Moving slowly, she reached a hand up and pressed her fingers against the fabric of her thin, sheer top, and it vanished with a flash of blue light.
Across from her, Jeremy’s eyes widened, and he sat up even straighter than before.
Miranda stayed like that for a minute, just letting him take her in with his eyes. It was a nice feeling, being appreciated like this, and the flames inside her burned even hotter with each passing second.
Finally, she lowered her hand, lightly touching the fabric of her bottom. Jeremy unconsciously leaned forward, the hunger evident on his face. There was another blue flash, and…
“Ashes and flame,” Jeremy whispered as he looked upon Miranda Jackdaw—the real Miranda Jackdaw—for the first time in all of her womanly glory.
[...]
Turning so that her bare back was to him, she smiled slyly over her shoulder and sat down right on his lap. Jeremy stiffened, and for a second Miranda thought she had made a mistake, moved too fast. But then he relaxed and wrapped his arms around her from behind. She signed, leaning back against him, feeling his bare chest press against the skin of her back.
[...]
His hands unwrapped themselves from around her, and she shivered when his fingers trailed across her bare skin. She took a deep breath and locked her eyes with his, willing herself not to squirm from the pent up desire that was so very, very close to being released.
A half-gasp, half-whimper escaped her mouth when his hands started to explore her body. Hesitantly at first, but gaining confidence surprisingly quickly. Soon, he almost seemed to be touching her everywhere at once. Every caress, every poke, every squeeze, all served to stoke the fire inside her higher, hotter, brighter, until…
[...]
Her breathing was growing even heavier, and Jeremy couldn't tear his eyes from her chest as it rose and fell hypnotically in front of him.
“Ashes and flame, Jeremy,” she whispered with a trace of desperation in her voice. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing just by looking at me like that?”
As impatient as she obviously was, Miranda still couldn't let the chance to tease him a little pass, and he realized why she had brought the wine bottle with her to bed as she raised it—but not to take a drink. Tipping it over, she poured it onto herself. The dark red liquid met the skin just beneath her collarbone, tracing the curves of her chest and the smooth, flat surface of her belly in a ruby waterfall before pooling on Jeremy's stomach down below.
[...]
“Oh no,” Miranda exclaimed in false distress. “I spilled my drink!”
Her wet skin glistened with a burgundy sheen in the candlelight as she tossed the empty bottle away and lowered herself onto her hands and knees again. For a moment, they were face to face again, and she gave him another long, steamy kiss. But then she broke it and Jeremy could only let himself sink even deeper into the mattress as he watched her crawl backwards a bit until her face was hovering just over his chest, where a few stray drops of the wine had splashed.
“It's okay,” she murmured. “Just let me clean that up.”
She lowered her head.
“But only…”
And lower.
“If you promise…”
Her lips were a mere inch away.
“To do the same to me.”
With that, her tongue came out, and the hot, wet sensation of it running across his skin sent his heart galloping. She licked one drop of the wine clean, and then another.
[...]
He reached out and ran his hands through her long, curly black hair, pausing to caress her horns. Was that good? Did Miranda even have any feeling in her horns? He didn't know and didn't care, and it didn't seem as though she did either. She just continued to clean the spilled wine off of him one lingering, hedonistic lick at a time.
Jeremy breathed in sharply as it suddenly became too much to bear. His body went rigid, and then with a long sigh he went as limp as a wet rag.
