His smile was dark. Erotic. "You like to watch me?"
"Yes. Oh, yes. . . "
That was as far as she got as another wave of release crested and assumed control of her thoughts, her speech, her body. . . her soul, wiping everything clean.
When she finally quieted and was again able to focus, she recognized the strain in Tohrment's face, the tightness around his jaw and his eyes, the pumping of his chest. He had not found his release yet.
"Do you want to watch," he gritted out.
"Oh, yes. . . "
Withdrawing from her body, his arousal was as his lips had been, glossy and swollen.
With one big hand he gripped himself, and with the other he braced his weight against the floor so that he could stretch out over her lax, open body. Twisting his shoulders, he provided her with plenty of view as he stroked up and down, that blunt head of his appearing and disappearing in and out of his fist.
His breath grew louder and harsher as he showed her just how it happened for him.
When the time came, his shout rang out in her ears and his head shot back, his chin punching forward as he bared his fangs and hissed. Then with rhythmic pulses, jets sprayed out of him, hitting her sex and her lower belly, making her arch sure as if the satisfaction had been her own.
As he finally sagged, she extended her arms. "Come here. "
There was no hesitation as he complied, bringing his chest to her own before he turned on his side to cushion her weight.
"Are you warm enough," he murmured. "Your hair is wet. "
"I do not care. " She snuggled into his body. "I'm just. . . perfect. "
A rumble of approval came up his throat. "That you are. . . Rosalhynda. "
At the sound of her former name, she jerked back, but he held her tight. "I can't keep calling you No'One. Not after. . . this. "
"I don't like that name. "
"Then another. "
Staring into his face, she had the distinct notion that he was not going to budge on this. And he was also not going to refer to her as she had so chosen long, long ago. . . when that word was what she had felt she was.
Mayhap he was right, however. She suddenly didn't feel like no one.
"You need a name. "
"I cannot choose," she replied, aware of a stout pain in her heart.
He looked up to the ceiling. Wound some of her hair around one of his fingers. Made a clicking sound with his tongue.
"Autumn is my favorite season of the year," he said after a time. "It's not that I'm chicking out or anything. . . but I like the leaves when they turn red and orange. They're beautiful in the moonlight, but more to the point, it's an impossible transformation. The green of spring and summer is just a shadow of the trees' true identity, and all that color as the nights grow cold is a miracle every stinking time it happens. It's like they're making up for the loss of the warmth with all their fire. I like. . . Autumn. " He stared into her eyes. "You're like that. You're beautiful and you burn brightly - and it's time for you to come out. So I say. . . Autumn. "
In the silence that followed, she was aware of a pricking at the corners of her eyes.
"What's the matter?" he rushed in. "Shit - you don't like it? I could pick another. Lihllith? How about Suhannah? What. . . Joe? Fred? Frickin' Howard?"
She put her hand upon his face. "I love it. It's perfect. I shall henceforth be known by the name you have given me, and the season of the year when the leaves burn - Autumn. "
Lifting herself up, she pressed her lips to his. "Thank you. Thank you. . . "
As he nodded solemnly, she wrapped her arms around him, and held him tightly. To be named was to be claimed, and it made her feel. . . reborn.
Chapter Forty-Senven