Slavemaster's Woman, The by Angelia Whiting Page A

quickly. Molten heat rose from her core, causing an instant riot
to erupt in his shaft as he rubbed his length along her crease.
    Her breathing quickened in anticipation, her
hands lifting to grasp his shoulders, her fingers curling and
grasping hard at his flesh. She was wet and willing.
    He knew he could sink his cock into her with
ease and with little resistance but he refrained. He had other
plans at the moment. Cupping her head in his hands, Tarken angled
his head and bent downward, seizing her mouth to kiss her hungrily
for several moments. He eased the kiss and his lips softened and
sighed with pleasure when she slid her tongue along his, attempting
to increase the pressure. Then, he pulled back and moved lower to
kiss her neck.
    She arched, tipping her head back, giving
him ample room to nuzzle and suckle her there.
    He moved even lower. Gliding his tongue down
along her body, between her breasts, he kissed the swell of them as
his fingers played with one of her nipples.
    It hardened with his touch and her body
jolted. At the same time, Cushla moaned and her hands came up to
grasp his head. She dug her fingers through his hair.
    He continued to descend, halting at her
abdomen, lingering, kissing her there for a moment before moving
further down.
    Cushla’s body jolted even harder, but this
time he felt her resist his ministrations. Her legs straightened,
and Tarken looked up in time to see her eyes widening.
    “What are you doing?” She didn’t look at
him, but instead stared at the ceiling, the trepidation in the tone
of her voice quite clear.
    “Has no one ever kissed you here, mistress?”
Tarken rasped out, his voice hoarse with lust. “Licked your flesh
here.”
    “No,” Cushla muttered timidly.
    Tarken shook his head at her answer. Such
a pity for those men who deprived themselves of such a delectable
treat. He flicked his thumb across her clit a few times, and
her hips jerked simultaneously. Inhaling deeply, he allowed himself
the joy of this moment. His mouth, his face was so close her
womanhood he could smell her, the scent of her so enthralling that
his need to taste that sweet, little pussy of hers was driving him
wild. He would wait, deciding it would be her reward for good
behavior, though the deprivation felt more like a self-induced
punishment on himself.
    Moving over her, Tarken planted his forearms
one to each side of her shoulders. Gazing down at Cushla he noticed
her eyes shift to the side to avoid looking at him.
    Her body tensed beneath him, and her
willingness seemed to recede. Her legs were so straight and stiff,
that Tarken had to wonder what force it might take to pry them
open. Her breathing however, was rapid, her breasts rising and
falling rapidly, and her nipples were still hard.
    He paused to wonder if she was indeed still
aroused. Bending toward her breasts, Tarken drew a nipple into his
mouth.
    Cushla gasped.
    Tarken’s gaze shifted upward to see her
eyelids flutter and then shut. Her lips parted slightly and then a
wave of pleasure spread across her face.
    Ah yes… She was still aroused. He
shifted upward again and kissed her mouth. At first, she resisted,
but then, Tarken could almost feel the exact moment her wall went
crumbling down, in the way her lips softened beneath his, how her
body seemed to give as his hands roamed all over her and in the
quiet mews of pleasure she probably wasn’t even aware she was
making.
    Kissing and suckling and massaging her
flesh, Tarken took leisure, exploring every inch of her as he
slowly edged his way all over her upper body, her cheek, her neck
her shoulders. He settled on top of her once again, his hips
between her slowly parting thighs, and then he gazed at her
face.
    Cushla’s eyes were still shut. Her cheeks
were flushed, her lips— ah —her lips were sensually parted,
pink and swollen, begging to be kissed even more.
    Tarken lowered his head, and he kissed her
deeply, gliding his tongue along hers, ignoring the wall inside of
him