Raine: The Lords of Satyr by Elizabeth Amber Page B

velvet and satin. One could only hope. She kicked it away, into the corner by her shoes.
    With her back still toward him, she fumbled below the shirt, wrapping one of his ribbons around her cock several times and tying it off. Threading another ribbon through that one, she looped the second satin length around her waist and tied it fast.
    “What’s your name?” Raine asked.
    She eyed him over her shoulder.
    A corner of his mouth crept higher. “Sorry. Is that question against the rules?”
    She shrugged and pushed the shirttails low again, hiding her nether regions before she turned to face him. Her body was hidden now except for her shapely legs, dainty wrists, and the line of her throat visible in the deep V dipping from the neckline where she’d left the shirt unfastened.
    “Jordan. It’s Jordan.”
    She didn’t give him her sire’s name and was glad when he didn’t press for it. And she didn’t ask his name. It didn’t matter. They were only passing a night together. Once the storm abated, they would part forever as strangers.
    “Will you take me from behind?” she asked him. “Not as a man takes another man. But as a man takes a woman, I mean.”
    “If you prefer,” said Raine. She didn’t want him to know how her body was formed between her legs, he realized.
    Though he wanted to touch every part of her, he would let her keep her privacy for now. At least until this cold deserted him and he could determine whether she was to be a permanent fixture in his life.
    Jordan nodded. “Yes. It’s what I prefer. What I insist upon.”
    “We’ll call it a rule then. For tonight.”
    “Yes. A rule.”
    Under his shirt, her cock throbbed and bucked against its restraints. Though she’d tucked it tight and high against her belly, and trussed it in the ribbons she’d taken from him earlier, it yearned to participate in their lovemaking.
    “Kneel on the bed,” he told her.
    His silver eyes tracked her as she climbed on the mattress to stand on her knees. She gazed back at him from beneath her lashes.
    He removed his boots. Then his trousers. His movements were methodical and unhurried, even under her frankly carnal stare.
    As he approached, she studied the shaft between his legs with the same thoroughness as the artist had studied hers earlier that night. Since she had neither the artist’s talent nor his charcoal at hand, she sought to imprint the picture of this man’s body in her mind instead of on vellum.
    She’d seen cocks before. Paulo, Gani, and even she had sometimes whipped theirs out to piss in the streets, when the three of them had been out raising hell after dark. But their cocks had been nothing like this man’s.
    Like a pendulum, it swung solid, thick, and long between his legs. It was easily twice the size of her own phallus in every dimension. Veins pulsing with fevered blood grew fat and juicy along its length like gnarled vines sprawling up a tree trunk. The crown they reached toward was bulbous, with an unusually pronounced ridge separating it from the shaft itself.
    High between her legs, her slit contracted softly, wanting him more than ever.
    Over her shoulder, she watched him move into position on the mattress behind her. She wanted to memorize everything about him. Everything about this night, so she could call it to mind another time in the future.
    His eyes were intent now and covetous. Within moments, he would invade the aching woman’s cavity of her body with that hot, impressive cock. She shivered, anticipating it, wishing this precious moment—this night—could last forever.
    The mattress depressed as he knelt close behind her, between her legs. His body warmed her back, bottom, and inner thighs.
    His broad hands found her hips under the fabric of the shirt and then slid upward inside it to learn the shape of her breasts. She rested her hands flat over her phallus at first, making sure no errant touch of his would make its way there. Long moments passed. His handling