He came over her, covering her body with his, the heat of their skin meeting like two brands. He kissed her again, deeply, then his mouth began a savage pilgrimage downward. He lavished attention on the strong column of her throat, sucking a mark into the tender skin that would bloom purple by morning. He moved to her collarbone, then lower, his hands coming up to cradle the magnificent weight of her breasts. He took one dark nipple into his mouth, sucking hard, his tongue lashing the pebbled flesh.
Sura cried out, her back arching off the furs, her hands flying to his hair, not to push him away but to hold him closer.
"Harder," she gasped.
"They are not delicate!"
