Kushiel's Scion - Jacqueline Carey [175]
But not quite.
What we ate, I could not say, except that there were honey-drenched pastries at the end. I watched Claudia eat her portion, the sweet triangles disappearing between her carmined lips, the tip of her tongue flicked at errant flakes of pasty. Afterward, she licked her fingers, slow and lingering, sucking away the last traces of honey. I nearly groaned aloud at the sight.
"Ah, sweet boy!" Her eyes gleamed. "Do you hunger still?"
I clenched my fists and released them. "What do you think, my lady?"
She laughed, low and deep. "Oh, many things, Imriel nó Montrève! At the moment, I think you are a proud young D'Angeline who fancies he knows somewhat of self-control." She shook her head. "You know nothing."
"Then teach me," I challenged her. "I came to Tiberium to learn."
Claudia's eyes narrowed. "Would you suffer yourself to submit to my will?"
I hesitated. "Mayhap."
"Are you afraid?" Another smile curled her lips. "I mean you no harm. I merely want to see what stuff this singular will of yours is made of."
"And if I agree?" I asked.
Her smile widened. "Oh, you will be rewarded."
I got to my feet. "Then let us find out, my lady."
Claudia led me to her bedroom. Whether it was one she shared with Deccus, I did not ask. Of a surety, it was large enough and sumptuously appointed. Everywhere, set in lampstands, on every surface, candles blazed, filling the room with golden light. It was like the inside of a temple, and the bed an altar in it. I stood in the center of the room while she prowled around me.
"So, my lady," I said. "What will you?"
"Nothing, yet." Her fingertips trailed over the fabric of my shirt. "I want you to stand there. I want to see you."
I stood. I could feel the heat of her as she moved behind me. Then she drew away and went to recline on the bed. Her eyes reflected the candlelight.
"Take off your clothes," she said.
I untucked my shirt and pulled it slowly over my head, baring my torso. On the bed, her breathing quickened. I unlaced my breeches and drawers and let them fall over my hips. At the sight of my erect phallus, the tip brushing my belly, she touched her lips with her tongue and swung herself off the bed.
"Why are you doing this, Claudia?" I asked, watching her approach. "Why me?"
"Ah, gods!" Her hands glided over my skin, and I heard her breath catch in her throat. "Deccus Fulvius is a good man," she murmured, circling me once more. "A good statesman and a good husband. But he is old, Imriel. He was old when I married him." Behind me, she slid both hands the length of my back. "I want this," she whispered in my ear. "I want to feel firm skin, and hard muscle sliding beneath it." Her skirts rustled as she moved around me, tracing the line of my collarbone with her tongue. "I want to taste clean, young sweat."
I gritted my teeth. The muscles in my legs were quivering.
"Do you want to know about self-control?" Her mouth moved lower, her tongue laving my nipples. "It is restraining oneself, day after day. It is weighing risks, parceling out pleasure in small, dangerous doses." She lifted her head, eyes bright. "It is seeing you and forcing myself to wait."
Her nails raked the flat planes of my chest, skimming my belly. I did groan, then. My phallus twitched, a droplet forming on its crown. My testes ached.
"Poor boy!" Claudia gave a breathless laugh. "You begin to understand."
She kissed me as she had before, taking my face in both hands as though to drink me in through my mouth, plundering it shamelessly. No woman had ever kissed me like that before. I wasn't even sure I liked it, though it goaded my desire. This time, I forced my arms to remain at my sides, reciprocating only with lips and tongue.
"I want you." Claudia's fingers knotted in the hair at the nape of my neck. "I want to taste