CHAPTER 15

She had never lainwith another man. The knowledge shouldn’t please him so much. What did it matter, after all? Weren’t parbots equivalent to men for intimacy? She was certainly no virgin. Nor did he want her to be. But it did matter, and it pleased him.

He was such a hypocrite. Here he was, arguing that the human/parbot relationship was cleaner and better than human relationships, but he still wanted to be with her. Rejoiced because he was the only human she had ever been intimate with. This mission was definitely addling his brain.

Not that the lack of coherence in his reasoning would stop him from continuing this affair with Kalli. However unwise it might be. He didn’t know her reasons for not having had a human partner before. And he found it strange that she, with her defense of human relationships and her romantic notions, had not engaged in one before. But if this was her first time with a human, he planned to make it worth the experience. And give her more arguments for her thesis, no doubt.

Right now, that didn’t matter. He didn’t care who was right. He only cared about the woman walking beside him towards their room. Where they would share a bed. He intended to proceed slowly this time. He was going to make her glad she’d chosen him as a partner.

They arrived at their room, and she retrieved the key from a little pocket concealed in her skirt. He took it from her and opened the door, motioning for her to precede him. Then he closed the door and leaned against it. Contemplating her through lowered eyelids, he considered his strategy.

She was already removing combs and pins from her upswept hair, and he had the urge to do it himself. He wanted to run his hands into those fiery locks. See them tumble over his wrists as he freed them.

Drawing up behind her, he raised his hands to her head and leaned forward, murmuring in her ear, “Allow me.”

She did not protest, lowering her arms at once and leaning back against him. He carefully removed each pin, admiring every strand as it came loose and uncoiled over her creamy shoulders. She had the most beautiful skin. Unable to help himself, he nuzzled through the loosened locks and pressed a kiss, hot and openmouthed, to the gentle slope of her shoulders.

She inhaled sharply and leaned more of her weight against him. If it weren’t for the thousand layers of her skirts, she would feel his erection. Could press against it. He ignored his rude organ.

Her hair completely undone; he ran his fingers through the silky locks.

“Your hair is so beautiful. Like liquid fire.”

Her mouth twisted. “It is naturally a boring dark blond. I dye it red.”

“Nothing about you is boring. But this color suits you better. Fiery hair for a fiery woman.”

“Do you think I am fiery?” The incredulity in her voice was clear.

“Kalli, you practically vibrate with passion. You throw yourself wholeheartedly into every endeavor. Yes, I think you have a fiery personality.”

“Is that a good thing or bad?” she asked, sighing as his fingers massaged her scalp.

“I don’t know yet. A week ago, I would have said it was an undesirable quality. Now, I like it. I enjoy your passion and your fire. But I’m still wary. Burns are painful.”

“You make me sound dangerous. But ice can burn too.”

“You consider me cold as ice?”

She twisted in his arms to look at him. “No. I think you would like to be. But you are not.”

He kissed her. Sealed her mouth with his to stop her all-too-accurate words. Because he could feel the ice melting. And he wasn’t interested in her psychoanalysis.

A feeling he did not want analyzed curled about in his chest. He blocked it, drowned it by putting his hands to good use, helping her out of her dress.

The clothes of a Victorian lady were complicated and multilayered. He had become quite adept at buttoning and unbuttoning, lacing and tightening and tucking. But tonight, his haste made him clumsy while undressing her.

He wanted to lay her completely naked on the bed. Wanted to kiss and lick every inch of her body. Her delicate perfume, a blend of violets and something deeper and exotic, tantalized him. It drew him to follow the faint trace of fragrance from her neck into the shadowy valley between her breasts.

She moaned, and her hands crept down to cup his straining erection. Now it was his turn to gasp and press against the sweet warmth of her palm.

“Dariux, hurry,” she said, turning around to give him better access to the fastenings.

He chuckled. “Patience. Delaying gratification makes it better in the end.” But he started on the infinite hooks that held her bodice together, the task made more difficult by his impatient fingers.

At last, all the hooks were undone, and her bodice gaped in the front. He could wait no longer, and his hands slid over her shoulders and into the loosened edge to cup pert breasts that were the perfect size for his hands.

Why had he always favored large breasts? He found hers quite entrancing. His thumbs brushed their cusp, and he was rewarded with a moan and the immediate tightening of her nipples. He pinched softly and rolled them, enjoying her squirm of pleasure.

“You like that, don’t you?” At her incoherent response, he insisted more forcefully. “Tell me.”

“Yes!”

She turned like a whirlwind, dislodging his hands. She was not passive, his Kalli. Her mouth captured his in frantic abandon, while her hands deftly unbuttoned his waistcoat. He would have found her urgency amusing if he wasn’t feeling the same way.

His waistcoat undone; she didn’t wait for one layer to be off before starting on the next. Her only purpose was to expose his skin as soon as possible. And then he felt them. Her warm hands were on his torso, caressing, inflaming him further.

When she leaned forward and pressed her mouth to the center of his chest, he thought he might explode. Wrestling back control, because he wanted to make this last, he took her hands in his and twirled her to face away from him again, her arms crossed over her front. The new position brought her back to his chest and his mouth close to the succulent curve of her ear. He nibbled on it, then licked it. She whimpered and tried to escape again, but he held tight.

“Such an impatient woman,” he crooned softly in the ear he had just tormented. “I’ll give you what you want. More. But let’s take it slow. We have all night.”

She nodded, so he released her and went to work on her skirts and petticoats. Meanwhile, his mouth tormented the back of her neck and her shoulders. Openmouthed kisses and nips, a lick here and there. Her skin was warm and silky, faintly sweet underneath her perfume. Intoxicating.

Her skirts, crinolines, and petticoats all fell with a swoosh, and she stood clad only in her chemise, corset, pantalets, and stockings. He was used to seeing her in a lot less. And yet he found these intimate garments infinitely alluring in their modesty.

He ran his hands over her buttocks, beautifully rounded. Softness encasing muscles of steel. His hands circled her hips to converge on the front, in the delicate triangle that was the portal to her womanly flesh. But he didn’t breach her entrance just yet. He just wanted to lay his hands over it. Claim it. Let her feel his possession of her body.

He was rock-hard and impatient, but the need was exquisite torture. With a few deft tugs, her corset strings loosened, and he pulled it over her head. She raised her arms to help remove it, and he was instantly entranced by the curve of her arm. So delicate and feminine. He ran soft fingers down the length of that arm and was rewarded with a wince and chuckle from Kalli. She was ticklish. Delightful.

He refrained from tickling her and instead draped her arm over his neck, caressing her torso now that it was free from the corset. There was nothing but a thin cloth between warm skin and his hands now. He unbuttoned her chemise to expose the delicious mounds of her breasts.

“Look at yourself. Look at us,” he commanded softly in her ear.

She complied at once, her eyes opened and focused on the mirror in front of them. He looked too. Their eyes connected and held in the mirror. The intimacy of the moment caused a pang in his chest.

Did he want to make this act so intimate? It was supposed to be only physical pleasure. But when their eyes met, it became so much more than that. He felt a connection between their souls. It shook him deeply. If he had been able, he would have skittered away. But that gaze held him in thrall. It laid siege to his defenses and burrowed into his heart. Slowly, he turned his head and kissed her cheek, scrambling for control as his fingers worked deftly to undo the tapes of her pantalets.

He pushed them over her hips, and they fell to the floor silently. She obediently stepped out of them and kicked them away with the point of one stockinged toe. Almost naked, she stood before him. The scraps of material that still covered her body, her short chemise and stockings, only emphasized the nakedness. She was soft, pliant, accepting of his control.

The awareness of her submission drove him almost insensible with want. He grabbed one leg behind her knee and lifted it, opening her. She was already wet, her nether lips glistening softly in the muted gaslight. And he hadn’t even touched her there. He groaned, sinking his teeth in the curve of her shoulders. He bit hard enough to mark her skin with his teeth. She didn’t even flinch at his roughness. Her only response a tightening of her hands on his arms, a hiss between pleasure and pain.

Bracing her feet on the low stool in front of the vanity, he ran his hand from her knee to the pink flesh that cried for his attention. The first touch of his fingers, a soft trace, wrenched a sigh of relief from her chest. She leaned more heavily against him, her head lolling back onto his shoulder. A surrender. But she still looked. Underneath those heavy eyelids, she still looked. And he could tell the sight of her, open and displayed in front of him, aroused her even more.

He could wait no longer. Could tease and torment her no longer. He yearned to bring her to climax. To hear her soft exhalations, feel her flesh tremble under his ministrations. His fingers slid purposely over her slick flesh, concentrating on her clit, petting it, circling it, rolling it. He wanted so much to put his mouth there. To taste her.

Later, he reminded himself. He could do that later. Now he wanted her to watch while he played her body as if she were the most glorious instrument.

His fingers circled, slid. Stimulating the engorged nub. Her head whipped side to side on his shoulder, straining for release, so close and yet not there yet. He knew what she needed to fly. Changing the position of his hand, he inserted one long finger in her, while his thumb took over the stimulation of her clit. Her internal walls trembled. Slowly, he slid the finger out, feeling the protest of delicate muscles that tried to clamp about it to prevent its escape.

“Dariux, please...” she begged.

“I’m right here.”

He inserted two fingers in her, probing, stretching her, filling her. His hand was drenched with her juices, while his thumb continued his relentless stimulation of her clit. He flexed his fingers inside her, touching a place of exquisite pleasure, and he felt it. Her first tremors. The beginnings of her climax. His other hand flew to her breast, delicately pinching her nipple, and she shattered.

Her cries of ecstasy were music to his ears. She collapsed back against him in absolute surrender and would have fallen boneless to the floor if he were not supporting her body. He watched her intently in the mirror. His face was victorious with profound satisfaction. He waited until she opened her eyes again. Until she could focus on him. On them. He captured her eyes and then, slowly, deliberately, withdrew his fingers from her and brought them to his mouth. He licked and sucked them, lapping up her flavor and the elixir of her arousal.

She made a sound that sounded like a whimper and ground her ass against his straining cock.

“Dariux, take me now, please.”