Up In Smoke
Page 13

To my utter surprise, he didn’t immediately pounce on me.
‘‘What’s wrong?’’ I asked, confused.
He glanced down at my body lying supine before him.
‘‘If it’s about the outfit, that was Magoth’s choice, not mine. I had nothing to do with it—’’
‘‘No,’’ he interrupted, his gaze molten as it crawled its way up my mostly exposed skin. I did a rather clumsy shimmy to rid myself of the upper part of the outfit, tossing it to a nearby chair with a come-hither look that could probably have steamed a carpet. ‘‘It’s not that, although I have to admit that Magoth’s taste in clothing is . . .’’
‘‘Horrendous?’’ I said as Gabriel’s sentence petered off. ‘‘Appallingly hideous? Utterly and completely inappropriate?’’
‘‘Exceptionally fine,’’ Gabriel said, his fingers giving little spasmodic jerks as he stood naked—and aroused—next to the bed, watching me.
‘‘We’ll discuss that point later. What I’d like to know now is why you aren’t, at this very moment, pleasuring me like I’ve never been pleasured before.’’ A thought occurred to me as the memory of a similar experience came to mind. ‘‘You’re not still worked up about the fact that we never seem to get time to indulge in foreplay, are you? Because I told you the last time this came up’’—I eyed his penis, which bobbed merrily at me—‘‘that it really isn’t an issue.’’
A muscle in his jaw worked. ‘‘I talked to my mother about you. She agreed that this lack of self-control I exhibit around you is not fair to you.’’
I sat up, glaring at him. ‘‘You talked to your mother about our sex life?’’
An odd sort of wary look crossed his face. ‘‘She sensed something profound had changed my life. I told her about you. She was very pleased that you are my mate, and looks forward to meeting you. Do you have an issue with my mother? You would like her, Mayling. She is not at all like Drake’s mother—she would never try to have you killed.’’
Startled, I got off the bed and marched around it to poke him on his chest. ‘‘That’s not the point. What is the point is . . . Drake’s mom tried to have Aisling killed?’’
Gabriel’s brows pulled together, his hands on his hips. ‘‘Little bird, now is not the time to discuss Aisling and Drake. You have been separated from me for six weeks. I must rejoin with you. It is the way of the dragons.’’
‘‘I’m not the one who brought up the subject of his mother,’’ I said, pointing at the bed. ‘‘I was laid out there like a stuffed turkey, but all you seem to want to do is talk.’’
We both looked down at his penis.
‘‘It’s not that easy,’’ he answered seriously. ‘‘There is nothing more I wish to do at this moment than fulfill each and every one of those intriguing fantasies you have about me. The one involving taking you while on the back of a horse might be a little difficult, but with some practice, I think it would be possible.’’
‘‘And that’s another thing—why can you read my smutty thoughts about you, but I can’t read your mind?’’
‘‘I told you before,’’ he answered, taking the hand I was using to poke him repeatedly in the chest. His fingers stroked mine, lighting my fingernails on fire. ‘‘It is a trait I inherited from my mother. I do not know if you can do the same, although I suspect it’s possible.’’
‘‘Let’s get back to that point—you asked your mom for sex advice?’’ I had a hard time getting past that point. I pulled my hand from his, spreading my fingers through the hair on his chest. ‘‘Gabriel, I know I’m inexperienced, but don’t you think we could have discussed what it was that I’m not doing right before you had to consult your mother?’’
‘‘You are not doing anything wrong, Mayling. I am the problem, and it is that for which I sought advice from my mother. She is a shaman of much renown. Even if she was not the mate of a dragon, I would consult her, for she knows much of our ways.’’
‘‘Well, I may not be the most knowledgeable of people when it concerns dragons, but I do know that from where I stand . . . sit . . . lie down . . . there’s nothing you need to change. Except maybe this proclivity to stand around staring at me as if I’m a chunk of tenderloin and you’re a hungry wolf. More action and less talk, wyvern,’’ I said, kicking off of the loathsome bit of material that was all that remained of my ceremonial outfit. I slid my hands up Gabriel’s sides and around to the lovely terrain of his back.
He stiffened, sucking in a good quarter of the air in the room. ‘‘My mother told me that I was being selfish in thinking only of my own needs, and that even the most accommodating of women need time and attention to achieve full satisfaction.’’
I bit his shoulder. ‘‘Have I looked unsatisfied with you? Other than this moment, that is?’’
‘‘No,’’ he said slowly, his eyes molten with desire. I licked the spot I had bitten. ‘‘But you are petite in stature, and dragon matings are not always easy.’’
I decided that words just weren’t going to do the job, leaving actions my only choice. I tipped my head and bit gently on the little brown nub of a nipple peeking through his soft chest hair.
‘‘She also said . . .’’ Gabriel groaned deep in his chest as I swirled my tongue over his nipple. His hands were on my shoulders now, fingers digging into my flesh, his eyes screwed up tight as he made a face that expressed both rapture and exquisite pain. ‘‘She said that my inability to retain control around you could be dangerous and risky, that you see me as a man, and I must go carefully before you see my true depths. I am trying to do so, little bird, but I begin to think it is impossible. You are too much a part of me now.’’
I stopped tormenting his nipple and looked up, rocked to the bottom of my soul with what he had said.
‘‘You’re stopping?’’ he asked, opening his eyes in surprise.
I put both hands on his cheeks, searching his face for signs of anything that hinted of an untruth. There was nothing, much as I expected. Gabriel might be many things, but he had never lied to me. ‘‘Did you mean that?’’ I asked.