"Ah, you are returned at last, MiLord," she murmured, looking up sleepy eyed, a pleased smile slowly spreading across her face.
"Good evening, wench," he smiled back. "You 're up late?"
"I stayed up just to see you," she responded, yawning.
"Oh yes?"
"I need a hug," she said flatly, pouting her trembling bottom lip comicaly up over her mouth.
"Indeed?"
"Yes, I waited until midnight for you to to make it home from the ball so late, knowing MiLord would expect nothing less."
"I am rationing my embraces these days," he teased. "And the balti curry that I devoured at the end of the dance has left me more spicy than passionate."
"Poor wench that I am," she pouted back, suppressing the smile on her lips. " So begging won't buy me a boff, huh?"
"Oh really, such rudeness!" he laughed out loud at her contrived vulgarity and looked at her wondering if her beautiful smiles, like precious jewels, could be his for the crowning touch. Seeing her face so dressed, conjured in silken locks, as she looked up at him and spoke again in a small voice..
"Actually," she blushed," I just wanted to be with you."
He could clearly view the glowing sheen of her crimson blush through gathering shadows. It was a warm opaque blush that rivalled the coolness and clarity of those eyes. She was watchful and attentive, as ever, to his needs, sitting there, shaded beneath the flowing wonderment of her hair.
"I just love your taste," she whispered, interupting the flow of his thoughts.
"Well don't complain that my taste is hot, if you find me impure," he warned, tongue in cheek.
"I have endured stronger spices, MiLord," she laughed back.
"Well, I trust that those stronger curries didn't scorch you."
"They are cooled in the warmth of your passion, MiLord."
"Oh really?" he queried. "Does such ardent zeal deserves a divine love, rather than a mere MiLord?"
"Your curried frame will suffice, MiLord."
"My only failure is that I cannot make the excess upholstery on this frame disappear," he responded sadly.
She laughed at this parody of his image, knowing that the soft dimensions he imagined were missing in reality. Looking at him, she could see a chest as hard as a wall. How could she help but be stirred deeply for the dreams that he built for her affected her subconsciously, as if he were building a prison around her to contain her needs?
"Now....about that hug, MiLord. Can you summon a kiss of fragrant surrender with which to plunder my lips?"
"Hmmmmmmmm?"
"Gissa kiss?" she paused. "Please?"
Her frail voice trembled, fading into the gasping breath of a sigh. That wafting sigh awakened a flame from his embers, as did her slow opening of her peignoir and the proferring of her bared thighs, coy yet overt and demanding . Her opened thighs left him a prisoner now, caged in a reversal of fortunes, caught in his own languid surprise.
He knelt before her and she swifly ensnared him in the shine of her glistening nether lips. It was a haven prepared for him, a sweetly scented shrine, where soft curls, covered her mound. He would soon press against that enchanted flower as he spurred his tongue amidst her down. Distractedly, he gazed up at her, feeling her fingertip thoughts, secretly unbuttoning his shirt, to pluck the downy carpet of his chest.
He stood slowly and pulled her up by the hand before lifting her off her feet and laying her gently down to take her that evening, on the thick rug, in front of the crackling fire. Her creamy skin felt silky and satin smooth, pale as the the waning moon, that peeped in through a half closed shutter, shining cool; over her limbs and her warm, damp dream lips thast were, in that instant, his alone. They were as soothing to his ego as gentle honeyed breezes as he made make a bed for her in the warmth of that rug. His body was her blanket and his arm her pillow, as their limbs entwined almost fastidiously in that wonderful midnight hour, as the fire burnt down and the shadows gathered slow.
She watched him as his eyes twinkle against the faint light of a cool starlit sky as he busied himself among the thick sweetness of her reclining form. He caressed her with warm, loving and destined hands to give her aching flesh that infinite pleasure as she availed herself of his proferred hands. All the time, he listened to the soft and secret whispers and the intermitent excited giggles that stole like thieves from her lips.
The soft moans under that masterly touch were a reflection of both his strength and his sureness as his strong hands molded her to suit his desires and her wants. Her lips trembled silently as his hands brushed her hair back from her face to let her soft eyes show a timid doe-like look. Her eyelids were half closed in greeting, as her warm and breathy sighs gave rise to renewed kissing.
His hands continued to caress her tenderly. They slid across those roseate hued apple cheeks before gliding to her graceful neck. She allowed the trembling fingers to descend to her collar bone and shivered as they dared to reach down to touch the gently swelling mounds that so tempted him. The tips of those fleshly treasures perk against his exposed chest as the chime of the one o'clock bell brought a misty veil to his eyes, hiding the shaplyness of her bosom and pulling at lovepangs that bit into both of them. She turned to him and pulled him closer to her, brushing any doubts away, along with the recollections of past revellings. She did not seeking on this occasion to bring lost love back, but merely to prolong that soft embrace that she had so begged for to give her that taste of success.
Click the icon to return to the index