over her.
Thank the gods. Any longer and his resolve about not taking her would’ve shattered into a million pieces. His cock strained against his pants. He’d have to pleasure himself before he could fall asleep.
He wondered if he’d be able to do it in bed next to her, but he decided that would be tempting fate, so he grabbed one of the cloths he usually carried in his bags and sat down in the armchair across the room.
He nearly ripped the fastenings of his pants trying to free his cock, but the first stroke of his hand down his shaft was such a relief that he groaned.
He gripped it tighter and thrust his hips as he ran his hand faster and faster over his length.
He closed his eyes and recalled the feel of Talyn’s mouth on him.
His cock throbbed in his hand, and thoughts of what he’d do with her the next time he had the chance were all he needed to bring himself to a release so strong he saw stars.