Veylara's breathing was getting rougher and rougher.
Her body remained extremely tense in his lap, her tight breasts rising and falling rapidly against his arm, the slightly bushy mound of her pussy even hotter and sensitive where his hand had been.
The explanation of sex, the feeling of his finger inside her, the sight of him openly tasting what he had taken from her… each new piece of information was clearly stacking on top of the last, leaving the proud Warchief temporarily without a script.
She was like a marionette, at the full mercy of her marionettist.
..
Sol did not give the stunned silence time to harden into second thoughts.
He rose from the submerged ledge, lifting Veylara with him as if her mature, powerful body weighed nothing.
Water cascaded off both of them in silver sheets. Before she could fully process the change in position he turned her in his arms, spinning her so that they faced each other fully, then pulled her into a tight embrace.
