Read at you own risk, unedited. I enjoyed this and wanted to share.
“Do you know what I see when I look at you?” she started.
Cord resisted the urge to run a hand through his hair. “No.”
“Give me your hands,” she requested softly.
He held them up and Kelly grasped them letting him take her weight as she slid both knees onto the couch, straddling his hips. She sat back on his thighs and laced their fingers together. Holding his hands her eyes studied his face.
Cord didn’t move. She was touching him. His body tightened as he savored the feel of her weight on him.
“I see midnight in your hair. So dark the black becomes purple when I glance away and I have to look again. My fingers want to touch it to feel the night. Your eyes are the steel gray of winter morning. Lush lashes can’t soften the coldness there, but when you look at me they become the color of steam rising from the fire within.”
Her voice moved through him, a melody of sounds that almost drowned her words. It was intimate, softly open.
Letting go of his hand, the back of her knuckle feathered down his cheek. “High cheek bones, a straight, arrogant nose and those amazing lips. The close cut beard brings night’s shadows to your face without disguising its strength. A male face that is so perfect it’s a mask, except when you look at me.” Her eyes lingered on his lips a moment then met his gaze as she continued.
“I refuse to believe the honor that holds you still under my hands is some programmed thing. I feel your body shudder and I’m not so ignorant as to think it’s some sweet emotion moving you. The choice to give me this freedom is one you are making every second, isn’t it? Comparing your self with a drug addict is unacceptable. Please, do not do that.”
“What would you like me to do then?” Cord asked tightly.
Kelly let go of his other hand. As her hands settled on his shoulders in light exploration, she smiled into his eyes. “Like yourself a little,” she murmured.
Cord leaned his head back on the couch and closed his eyes. His hands started at her knees and slowly glided up silky flesh, curving around the back of her thighs to pull her up and into his body. She rose and flowed over him just like he’d asked her to with the gentle pull. Keeping his eyes closed to give her a little more gentleness, he grimaced sadly.
“Kelly, we both know what you’re doing. If even half of what I’ve said is true, you need me to protect Minuet. Knowing your response is what feeds me, strengthens the beast, you are willing to try. If you want to ascribe some sort of honor to me because it helps you deal with this, I’m all for it.”
Her hands framed his face as she demanded. “Open your eyes. Look at me.”
His lids lifted in lazy senuality. Her face hovered over his and there had never been a sexier sight than Kelly panting slightly and little bit mad.
His caress was bolder as knowing fingers played over soft inner thighs and then trailed down her legs to casually caress the backs of her knees and upper calves. He could feel her pulse quicken, the sweet fire of desire was well kindled low in her belly. But he would keep building it. Carefully, slowly, knowingly drawing her deeper and deeper into the sexual abandon.
His body drank her pleasure and he’d take that substance from her until she was helpless in a sexual frenzy. There was nothing he wouldn’t do to get more of her and when he was done, there would be nothing she wouldn’t do for him.
He knew exactly how to get what he needed from a woman. But she had no idea what he’d take from her. She was already feeding the beast, giving him her soul. What she asked of him was impossible. She’d understand that eventually. He was a user and she was the drug.
5 comments:
I loved the description she's tells him, just fabulous! Thanks for this, it's helped with easing a difficult day
Kelly-wants some more dragon
Ahhhhhh so beautiful!!
Thank you Gail...
Rita
Gail, this just keeps getting better and better.
Thanks to each of you. Letting me know you enjoyed it is a great motivator. However, the dragon is quite the inspiration.
He fights the perception of being a hero. The cape he pulls round his body is tattered and bloody. Most of the blood is not his and he leaves it there as a reminder and a warning.
Metaphorically speaking, *smile*
Oh man! This just keeps getting better. Love this dragon. I just love what you've said in the comment - it's so poetic.
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