Dara reached out; then, her fingers brushing his brow, his temple, down to his cheek. “Your face is changing,” he heard her say. “Does it hurt?”
He heard his own growl, a purely animal sound no human vocal cords could produce. Did it hurt? Christ, yes. He was in agony just keeping still under her touch. Her fingers brushed into his hair, sifting through it, and he almost purred. Was his sight changing again? She hadn’t been so close to him before.
But it wasn’t Dara who’d moved. Without meaning to, he slid his hand forward to just beside her hip and shifted his weight on it in a slow, fluid motion, leaning closer to her. He never blinked as he watched her face. He could hear her heartbeat quicken and she was breathing in little gasps. Her pupils went wide, her cheeks became rosy, and her lips … Ah, it was a beautiful sight to behold them plumping the slightest bit and parting just a little.
He’d dreamed of this. Seeing her like this. Feeling her tremble beneath his touch. He’d imagined the feel of those lush lips on him so many times he’d lost count. In his dreams, he’d had her on all fours before him as he slammed into her and bit her shoulder in a frenzy. He’d seen her riding his cock in complete abandon, as wild as he felt. Tristan had felt her go down on him in his mind so many times he could almost believe it had really happened.
Dara thought he was trying to forget their kiss. She had no idea.
The Clog Blog 