TheAmbassadorOfRomanceInVenus's blog: "Sex and love -- or should it be the other way around?"

Laying her down on the rug, Scott smiled at her while he sat back on his heels. She ran her hand idly down her chest, a single finger luring his eyes to her breasts and the fur blanket that was hiding them. "There's hunger in your eyes," she said and her finger crept slowly downwards while her voice became seductive. "What are you hungry for?" He swallowed. A part of him said that things were going too fast but the rest of him kept telling it to shut the hell up. He felt an urgent need for her, as though what she'd said earlier was true. This night was going to end too soon, and he couldn't let her walk away, he had to do this in case he never saw her again. He had to have some perfect moment to remember her by because he'd never meet anyone like her again. "I'm not sure," he said and cursed the part of him that had won control long enough to voice those words. She smiled and traced her fingers lower, flattening her palm against her body when she reached her stomach and not stopping until she touched her navel. The fur she was wearing was parted enough for him to see a strip of her torso. When she sat up, the blanket almost fell open. It barely clung to her breasts, keeping her nipples hidden from him and making him want to reach out and gently brush it aside so he could see them. She extended a hand towards him and caught hold of his shirt, pulling him close to her. "What are you doing?" he said when his mouth was a hair's breadth away from hers. "Don't deny yourself…give in to your desire. Listen to your heart," she whispered in a lust-filled voice that sent arousal bolting through him, making him harden in his jeans. How could he deny her? It seemed so impossible. More than that, he didn't want to deny himself. He wanted her. He wanted her in a way he'd never felt before. The feeling was a primal urge, a desire to take what was in front of him and make it his. She called to his animal instincts, making him react to the base urge consuming him. He had to have her. She had to be his. With a growl that was barely human, he pulled her to him and smashed his mouth against hers. She melted instantly in his arms, her body relaxing while his tightened, and her fingers wrapped themselves around his shoulders. God she tasted good. Something about her was driving him wild. He was losing all control and the fact that it scared him a little only added to how aroused he was. She leaned backwards, luring him down onto the rug with her, and his eyes flickered to her body when their mouths broke apart. He groaned when he saw one deep pink nipple had been exposed to him and his attention was immediately with it. Dipping his head, he ran his tongue around it and then flicked it with the tip. Her fingers dug into his hair and she brought her left knee up, making the fur fall away from that side completely and drawing his gaze to it. He ran his fingers over the bandage and delighted in the way she trembled beneath them, her body lifting off the floor a little. Trailing his hand downwards, he followed the sweep of her inner thigh and moved his gaze to meet hers while he slid it underneath the blanket. Blood rushed through his ears, drowning out the sound of the crackling fire and her quiet moan while she bit her lip. He breathed out shakily, his heart beating so fast that he felt dizzy. Swallowing in an attempt to stop his mouth from feeling so dry, he edged his hand further downward and then frowned and closed his eyes when he made contact with the curly hair covering her pussy. She arched into his touch, forcing his fingers to slide between her lips and into the soft, slick core of her. The tattered, fragile threads of control he'd been holding on to snapped. Withdrawing his hand, he knelt and hastily unbuttoned his shirt, growing annoyed when his shaking fingers made it almost impossible to do as swiftly as he wanted. He tugged it off over his head and was about to toss it onto the couch when she sat up and raked her nails down both sides of his abdomen. He threw his head back, his body jerking and tensing with pleasure at the jolt of pain. He groaned and dropped his shirt when he heard the clink of metal and felt her tugging at his belt. He was about to say something but speech became just a hazy memory when she popped the top button of his jeans and pulled at the two sides, forcing the rest of the buttons to pop open. He could only moan when she pushed his jeans down his hips, freeing his erection. Breathing became an issue shortly after that. His eyes rolled back into his head when she took his erection into her mouth. He could barely stop himself from thrusting his hips forwards like he wanted to. Her lips wrapped around him and her tongue swept along his length. The wet softness and warmth of her mouth promised of things to come and he struggled against his desire to throw her down and pound her into the rug. He clenched his fists, his muscles becoming so tight that his arms trembled while she moved her lips down his cock, taking it deep into her, and then sucked hard when she pulled back. His buttocks clenched when her fingers ran around his balls and she cupped them, weighing them gently before rolling them. He looked down at her, his brows furrowing and his heart thundering against his chest while she licked and sucked him. He buried his fingers into her silvery hair, the silkiness of it only adding to the pleasure he was feeling. His hips quivered when his balls tensed and he pulled out of her mouth, not wanting to let go just yet. She looked up at him with dark eyes full of lust and need and he almost pounced on her. Standing up, he removed his jeans, telling himself to take things a little slower. Neoma lay back on the rug, waiting for him to come to her like she knew he would. She'd tasted how excited he was, had felt how close he'd been to coming when she'd been sucking his cock. She wanted it in her mouth again, wanted to let her tongue explore every hard inch of it until he came screaming her name. She wanted this night to never end. She squeezed her thighs together to make the most of the throb in her clit. She moved them back and forth, moaning breathily as she did so. He knelt beside her again and his eyes dropped to her hips. The muscles of his jaw tensed when he saw what she was doing. She breathed in when his fingers grazed her knee and he forced them in between her thighs. She resisted for a moment and then parted them for him. Her hand ran up his leg at the same time as his eased down her inner thigh. Summary: Scott Hudson has a secret but he's not the only one on the mountain with something to hide. The brink of winter is a bad time for hunting, but the hunter's moon attracts them anyway. Scott Hudson curses the drunken huntsmen that disturb his peace and seals himself away in his cabin, waiting for the impending storm to drive them back down the mountain. The snowfall is heavy and he's convinced that nothing could disturb his solitude now. Then a gunshot punctuates the air, echoing around the mountains. And a noise on the porch makes his heart pound. But not as fast as the naked woman he finds lying outside does. Neoma has watched Scott since he first arrived on her mountain years ago but has never dared to speak to him for fear of him discovering what she is. Shot by the hunters, she has no choice but to place herself in his care and hope that she can hold the wolf inside at bay. When she notices his attraction to her, she can't help acting on her own and prays that he won't turn her away because of what she is. Can Scott's secret be the answer to Neoma's prayers? Can a human ever love a werewolf?

His mouth and hot breaths stirred her hair at the temple. Her head against his breast, restless now, when he took the nipples between his fingers and plucked them gently and rolled them between his fingers in a caressing way, while his head lowered to capture her mouth in a kiss. Her moan was lost in his mouth as those hands flattened under the mounds, over her ribs, sliding palm down where the silk pooled. Her hands came up, her fingers threading through his silken dark hair. She felt both the sensual slowness of his palms rubbing her, and the incredible pleasure that burned her nipples and seemed to make her breasts tighter and fuller. The muscles in her stomach jerked when his hand rested there, and she turned her head for his seeking lips to score across her throat. "Jared…Jared," she murmured, breathless, her hands restless in his hair and her body consumed by sensual chills and erotic heat. He brought his hands back to her breasts and stepped back. She could feel him lower on one knee. He brought the silk down, bit by bit over the top of her buttocks, slower still, across the mounds. And then, with his hands on the sides of her thighs, dragging it down her limbs, to the floor, where it pooled around her bare feet. Where she thought he would stand, she felt instead, the dampness of his lips on her upper thighs, the back of her knees and up to her spine. His hands flexed on her hips and his teeth scraped against her skin. Clare moaned and felt the lave of his tongue, and did not think her legs would hold her. His lips were hot and soft, his tongue laving and tasting her skin like a man who needed to taste, who enjoyed her taste, and it did as much to her body as to her heart. Jared stood and turned her, having her in his arms, when his mouth touched hers for a greedy kiss that was shockingly forceful, yet met her own craving. Her hands tangled in his hair. Suddenly breath pushed out heavier, faster, and she gazed at him in a sensual fog when they separated, felt the silk of his shirt against her breasts, the hot skin and muscle beneath. Jared held her gaze with incredibly beautiful dark eyes, his hands skimming her back, pausing on her buttocks. He seemed to be focused entirely on her expression. There was tension in his, and that glow of desire to his eyes, but Clare knew he was drinking in her responses. She lowered her own hands, first to his throat, then skimmed under the silk at his shoulders, feeling mounds and slabs of carved muscle. She bit her lip, pulling back enough to fumble but undo his buttons, then used her hands to discard the shirt completely. Her vision filled with ridged brown flesh, with a stomach so tight it looked carved, and male nipples a dark peach that there peaked. She saw the scars too, one on his shoulder, one under his rib, another going around his side. But they were not flaws on such a potent man. Clare glanced up, and managed a smile despite her tense arousal. "You are impressive, my Lord." He gazed downward, watching her soft white hands moving over his chest. His own then sliding to her spine, to allow her the space she wanted, to smooth her palms over him. When Clare pressed her lips to his throat, then planted soft kisses across his chest. She felt his large frame shudder, before he brought her close again, and put his lips to her ear, saying gruffly, "Your touch feels wonderful, Clare." Then he kissed her and picked her up, carrying her to the more shadowed bed and laying her down. Clare lay watching him, as he gazed over her moon-bathed form. She had no thought to cover herself, not even when his gaze lingered on her breasts. It made her feel beautiful and womanly. He placed a knee on the bed and then was over her, his one leg beside her hip, the other between her silken limbs, making her completely aware of her nudity. His palms beside her shoulders, Jared looked down her, then adjusted to bring his mouth to her breasts. "Oh…" Clare jerked. Her hands went to his head. But his warm lips and scorching mouth continued to caress. His hands were cupping them. She arched, feeling the pull of his slow suckling, the scrape of teeth, and the flicker of his tongue. It went on and on, laving and kissing both, until they were more sensitive, aching, and only soothed when the silk of his tongue and lips were covering them. Clare knew, with a sense of mindless pleasure, that he wanted to taste and suckle her so badly, she could feel that in the way he did so, whilst at the same time, was absorbing her pleasure in it. Still holding them in his big hands, he went lower, to kiss her ribs, run his tongue sensually to her navel. He did it in a slow drugging manner that was so highly erotic the room seemed to heat by degrees. Still her skin became more and more sensitive to his touch, his breath fanning where tasting left a damp spot. Clare's legs moved restlessly, hips arched instinctively. She felt the shock of nerves, between her legs where that muscled thigh brushed it. His breathing too became louder, darker. Jared sat up on his knees, his hands dragging down her body to the tops of her thighs. Wetting her lips, Clare watched him through the veil of her lashes, seeing the moment one hand moved to her curls. He played softly in them, glancing up at her a moment. "I feel feverish…"She tried to fill her lungs. "Your hands your mouth, I never imagined anything could feel like this." "Your hungers and pleasure are exciting to watch. To feel the tension from it humming in your frame, reflecting on your face." He observed her as his finger slid between the lips. "Beautiful…" She gasped. He whispered. "You are more than warmth and light. Here you are hot and flowing, and passions burning, hungers tightening." He touched low, reaching the entry of her sex. Clare felt the flow of hot liquid before he slid the pad of his finger back to an aching sensitive spot, rubbing it softly, yet in a way that sent fire up her spine, and instinctively, had her opening her legs, bending her knees. * * * * Jared was past the pain of a thousand hungers, beyond intoxicated by Clare. Her kisses, the sight of her lush body and round curves, of her cream skin and hardened pink nipples. He was feeling in his hand, the soft curls between her legs, having touched the entrance of her sex, and felt the sticky musk that reflected the arousal he had watched increase with each touch and kiss. Her hair lay mussed around her face, strands across her shoulder, and one at the edge of her quivering breasts. The perfect mounds were tight and chilled, the tips fully firmed. Her stomach quivered. Here, where his finger touched, she swelled and firmed with each abrasion. Her hands grasping the covers, he watched the moment her thighs parted more and her knees bent slightly, knowing that flowering and opening was a craving to be filled. Feeling something clamp tighter in his gut and chest conscious that he was the one opening Clare to her pleasures and desires, that she was flowering to his touch, Jared wanted to give her everything he had been unable to share with a woman in too many long years. He slid his finger down, sinking it slow into her snug wet sheath, feeling the muscles grab it, milk it, even as her eyes widened. She looked at him in slight panic. But Jared couldn't speak himself, so ensnared in the erotic tautness of what he was doing, and that it was Clare he touched. He began to gently slide it out and in, watching her panting lips, her fluttering lids, deliberately stroking her. Until she groaned and arched her neck, her eyes closing, but her hips thrusting gently back, sinking down, and moving round instinctively. Her sweet scent reached him. His mouth watered so quickly that he wet his lips, having never felt the desire so fully to plunge his tongue inside and drink her passions. But Jared felt her moments synchronize with her harsher breathing, filling the space, matching his own. He was caught up in the moment of her impending climax too. Jared removed his finger smoothly and eased off the bed, sliding her to the edge with sensual roughness. Her head lowered her lashes lifting the moment he parted her legs wide, until his thumbs exposed the tender flesh inside her nether lips. Jared held them apart with two of his fingers, using the other to rub and circle those nerves faster and firmer, wetting it, rubbing and feeling her thighs tremble against his legs. Clare drug her hands over her face, moving her head restlessly, and moaning low over and over. Her finger went between her white teeth and she bit down hard, her face in beautiful ecstasy the moment she climaxed, shuddering, jerking, shivering through the strong pleasures washing over her.

Rath came to her again that night, his body aching for her even as his mind forced his driving libido to stay calm. It was his duty to watch over her, to protect her, and he wasn't a vampire who took his obligations lightly. The sheer need he had for her couldn't be allowed to interfere with the promise he'd made to Abram; Eve had already been touched by one of the dark Lamius, and he knew that she was in more danger now than she'd ever been. He had to try to stay objective, keeping himself one step away from her in order to keep her safe. Silently, he gazed down at her sleeping form with glittering blue eyes and saw the way the sheets clung to her lush curves. He knew she was naked again. He could smell her in the air, the muskiness of her body heat, the warm fullness that was strictly her own. Her soap, a delicate lilac scent, drifted and mixed with her natural aroma. He'd never been one to become aroused by a woman's pheromones, but something about Eve struck him in the solar plexus -- and the groin. He knew in that moment that all his good intentions were only as strong as wet tissue paper when faced with the beauty that was Evelina. Almost reluctantly he reached out, paused in hesitation, then allowed his long fingers to stroke her thick, curling hair. She purred softly and turned her face toward his palm, cuddling against his hand as she sighed in something that could only be described as sexual arousal. Suddenly more curious than he knew he should be, he focused closely on her features and realized she had a distinct flush to her cheeks. An erotic dream, he thought, smiling wolfishly. Unable to help himself, he slowly let his mind sink into hers, all the while justifying his behavior by believing he was only keeping the dark Lamius at bay. The moment her dream materialized, Alrik felt himself instantly harden. They were in her bedroom, the walls flickering with only the light from the fireplace. She was on her bed, naked, positioned on all fours as she heaved and whimpered. Her breasts bounced in the age old rhythm of hard sex, her skin glistening with sweat as she begged for more from the shadow behind her. Never before had Rath found the sight of a man covering a woman more than vaguely arousing; he'd always preferred to be the one with his cock pounding in and out of the woman's body. But this, much like her scent, was somehow different and a turn on in the highest degree. Eve was glorious in her position, her nipples hard, her lips parted, with her hair cascading around her shoulders. She was utterly magnificent in the throes of scalding passion. Intrigued, he moved closer to the bed as the phantom lover spoke. "Evelina..." Alrik stopped, startled. His voice...she was dreaming of his voice. If she didn't recognize him in the waking world, she at least knew him in her sleep, where her mind was free to know the truth. His cock hardened to pure steel as he realized he was watching Eve fuck him. Her glazed eyes moved to his figure, and he suddenly remembered, too late, that he'd forgotten to meld into the shadows of her dream. Her blazing amber eyes sized him like a huntress would her prey, holding him frozen to the spot. As he watched, mesmerized, she licked her pouting lips and rasped out, "Please." He knew immediately what she was asking of him and didn't hesitate. In less than a heartbeat, he was nude and striding toward her. When he reached the gauze curtained bed, he locked his gaze with hers, his dick jumping as her moans strengthened and her body continued to move.

Mia stood in the woods surrounded by the small, smooth stones that had been laid in a circle. She had been here countless times the last few weeks, ever since she'd discovered the strange ring not far from her cabin. It had been odd finding them here, especially since she didn't remember them from last year's vacation. Strange or not, the ring of stones had pulled her back over and over again. Then she'd fallen asleep one cool October afternoon and she'd dreamt of him. Jacob, she remembered his name from their too brief conversations. He was unashamedly male in his white linen shirt and coarse dark pants; his black hair was haphazardly shorn, his green eyes mesmerizing. The first time he'd seen her he'd looked at her with wonder before touching her gently, and whispering 'my guide' reverently. She'd awoken with a start, still feeling his fingertips grazing her cheek. She'd come back every day since, and each time she'd slept on her blue checked blanket and had dreamed. And each time Jacob was there. Sighing, she spread the blanket on the cool ground and curled on top of it, huddling into the soft brown afghan she'd found in the cabin. In moments, she was drifting into her dreams. Jacob sat in his circle and waited, silently gathering his inner peace like a shield. He didn't have much time; the villagers were searching for him, determined in their frenzy to jail and torture him because of unfounded accusations. They refused to believe that they'd taken good, innocent people; instead they trusted jealous citizens and a self-righteous preacher. They had no idea that they had finally found a witch when they'd pointed a finger at him. He'd delayed for as long as he could. He couldn't stay in this time any longer. His presence had done nothing to spare even one of the innocents from the witch trials; he had to go back to his own time. Quietly, he wiped his mind of thought…and found the image of Mia. He'd been shocked to find her at first, the mocha skinned beauty with wide whiskey toned eyes and gentle curves. He'd thought it would only be that one time, but during his days of mental exercise she'd appeared regularly. He hadn't been able to stop himself from touching her and, the last time, from taking a soft kiss. They'd exchanged names and simple thoughts in their few moments together, but nothing more. He wondered if she were like him, a witch sent to help the guiltless in turbulent eras. He and his sect were the things that went bump in the night for those who would harm the blameless. If she were one of them, then she must be passing his time slip on her way to or from her assignment. Shaking his head, he forced himself to concentrate. He had to leave - quickly. Taking a deep breath, he mentally he surrounded himself with bright light and envisioned his ring on the other side. The coldness suddenly swamped him, biting deeply as it propelled him forward. A moment later he blinked his eyes open, his skin still frigid as he tried to regain his bearings. He looked around…and found her there, curled like a waiting angel on her blanket. He stood slowly and went to her, afraid of waking her, afraid she might disappear. When she did neither, he lowered himself to his knees and studied her sleeping face, transfixed by her beauty. With a shaking hand, he skimmed down her jaw, tucking a stray lock of dark hair behind her small ear. He watched as her eyes fluttered open, the recognition true and sweet when she saw his face. "Jacob, you're here," she breathed. "I'm here," he replied softly. "You brought me, Mia." And suddenly he realized it was true, she had called him to her, just as he'd unknowingly called her back to his circle time and time again. "And I'm here for you," she sighed. He took her hand and lifted it to his mouth, dropping a kiss in her palm as her gaze held him captive. The silent invitation in her eyes was undeniable. Slowly, he leaned down and claimed her lips, branding her with a gentle soul-stirring kiss. He tasted her, sampling her mouth as he savored her flavor, nipping softly at the tender flesh. When her tongue reached out to touch his tentatively he felt the chill in his blood turn to fire. He joined her readily, meeting, tangling and mating. His body became taut with need, but he kept himself carefully in check, allowing her to control their embrace. When he felt her gentle their kiss he swallowed a groan; then she eased back to sear him with her heated golden gaze. "Take me home," she whispered. Sweeping her into his arms, he cradled her protectively against his chest and did as she asked. Home…her home…his home…their home. The circle of their lives, just like the circle on the sacred ground, was finally complete.

She stood in the large office, her amber eyes taking in the polished wood and heavy paneling of the masculine workspace. She shouldn’t have come. This was a crazy idea, an insane thought that should never have been considered. She shifted and felt the brush of the long suit jacket that she wore over her lacy undergarments…and nothing else. When the inspiration had struck the night before, she’d latched onto it with a pounding heart and wicked smile. But now she was here, in the empty office of the man who’d been seducing her through his window for weeks now, and she was feeling distinctly uncomfortable. She remembered the first night she’d seen him. It had been late, and she’d been slaving over a difficult case. When she’d looked out her window she’d seen him there, framed in the soft glow of his desk lamp as he’d stared out at the traffic below. Curious, she’d stood and gone to her telescope to get a close up view of the man across the street. And what a view it had been! Thick dark hair, wide, well-muscled shoulders, and a long lean torso encased in a blue silk shirt. When he’d turned his darkbrown eyes to her she’d felt it down to her bones. He’d given her a crooked smile…and she’d given him one back. It had all started innocently enough; she couldn’t say when it had become so…racy. At first, it was only the discarding of a suit jacket, the loosening of a shirt. As the days passed, it had turned into a slow striptease that had taken them both down to their slacks. Just last week, she’d shimmied down to her lacy undergarments without a second thought. He’d done the same for her, watching with an intensity that had frightened her. And then he’d beckoned her over to his side of the street. That one gesture had burst the bubble of fantasy, making her more scared than intrigued. She hadn’t stayed late at the office since. But she’d still thought about him. So much, in fact, that she’d researched the stranger. Now she knew his name, his vital statistics, and his choice of career. Who knew that an ex-cop turned detective could be so blatantly sexy? But it was neither here nor there. The question at the moment was, should she stay or should she go? Should she do the very first truly risqué thing in her life and wait for him? Or should she run back to the safety of her lonely apartment? Taking a deep breath, she set her shoulders and thrust out her chin. She was a lawyer, for God’s sake. She’d faced worse adversaries in the courtroom. Surely she could handle one man in the privacy of his snug little office. Resolved, she settled into the leather couch against the far wall and prepared herself to wait. He walked into his office, exhausted, hungry, and sexually frustrated. He’d been gone for three long days, and the whole time he’d been staking out the estate of the rich widow he’d been thinking about the woman across the street. Sighing to himself, he dropped his bags unceremoniously on the polished wood floor. He was reaching for the phone when he saw her, curled on his couch asleep. His mouth nearly dropped open, his heart giving a heavy lurch as his gaze wandered over the curves of the mystery woman. So, she’d finally found the nerve to come to him. It sure as hell had taken her long enough. God knew he’d been tortured by those little teasing stripteases by the self-contained woman. He knew all about her, of course; sometimes it paid to be a P.I. Single, graduated magna cum laude, worked her way up the ranks in a male-dominated office, had a soft spot for chocolate sundaes, and tended to forget meals when she was working on a hard case. But he also knew how beautiful she was when she let down her honey brown hair, and how flushed her skin became when she was sexually excited. He’d missed that look, missed the almost nightly interaction with her, but he’d obviously terrified her when he’d crooked his finger to her last week. And she’d overcome that to find her way here. Silently, he went to her, careful not to startle her out of her sleep. With a gentle hand, he traced his fingertips over her face, lingering over the plump lines of her glossed lips. Slowly, he lowered his mouth to hers, tasting with tender nips as she stirred on the couch. When her eyes fluttered open, he gave her quick look, then captured her lips again. He felt her body begin to awaken, her response growing deeper as their tongues met and tangled. He didn’t stop her when she eased away a few precious inches. “I…I want you,” she whispered against his lips, her voice raw. “I want…I want you to…to…” He thought his heart had stopped. Just to make sure he hadn’t put the words he wanted to hear into her mouth, he stroked his fingertips over her jaw. “Are you sure?” “Yes, yes, I’m sure. I want you…I want this. It’s the reason I came here tonight,” she replied softly. He saw the truth in her face and nearly came undone. Growling deeply in his throat, he lowered his mouth to hers again, savoring the moist recesses with his searching tongue. She responded readily, meeting his growing demand with wild passion of her own. He’d fantasized about this, but the dreams hadn’t been close to the incredible reality. With a firm, nearly violent tug he pulled her over him, cradling her body on top of his as they rolled onto the oriental style rug. His swollen member pressed insistently against the crook of her thighs, his length throbbing as it met her already scorching heat. With her mouth still clinging to his, she began to move against his hard shaft, silently pushing him toward insanity as she rode him in the mock sexual act. He heard her groan in delight and joined his movements to hers, determined to feel her self-control slip, to have her wild need let loose in his hands. Shoving his fingers into her hair, he gripped the long, thick tresses and gave a sudden jerk, pulling her head back to give him better access to the long column of her throat. Breaking free of her lips, he nipped his way across her jaw and down to the sensitive skin of her collarbone, licking and biting the fragrant flesh as he went. He could hardly believe the sensations coursing through his body, setting him on fire. She was so responsive, so giving, that he thought she might kill him by desire with very little effort. And still he wanted more of her; he wanted her naked flesh against his as they drove each other up to their climaxes. With one rapid, sound move, he flipped their entwined bodies over, securing her beneath him. With his teeth scraping her neck and shoulders, he began pulling at the black buttons of her suit jacket. The moment he realized she was only covered by a few strips of flimsy lace, he growled with delight. Shoving the material aside, he began palming her fiery skin, skimming his way up her ribs to her full breasts. His nimble fingers kneaded the soft flesh, reveling in her gasps before plucking one protruding nipple through her white satin-trimmed bra. Air rushed through her clamped teeth as tiny devils of heat danced up her spine and spread out to her already inflamed folds. She bowed into him as the sensations he created sliced down her chest and lodged in her quivering inner walls. God, he knew exactly where to touch, how to touch, and what way to touch to raise the red haze of passion. When his hands on her weren’t enough, she pulled at his shirt, her fingers unsteady from the desire that ricocheted through her blood. Frustration had her tearing at the dark T-shirt, desperate to stroke his heated skin. The material was too stubborn to give under her struggles, and she was grateful when he reached out to jerk the offending barrier off of his body for her. Then they were skin on skin, the sensation of their eager, moist flesh touching so erotic that neither could move for a moment. But the overflow of desire was far too insistent to be denied, and their bodies soon began to move again, writhing against each other as they fed off of mutual fervor. They were nearly mindless as fingers wrestled with jeans, the rasping of his zipper more of a turn on than any word play either had experienced. “God, you are beautiful,” he whispered huskily as he swept the last impediment of her delicate underwear away. Her answer was a gasp when he lifted his mouth and pulled one hard nipple between his teeth. He sucked deeply, pulling at the taut flesh, sending quivers through her spine and down her thighs. She felt herself quicken, her limbs shivering with flames of desire. “Oh, oh, you…I’m so…,” she moaned, her head falling forward as she struggled for air. “Look at me,” he rasped, his eyes piercing hers as she stared, dazed, into his gaze. “This is real…this is me and you. Me and you…” In a smooth move he rolled them over again, pulling her on top of his hard body. With his eyes still on her, he gently grasped her hips, pausing only a moment before his palms rocked her pelvis down. His rigid arousal glided inside of her in one long, easy motion. She trembled as he filled her completely, her back curving as she pulled herself up above him. Her eyes stayed locked with his as she stared down at his flushed features through thick lashes. His gaze was fixed on her, the swirling green depths hard with unspent desire as she carefully positioned herself. A stream of power rolled through her blood, spearing her with wicked delight as it played through her system. Licking her lips, she watched in fascination as his nostrils flared and his stare flamed, her mouth lifting in a cat-that-ate-the-canary grin. She felt him chuckle underneath her, her breath escaping at the unexpected thrill of the sensation. His face, too, fell into the painful look of need as his laughter abruptly stopped. Gently, he began moving inside of her, small, tiny strokes that drove her half wild. “Move with me,” he begged in a gravelly voice. She complied immediately, her body lifting slowly then falling back just as carefully. She slid over him, her sensitive folds engulfing him over and over again, drawing him in then cruelly pulling away. She gloried in the fact that he didn’t try to hurry her as she clung desperately to her composure. She had never been led so skillfully through the gates of sexual hell and toward the clouds of heaven. She sheathed him, then held him before moving away, setting an amazing, frustrating pace that drove them both up. She watched through slanted eyes as his jaw tightened spastically, his moans turning to tortured, guttural rasps. Her entire body began to pound in one heady beat; she couldn’t stop her lips from muttering breathy, incoherent words. She felt her skin flush to an incendiary level as the first shudders of her climax began to shiver through her. Then suddenly his hand was there, his fingertips brushing her throbbing core as he gently coaxed her over the edge. She gasped at the sensation, her whole body going stiff as her rhythm went wild, her viciously slow ride atop him immediately forgotten. Just when she thought she might die of need he increased his tempo, lifting himself into her tight confines as he pushed her towards her orgasm. She rode the scorching tidal waves as they rolled up her toes and down her shoulders and breasts simultaneously. Then they met and were crashing into her, the surges of her release smacking together with brilliant blues as the world splintered, the tiny shards raining down in ripples of dark release. He felt her body shake and quiver, watched as ecstasy transformed her face from beautiful to ethereal while she screamed his name, and felt himself begin to explode with her. Her rhythmic tightening drove him completely over, catapulting him with swift fury into the stratosphere as he quaked with hard, full shudders. When the last currents of release ebbed away, she collapsed on top of him, her hands splayed on his broad, sweaty chest. They lay together contentedly, still entangled as their pulses began to slow. With a gentle touch, he laid a soft kiss on her head, his arms going around her protectively . “I missed you,” he told her softly. “I…I missed you, too,” she confessed, her voice hitching with uncertainty. He understood her hesitation; he was a virtual stranger, and she’d just given herself to him without the benefit of anything but their mutual desire. He could do something about her discomfort, though. Cradling her carefully, he rolled to his side and caught her wide whiskey toned eyes with his gaze. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving,” he said, tenderly tracing the outline of her swollen lips. “I know a great little pizza place a block away. Would you like to split a large with extra cheese?” A slow, bright smile spread across her mouth, lighting her eyes as her features relaxed. “I’d love to, but I…” Her voice trailed away as she motioned towards her discarded jacket. “We can stop by your office first so you can change clothes,” he promised. Twenty minutes later they were headed towards the pizzeria, their hands clasped as they began their first, long overdue, conversation.

She stood in the cooling sand of the deserted beach, the froth of the warm waves bursting around her toes and sending tiny shivers up her legs. Silently, she stared up at the moon, watching as it climbed higher into the clear evening sky; above her, the cloak of night was adorned with millions of stars that shown like diamonds. It was a beautiful evening, perfect really, but it didn't matter. Had it been storming she would have still been here, waiting, needing, wanting. Tonight he would come, as he always did. Every year he would visit this spot, searching for her; every year she was here, ready to be found. No matter how many years passed she was inevitably drawn here, unable to ignore the call of her heart. No one questioned why she came to the lonely beach house every year by herself. Her husband believed it was because she needed time alone, her children were too wrapped up in themselves to wonder, and her friends joked with her about sabbaticals. But none of them were right. None of them could have any idea why she came back here; none of them would believe her if she told them. After all, spirits of the departed weren't supposed to come back, especially not every August for eighteen years. But he did. "You came..." His voice floated on the wind, dancing across her skin as the breeze pushed her white nightdress around her knees. She felt her heart lift, her soul reawakening as it always did. "Yes, I'm here," she whispered back, closing her eyes as heated air rushed past. Then he was there, just there, his rich scent wafting to her as his presence became tangible. Her lids fluttered open, her glowing green eyes meeting his deep brown gaze. He was as handsome as he would forever be, his lithe, twenty-year-old form athletic perfection, his black hair thick and unruly. His lips drifted into a smile as he watched her, his aura beating in a steady silver haze. "I've missed you," he breathed, reaching out to stroke her warm cheek. "But I knew you would be here." "Where else would I be?" she asked, cuddling into his touch. "I live for this one night a year." "And not your husband?" he prompted, pulling her into his unearthly embrace. "I love him, but...but not as much as I still love you," she admitted. "You had my heart first; you were the one that I planned a future with, the one I imagined growing old with. My husband is a good man, but he's not you." He stroked her honey brown hair, soothing and enticing at the same time, and dropped a tender kiss on her head. "When I died here, I didn't want you to follow, love. I wanted you to have a long, full life, a happy life; I still want that." "I'm as happy as I can be without you. I'm a good wife and mother, a loyal friend - but this, these meetings with you, is the one thing I'm selfish about. This is just for me and for you." He paused a moment, pulling away as he gazed down at her. "I never meant to leave you. When the tow took me under, my soul cried out for you. But I couldn't stay." "I know," she said, hushing him with a gentle finger across his lips. "But they gave us this one night, the night you died, the few hours between dusk and dawn to be together. Please, let's not waste it." With a gentle, searing look he nodded, then carefully cupped her beloved face in his hands. He had yearned for her while the time had trickled by; he had thought of her, of how much he needed her. He knew he would be caught in an ethereal limbo until her soul was released from the earth to join his, but he couldn't find it in himself to resent the fact. She was his precious love, he would wait for her, and they would take and give in what time they had together. Slowly, he lowered his mouth to hers, promising her everything he could in that one, feather light touch. She responded in kind, gently brushing her now tingling lips against his, savoring each taste and sensation. There was a sigh, though neither knew where it came from, as their bodies sank closer together. His hands brushed over her hair, down her back, over her bottom, then back up again. He felt the tiny shiver that quaked through her body as he touched her, and felt himself quicken in response. She deepened the kiss and he followed, their tongues meeting, tangling, exploring. She was exquisite, he thought, as she always had been. As his fingers moved to gather the hem of her short white nightdress, she felt herself fall back in time, becoming an eighteen-year-old girl again, her heart hammering with love and excitement. The moment she was freed, she retook his mouth and molded herself against his bare chest, reveling in the rioting vibrations that his surprisingly hot skin sent through her. She didn't want to be impatient, but she had missed him, and she needed this with an intensity she only experienced with him. Restlessly, she pulled at his jeans, groaning when they fell away to the damp sand. With tender hands, he wrapped her naked body in his, carefully pulling them down to the beach as the waves lapped at their feet and ankles. He gloried in her, became intoxicated with the musky scent of her skin and the heat that reached out to engulf him. She was perfection, every piece of her, and she was his, just as he was hers. Slowly, he covered her, sheltering her in his arms as tremors of their contact rocked both their bodies. Then with one easy stroke he joined them, reclaiming her as she accepted his invasion with a throaty moan. She rode the spirals of velvet colors as they surrounded her, curling in her blood and snaking to her core. Beautiful, beautiful, she thought, then gasped as her lover increased his pace. She held onto him, her fingers tight in his thick hair as his mouth moved to explore her throat, nipping and laving as he pushed her into the tangled loops of desire. She felt herself climb as his teeth found her breast, giving her flesh small love bites while she called out to him. When his tongue lapped the peak she shattered through the wall of glass, crying out as the knots splintered into fine shards of piercing completion, their warmth raining down like molten rain. He hurdled with her, breaking over the edge as she clung to him, panting and quaking while she chanted his name. His head fell back in passionate pain, his body shuddering as his release overtook him. Moments later he tucked her against him and deftly rolled to his side, her limbs wrapped securely in his. He stroked her moist skin with gentle motions, smiling with satisfaction as her heartbeat slowly eased and her breathing calmed. Finally he felt her move, snuggling closer to him before placing a lingering kiss over the place where his heart would rest. "I love you," she whispered, her face soft now as she curled against him. "I've always loved you...I always will." "Forever, love," he promised. "I'll be here every year until your soul leaves your body; and then I will come to take you with me, and we won't have to count time anymore." She smiled gently and leaned up to study his face, tenderly tracing one fingertip across his bold features. "Forever," she breathed, then kissed him again, locking away each moment as a memory to keep her until their next reunion.

Le-An sniffed the air. True to his word, Brother Andrew had it cleaned just the way Brolly demanded all the rooms of the sick be treated. The shutters were opened to the night air, and the room smelled of herbs. Le-An shut the door and found himself pinned against it. Brolly's breath teased Le-An's ear. "At last." Brolly sighed. "Now I may express my joy properly at seeing your face." Le-An, his cheek pressed to the wood, snickered. "How can you see my face at all when you've plastered me against this door?" Teasing was the only defense he had against the thundering joy in his heart. Brolly released him and turned him around, his face sober. "I've missed you." Le-An stared into those golden brown eyes. "You have, my fine wolf? Then why did you run, and make me chase you down? Usually it is I who runs!" "I'll explain later, in detail. I have more interesting ideas on what to do with these two hours allotted to us." The caress against his trews left Le-An no doubts what Brolly had in mind. Neither did the insistence of the kiss that plundered Le-An's mouth. Kissing a man was a pleasure not to be missed. No worrying about breaking hearts, or the dance of romance. You wanted, you took, if both were agreeable. Le-An was definitely agreeable. Brolly smelled of the herbs he used, and the pleasant aroma of clean sweat. Since his hands were now free to roam, he took advantage. Brolly's muscles were a bit firmer than before; thanks to the hard work in the abbey and the walking he'd done to get here. His curls were longer, without his sisters insisting on regular haircuts when he chose to remain in human form too long and he got shaggy. Le-An tugged on a curl that conveniently wrapped around his fingers and broke the kiss. "I thought you were tired." Mischievously, Brolly tweaked one of Le-An's hardened nipples. "Sleep is for when you're dead. I've better things to do to relax." He brushed the other nipple. "Stay male, please. I owe you a promise, you may remember." Brolly proceeded to undress Le-An in a very efficient manner, starting with his boots. Befuddled by this aggressiveness on Brolly's part, Le-An blurted out more than he should. "I can't change outside of the Valley. I can't do anything. I'm mortal here." Grinning, Brolly looked up from tugging off Le-An's boots. "Really, now? Interesting. I promise to be gentle." The footwear were tossed aside. Not the answer Le-An expected. "How about that promise? I think I'm the one who should be swearing to be gentle, since we have no oils to ease my way." Brolly knelt before him grinning. He brandished a small vial. "I have oil. I've kept it in a pocket, since it is the last I possess. It should be enough." "You think of everything." Le-An took the vial from him. He felt a little exposed, leaning against the door with his pants around his ankles. It was interesting to feel so vulnerable. He was too impatient to care. "Aren't I supposed to be the aggressor?" "We have both switched roles before. Why stop now?" While Le-An chuckled at the pun, Brolly lifted Le-An's tunic and enthusiastically attacked the hard cock he found hidden beneath. As was to be expected, Brolly was an expert. He did not simply fill his mouth and crassly suck while moving his head. He took his time, wrapping his lips around the head and nursed like a suckling cub. Le-An gasped as his vision hazed. "Go gently, Brolly. If you do this as well as I suspect you might, our pleasures will be over much too quickly. Then you would still owe me a chance at your sweet ass." A humming chuckle sent waves of pleasure through Le-An's cock and thence through his whole body. Brolly released him with a small pop. "A price I'll willingly pay, many times. But you're right. I just want to taste you as I've dreamed about since I left." This time, he slowly took Le-An's whole rod in, creating friction with his teeth, and did not release the delightful suction pressure at any time. He couldn't help it. Le-An fisted a hand in Brolly's curls and fought the urge to fuck Brolly's face with enthusiasm until his thighs trembled. Brolly noticed, since one hand rested on one of those thighs while the other caressed Le-An's balls. He released Le-An again. Le-An didn't know whether to sigh in relief or whimper at the loss. Rising and removing his robes with a hot look that held Le-An in an implacable grip, Brolly took the oil out of Le-An's hand and dribbled a generous portion on Le-An's quivering meat. "Ready?" He handed the vial back to Le-An. "No." "No?" Brolly looked slightly put out and disappointed. Le-An grinned and put his hands on Brolly's shoulders, bending him over the nearest bed. The height wasn't perfect, but it would do with a little acrobatics Brolly was easily capable of managing. Dribbling the oil, Le-An enjoyed the small intake of breath Brolly made. He caressed Brolly's ass, and massaged the oil around Brolly's anal opening. It puckered and relaxed, seeming to wink at him. "Now we're both ready." Le-An flung what was left of the vial on the bed next to Brolly, who fidgeted. He poised his cock head at the pink opening, and Brolly pushed back against it with a moan of desire. Le-An gritted his teeth, fighting the urge to ram home, and entered gently past the first tight opening. Brolly shuddered and pushed back more, helping Le-An ease in a little further until he was up against the second set of muscles within. Tight. So tight. He slipped carefully past the second set, and waited again to let Brolly adjust. "I never thought I'd cover a predator," Le-An teased. Moaning, Brolly began to move. Le-An moved with him. The delicious pressure all around had Le-An already close to bursting. Breathing raggedly, Brolly asked, "That sounds like you're not a predator. Or even a carnivore. Another clue. I like this. My enigmatic lover reveals himself by inches. Shall I guess?"

No one was there. The apartment room was decorated in a hideously high-tech fashion, with black and chrome furnishings that did not look comfortable in the slightest. It looked cold. That was the best word he could use. No emotion softened the room. Function was tantamount. The hologram window showed a scene out of a nightmare, where an orange sun barely lit the gloomy city. No cheer, no greenery. Still, his training took over. He found his kit on a table near the bed, with his favorite liquids and toys within. He scanned the room and reviewed all furnishings for possible uses, either as a sexual aid or as a weapon. Bed sheets were useful. The mattress was on a hard, unyielding box platform. The lamp on the table was black ceramic with a nice curved handle. The shade was a metal disk that threw the light on the wall. Well, it wouldn't throw harsh shadows, anyway. All the mirror-like polish was on the inside. Paris wandered over to the catering slot, where a tantalizing aroma wafted out. Something was held in the warmer function. Something savory, not sweet. The sound of the door opening had him swivel around. Constance d'Akasha stood smiling in the doorway, wearing a thin robe that left little to the imagination. Paris cleared his throat and gestured to the white diaphanous fabric. "That's a nice robe you're almost wearing." She grinned like an oligarch who'd just been handed the deed to a wealthy mining planet and shut the door. The snick of the locking mechanism was audible. Constance turned back to face Paris, and her smile broadened. "Welcome to your final exam, Paris. I am your auditor." Paris felt his face drain of blood. "Oh, shit." Her chuckle was not reassuring. "Under any other circumstances, I might be insulted." She crossed to the catering slot and removed two glasses of wine. Without a word, she handed him one. "I get it." He sighed. "For me, these are adverse conditions. The one person who intimidates me and a cheerless room on a cheerless world." She sipped her wine placidly. "Not to mention, I am female, and not your preference." Paris crossed his arms. "There's more. You are a challenge that will be difficult in that you are one of my own profession, and as skilled in knowing the possibilities as I. It will be more than merely hard to please you." He grinned as she raised one eyebrow in mild surprise. "Bonus points awarded, Paris. That was very astute. " He paced and sipped his wine. "I see no sense in hiding my thought processes as I work this challenge out." He stopped and studied the cool beauty before him. "If your reputation is but half as good as the newsloops say, then you've faced every situation known to mankind as a sex engineer of the highest order." Constance moved to sit on the hard, uncomfortable-looking bed. "True. I've been training to be an engineer since I was old enough to walk, though of course I didn't participate in the sexual studies until I'd reached the proper age." Paris sat next to her and put his wine on the table. "You have always moved in the glittering circles of the wealthy oligarchs. I doubt you have ever known poverty of any kind." She shot him a look from under her eyelashes. "Haven't I?" "I meant in the financial sense, Constance." He smiled. He had her now. "We, the sex engineers, know the poverty of the heart. We give of our bodies, and ourselves but rarely are our hearts or souls touched. There is the pain of the sex engineer. To never know love." Her eyes lowered a fraction, and a small sigh escaped. She was nearly perfect, but even a sex engineer of her quality couldn't hide the involuntary responses that betrayed every human. What was more, she wasn't trying to hide them. "Very good, Paris. You win this round." "Then let me go for bonus points." He hazarded a guess. "Constance is too formal. May I call you Connie?" Those unfathomable blue eyes widened and her head shot up. "Bonus points granted. Yes, you may call me Connie." "I'll hazard another guess, Connie." He took her half-empty wine from her fingers. "I'll bet that it is rare for you to allow another engineer to pleasure you, without your input, and without your being in charge at least subtly." Her mouth fell open a little, but she didn't speak. "I'd be willing to further bet that no one has challenged you in perhaps many years." He smiled softly. "I hereby now challenge you, Connie. I challenge you to remember what it is to not be a sex engineer. To let your mind be blank, and simply be a woman." She drew breath, probably to award more points. He put his fingers over her red lips. "No points awarded, and do not be my auditor for the moment. Allow me to offer a win or lose only proposition. If I can please the woman Connie, I win. If I cannot keep her fully engaged and treat her like any other citizen of the Consortium, I lose. But you must remain as Connie until the encounter ends by mutual agreement." His fingers still held her silent, even as the lips curved into a smile. He read, Challenge accepted. He replaced his fingers with his lips, brushing softly against them. No tongues, no hands. Just a kiss as light as a breeze. She relaxed, and shut her eyes. Her robe had a hidden seal in front. His index finger ran down the seal, and it opened with a whisper of sound. He deepened the kiss, making it slightly demanding, but concerned for her wishes. She gave and parted her lips. When he broke the kiss, her skin was flushed slightly. A soft pink to match her pale hair. "But Paris, you remain clothed." "Hush. Who is the engineer, for now?" His admonishment made her pout slightly. He allowed his gaze to roam. "Thousands acclaim your beauty, but what I admire most is your mind. You, and you alone, have made this place special. How many notice the multi-faceted intelligence behind that perfect mask?" "Not many." Her fingers twitched, as if she longed to take charge, as was the habit of sex engineers. Even when submitting to a sexual dominant, an engineer never stopped thinking of how to please. "Then tonight, let me admire the woman beneath the beauty." He nibbled on her neck, and felt the tiny shudder. "Give over control, Connie. Blank your mind and only feel." She allowed him to push her back on the hard mattress. "That's asking a great deal." "I know. That's the challenge to your intelligence. The one thing that is difficult." He nibbled his way down the collarbone. She let her breath out slowly, and shut her eyes. "I think you'll win this challenge." Paris took his time, licking and nibbling at every erogenous zone to allow her time to rid herself of every minute thing that would clog her sensory input. A pink nipple tempted him enough to suck it in and gently tug. When he switched to its twin, Connie opened her eyes and gasped. They were hazy and unfocused. Paris took this as a sign she had managed to close off all but the way he treated her skin. Therefore, when she wound her arms around his neck before beginning to unseal his clothes, he allowed it. Anyone might wish to see their lover naked above them. He was happy to oblige as long as her eyes remained cloudy, her breathing quick, and her skin rosy. He let her taste his nipples, since she did it hungrily and with none of the special skills of an engineer. Just a woman tasting her lover. "Paris," she begged, when his hand crept down to dip into her wetness. No engineer could fake an erection, either of the clitoris or penis. There were drugs to stimulate that physical state, but they had their own signs of use. Connie bore no sign of those effects. This was then, a genuine arousal. He tickled her clit, just to send her deeper. Her squirm and the fresh gush of lubricants told him she was ready for more. He stood, and removed his pants in a single fluid motion. No sex engineer bothered with undergarments unless the assignment called for them, so he was naked in a flash. Connie's eyes widened. The tip of her tongue flickered for a moment to lick her lips. Paris knew what she was thinking. She couldn't shut off everything in her memory. The knowledge that he had heavy-world genetics would come to the fore, explaining the size, thickness and rigidity before her. Most females wondered aloud, "How am I going to swallow that?" He knew better than to suggest oral stimulation. First, he didn't need it. Second, neither did she, and if she tried, all her training would instantly click online. "No, Connie. You don't have to attempt it. Lay back and spread." Her blue eyes lifted to meet his. "It's huge. And purple." He shoved her shoulder, hard. "So it is. What's more, it's going where it belongs."

She glanced at the stairs to her bedroom. "Enjoy it while you can, historian. Make love joyously, so that you will have good memories when he is gone back to his Herd. You will be forgotten again." She braided her hair in silence, and patted it into place. Her neat, practical hair belied her naked state. "Now, you will march back up those stairs, and enjoy that fine example of perfection gracing your bed." She shook the brush at her mirror image once more. "Then you shall work until your head hurts to find the answer he seeks!" "My plan exactly." Shadow's voice floated down the stairs, as his long legs came into view. Chantrea prevented herself from sighing with longing at his naked state as he walked nonchalantly in and washed his face at her washbowl. She forced herself to smile cheerfully when she wanted to melt at his feet. "Good morning!" He dried his face on the same linen she'd used, and then sauntered over to kiss her thoroughly. "Good morning to you too, beautiful." Despite her dismissive words of how beauty had no meaning in the Valley, Chantrea's heart swelled. Embarrassed at her silliness, she turned her mind to practical matters. "Do you wish to fortify yourself with a bit of breakfast?" He hummed against her lips. "I have a sweet tooth, as a matter of fact." "For breakfast? Well, all right. I have honey cakes." She'd been thinking more along the lines of some fruit, bread, and cheese. "No, for a certain pink and white confection, creamy and sweet." He scooped her up in his arms. "Oh!" Chantrea wrapped her arms around his neck and giggled. "Well, far be it from me to deny you, since I've a particular craving myself." "Do you now?" He was grinning as if he'd found a whole meadow of clover to himself. "And here I thought the Fair Folk didn't indulge in sausage." "Euw! Don't be disgusting. I could happily live my whole life without tasting greasy pig fat. I was thinking of a great roll we make, filled with a deliciously sweet center. It is served only on special occasions." Laughing, Shadow took the stairs two at a time, carrying her effortlessly. "I remember that dish! At your brother's wedding a few years ago, I made myself sick eating all I could. I accept the analogy as accurate. They were delicious." He put her on the bed, and Chantrea took note of the fact he'd pulled the coverlet up to keep it neat. A small thing, perhaps, but it gratified her. Shadow had a wicked grin on his face as he manifested a tray full of fruit, a honey pot, and two mugs of steaming tea. "You've given me an idea." Shadow picked up a ripe strawberry and held it to Chantrea's lips while he sat next to her on the generous bed. Oblivious to his plans, she bit into the juicy berry. With what remained, Shadow rubbed the juices over her nipple and enjoyed his own morsel the way he wanted, ignoring her gasps. "What a wonderful way to enjoy strawberries," she panted. "You're full of good ideas this morning." "I'm not done." The other nipple got the same sticky treatment, and he happily cleaned it up. Her delighted "Oh" ended on a moan. She closed her eyes and he feasted on her breasts. Shadow reached out with one hand and plucked a few smaller berries from the bowl. He crushed a couple between forefinger and thumb, trailing the juices down her body just ahead of his tongue. The rest he held carefully in his palm, out of sight. At the touch of his hand, she spread her thighs, and grinned while he got up to move to the foot of her bed. Moving aside the living hangings of flowing vines, he peeped through the curtain with a teasing laugh. "Do you trust me?"

I knew he wasn't human. But I wouldn't let myself think about that. I focused only on the velvet tones of his voice. They washed over me, leaving me helpless to deny him. I followed him upstairs, watching in silence as he opened the door to his room. He ordered me to lie face down on the bed. I didn't question him. I just obeyed. He didn't bother to undress me. He simply pushed my skirt up to my waist, hooked his long, smooth fingers into the waistband of my panties, and ripped. Faster than humanly possible, he shed his own pants. I felt the mattress sink under his weight. He gripped my hips and pulled them up until I supported my weight on my elbows. My heart hammered against my chest. Slick cream dripped from my pussy. My whole body coiled tight, anticipating his entry. I wanted his cock inside me more than I'd ever wanted anything, even life itself. The tip of his cock pressed against me. I moaned, biting my lip to keep from begging. I pressed my hips toward him, arching my back as deeply as I could. He growled and wrapped his hand in my hair. "Don't move." My body froze. I whimpered, but I couldn't disobey his command. He surged into me in one driving thrust. I lost my balance and fell against the bed. He released my hair and gripped my waist so he could slam me back against him. Over and over he buried himself to the hilt. I couldn't breathe, couldn't think. Every time his hips ground against mine, a scream escaped me. I felt my orgasm gathering, building deep in the center of my body, but I didn't want to go over. Not yet. Not before I felt his fangs buried in my throat. My body wanted him to drink me down even as my mind cried out against it. Then his hand caught my hair again. He used his grip to tilt my head back. "Offer yourself to me." I dropped my ear to my shoulder, baring the whole length of my neck. His sharp fangs scraped my sensitive skin. I held my breath, frozen in time. Then, finally, he bit me. I cried out, but there was no pain, only endless pleasure. My body shattered. The pleasure flung me to the winds. I prayed he would stop in time to allow my return.