Judas by Chandler Lacey-Payne Page B

strangled groan vibrated against her flesh. Her legs began tremble to as raw need consumed her. “Judas, please,” she begged.
                  Her breast fell from his lips as a deft hand moved to replace the sensation, tugging and releasing in a slow rhythm. He massaged her breast, leaving his free hand to hold her thigh, steadying her as he lowered himself to one knee. He kissed a slow, calculated trail up her inner thigh, ending just before the crease of her leg. Unable to control herself another second, she brought her hands to his hair, gripping firmly as she pushed his face into her chocolate coated folds. He moaned deep and guttural her as she immediately began to rock her hips, matching the swift motion of his tongue as he cleaned her. She was aching and near madness now, her nails biting against his scalp in a desperate demand.
                  He finally stood, pressing his forehead to hers as he took her hands, guiding them to his length expectantly. She instinctively knew what he wanted. She flattened her palm, placing it against his hip while the fingers of her free hand wrapped around his shaft, guiding him to her opening. She left two strokes against his length before moving her hand to his other hip and pulling him inside of her. She heard his breath stop as he held it, taking control from her as he pushed deeper into her slick, hot depths. They both began to rock in unison, as her walls encased him, milking and massaging him as she hardened her grip, urgently dragging him into her again and again.
                  Somewhere in time, his breaths returned, coming in ragged, heated pants against her cheek. He slowed the pace, working in a circular motion, meant only for her pleasure. She shattered against the blissful assault, lowering her head to his shoulder as she bit into the dew covered flesh, crying out her release as her body shuddered in delight.
    He wrapped his arms around her, cradling her to him as he pushed deep inside for the last time before the waves of his own release began to batter him. When it was over, he lifted her from the heated granite and lowered her to his lap on the floor. They sat there recovering their senses for several long minu tes before either of them moved an inch.
     
     
                  She took the cake out of the oven and turned on some soft music. “Care to dance?”
    “I'd love to,” he smiled, taking her hand. They danced alone in their kitchen for several slow songs, not breaking the intimate promenade as they talked. “Thank you for doing this with me,” she whispered against his ear as they swayed in perfect sync. “I was afraid you would think I was insane for suggesting it.”
    “I do think you're insane but I wouldn't have missed this for anything,” he told her, and he meant it. They had needed this time and he was happy to humor her.
                  There was something magical in her spontaneity and he was fairly certain he'd have sawed off his arm if she had asked him to do so in her special dulcet lilt. He found it strange that even when she was angry, he didn't have it in him to refuse her a simple request. When the pressure was off of him, he could relax and enjoy their time and it had been weeks since their last fight. He knew the subject would eventually rear its ugly head again but for now, things were good. Every game of Scrabble he had let her win had made her smile and made it all worth it to him. He loved her. Liked. No, enjoyed. He groaned. Whatever.
                  The intimacy they had shared today was a turning point for him. He felt her breasts press against his ribs as they swayed, ignoring the familiar ache that stirred against her navel. He knew he would take her again before the day was over. It had finally hit him that he didn't have to be rough with her for their lovemaking to be exciting. He couldn't help but wonder if this whole scheme had been a set-up, but at