Midnight 01 - Luisa's Desire

immediately to his chest, stroking, exploring. His skin was smooth, his hair a rasping warmth. She followed the line of it to his navel and twirled the tip of one finger just inside. His eyes went dark. With her touch still on him, he turned to toss her fur-lined cloak across the bed. Incense wafted as the garment settled neatly, mink side up.
     
    She was behind him now, behind his beautiful tapering back. She pressed her breasts against it and kissed his nape. The dip of his shoulder invited her cheek to rest and she could not restrain a sigh. The comfort of holding him was stronger than shade at noon. He was so solid, so marvelously aroused. His body hummed silently with excitement. To her, his control was as alluring as his need. Wound tight with anticipation, she looked beyond him to the waiting cloak-draped cushions.
     
    "You," she said, "want to see me on that fur."
     
    He shuddered as her hands smoothed downward toward his groin. "Yes."
     
    "Legs spread… sex wet…"
     
    "I will spread your legs," he offered, then hesitated. "If you would allow it."
     
    Her nails drew another shudder as they ruffled his pubic curls. "Yes," she said, "I believe I would."
     
    She pulled away and circled him, hands trailing, gaze locked hungrily on his face. A muscle in his side twitched as she strafed it. He could not quite keep his attention on her eyes. Her naked body was clearly a distraction: her breasts, her belly, her pale and rounded thighs.
     
    Look your fill, she thought with a secret smile as she lowered herself to the bed. Never had she been so grateful for her beauty. It was a gift she gave him, a gift that—pray God—would please them both. Especially him, though. She felt young again beneath his reverent gaze, every nerve and sinew born anew. Her back settled to the cushions. With knees bent and pressed together, she reached up for his hands.
     
    "Come," she said, "make a place for yourself where you belong."
     
    His face darkened at her invitation, the blood rising up his chest and neck. He did not speak but knelt as if in supplication at her feet. His palms settled on her knees, their dampness just as erotic as their warmth. Gently, slowly, he pushed her legs apart until her golden triangle was bared to view.
     
    He exhaled then, long and hushed, and slid his fingers up her thighs.
     
    "You are a flower," he breathed, spreading her folds with such delicacy she had to strain to feel the touch. "I would paint you, if I could, and gaze at you every day."
     
    His words and his gleaming, avid eyes robbed her of speech. Called forth by his admiration, a trickle of fluid slipped from her sex. As his thumb traced its downward course, his mouth fell open, then closed when he swallowed hard.
     
    She wanted to laugh but she did not, no more than she told him what to do. These discoveries were his to make, his to learn on his own. With a mixture of confidence and shyness, he shifted between her legs. He was intent now, his breathing shallow, his pulse racing visibly in his throat.
     
    Hush, love, she thought, her hands stroking down his back. Your body knows what to do. Indeed, his instinct led him better than he knew. His hips settled into the cradle of hers as if a lode-stone drew them down. With heart-stopping accuracy, the tip of him probed her then pressed inside. His breath caught, held. He was testing the feel of her, taking in that first luscious clasp. She knew her softness pulled him, knew he wanted more. He pressed deeper, surer, his vision glazed, his senses tuned to that miraculous inner glide. He hiked with a sigh.
     
    "Ah," he said, a sound of enchanted wonder. "Ah, Luisa, that is so good."
     
    She laughed and hugged him with all her limbs. His hips ground back at her but it wasn't long before he complained.
     
    "You must not hold me so tightly," he said. "I am certain I should move more vigorously in and out."
     
    She let him do as he wished, loving his fits and starts and gasps.
     
    "No," he said, after a rather amusing failure to find a working rhythm. "I need—"
     
    With a strength that impressed her, he secured her against him, then tipped back and crossed his legs. The movement brought her over his lap, her thighs to either side of him, her sex pressed snugly onto his. His erection thumped inside her as if it approved the change. She could not help noting that their position echoed the sacred pictures on the walls.
     
    "There," he said, happily flexing deeper with his hips, "now