And Arielle came.
Willingly, joyfully, with wonderment. And with a soft, warm fire lighting within her. Kindling a soft, warm flame that set her whole body aglow. Aglow for this man who had come into her life without expectation, or preparation. Who had seemed to be only the man who would take her home from her. And yet, somehow now—through the sweep of his darkening gaze, the husk of his voice, the touch of his hand, the velvet of his mouth—he had become someone she welcomed with all the quickening of her pulse.
His mouth closed over hers again, drawing from her yet more sweetness, the honey of arousal. He relinquished her only to lead her—eyes holding hers, her hand fast in his—into the house, through the hallway, up the echoing stone stairs and along the wood-floored corridor to open the door to his bedroom.
In that moment, he was all that she desired.
All.
She breathed his name as he drew her inside his bedroom, took her into his arms again.
‘Lycos.’
It was the breath of night, of stars, of sweet, sweet desire.
And she yielded to it with all her heart.
Her slender body was pliant in his embrace, the softness of her breasts swelling as his hand folded around the nape of her neck,holding her for his kiss. It was slow and sensuous, and arousing. For her and for himself. He felt himself harden against her. Heard, and felt, the tiny gasp from her throat as his desire for her became tangible. A low laugh broke from him, as husky as his voice.
‘Do you want me to hide what you do to me?’ he said against her lips, his free hand moving down her back to pull her more tightly against him. He could feel her soft breasts responding to the feel of the his chest, raising his own level of arousal—and hers. He wanted more.
His kiss deepened, opening her mouth with his, his tongue twining with hers. She leant into him, head going back, hips pushing against his, strengthening his own arousal. His hand left the nape of her neck and moved down to the neckline of her dress instead. He moved it down, exposing her bra, her hardened nipples visible. Deftly he peeled the unnecessary fabric away, and her beautiful, engorged breasts spilled out. Arousal rose again and his mouth dipped to make its feast.
Another gasp came from her throat as, with lips and tongue, he teased and laved. She moaned again, head dropping back, breasts bared, uplifted to his ministrations. It was good. So very good. But he wanted more.
His hand at her back reached up for the zip of her dress, drawing it down in one long, smooth glide. It fell to the floor, and she stepped out of it. He unfastened her peeled down bra and discarded it carelessly. Now she was naked to the waist. He stepped back a moment, both hands resting now on the curve of her hips, surveying her. How very, very lovely she was, with her engorged breasts, straining nipples, glorious hair cascading over her shoulders, lips parted. And in her eyes…
The flame of desire.
Slowly, very slowly, he ran a finger along the waistline of her panties. Her breathing was shallow, pupils dilated. He loweredhis hand, palming the soft mound beneath. He felt her stance change…widening. He gave another low, husky laugh. Let his hand move lower still. She gave a gasp that became a moan.
For a moment he toyed with her, feeling his own arousal mounting yet higher. He wanted more.
With a sudden movement he pulled her panties down her legs, wanting her entirely naked. She kicked them away herself, standing there in front of him, bared to the starlight. And to him.
Slowly, methodically, never taking his eyes from her, he peeled off his polo shirt and dropped it to the floor. Then he unfastened his belt, shucked off his chinos and his boxer shorts, and stood in front of her, as naked as she.
Her eyes were fixed on him—then dipped to his waist. Below his waist. He gave his low laugh again and reached for her hand.
‘You see what you do to me?’ He moved her hand to himself.
He heard her say his name, a whisper. Lifting her hand away, he led her to his bed.
Lycos laid her down. Her heart was racing, her breathing shallow. Blood coursing. Desire pouring through her. The way he’d kissed her, touched her, brought her to touch him, was feeding a want in her that was impossible to extinguish. But why should she? This was what she wanted, what she was giving herself to. Yielding completely.
He lay down beside her, kissing her again, deeply and sensually. His hand cupped her straining breast, nipple between his fingers. Scissoring, pinching lightly, until she thought she must go mad with it. Then performing the same with her other breast. His body was moving over hers and she could feel her thighs slacken. Feel his strong, muscled thigh moving over hers. Feel more than his thigh…
His hand was leaving her breast, sliding down over her body, sliding between her thighs. She moaned again, as he found what he wanted to find. What she wanted him to find. She was getting closer, she could feel it. As his fingers glided between the soft, silken folds of her body, she moaned again. She heard him give his low laugh, knowing what he was doing to her, drawing from her. Restlessness was taking her over and yet, though each skilled stroke of his fingers was a deliciousness she could barely bear, it was not enough.
Her legs moved, trying to capture his, to draw him across her. His name broke from her again, hungry, urgent. She could feel the response of her body to his intimate touch building inexorably and she was unable to quench it. Nor did she want to. It felt too good. Too blissful. Too tormentingly arousing.
But she did not want…
Her hands went to his shoulders, pulling him down on her. Wanting the pressure of his strong, hard body on her. Widening her legs, lifting her hips, inviting him. Imploring him…
Her nails dug into his shoulders, neck lifting, muscles tightening. Hunger growing.
‘Lycos, please. I can’t…’
