pool of
longing, desperately needing the touch of his hand to mold her.
Taegin hunkered down beside the cot. “Will you sit up for
me?” he asked.
As though she was in a dream, Marin pushed herself up and
allowed him to swing her legs from the cot. With infinite slowness, he lifted
her foot and took off her shoe then set it aside. With his eyes on hers, he
massaged her foot for a moment before letting it go to take off her other shoe and
putting it on the floor. He caressed that foot, kneaded her toes, and then
wedged himself between her thighs so that her knees were bracketing his waist
then he put his hands on the silky bodice of her gown and in one slow,
tantalizing motion ripped it straight down the front.
Marin looked down at the mound of rent material gathered
about her hips. “Oh,” she said, dismayed at the destruction of the lovely gown.
“Shush,” he said, soothing her. “I’ve a garment for you to
wear.”
“But it was so pretty,” she complained, plucking at the torn
garment.
“I’ll buy you more gowns than you will ever be able to
wear,” he promised.
She looked up from the gown to his handsome face and smiled
gently. “I’ll hold you to that, milord Tiogar.”
He smiled back at her then continued tearing the gossamer
gown from waist to hem then pushed it aside, baring her lovely body to his
fevered view. The soft beige color of the lacy strapless bra and matching
barely there panties made the blood pound in his head. His palms itched to place
his mouth to the deep cleavage that beckoned like a sweet, verdant valley,
bidding him to lay his head upon the soft vista. Not even noticing how his
hands shook, he reached to unhook the front closure of the bra and when the
tension of the lacy garment released, he let it slide from his fingers to the
floor of the craft.
Marin drew in a long, deep breath as he crouched there
staring at her chest. There was a fine line of perspiration that had formed on
his upper lip. His eyelids were half closed as he looked at her bare breasts.
“Lovely,” he whispered, and slid his hands to the sides of
her breasts to cup her gently.
The feel of his palms weighing her, hefting the fullness of
her sent shivers down Marin’s spine. His thumbs feathered over her nipples and
she moaned lightly, closing her eyes to the delicate touch. As his hands slid
downward, she opened her eyes and watched as he took one flimsy side strap and
ripped it. His fingers slid promisingly across her upper belly to the other
side and he parted that strap as well. With a dark brow crooked, he tugged at
the material that rested between her legs and she levered herself up, drawing
in her breath as the garment slid suggestively against the crack of her rump
and the soft folds of her vagina. By the time he dropped the torn panties to
the floor, she was nearly panting.
“Do you have another pair of panties in your bag of tricks,
milord?” she asked in a breathy voice.
“No,” he said, his eyes still glued on her nakedness, “but
what the hell do you need them for anyway?”
“You don’t wear underwear?” she countered.
“Never,” he replied. “I like the feel of the leather against
my…” He looked up and grinned when he saw the light flush steal across her
face.
He had been sitting on his heels when he removed her panties.
Now he straightened up, put his hands on her hips and pulled her closer to him,
wrapping his arms around her. Gently, he laid his cheek upon the soft pillows
of her breasts.
Marin could feel him trembling and the warmth of his breath
across her exposed skin—her right nipple growing hard from the wash of the
rhythmic air fanning over it. She put her hands on his head and cradled him,
combing the fingers of one hand through his thick, dark hair.
“I know women who would kill to have such a glorious amount
of hair, milord,” she said.
He made a sort of half-laugh, half-grunt sound that heated
the air already wafting over her erect nipple. “I shaved
longing, desperately needing the touch of his hand to mold her.
Taegin hunkered down beside the cot. “Will you sit up for
me?” he asked.
As though she was in a dream, Marin pushed herself up and
allowed him to swing her legs from the cot. With infinite slowness, he lifted
her foot and took off her shoe then set it aside. With his eyes on hers, he
massaged her foot for a moment before letting it go to take off her other shoe and
putting it on the floor. He caressed that foot, kneaded her toes, and then
wedged himself between her thighs so that her knees were bracketing his waist
then he put his hands on the silky bodice of her gown and in one slow,
tantalizing motion ripped it straight down the front.
Marin looked down at the mound of rent material gathered
about her hips. “Oh,” she said, dismayed at the destruction of the lovely gown.
“Shush,” he said, soothing her. “I’ve a garment for you to
wear.”
“But it was so pretty,” she complained, plucking at the torn
garment.
“I’ll buy you more gowns than you will ever be able to
wear,” he promised.
She looked up from the gown to his handsome face and smiled
gently. “I’ll hold you to that, milord Tiogar.”
He smiled back at her then continued tearing the gossamer
gown from waist to hem then pushed it aside, baring her lovely body to his
fevered view. The soft beige color of the lacy strapless bra and matching
barely there panties made the blood pound in his head. His palms itched to place
his mouth to the deep cleavage that beckoned like a sweet, verdant valley,
bidding him to lay his head upon the soft vista. Not even noticing how his
hands shook, he reached to unhook the front closure of the bra and when the
tension of the lacy garment released, he let it slide from his fingers to the
floor of the craft.
Marin drew in a long, deep breath as he crouched there
staring at her chest. There was a fine line of perspiration that had formed on
his upper lip. His eyelids were half closed as he looked at her bare breasts.
“Lovely,” he whispered, and slid his hands to the sides of
her breasts to cup her gently.
The feel of his palms weighing her, hefting the fullness of
her sent shivers down Marin’s spine. His thumbs feathered over her nipples and
she moaned lightly, closing her eyes to the delicate touch. As his hands slid
downward, she opened her eyes and watched as he took one flimsy side strap and
ripped it. His fingers slid promisingly across her upper belly to the other
side and he parted that strap as well. With a dark brow crooked, he tugged at
the material that rested between her legs and she levered herself up, drawing
in her breath as the garment slid suggestively against the crack of her rump
and the soft folds of her vagina. By the time he dropped the torn panties to
the floor, she was nearly panting.
“Do you have another pair of panties in your bag of tricks,
milord?” she asked in a breathy voice.
“No,” he said, his eyes still glued on her nakedness, “but
what the hell do you need them for anyway?”
“You don’t wear underwear?” she countered.
“Never,” he replied. “I like the feel of the leather against
my…” He looked up and grinned when he saw the light flush steal across her
face.
He had been sitting on his heels when he removed her panties.
Now he straightened up, put his hands on her hips and pulled her closer to him,
wrapping his arms around her. Gently, he laid his cheek upon the soft pillows
of her breasts.
Marin could feel him trembling and the warmth of his breath
across her exposed skin—her right nipple growing hard from the wash of the
rhythmic air fanning over it. She put her hands on his head and cradled him,
combing the fingers of one hand through his thick, dark hair.
“I know women who would kill to have such a glorious amount
of hair, milord,” she said.
He made a sort of half-laugh, half-grunt sound that heated
the air already wafting over her erect nipple. “I shaved
Similar Books
