Hidden 02.5 by emma holly

Author:emma holly [holly, emma]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2012-07-15T22:32:55+00:00

“Maybe if we leave them alone, they’ll hug it out.”

“Or something,” Anso tacked on humorously.

He pulled the red silk drape aside for her, the vibrant expanse of fabric tall enough for a theater stage. More theatricality lay behind it, the bower he revealed strung with tiny white elf lights. A grove of orchids grew in niches within the smooth black stone, moss and vines trailing out as well. As was the case for most wereseal beds, the room’s large mattress was inset flush with the floor.

Interestingly, four carved mahogany posts rose from its corners.

“It’s like an upper world four-poster!” Olivia exclaimed, aware Anso

sometimes worried she’d get homesick for her old life. “They’re even topped by pineapples!”

“It’s a compromise,” Anso said. “I always think I’m going to fall off

drylander beds.”

Olivia hugged him and he hugged back. “Thank you. It’s beautiful.”

“You’re welcome,” Anso mumbled into her hair. “Especially since the post thing was my idea.”

“James likes sleeping at floor level.”

“And you?”

She pushed back and smiled at him. “I like sleeping anywhere you are.”

He stroked a disheveled red lock behind her ear, her hair pins lost who knew where. His eyes grew more serious.

“I want you to lie down for me,” he said.

This was how he mastered his partners: with quiet intensity. He had storms in him, but it took the throes of passion to bring them out.

“As you wish,” she said to him.

With a flourish she probably couldn’t have pulled off before she became part-were, she stepped onto the center of the covers, gripped his hand more securely, and borrowed his strength to lower herself full length onto her back. He liked her trick, his smile stretching broader as he stood over her.

Anso wasn’t the biggest talker of her husbands. He said quite a lot wordlessly by undoing his damp trousers and pushing them down his legs. His full blown erection bounced as he kicked the pants away.

“Is that for me?” she asked coyly.

“Eventually.”

“Eventually!” Laughing, she came up on her elbows.

“Stay,” he ordered. “You can have this if you behave yourself.”

He was in a mood, all right. Enjoying it, Olivia relaxed back among the

pillows, her neck propped up on a silk bolster. Seeing she was compliant, Anso retrieved a pretty soup bowl sized jar from a low Moroccan table. When he unscrewed the silver lid, a sugary vanilla scent wafted out. Anso scooped a dollop of the creamy contents onto his palm.

“Do I need moisturizing?” she asked.

“This is for massages. By the time I’m through, you’re going to be too relaxed to spell ‘state dinner.’”

That was a nice promise. “Should I turn over?”

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