down onto his chest.
A smile twisted at his lips. âSure.â
I guided him back into me, exultant that I was the one in control now. I moved my hips up and down, leaning over so I could watch him slide in and out of me. My hair, long since freed from its ponytail, hung over him, grazing his skin. I have hair the color of cinnamon, a tawny russet not dark enough to be auburn, nor light enough to be strawberry. In this lighting, however, it was only a dark veil between us. He brushed it aside and rested his hands gently under my breasts so he could feel their movement as I rode him. Looking up through my hair, I watched his face now that I was the one controlling him. It was exquisite. I moved faster and harder, bringing him all the way into me, watching and adjusting as I did. I wanted to see him come so badly, see the look on his face when he lost control.
I knew we were close when his hands dropped from my breasts to grip my waist and hips. His fingers clenched tightly into my skin, just as mine had earlier. He kept his gaze on me, bold and unafraid of me seeing him in climax. I moved more fiercely, urging him on, and then I heard a soft, ecstatic sound issue forth. His eyes never left mine, and his hands slid to the backs my shoulders, suddenly raking down my flesh as his body released itself into mine.
I yelled out in surprise at the pain from where heâd scratched me. How sharp were his nails? Did he have talons? Iâd dug into him too but nothing like what heâd just accomplished on me. When heâd recovered, and his frantic gasps had returned to normal, he seemed to realize what heâd done.
âOh my God, Iâm sorry,â he said, his breathing still heavy. He pulled me to him, putting his arms around me, careful to avoid the places heâd gouged. I laid my cheek against the warm, sweaty skin of his chest. âDid I hurt you?â
I didnât know which part of sex he referred toâprobably that last bit of scratchingâbut really, it didnât matter. âNo,â I lied. âOf course not.â
When weâd both sort of come back to ourselves, we ransacked the shopping bag again and produced the cheap wine weâd purchased along with the condoms. It had seemed hilarious at the time, considering our earlier conversation on courtship gifts. We sat naked and cross-legged in bed, drinking from the glasses that had already been in the room. We talked a little, and though the conversation was a bit less substantive than in the bar, it still felt comfortable. It was hard to be eloquent after the wild, animal experience weâd just had.
I went to the bathroom at one point and peered at my back in the mirror. Heâd missed my tattoos but definitely drawn blood and torn skin. It was startling. I wet a washcloth and cleaned my stinging back as best I could, then pulled on one of the plush white robes hanging on the back of the door. Kiyo still sat on the bed, watching me, but I left him there and took my wine outside to the balcony.
It was a gorgeous night. The cacti and other desert plants stood painted in shadows and moonlight cast from a full silver moon. Selene was out tonight, and I guessed sheâd come through for me just now. Crystalline stars adorned the blackness. I had a telescope at home and mused that it would have been a good night to study the heavens.
Except that it looked like the weather would turn on us soon. This surprised me, considering how clear it had been most of the day. Rain was rare this time of year. But dark clouds were tumbling quickly across the sky, blotting out the stars they passed. On the horizon the clouds came from, I saw a faint flicker of lightning. A wind picked up, the kind of wind that rises and falls like oneâs breath. The air was warm and alive, building up tension and power. It wouldnât be a dismal, glowering storm; it would be the kind of storm that left you awestruck about the power of life and