Sedonia Guillone

Jie lifted his hands to Megan’s bare breasts. She released a murmured sigh as the soft orbs filled his palms with their fullness. Megan leaned back against his chest, the top of her buttocks pressing into his dragon, which, of course, rose and grew hard from the contact.

He dragged in a breath, gathering self-control. Megan’s skin, fresh from her bath, exuded the scent of roses mixed with the deeper musk emanating from her sex. Her arousal shimmered in the air around them, urged on by his naked body pressed behind her and the heel of her foot position against her moist open core. Her golden hair gathered in a loose bun at the nape of her neck, brushed his lips.

This was not going to be easy.

She must have sensed his hesitation for she turned her head, shifting her body so she could look at him. Megan was a sensitive woman, even more deeply connected to him because she was his true mate. In the few months since he’d come to her, to protect her from the Russian werewolf, she’d grown to be as dear to him as his godfather. Only in a vastly different way.

Her breasts slipped from his hands. She frowned, one delicate hand cupping his cheek. “Jie,” she said near a whisper, “I love you as you are. You know that.” Her thumb brushed his skin.

In the muted lamplight of the bedroom, he saw the flicker of pain in her blue eyes. His heart squeezed. All she wanted was for him not to be tormented anymore. The urgency of his desire to cure himself of his lycanthropy lent a heavy air even to the pleasurable practice of the sexual Tao. For him, the practice was not for enlightenment, as was its application for centuries in China. No. Through their exercises, through cleansing and purifying Megan’s yin and his yang he hoped to use the power of their combined life forces to regain his humanity.

Of course she spoke the truth. The fact that he was a werewolf had never bothered her. Each month since they’d begun the cycle of exercises to prevent his change at the full moon, she reassured him. Unfortunately, her acceptance was never enough. Nightmares still haunted him of the death fight with the Russian lang ren. Until that day, Jie had never taken a life, and even though he’d had to fight to save Megan’s life, he still found it impossible to forgive himself. Since they’d been practicing, he hadn’t undergone the change once. He intended to keep it that way, in spite of the fact that he’d lost some of his physical strength. He bowed his head. “I know you do.”

Wordlessly, he put his hand on her shoulder and bid her to turn back around. She yielded under his touch and he encircled her in his arms once again, positioning his hands over her breasts. “Remember,” he said, “Seventy-two times in one direction and then seventy-two in the other direction.”

She nodded, her breathing already growing heavier. “I remember,” she whispered, leaning back against him.

The shift of her body sent fresh thrills of heat into his groin, feeding the hunger already simmering there. He dragged in a deep breath and started moving his hands, his touch mere ghostlike whispers over her flesh. His fingertips grazed the soft skin of her breasts, avoiding her nipples, but Jie could tell from the rasp of her breathing that the tiny peaks had hardened from arousal.

Keeping track of the number of times he’d circled her breasts was very difficult and he had to force his attention back to counting, working against the yin tide rising in Megan’s body. When he’d finished the first seventy-two circles, he paused and switched direction, his fingertips brushing Megan’s nipples as he did so.

Another soft moan slipped from her and he moved against him, brushing his raging erection. He fought the urge to turn her around, lay her down and take her. He’d done so several times in the beginning of their practice before he’d gotten control of his hunger.

Megan’s yin dew rose like a tidal wave. Jie felt the force. Her body trembled against his, her breasts rising and falling heavily as his hands moved over them. “Jie,” she whispered, her voice tight and ragged, “I’m ready. Please.release me.”

Her plea sent the hunger raging through his loins. He pulled away from her, turning her pliant body easily and laying her onto her back. Megan’s soft lips were parted and she looked up at him from under heavy lids. It took all the control in his possession not to climb between her thighs and slide into her.

He settled onto the mattress beside her, his mouth descending hungrily onto her nipple while his other hand gathered her far breast, gently drawing it closer. The tender bud under his suckling mouth tightened, releasing its musky flavor. Her yin energy flowed freely into him, swirling, mixing with his life force. His fingertips worked her other nipple, gently yet urgently chafing it between them.

Megan was panting, the fingers of both hands curling into his hair, her arms cradling his head. Her hips rose and fell in rhythm with his suckling, her body so obviously desperate for release.

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