Page 107 of A Dance of Water (Moon Song #2)

DON’T FALL… FLY

LUELLA

U ndone.

Luella was undone.

Awash in a thousand sensations, none of them regret. Just a burning curiosity and a scorching sort of embarrassment, mingling with naive-induced shame.

But not regret.

Fear stole the very air from her lungs.

Fear of the unknown, but not fear of the male nearly lying on top of her splayed out body.

The stone altar dug into her spine. Tharen’s breath rustled tendrils of her hair around her cheeks, and his hard, firm thigh was notched between hers, forcing them apart.

The thin fabric of her gown rode up indecently.

She was all but bare from the waist down, but with his body covering her, she only felt… safe— secure , even.

Or maybe that could be attributed to the playful stardust that twisted and curled around her flesh like a lover. Its warmth filled her with serenity, as if it knew she needed the courage to face this trap of her own design.

Her tender core throbbed in tune with her heartbeat, but this time, Luella didn’t wait for the feeling to steal her away, because the one who held the promise of her pleasure in his hands hovered over her in a lustful reckoning .

Desire darkened the mage’s icy eyes; he was far from unaffected. She had felt his—his arousal pressing against her backside when she had sat on his lap.

He used his thigh to knock her leg further aside, his knee pressing right against the very center of her aching heat.

With a soft, startled gasp, her back arched away from the altar, instinctively chasing after the feeling.

Tharen laughed against her ear. "Feel good, Princess?"

Yes , she wanted to cry. But she bit her lower lip so hard she tasted the iron tang of blood—she would not give him the satisfaction of an answer.

"So quiet," he mumbled, nipping the tip of her ear.

His touch was so different from the King. Vale was all possession and control, broken up with the occasional spurt of pain-filled rage as he fought with his dragon.

But the Prima was anger and unfettered need. He did not temper his touches or the power of his bite. Nor did he mind his tongue. His words dripped with raw hunger. Contempt warred with a carnal urge to own.

Tharen smiled against the side of her face. "I’ll get a reaction out of you."

And then he moved down her body.

Luella’s breath hitched; she suddenly felt exposed. Her head fell to the side on the altar, eyes finding Vale where he stood, watching. Smoke curled from the King’s nostrils, and his eyes were definitely slitted. Her gaze dipped lower, to his hands clenched at his sides and?—

Tiny droplets of blood fell from his clenched hands.

"Vale," she breathed, staring at his hands.

Tharen paused, his head at her belly button as his hands gripped her thighs.

"Don’t say his name when I’m the one touching you.

" His fingertips indented her flesh, and she held back a wince from the power of his grip, only just realizing how close to the soft, untouched space between her thighs he was.

Vale arched a golden brow, uncaring that blood fell from his clenched hands. He was holding himself back with such precision that he had harmed himself in the process .

Hot lips pressed against the skin on the inside of her knee. She released a stuttered breath and tried to snap her legs closed, but Tharen wouldn’t allow it.

"You never said I couldn’t kiss other parts of your body." Tharen’s voice rumbled against the flesh of her thigh.

She was dizzy. "I’m saying it now. Don’t k-kiss me." She gasped as his tongue traced over her skin. " Anywhere ," she asserted. Teeth replaced his lips as he bit down. Her eyelids fluttered. "No… biting."

Did Luella have to outline every little thing for him? What part of impersonal did he not understand?

He huffed against her, breath hot on her already flushed skin. His fingers tugged on the hem of her gown, brushing her upper thighs.

Air kissed her flesh as he tugged it up. Apprehension robbed her of thought before she quickly blurted, "Stop!"

Tharen paused, staring up at her where his hands still gripped the bottom of her gown. Crackling embers glowed, echoed by a low hiss—the King was watching, poised to intervene.

"I want… t-to keep this on." Luella’s fingers dug into the altar under her, her breathing harsh.

He did not move for a moment, and slowly, she reached out, fingers sore from how she had gripped the stone.

She took his wrist, not able to close her fingers around it fully—he was big, everywhere .

The warm stardust belied her with a strength she did not feel.

She used her grip on his hand to pull him back up, where he hovered over her body like a blanket.

He shook away her touch, and her hand fell to her lower stomach. He braced a hand near her head, the other flattening against her palm that rested on her stomach. The pressure made her head swim.

"What about this then?" Tharen teased gruffly, lacing his fingers with hers and using her hand as a tool, dragging it down to settle right above the space she was most aware of. The heel of her palm dug into her soft heat, and she jolted at the sensation.

"O-oh."

"I take it that’s a yes?"

Tharen forced her hand lower… and lower, taking her pointer finger and dragging along the crest of her inner thighs, flirting wi th the hem of her gown, but not brushing it away.

He toed the line of touching her bare skin, making her gasp as he seemed to near it, and then dipping back just when a plea lingered on her lips.

Her thighs trembled around their joined hands, a slick heat building under her fingertips that made her feel shameful and hungry, all at once.

With her free hand, she stifled her cries, placing her palm over her lips as embarrassment threatened to break her out of the haze of desire clouding the room.

"It’s no fun when you’re quiet." The hard line of his jaw pressed firmly against hers as he spoke.

"If you’re that desperate to be gagged, I have something much more fun in mind.

" A loud hiss made her hair stand on end, and she gasped, head lolling to the side and finding Vale, his lips curled back in a snarl.

Not looking at the King, Tharen said, "Don’t get so pent up…

Say it." He dragged her hand over her fabric-covered center.

"Tell me how fucking badly you ache for me. "

She shook her head, a part of her wishing the mage would stop teasing her and just get it over with already.

"Just…"

He smiled against her cheek, his long hair tickling her neck as it pooled over her chest from how he hovered over her. "Just?" he prodded.

She closed her eyes in shame. "Just touch me." The words were muffled by her hand.

"If you say so, Princess." Tharen tugged his hand away from hers, knocking it to the side as his fingers replaced hers. But the difference was stark. The mage’s fingertips were calloused, his hands rough and large.

And practiced.

Innocence did not make him falter as he placed a hand over her gown and finally cupped her between her legs.

Her back bowed at the softest brush of his hand against her. Already, she teetered on the precipice of something grand. Unknown. Liquid heat pulsed between her thighs.

"There’s the reaction I wanted. But I think you can do better. "

That was all the warning she received before his face hovered right above hers.

He eclipsed the rainbow lights in the stone room. Her breaths were hot against her palm, which she still kept pressed over her lips to stifle the sounds he wanted. She would not give it to him. She already gave enough.

As if without her permission, her thighs fell open. Tharen’s hand pressed right over the intimate space between her thighs. Some part deep within her lower belly clenched, desperate.

The stone dug into her spine, but she was barely aware of the prick of discomfort as she shifted slightly, her lower half trying to arch up into his palm.

She nearly went cross-eyed from his proximity, the tip of his nose brushing the line of hers, lips skimming the top of her hand, where it stayed between them like a barrier.

The sound of her breaths drowned out all rational thought of why she shouldn’t allow this to carry on with such familiarity, as Tharen whispered against her hand, "I won’t kiss your lips, but let me"—his mouth pressed against her wrist; the stardust drifted away from him, curling around her forearm—"pretend. "

Pretend. She always loved to play pretend. A weakness the Prima seemed to prey upon.

She moved her hand just enough to be able to speak clearly. "Just pretend?"

Tharen’s open mouth trailed lower down the soft flesh of her forearm, chasing after the warm stardust. "Just pretend," he affirmed, voice low. "No one has to know."

Unbidden, her eyes trailed to the side, trying to find where Vale watched from the sidelines.

Tharen gripped her cheeks, forcing her lips to pucker. "I told you not to think about him right now, little lamb. This is between us."

The stardust twisted up to her neck, warm against her cheeks.

Tharen smiled against the back of her hand. "And the gods." His lips pressed to her flesh, but not kissing, he seemed to be waiting for her command.

Luella swallowed. "How?"

One of his fingers flexed against her core, and she gasped softly as it made sparks of pleasure shoot up her spine. Instead of answering, he showed her.

Tharen kissed her skin. The bruising force of his lips on the back of her hand made her palm press firmer against her mouth.

Her breath was hot against her palm, making it damp with sweat as he claimed her hand with utter savagery.

It was just as she thought it would be.

Too much.

Not enough.

And everything in between.

She told herself this was still pretend—but her body had long since blurred that line.

Tharen’s tongue traced along the faint impression of veins on the bony parts of the back of her hand, his other hand still between her legs.

He blew a hot puff of air against her damp skin.