I Fell for Myself by Stella Mira

How Eloquent...

"Let's take it slow, shall we? If this works, I'll be back in my body when we finish – and I refuse to be sore because I was too damn careless and rough."

Her arm unwound from his waist, sidled lower, currents of cool air and hot, ridged skin on the inside of his thigh. Languorous strokes, firm-gripped, nails grazing, not too deep, not too soft, marking his flesh with shallow welts.

Sesshōmaru gave her a low sound, unwitting, shivers and spasms, the closer she moved to the juncture of his legs, to the place that burned and ached for her touch. The pads of her fingers caressed tender folds, sampled their sensitivity, back and forth, in maddening motions. A wicked tease. He moved beneath her, seeking more of that friction, that rip of nerves, but didn't give her the satisfaction of being vocal about it.

"Just admit that you like it."

Her breath fanned on the nape of his neck, sultry, agonizingly close.

"It does not matter whether I –" But then canines scraped the curve of his shoulder; her fingers pressed harder, dipped low, delved into slick want.

"But it matters to me. Say it."

Sesshōmaru didn't care for her taunt, her chuckle – so long as she didn't stop. He bucked against her, forced her to slide deeper, relished the animalistic sound that spilled from her throat, the intrusion of teeth and long fingers. His walls clamped around her fingers as they bent and twisted and rubbed in all the right ways – but it ended too soon. Much too soon. Her fingers withdrew from the tight clasp of his muscles, left him unsatisfied, earned her a feminine snarl, and she made that rough sound again, that laughter.

"You don't have to like it, Sesshōmaru – but you do like it. We will never speak of this again…we might as well do so now."

His mouth curled in vexation, but before Sesshōmaru could speak, those same fingers touched his lips. They glissaded in circles, smeared wetness on his lips, viscous and zesty – then lowered, clutched his jaw, tilted his neck until he met her eyes. Pale, with the illusion of gold, moonstone melted into lust, her eyes ravished him as much as her fingers. Slanted smirk and belligerence and venery – all of her. Sesshōmaru couldn't be certain, but he doubted that such an expression had ever touched his features when he had been in his body. His tongue darted out, licked his upper lip, took a sip of his need. Her smirk tilted, adopted visceral qualities.

"Have a taste…Sesshōmaru – but not too much. I'll be the one doing that."

Arrogant woman – but her voice when she said his name… It precipitated a flux of sensations, stimulated areas she was no longer touching - and more. The tip of her tongue laved the curve of his lips, savored the drink slathered on silk-soft flesh. A growl rippled through her body, intrinsic undulations against the slope of his back. Heat and wetness pooled and slinked and grew, spiraled into the apex of his thighs. Teeth sank into his lower lip, nipped and nibbled, provoked a chain of reactions. Sesshōmaru arched against her, unbidden, demanding, reminiscent of the females he had taken – and she chuckled.

"Is this your way of telling me that you like it? How eloquent…"