rolled agilely up onto an elbow, leaned down, and kissed her open, responsive lips. She felt the fire lick of his tongue burn through her naked body, heating the blood that raced through her veins, starting a gentle, rhythmic throbbing low, low in her bare belly.
She started to lift her slender arms, to put them around his neck, but she hesitated, deciding against it. Instead she raised her arms above her head, stretched them to their full length, let them drop upon soft grass, clasped her wrists together, and sighed.
She would do nothing. Make him do everything. She would pretend to be a perfect, naked goddess to be worshipped, and he her handsome, devoted slave.
Knowing innately what she wanted, he gladly gave it to her. He kissed her temples, her eyes, her ears, her mouth. And as he kissed her, he stroked—with gentle fingers—her bare yearning body as carefully as if it were made of priceless porcelain while he murmured sweet words of devotion and told her how he idolized her.
For a long time, he was extremely tender, extremely gentle, paying humble homage to the pale pliant flesh, literally worshipping her with his hands and mouth. Adoring her. Revering her.
Then came the best part.
By now she was on fire for him, so aroused she was feverish. So she gave a great sigh of pleasure when—like a magician waving a wand—he ceased being the docile slave and became her forceful master.
Commandingly he pushed her legs apart and came between. He loomed just above then, filling the entire scope of her vision, the sleek, steely muscles in his bare, broad shoulders a silent testament to his strength and masculinity. His deeply tanned face, struck by the dazzling alpine moonlight, was hardened by passion and strikingly handsome. His inky black hair was appealingly tousled and falling over his high forehead and his changeable blue eyes had darkened to a deep navy hue. Awesome heat shone from their bewitching depths, and she trembled beneath his fixed stare.
His full lips were parted and his quickened breath was loud in the mountain quiet. He was naked against her and she was feverish with desire. He knew it. He lowered his lips to hers, pressed a kiss to them, and whispered, “You want me, baby?”
“Yes,” she breathed, “oh, yes.”
He raised his head and looked at her with those smoldering eyes. “I’ll make you mine, baby. You’ll never want anyone else.” He tangled a hand in her wild ginger-red hair, bent his head, and kissed her, his lips opening hungrily on hers.
Her arms came down from over her head. She was trembling violently now. Her hand stole beneath his arm and moved over his back, feeling the muscles surge and bunch under the hot smooth skin. Her fingertips drifted tentatively along his ribs and down to his hard, muscled waist.
His lips left hers, moved to the rising swell of her breasts. His silky black hair ruffling against her chin, he bent and kissed her aching breasts, and her heartbeat accelerated wildly. She whimpered with joy when he raked his teeth back and forth across the rigid nipples. And she gasped with heightened pleasure when his warm, wet mouth fully enclosed her left nipple and he sucked on it as if it were some sweet treat.
Her eyes closing against the brightness of the moonlight, she sighed and gasped and wriggled. And she moaned with rising anticipation when she felt him place the throbbing tip of his heavy tumescence just inside her.
Her anxious hands gripping his corded waist, she heard him say, “Open your eyes, baby. Look at me.”
She meekly obeyed.
And, looking straight up into his mesmerizing eyes, she cried out in pain/pleasure when he thrust himself firmly into her, penetrating deeply. She uttered a single cry of shocked joy that became a low moan as she surged up to meet the driving fire that filled her.
Continuing to look into his eyes, she lay there in the moonlit meadow in the middle of the night, being expertly pleasured by this magnificent master of love.
She started to lift her slender arms, to put them around his neck, but she hesitated, deciding against it. Instead she raised her arms above her head, stretched them to their full length, let them drop upon soft grass, clasped her wrists together, and sighed.
She would do nothing. Make him do everything. She would pretend to be a perfect, naked goddess to be worshipped, and he her handsome, devoted slave.
Knowing innately what she wanted, he gladly gave it to her. He kissed her temples, her eyes, her ears, her mouth. And as he kissed her, he stroked—with gentle fingers—her bare yearning body as carefully as if it were made of priceless porcelain while he murmured sweet words of devotion and told her how he idolized her.
For a long time, he was extremely tender, extremely gentle, paying humble homage to the pale pliant flesh, literally worshipping her with his hands and mouth. Adoring her. Revering her.
Then came the best part.
By now she was on fire for him, so aroused she was feverish. So she gave a great sigh of pleasure when—like a magician waving a wand—he ceased being the docile slave and became her forceful master.
Commandingly he pushed her legs apart and came between. He loomed just above then, filling the entire scope of her vision, the sleek, steely muscles in his bare, broad shoulders a silent testament to his strength and masculinity. His deeply tanned face, struck by the dazzling alpine moonlight, was hardened by passion and strikingly handsome. His inky black hair was appealingly tousled and falling over his high forehead and his changeable blue eyes had darkened to a deep navy hue. Awesome heat shone from their bewitching depths, and she trembled beneath his fixed stare.
His full lips were parted and his quickened breath was loud in the mountain quiet. He was naked against her and she was feverish with desire. He knew it. He lowered his lips to hers, pressed a kiss to them, and whispered, “You want me, baby?”
“Yes,” she breathed, “oh, yes.”
He raised his head and looked at her with those smoldering eyes. “I’ll make you mine, baby. You’ll never want anyone else.” He tangled a hand in her wild ginger-red hair, bent his head, and kissed her, his lips opening hungrily on hers.
Her arms came down from over her head. She was trembling violently now. Her hand stole beneath his arm and moved over his back, feeling the muscles surge and bunch under the hot smooth skin. Her fingertips drifted tentatively along his ribs and down to his hard, muscled waist.
His lips left hers, moved to the rising swell of her breasts. His silky black hair ruffling against her chin, he bent and kissed her aching breasts, and her heartbeat accelerated wildly. She whimpered with joy when he raked his teeth back and forth across the rigid nipples. And she gasped with heightened pleasure when his warm, wet mouth fully enclosed her left nipple and he sucked on it as if it were some sweet treat.
Her eyes closing against the brightness of the moonlight, she sighed and gasped and wriggled. And she moaned with rising anticipation when she felt him place the throbbing tip of his heavy tumescence just inside her.
Her anxious hands gripping his corded waist, she heard him say, “Open your eyes, baby. Look at me.”
She meekly obeyed.
And, looking straight up into his mesmerizing eyes, she cried out in pain/pleasure when he thrust himself firmly into her, penetrating deeply. She uttered a single cry of shocked joy that became a low moan as she surged up to meet the driving fire that filled her.
Continuing to look into his eyes, she lay there in the moonlit meadow in the middle of the night, being expertly pleasured by this magnificent master of love.
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