A mask of jet-black kohl made her amber eyes glow, and her lips were painted blood red. The metal of her top barely covered her breasts. Below her short skirt, her hose were like fishnet but made with threads of gold, climbing to her mid thighs.
He'd always thought the traditional dress for the Sorceri females had the potential to be mind-numbingly erotic. He'd never seen it on the right woman.
Until now. Rydstrom hissed out a curse. Deny it all I want . .
The Lore held that they'd dressed like this because they were among the physically weakest of all the species. They had no claws, so they mimicked them. They were vulnerable to injury so they protected their heads and their torsos with metal. The masks disconcerted their stronger opponents.
If she'd been nigh irresistible to him before ...
She was now his fantasy made flesh-standing framed by an illusion showing his legs nearly buckling as she Sucked him so deep.
Mine. She turned in a leisurely circle so he could see her from the back. As he beheld her pert ass in that skirt, he thought, I'm undone.
"I've decided we should get to know one another," she purred, facing him again. "Perhaps you've been reluctant to wed me because you haven't seen what a winning personality I have." She let the illusion behind
her fade.
"Winning personality," he repeated dumbly. Now she wanted to talk, when he was doing his damnedest not to rock his aching shaft against the cool sheet.
"I'm curious, demon. What do you enjoy sexually?" He'd been trying to figure that out for most of his life. He knew he enjoyed her dressed like this. It made him fantasize about spending hours divesting her of wicked
garments.
The puzzle of unfastening each complicated piece ... the time it would take, the anticipation. The knotted leather laces on her metal top alone...