It was dark, about 11:00 p.m.
He walked by her, stopped, turned, and stared. His eyes revealed nothing, yet
hinted at everything - mystery, romance, danger. Her heart stopped, her tears
stopped, and she stared back, too surprised to run, which is what she knew she
should do.
He sat beside her. Her objections were all silent, Her rejection
unvoiced.
Somewhere inside her was a voice screaming for her to flee.
His eyes held her, captivated her, and sent her on a journey she had never been
on before. He was tall and blonde, strong and silent, yet his eyes spoke to her
inner thoughts, hidden desires and needs.
She saw herself reflected in his eyes and wondered what he saw in hers. He
reached for her, grabbing the tops of her arms. She knew she should be afraid,
but she was drawn to him. His mouth descended upon hers and their
lips meshed together in a passionate embrace.
"Tell me how you love the things I do to you," he taunted, pressing her against
the hard surface of the wooden bench, his face only inches away.
She brought her arms up in defense, her fingers pressing against the hardness of
his chest. Her struggles were useless; she was as defenseless as a child. He
seized her wrists, pulling her arms upward over her head, keeping them there.
"Tell me, little cat, my little lioness, tell me. Do you like it when I caress
your flesh?"
He transferred possession of both her wrists to one hand, his other hand delving
into the neckline of her dress, covering her bare skin, cupping her heaving
chest.
"Does it turn you on to know your breasts swell at my touch and your erect
nipples beckon my lips. Admit it, you love it, don't you?"
Against her will, her body betrayed her. Even before he said the words, her
breasts reached for him, proudly rising, tempting him. She refused to speak, to
give him more ammunition.
His knees forced their way between her thighs, the rough fabric of his trousers
scraping the tender skin that her half-opened dress exposed. His lips were where
his hands had been, torturing her, teasing, evoking in her a response she
desperately wanted to deny.
Again, claiming her lips with his own, he slowly traced the outline of her mouth
with his tongue, moistening it, penetrating it. A tremor passed through her,
exciting him, spurring him to continue his
assault. He could feel the perfect symmetry of her figure beneath his fingers.
He wanted to become familiar with the purity of her breasts, narrowing to her
waist. Her skin glowed amber in the moonlight, tantalizing him, whetting his
appetite for more, always more.
He felt the change in her when his lips traced moist patterns on her throat,
felt the heat in her loins pressed so tightly against his own, and he knew he
had won. The power was his; She was his! He could never have her enough. The
freshness of her skin, the spun copper of her hair, the sweet curve of her
breasts and thighs. Every inch of her was created to entice him, to fever his
passion, to make him dissatisfied with any other woman.
Her legs wrapped around his hips, clinging in a honeyed embrace, and he knew a
sense of coming home, of a familiar welcome that he had tasted before. Her hips
followed his, moving against him, making demands beyond her will.
He was lost in her, adrift in a golden sea. He released her wrists, half
expecting her to curl her fingers into claws, to rake his face, to vent her
rage. Instead, she forced her hands between their bodies, creeping lower,
fumbling with the fastenings of his trousers. She wanted him with a hunger that
was expressed in searching lips and seeking tongue. Soft moans of desire
emanated from her, singing passion's sweet song.
His blue eyes glowed with exaltation as he entered her and she trembled beneath
him, opening herself to him, imprisoning him in love's tender sheath.
She whimpered softly, relishing the weight of him, loving the sound of his husky
whispers when he told her of her beauty. How he loved the feel of her body
and the smell of her scent.
He crushed her mouth beneath his, savoring her, tasting the ambrosia of
passion's promise. Slowly, tantalizingly, he withdrew from her, then he entered her again forcefully, making her cry
out.
His hands possessed her breasts, cupping their firmness, teasing their rosy
crests. She arched beneath his touch, throwing her shoulders back, offering
herself to him.
Fire sparked where their flesh was joined, and her movements were instinctive
and unstudied, arousing him beyond the limits of his control.
Her long, silky red hair cascaded forward over her bared shoulders, hiding her
breasts from his view. Impatiently, he took hold of it, reluctant to remove his
hands from that precious flesh that he held captive. Pulling, persuading, he
drew her downward, seeking her mouth with his own, eliciting from her a fevered
response that quickened the movements of her hips, carrying him with her into a
rapture that transcended the limits of the flesh and became a fusing of the
spirit.
He lifted her, he lowered her and an eternity later, he was gone. She repaired
herself and returned home, dazed and confused.
She curled up in her warm bed, sharing it with a snoring husband. She wondered who the stranger was that held her captive. Had it been one of her imaginative dreams? Tomorrow, on the bench, in the park, in the dark, she would be waiting.
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Story Provided By:
Naughty Web
Designz |