Three Worlds - Seduce Me In Dreams Part 12

"Of course," she murmured, honestly grateful that at least one of them was showing a sense of self-preservation. Living in the temple made it nearly impossible to have any life one could call truly private, but she was used to that. And she suspected that a military lifestyle would have made Bronse just as easily able to dismiss exterior disturbances. However, maintaining as much of an illusion of privacy as possible was essential and, of course, wise.

Bronse reached for her hand and grabbed it tightly by lacing his fingers with hers and pressing their palms snugly together. Then he led her back toward the guest quarters where he and his crew had been situated. She had known all along which room was his, had honestly made a great deal of progress toward it, but as she had reached the crossroads she had panicked.

Now, as he led her inside and released her hand in order to draw the door closed, she tried to remember why she had hesitated. Hearing the slide of the privacy bolt clicking soundly into place, she felt her heart jump with a thrill. How long, she thought in a rush, had she been longing for this moment of being alone with him? It felt like a lifetime, yet it had been no time at all in reality-and out of reality. She suspected that they had been in contact through dreams even longer than she had been recalling it, building a bridge between them. But how and when it all started had not mattered and would never matter. She pressed a hand to her breast, trying to keep her savagely throbbing heart from bursting out of her. She had known him forever. She knew that now. And, one day, so would he. He sensed it deeply, reacted to it strongly, but he hadn't accepted the real truth of it because he was rooted in the logical, not the spiritual.

But he was learning.

Feeling more secure in their privacy, Bronse turned from the door and faced her with a ready smile, unaware of the wolfish tilt that the grin acquired when he coupled it with a long, thorough perusal of her. She was flushed and breathless, pressing an elegant hand to the rapid rise and fall of her chest. He smiled a little more broadly, unable to help himself even though it was caddish of him to be tickled by her heightened nerves. This was an extraordinary adventure for her, he realized. Something she had never done before, had never chosen to indulge in for whatever reasons, though he suspected that the most likely of causes would be too much responsibility, not enough time to explore her own needs, and a highly limited selection of men from which to choose. A brother, a cousin, and a youth were her most intimate male acquaintances. There were the servants, but someone who couldn't meet her on an intellectual level would never suit a woman like Ravenna.

It had occurred to him that possibly he was a man of infinitely lucky convenience, but that didn't suit this woman, either. He pushed away from the door and stepped across to her, his eyes trained steadily on her ravishing face, all of its sweeps and hollows coming together to make her so exquisite. Some might find her coloring simplistic, but he saw richness in her hair and gorgeous glitter in her eyes that could never be plain, or ever be described as merely brown. When he neared her, he reached to stroke her face, along the line of her jaw from her chin to the soft, sensitive spot just before her ear. The way she was looking at him, her eyes so wide and her breath so wild, told him she could plainly see the hunger in his expression. Afraid she was going to hyperventilate, he smiled again and leaned forward to place a simple, gentle kiss on her burning cheek.

"Shh," he soothed her softly. "Listen to me, Ravenna," he murmured as he pushed her hair back to expose her ear. "I want you to listen and know something that's very important to me."

He had her full attention, her gears shifting from a frightened and overexcited little bird to an attentive mother hen, so that her breathing slowed down as he pulled away to meet her eyes.

"Most of my crew came from very difficult backgrounds," he said quietly, touching her cheek briefly before letting his hand fall away to catch hers in his grasp. "No details, but needless to say they bear the scars and, though they have all risen above it, it shaped what they are ... who they became."

"This is true of all of us," she said, her head tilting, curiosity evident in her eyes. He smiled, knowing she was trying to figure out this choice of topic and the seeming shift in his mood.

"Mmm," he agreed. "Don't you want to know how I grew up? What influenced my life?" He raised her fingertips to his lips, rubbing them softly, placing occasional slow kisses on the pads as he spoke.

"O-Of course," she breathed, a shiver shuddering up her arm and through her body. He acted as if he didn't notice it. "I would like to know anything about you."

"Ah, but this is of very specific importance," he a.s.sured her, turning her palm to his toying lips. "I came from a family that is secure, simple, hardworking, and very independent thinking. My parents have been married for ... umm ..." He paused as if counting, but he was just drawing her in, and he felt her leaning closer with her interest. "I'm pretty sure it's been forty-four years now. And though I don't have a dozen brothers and sisters like my friend Lasher does, my father had six brothers, and that gave me more uncles than I knew what to do with." He watched her smile, her topaz eyes laughing. He slowly touched his tongue to the center of her palm. This time the shiver was accompanied by a sharp indrawn breath that accented the tremor's path across her nipples, hardening them into delectable points beneath that thin, brightly colored silk.

"I mention this because each of my uncles had a hand in raising me. They ranged greatly in age, so some were married and some were not. Consequently, I got a lot of experience in how a man should treat a woman long before I even realized I was supposed to like girls." His eyes twinkled with mischief, and she laughed at him. "I was fixated on being a soldier from a young age, so that actually took a little longer than was usual."

"One might find that hard to believe," she mused, her tone absolutely sarcastic despite its delicacy.

"One might think so," he said with a dramatic sigh, his lips moving to the sensitive interior of her wrist, "but alas it was true. I was a late bloomer."

"Well, you are clearly in full bloom now," she noted with that s.e.xy breathlessness in her voice that drove him wild.

He chuckled at her wit. "And thus we come to the point."

"Ah, there's a point." She laughed.

"Yes. The point is, my father and my uncles were the most honorable, respectful men I have ever and will ever know. There is no higher standard, in my opinion. And it was a standard I was molded into meeting. Especially when it came to the treatment and care of women. And don't you know that when they all settled down, which they all eventually did, they all remained married to the same woman. This, in my society, is a rare and remarkable thing."

"The villagers trade mates very often," she said with a frown. "They commit, and then have relations with others against their vows to the G.o.ds. Children are born confused about their families. The most violent of their crimes are crimes of pa.s.sion and vengeance. I can appreciate the value in what you speak."

"Good. I'm glad." He kissed the inside of her elbow, and then stepped closer to bypa.s.s her sleeve and touch his mouth to her round shoulder where it peeked out of her neckline. "Because this is my point," he said softly, brushing over her collarbone briefly before touching a kiss to her cheek and then whispering into her ear. "To the best of my knowledge, I have never knowingly and with malice mistreated a woman. Every fiber of my being abhors the idea of it. I have no need of cruelty and deception to bolster my own ego. What I need is the beauty of a woman who trusts me. I need to know she feels respected and treasured because that is what soothes my ego. I relish every smile, every laugh, every sigh, every soft, husky little moan." Bronse nibbled at the sensitive line of her neck, his tongue touching hot and wet to her pulse, flicking gently up toward her ear until he got his soft, husky little moan.

Her hands came up to cling to his upper arms and she shuddered once more, only this time he felt it with his entire body. His composure was rocked, a renewed surge of desire rushing through him, sending a painful upwelling of blood to an already taut erection. Bronse gritted his teeth quietly. It was not her fault that he had been walking around in an aroused state for all the hours since that kiss in the forest. Well, okay, so it was her fault. But he wouldn't rush her or skip over a single nicety just because his body couldn't stop screaming demands at him.

"Is this ... your point?" she whispered against his cheek.

One day, he would know her well enough to make a naughty joke of that question. One involving a strategic shift of his hips. For the moment, the gentleman took rein.

"My point is, don't be afraid of me, beauty. Neither of us knows where this will take us, but I will treat you like the precious creature I feel you are until we figure it out, and after as well. I won't hurt you. If you're afraid, tell me so and I will help you become unafraid. If you are overwhelmed, tell me so and I will stop. Nothing will ever happen between us that I feel you do not want to happen with the whole of your heart," he said in a fierce, rumbling tone. "I demand that, Ravenna. I won't be satisfied if you compromise your needs and desires for the sake of mine.

"You are my need and desire," he told her heatedly, drawing her flush against his obviously aching body. She released one of those little gasps that had more delight than shock to it, and her eyes lit with golden fire. "Heaven help me, you have power over me like nothing I have ever known! I can't think or see straight, and I may not notice subtle signs of fear or distress in my pa.s.sion for you. I need you to promise me you will tell me ..." He swallowed hard as he realized that he was shaking hard enough to send the vibration through her. "Don't let me give you any reason to think badly of me. Promise me you'll tell me what you need."

She reached up to touch his lips with soft, stroking fingers, her eyes lifting slowly to his, smoky sensuality lacing her irises. "I promise, I will always tell you what I want. And I will never think badly of you. I know your soul, Bronse Chapel. You're a good and honorable man."

"I try," he murmured with a smile that quickly turned into a trap for her fingertips. He drew her two fingers into his mouth for a brief suckle and a teasing flick of his tongue. He could tell by her expression and her rosy cheeks that she was thinking decidedly naughty thoughts about the possible applications of his eager mouth. He released her and swooped down on the already well-kissed lips that had been taunting him with their pouting fullness all of this time. He was amazed by his own restraint thus far, and mentally thanked each of his uncles by name, because more than anything he didn't want to screw this up.

Ravenna had been very surprised when Bronse didn't just pick up where they had left off in the corridor the minute the door was secured. Then she had been a little confused and possibly a tiny bit insecure about whether he still wanted her. Her relief and grat.i.tude were profound when she finally realized what he was trying to do. She knew he was right for her, but she never guessed it would be such a fine attunement. He seemed to read her as though he had an instruction manual on her. He sensed her fear, her anxiety mostly, and even secured her confidence that she could always share her doubts with him, while wiping away that smidge of insecurity when he confessed how affected by her he really was.

Oh, and it showed! His kiss was something wild and voracious. She might still be learning the basics, but she could feel that intensity with mind-blowing certainty. His hands were bracketing her waist, clutching her soft sides as he held her fully and snugly against his hard body. The muscles beneath her hands as she clung to his arms were like solid stone, although she fathomed that stone didn't twitch with excitement the way he tended to. Especially as she swept her touch along his arms and shoulders and the back of his neck. There, his hair was short and crisp and she loved the feel of it under her fingers. Before she knew it, she was holding him firmly to a zealously reciprocated chain of kisses that robbed them both of sense and breath.

Suddenly he broke away from the kiss and grabbed her by the shoulders. His breathing ragged and harsh, he twisted her in his grasp until she was facing fully away from him. His breath fell hotly on her bare neck as she felt a tug on her hair. She gasped when she realized he was unraveling her braid. He caught her hand when she tried to stop him with a protest.

"Uh-uh," he denied her. "This is a game of fair play. I want to touch your hair just like you touch mine."

"But it's so long ..."

"And I can't wait until we're both covered in it," he told her vehemently, the blunt eroticism of the statement making her entire insides flush with liquid antic.i.p.ation. Sensing his hands rapidly unraveling her braid made her feel like they were rushing toward the image he had painted. Finally she was freed, the still-damp ma.s.s releasing the scent of her shampoo all around them, and he leaned in to breathe deeply of it. "You always smell so good. This is how I found you. I could suddenly smell you ..."

He brushed aside the ma.s.s of chocolaty tendrils and worked his mouth with wicked sensuality over the back of her neck and the slopes into her collarbone. She felt his lips, tongue, teeth, and even his breath as he spoke softly to her.

She felt him touch her back and then felt the tug of the laces that held the gown closed. She closed her eyes, breathing heavily in antic.i.p.ation and crossing her arms over her b.r.e.a.s.t.s as the dress loosened enough to fall completely off her body if she but slid out of her sleeves. The laces snaked free, and he slowly parted the fabric covering her back. The first touch of his fingers was so light and skimming, she shivered as it gave her goose b.u.mps from the back of her neck to the backs of her thighs.

"Any pain?" he asked huskily, making her aware that there was a pattern to his traces. He could still see the lash marks.

"I honestly wouldn't know if there was," she said, breathless and direct.

He laughed, and both palms slid over her back, the touch firmer, less nurturing and far more sensual. His stroke became a very purposeful dance over her eager, quivering skin. He teased her spine all the way down to its last curve before her bottom, and he brushed very close to the sides of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, though never truly touching her there. It was shockingly effective, making her yearn for his hands to be everywhere, almost to the point of dropping the dress, turning around, and demanding it flat out. But though she had her share of courage, she couldn't bring herself to be so bold.

"Turn to me," he beckoned her with a low, throaty command.

She obeyed, shaking and shivering the entire time with excitement and antic.i.p.ation and a thousand other emotions. She looked into his eyes and released a noise of exclamation. Gone was the light color she had known, a deep purple that was so intense and erotically full of hunger taking its place. His brow was dotted with perspiration, and tension lines had appeared near the sides of his mouth and eyes. Then his hands were grasping hers and placing them against his chest.

"Touch me, Ravenna. Just a little," he pleaded softly.

She didn't need any further encouragement. She also didn't bother with any patience for the silk tunic. She pulled the snug shirt off him, sighing in appreciation as the garment fell forgotten to the floor.

"Thank you," he chuckled, flattered by her wordless compliment.

Ravenna smiled and reached to touch him. A slow, purposeful spreading of her hands and fingers over his rigid wall of muscle and strength. Those soft curls of hair tickled her fingers, and her smile faded as her eyes became smoky dark with sensual pleasure. She touched him over every inch of exposed skin, front and back, that she could reach, uttering small sounds of contented pleasure that made him a little dizzy when added to the unbelievable bliss of her touch on his body.

Then her mouth touched him, and he groaned at the power of how she could make him feel. Fire burst like impacting laser blasts in a path that was forged by her lips and tongue. His hands had long since locked into her luscious hair, one kneading her scalp convulsively, trying not to crush her precious little skull when the sensations overwhelmed him.

Her mouth took just as much delight as her hands had, with the energy and enthusiasm of a child tasting candy for the first time. When she found enchantment with his nipples, Bronse knew he had to get her in bed fast. He drew her away from her ambitions and stood her straight.

"Lower your arms, Rave," he instructed roughly.

She did and, with a tug on her sleeves, he sent the dress sheeting off her body. She gasped, feeling every inch as naked as she suddenly was. Bronse tried not to smile when that blush burned in just about every blushable place on her entire body. But smiling was a foregone conclusion. She was extraordinary. He caught her hands before she could make any self-conscious concealing gestures, and he spread her arms wide. He took his time looking at her, making sure she knew that he was enjoying everything he saw.

"Bronse ...," she said, her breath coming in soft little pants.

And just like that, sanity disappeared.

Bronse grabbed her up good and tight, her feet flying off the floor as he drew her with him. He flung her onto the bed, the sweep of her hair flying, then sprawling out behind her head just as she was laid out on the plush bedding like a naked offering. Then his hands slid onto her skin, starting up her arms, over her shoulders, and, as he knelt over her, a single knee nudging up between her thighs, she felt those huge, callused palms sweeping down to envelop her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. The dizzying excitement of his sudden urgency was one thing, but when he added his touch to her like that, she nearly exploded off the mattress with her pleasure. He stayed with her, moving his body over her to ease her back down as he continued to shape and stroke her with those incredible hands. Half the time it was like he held precious treasure, then he would pluck up a nipple and roll it tightly between insistent fingers while his pressure intensified until she was crying out with the extreme stimulation.

When he traded a hand for his mouth, Ravenna felt a hot flood of wet antic.i.p.ation preparing her body for him. She moaned wildly as he sucked her and licked her as though she were a feast, trading sides so there could be no neglect and so he could gorge himself. His hands were moving over her skin, his palms burning hot and damp as he slipped them down her belly and hips, stroking her thighs and calves. He relinquished the sweet weight of her breast, his lips trailing away until he was pressing his forehead against her breastbone and gasping hard for breath.

"Mercy, Ravenna, what you do to me," he ground out.

He had to be overwhelming her, Bronse thought wildly as he tried to scale back from his red haze of l.u.s.t and desire. Heaven help him, he could smell her. Her excitement, musky and warm and pure Ravenna. His heart pounded relentlessly, and his brain warred between civility and ... and whatever beast this was she touched in him and caused him to give rein to.

No. No. No. d.a.m.n it. I am better than this!

"Ravenna, raise your knees, and open for me, sweetheart."

Okay, so he wasn't better than this, he thought with resignation. He pulled away from her so she could obey his instructions, and she did so instantly, without reservation, shyness, or hesitation. It nearly gave him a heart attack.

"Ravenna," he croaked, "you are so f.u.c.king beautiful."

In the heat of that moment, Bronse had no other way of expressing himself, and he looked up quickly to see if he had offended her. He hadn't. She was smiling shyly, that s.e.xy blush burning on her skin like wildfire. Bronse reached out and stroked gentle fingers down the inside of her thigh. She quivered, and he could hardly breathe. His fingers skimmed softly and briefly over the feminine heart of her, through the glistening moisture that was announcing to him that he was more than welcome. Oh, how he wanted to be inside her in that moment! His entire body was raging. His mind as well. It wanted everything all at once. Taste, touch, and thrust, and he couldn't accommodate the demands fast enough. He was a reasonably skilled lover, but he wouldn't have known it by listening to his own impulses.

Touch. He could do touch. He needed to do that, to help ease his way and to keep from hurting her. She was a virgin, and he was not a small man in any sense.

Ah, but she was so beautiful, he thought, deep need riding him hard as he slipped his fingertips over her once more, teasing her and making her breath catch in fabulous little antic.i.p.atory hitches. He shifted his position, stretching out alongside her, delighting in the way her eager hands groped for him the moment he began to move back within her reach. The slickness of her body let him part the folds of feminine flesh. He bent to kiss her even as she made a low sound of pleasure at his advancing and seeking touch.

"Ravenna," he whispered against her mouth, "you are so wet, sweetheart ... you feel like heaven."

His heaven. And his eventual haven, he knew. But first ...

He found her c.l.i.toris, and it took barely a stroke of his finger over her sweet, swollen bud for her reaction to bolt visually through her highly responsive body. Ravenna cried out his name, and he bowed his head to her breast as her desperate hands clutched madly at his hair.

The combination of sucking and touching filled Rave with ecstasy, two paths from different quarters that somehow met and melded in the center of her womb. She became mad with desire, her head swimming as tension shimmered beneath her skin. Tears sprang into her eyes as a frustration she didn't understand began to blanket her body.

Then he slid a finger inside of her, slowly and gently. But his gentleness was more sinuous than anything, and she writhed beneath the magic he was working on her.

"Bronse ... please ...," she begged him, dragging him up to look into her pleading eyes. "Please ..."

Bronse knew what she wanted, felt it in her shifting legs and seeking hips, but she was so tight. Too tight. He kissed her apologetically as he eased a second finger inside of her, stretching her, stimulating her beyond all reason. He knew she was close to coming, and he wanted that more than anything, even if it killed him to watch her take pleasure without him. It would be a miracle if the sight of her alone didn't throw him past his own breaking point-he was that close to the edge. He felt her muscles tensing from head to toe, her pelvis reaching for the press of his hand. Her face flushed with perspiration and fiery blushes. Her eyes were locked to his, wide and shocked. She gasped-husky, chained rasps of breath punctuated by her desperate whispers of his name.

Then she flew.

Her entire being convulsed, physically and spiritually, and she was flung away from herself and off into all those mysterious "other" places, swirling among them like a star in the universe. Bright light burst behind her suddenly clenched eyelids, and she shouted out in a long, rough cry of female pleasure. She fell back onto the bed, not even realizing she'd arched so high off of it, gasping for breath and the smallest point of focus.

It came in the form of watching Bronse slide to the edge of the bed, working his belt free and quickly removing the rest of his clothing. He was climbing up the center of her body moments later, wrenching her mouth beneath his for a wild and brutal kiss.

"I need you," he rasped, tension vibrating through his entire frame as he gingerly lowered his body flush to hers. She felt the rigid length of his s.e.x sliding between the saturated folds of her own, and she shuddered with the sensation as it clashed with the micro-tremors still twitching through her.

Bronse swore on a groan as he was bathed in the honey of her. He was convinced that he had never been so aroused, so hard that it was utter agony. She was relaxed and opened to him; it was the perfect opportunity to transition her to his invasion. He slid to her entrance, edging the head of his engorged p.e.n.i.s into her as carefully as he could possibly manage.

He wanted to tell her to stop him if it hurt. He wanted to go slow and easy. He wanted to savor every inch and be savored in return.

"Mercy, Ravenna ... I can't ..." he gasped in a strangled voice. "I ... forgive me, but I can't ..."

He did not rend into her, but neither did he ease slowly forward. He thrust into her in two elongated strokes. He wanted to curse himself for his lack of control, but that flew from his mind when he hilted deep into her, her heat clutching him like a hot, pulsating vise. If he could die of pleasure, they would be sc.r.a.ping him off the d.a.m.n ceiling come morning. He was in ecstasies beyond all imagining-until she surged up toward him with a tilt of her hips and an instinctive clutch of her thighs against his hips. Then his imagination was forced to expand.

He made some kind of animalistic sound of satisfaction and managed to withdraw enough to make for a decent return thrust. She answered him, higher in pitch but just as untamed and uncontrolled. He fought himself as long as he could, stroking into her two or three times more before the inevitable crashed over him like a tsunami. His entire body was turned inside out by the force of his pulsing climax, and he heard himself make another savage male sound that echoed loudly into the room as he poured relentlessly into her.

He was lucky that she was a strong, st.u.r.dy girl, because all chivalry abandoned him right along with his strength, and he collapsed weak and gasping on top of her. She didn't mind though. She merely wrapped her arms around him and stroked her hands through his hair, waiting with a smile for him to regain his composure.

"If your crew could see you now," she teased him softly.

He laughed in breathless acknowledgment, finally drawing himself onto his elbows, his forearms framing her shoulders as he looked down into her pretty face. "My crew ... hmm ... we're still technically on-mission. Do you know what I would do to one of my crew who dared to do something like this while on-mission?"

She swiped a deadly finger across her throat.

"Yup." He chuckled. "It is highly against regulations. A soldier could get busted down quite a few ranks for this."

"Obviously you don't practice what you preach."

"No," he said thoughtfully, reaching to toy with a strand of hair beneath her ear, "actually I do. Except, for some reason, it doesn't matter with you. I mean risking my rank. You're worth it. Even if I got caught and was reported, which I highly doubt anyone in my crew would do, I'd probably welcome the demotion. Maybe that will get me out of the sights of-"

He broke off, realizing that he was about to make the blunder that was the main reason why sleeping with a girl while on-mission was such a big mistake. Pillow talk. Satiation loosening the tongue. He didn't want Ravenna worrying about him. He still needed to keep this a.s.sa.s.sination business close to the vest. He didn't even know if it was safe for her people to come with them, or if they would be safer on the planet rather than a ship with a cosmic bull's-eye on it. But he was afraid he had little choice. The cities on Ebbany were uncivilized and loaded with unsavory types who would eat up naive people like them. Plus, as he understood it, most of the Chosen Ones wouldn't survive the psychic input of a city-sized population.

"Anyway," he sighed softly, "the point is, if I gave a d.a.m.n about being caught, I wouldn't be here. Or you wouldn't be here." He shrugged when she laughed. "You get my point."

"I believe I do," she mused, giving her hips a saucy little wriggle that caused him to stir to life inside of her. "Hmm." She released a delicious sigh. "You felt good. You feel good," she amended when he smiled and bent to kiss her.

"Good seems like such a mild descriptive," he remarked. "You do nothing for my confidence."

"Good. You don't need any more confidence."

"Tell me, though, are you okay? I ..." He hesitated, and she felt her heart tighten with warmth. "I didn't mean to go so fast." He released an invective that told her how uncomfortable he was with his behavior, though, in truth, she had seen nothing wrong with it. She had liked how he had made her feel. Physical sensations aside, he'd made her feel like an irresistibly desirable woman, as though she, with her minimum experience, had shown him something new as well. "Did I hurt you?" he asked, shifting his weight as though he would leave her body.

Her hands flew out to grasp him by his hips, keeping him firmly where he was, making him look at her with surprise and a slow smile.

"Don't leave me," she murmured, sliding her hands up the length of his sweat-dampened body until she could draw him back down to her mouth.

"Hmm. One of my uncles' favorite rules," he said before sweeping her up in a deep sensual kiss that instantly kicked up breaths and heartbeats.

"Oh?"

"Yes. Always give a woman what she wants."

"Hmm," she hummed appreciatively, "I like that one."

"You know what? So do I."

Masin was just coming off his turn at sentry duty, exhausted after a long day. Ender had just relieved him, and Lasher was looking forward to some rack time, even if he didn't agree with Bronse about taking the opportunity to rest. At least one of the enemies out to get them would be able to deduce exactly where their escaped prisoners might go, and that would lead them straight to the temple doors.