Friday, August 1, 2014

Weekend Wake-up Call – Netherworld III: Once Bitten Twice Dead

I was all a-tremble like some virginal romance heroine as Tristan’s luscious lips crept ever closer to the sweet spot.  I silently coaxed him in my head:  come on, come on, come on.  I wanted that mouth on me right there.  And there he was, where the skin of my thigh turned the softest, his tongue tracing the crease between leg and mound, inhaling the goodness that is Brandilynn Payson, dipping his chin so that it brushed the quilt, his tongue creeping out…

Oh.  Right there on the slit.  Wet warmth slowly sliding up, up, spreading the petals, up farther, a tiny flick on the engorged nub to make my insides melt in an instant.  Oh yes.  Oh, oh yes.

My groan came all the way from my too-big feet as a million happy sparkles lit in my belly.  Tristan uttered a pleased chuckle, no doubt full of himself.  I didn’t care.  He could thump himself on the chest all day long in self-congratulations as long as he didn’t stop pleasuring me.

He didn’t.  He lapped my cream like a cat, his eyes half-closed in contentment.  Bliss swirled all through me, bringing glad cries from my lips.  The tasting was slow and deliberate, punctuated here and there by that talented tongue dipping deep inside.  Once in awhile his lips closed over my clit to suck hard until I shouted with sensation.  Tristan made glorious love to me with his mouth alone, and I reveled in the selfishness of being pleasured without having to do anything in return.

My sex hummed with the steady joy of arousal that doesn’t demand immediate completion.  It was heavenly to simply let it wash over me, lapping gently through my body.  Best of all was knowing this gift came from a man who loved me, who accepted all I was and found it worthwhile.  Is there anything better than that?  I can’t imagine it.

“You’re so beautiful when you smile like that,” Tristan paused to whisper.  He gazed up at my face, his dark eyes as embracing as his arms when he held me.  He planned to give up live blood for me, something a vampire rarely does if he’s so lucky as to have willing donors.  In the face of all he’d bestowed on me, from that great sacrifice to the adoring expression on his face right now, I crumbled.  The tears that stayed so close to the surface these days were back, sliding from the corners of my eyes.

“No, sweetheart, don’t do that.”  Tristan slid up to lay over me, kissing me, filling my mouth with my own flavor.

“I love you so much,” I whispered against his lips.  My arms and legs circled his body, and he didn’t reprimand me for doing it without permission.  He’s a good Dom who knows when to cut his sub some slack.  Better still, he’s a good man who knows what his woman needs and gives it to her.

He slipped inside me with ease, not even having to take himself in hand to do it.  It was as if divine providence had created us just for each other, just for this moment.  We were pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, interlocking with perfection.  

We slid against each other, doing the age-old dance man and woman have been doing since God breathed life into dust.  Our whispers of love, little sighs of gathering pleasure, the moist lapping of our sexes as they beat first silkily then with growing passion … these beautiful sounds filled the air.

Our gentle motions, as lyrical as poetry, were made with tender accord.  Tristan’s body twined with mine as if he’d tie us into a knot so that no one may ever separate us again.  I felt him all over; in me, around me, above me.  That old saw about being made one?  We did it.  We were there.  Completely merged into one another, no telling where Brandilynn ended and Tristan began.

We came together, as was only right for the single being we’d become.  Our cries rose and fell, completely harmonized in one voice.  I not only felt the surges of my own release, but also the gorgeous expulsions that rushed from my beloved’s loins to fill me. 

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