Alien Mask (Fated Mates of the Sea Sand Warlords, #12)

by Ursa Dax

“Haven’t you ever been overwhelmed by something beautiful?” I asked him quietly.

His answer was even quieter than my question. “Yes.”

“Do whatever you want with it,” he rasped, eyes opening once more, his gaze feverish. “Burn it. Be sick all over it. Toss it from the highest peak into the deepest valley. I don’t care as long as you take it off.”

“I know I’ve got a very nice cock,” Lerokan rasped, “but I’d rather hoped that you’d asked to take my clothing off to do a little more than stare.”

“Maddening, perfect Priya,” he murmured against the top of my head.

“Keep it there. I want you marked as mine.”

“I’ve always been possessive,” he said. “I’ve just never had something I wanted to possess so badly before.”

“When you tell them what happened, please tell them I pleased you so greatly that I drowned in your fluids and not the water,” he said, totally deadpan.

“Do not worry, mate. I have very strong lungs. Besides,” his voice got husky, “I know all your secret places now. I do not suspect this will take very long.”

He dunked beneath the water once again.

“A man does not need experience to be virile,” Lerokan panted, his hips beginning to move and meet my gentle rocking motion. “He needs only energy. And enthusiasm.”

“I love you so much,” I whispered. “And besides,” I added, lifting a teasing brow, “I’ve already decided. When my time comes, whenever that may be, I’m dragging you along with me.”

“Good,” he breathed out. “I would not have it any other way.”

Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes, to Lerokan. Yes, to love. Yes, to the future splayed dazzlingly before us, all richly shaded landscapes and winding lines. Yes, to the map of us. To everywhere it had already led. And everywhere it would lead.