she sighed. "I don't want to let go of what I'm feeling,
right now." She lightly tapped between her breasts. "At this very
peculiar moment in my life, I swear my heart is beating only for
you."
He held out his hand to her.
"Come here."
After a moment's hesitation,
she rose to her feet. Seconds ticked by. Self-consciousness made
her fidgety.
"I won't hurt you," he
vowed, extending his hand out further.
Lifting hers, she closed her
eyes for a moment when his warm fingers enclosed hers. He gave a
gentle tug then another firmer tug urging her to step closer,
urging her to stand with her feet planted to each side of his outer
thighs. Then he released her hand and, for a long moment, stared up
at her through an unreadable expression.
"Wha' are you afraid o',
Laura?" he asked thickly.
Swallowing hard, her chin
quivering, she achingly replied, "You, and how you make me
feel."
His hands gently lit on the
back of her knees. With a low groan, he leaned to and nestled his
face against the soft mound crowning her groin.
Laura clenched her teeth and
dipped her head back. Her fingers threaded the hair at the back of
his head, kneading, flexing, coaxing him to further explore. For a
tormenting time, his palms massaged the back length of her legs,
until, hesitantly, he cupped her buttocks, then held her firmly in
place.
With deliberate slow
strokes, he smoothed his face across her abdomen, now and then, his
teeth nipping her through the fabric of her nightgown. Laura
trembled in anticipation, agonizingly sweet anticipation that
threatened to consume her in the fires of need. She couldn't ignore
the absolute rightness she felt at his touch. Ageless rightness, as
though she'd been created for this one man, and no
other.
His fingers hooked onto the
waistline of her panties, and drew the flimsy material down over
her hips. She gulped, trembling, barely in control of the raw
passion rapidly building and building within her fevered body. His
first tug ravaged her panties, and he tossed them aside. The
realization that her womanhood was now bared to him, intensified
her excitement until she was sure she would perish beneath its
power.
He gripped her hips and
coaxed her back a step. Her breathing became ragged, labored. She
pulled the nightgown over her head and mindlessly swung it away.
When she felt his lips touch her intimately, ecstasy akin to a
climax rocketed through her system, tingling to the tips of her
fingers, the tips of her toes, nearly causing her knees to buckle
when his tongue stroked her in a manner previously unknown to her.
Spasms impaled her reasoning, jolted her wave upon wave.
Crossing his legs Indian
style, he gripped her hips and tugged downward. She straddled his
lap, facing him, her gaze never wavering from the passion glazing
his eyes. His hands smoothing over her outer thighs, he kissed her
at first lightly, then in a demanding, masterful way that prompted
her to thread her fingers through his hair and draw him closer.
Lightheaded, weakening with desire, she tightened her fingers
within the soft, thick strands.
"God," he breathed against
her lips, then nuzzled his brow to one side of her face. "Ye're
incredible! So soft. I can’t wait. Sair to
dae." Hard to do. "So... sair to dae."
He kissed her hungrily. His
arms encircled her, crushing her small, rounded breasts against his
chest. Laura's arms folded around his neck, and with the fire's
warmth licking along her spine, she melted into the sheer
masculinity of his embrace.
She thought his kiss enough
to appease her until his hands crept up between their bodies and
cupped her breasts. A gasp spilled past her lips. She arched away
from him, her hands anchored on the muscular contours of his
shoulders. Her eyes closed to the bliss of his kneading her
breasts, of his thumbs gently massaging the dark, rigid peaks of
her nipples. His tongue caressed the graceful lines of her throat,
evoking incendiary pulses to again detonate along her skin. The
provocative trail
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Amanda McIntyre