forward, she outstretched her hand with hesitance, reaching for something, someone.
Telor finally came out of the shadows. Rain's approach was shy, almost fearful. She spun once, twice, until she was within arm's reach. The first time she had danced those many years ago and he had emerged, she had run away from him. But the storms would draw her back, and back he would go to watch—metal to her magnet. Neither could stay away.
Each time as a small untrusting child Rain had raced from him after her dance…until one day she waited. Standing alone and dripping wet, her tiny chest heaving, her disheveled mop of sodden hair had seemed to weep its tears in trails down her front. As a child of ten Telor hadn't been sure what to do and so he had done nothing, leaving them to stand staring at one another in the pouring rain. The years had passed, and soon enough he offered her shelter in his arms until their passion grew and could be denied no longer.
A streak of lightning illuminated Rain's face. Rain's gaze was striking when it settled on him. As always her emotions were an open page, lost and alone, confused. Her long black hair hung straight down her back almost to her waist. When dry it was a riot of raven curls that begged to be fondled and caressed. Caramel skin dripped with moisture as she moved forward. Her dark chocolate gaze devoured him, and he felt as though he were being dragged into her soul. Rain was the most beautiful woman in the world.
When she reached him they lifted their hands and splayed them together. Her breasts rose and fell with exertion. Telor took her into his arms. Forcefully he pushed her back. The willow strands parted, giving them a safe haven. Back she went against the solid bark of the old tree. For a second they gazed at each other. Hers was the look of innocence…until her eyes flickered with want. Telor loved that intense yearning. There was deep passion in all that his Rain did.
Rain was a head shorter than him. He stood six foot three. She was barefoot standing in the long grass. Telor wore no shirt. He too was barefoot. It was as though they were trapped in a spell of a fairy tale. Both knew what was coming next—they would dance a new story of passion. He lowered his head, and they pressed their lips together in a fiery fervor. Rain clasped her arms around his neck and he lifted her off her feet. She was slim, even for a ballet dancer. But what she lacked in stature she made up for tenfold in stamina.
Everything about Rain was all about the dance and synchronized movement. Choreographed wild lovemaking. The idea made him want to smile, but his mouth was deliciously full of her and busy. Their tongues intertwined and caressed. Telor felt her legs clasp around his waist, trapping him. He could feel her heat through his jeans and he hardened painfully against his zipper.
It was dangerous to take her under the tree during a storm; of all people, Telor would know. He had seen his share of accidents. But he couldn't help himself. With a single twist they were on the wet ground and he was on top of her.
The long willows of the tree whipped around them, parting occasionally to give spooky glimpses of what lay beyond and encouraged them to stay within the shelter. The storm wasn't as fierce beneath the many large branches. Telor fumbled with Rain's jeans. They were plastered to her sodden hips. She wriggled under him, yanking at his open belt.
Telor stripped her shirt off. He wasn't certain where it landed when he tossed it, but it dropped with a splat against something. She wore no bra. Rain was calling his name, begging him to fill her, to cover her. Telor felt the coolness of the soggy ground as his knees sank into the grass. The warmth of her belly pressed against his. When he pierced her heat, she arched her back and cried out. She clung to him, her body moving uniquely with the rhythm of Rain.
Velvety soft smoothness encased his long, hard, hot arousal. Her insides gripped and
Telor finally came out of the shadows. Rain's approach was shy, almost fearful. She spun once, twice, until she was within arm's reach. The first time she had danced those many years ago and he had emerged, she had run away from him. But the storms would draw her back, and back he would go to watch—metal to her magnet. Neither could stay away.
Each time as a small untrusting child Rain had raced from him after her dance…until one day she waited. Standing alone and dripping wet, her tiny chest heaving, her disheveled mop of sodden hair had seemed to weep its tears in trails down her front. As a child of ten Telor hadn't been sure what to do and so he had done nothing, leaving them to stand staring at one another in the pouring rain. The years had passed, and soon enough he offered her shelter in his arms until their passion grew and could be denied no longer.
A streak of lightning illuminated Rain's face. Rain's gaze was striking when it settled on him. As always her emotions were an open page, lost and alone, confused. Her long black hair hung straight down her back almost to her waist. When dry it was a riot of raven curls that begged to be fondled and caressed. Caramel skin dripped with moisture as she moved forward. Her dark chocolate gaze devoured him, and he felt as though he were being dragged into her soul. Rain was the most beautiful woman in the world.
When she reached him they lifted their hands and splayed them together. Her breasts rose and fell with exertion. Telor took her into his arms. Forcefully he pushed her back. The willow strands parted, giving them a safe haven. Back she went against the solid bark of the old tree. For a second they gazed at each other. Hers was the look of innocence…until her eyes flickered with want. Telor loved that intense yearning. There was deep passion in all that his Rain did.
Rain was a head shorter than him. He stood six foot three. She was barefoot standing in the long grass. Telor wore no shirt. He too was barefoot. It was as though they were trapped in a spell of a fairy tale. Both knew what was coming next—they would dance a new story of passion. He lowered his head, and they pressed their lips together in a fiery fervor. Rain clasped her arms around his neck and he lifted her off her feet. She was slim, even for a ballet dancer. But what she lacked in stature she made up for tenfold in stamina.
Everything about Rain was all about the dance and synchronized movement. Choreographed wild lovemaking. The idea made him want to smile, but his mouth was deliciously full of her and busy. Their tongues intertwined and caressed. Telor felt her legs clasp around his waist, trapping him. He could feel her heat through his jeans and he hardened painfully against his zipper.
It was dangerous to take her under the tree during a storm; of all people, Telor would know. He had seen his share of accidents. But he couldn't help himself. With a single twist they were on the wet ground and he was on top of her.
The long willows of the tree whipped around them, parting occasionally to give spooky glimpses of what lay beyond and encouraged them to stay within the shelter. The storm wasn't as fierce beneath the many large branches. Telor fumbled with Rain's jeans. They were plastered to her sodden hips. She wriggled under him, yanking at his open belt.
Telor stripped her shirt off. He wasn't certain where it landed when he tossed it, but it dropped with a splat against something. She wore no bra. Rain was calling his name, begging him to fill her, to cover her. Telor felt the coolness of the soggy ground as his knees sank into the grass. The warmth of her belly pressed against his. When he pierced her heat, she arched her back and cried out. She clung to him, her body moving uniquely with the rhythm of Rain.
Velvety soft smoothness encased his long, hard, hot arousal. Her insides gripped and
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