"Sy…Syris, Please…" Roxy gasped, her hips bucking off the wood.
While the party was going on outside, Roxy was being ravaged by Syris, who wanted nothing but her. The sturdy table groaned under the weight of Roxy, and Syris tried his best to pin her so she wouldn't move so much.
Instead, Roxy was riding his face.
Roxy's head was thrown back against the wood, her fingers tangling desperately in Syris's long, silky seaweed hair as he feasted on her.
The white silk dress was bunched up around her waist, exposing her to the cool air and the heat of his mouth.
His fingers were pressed against her abdomen, punctuating the mark that Zarek left behind for her.
His tongue was relentless, and it was not all technique he was trying to use on her; he was tasting her scent, memorizing her flavor, preparing her body to accept him. With a low, vibrating hiss against her sensitive skin, Syris pulled back.
