Before Blue Twilight

I freed the clasp of her cloak, and spread it open, then slowly unlaced the dress she wore down the front.

Her breasts strained against the fabric, until I pushed it away, baring them to the night sky, to my eyes, to my touch.

I did not take control of her mind. I wanted her to give herself to me freely. But I did ease the fears and the shyness away. I soothed her, whispering to her innermost soul that she could trust me utterly. And she could, it was nothing less than the truth.

My lips traced a path over her neck and chest, to her breasts, and then I took them, suckled them deeply and hungrily, one and then the other. My lady's hands clasped my head, held me to her, arched her back, and from within her mind I knew the delicious sensations coursing through her. I knew her every thought, her every desire. When she wished my tongue to flick over her stiffening peaks, I complied. And when she wanted the pinch of my teeth, I gave it to her.

And all the while, my own desire grew. I rubbed against her outer thigh, to show her, and in a vain effort to seek release, though it only served to arouse me more. When I lifted her skirts, she began to stiffen up again.

No, my love, I whispered to her inside her mind. No, you aren't afraid. You want this. You know you do. You want my touch. Here ...

And with the thoughts, I pressed my hand to her center. She whimpered and moved against me, until I parted her folds and explored within. Heat and wetness greeted me.

I wanted more than I had ever wanted before as I probed and plumbed the very depths of her, and then focused all my attention on the center of her desire, the tiny kernel of flesh that set off a thousand sensations when I pressed and squeezed and rolled it.

Her cries grew louder, unabashedly animalistic while my hand worked her center, and my mouth, her breasts. I grew rougher, hungrier, and she seemed to enjoy it all the more.

Impatient now, the bloodlust raging in me, I opened the dress down the front, and parted it so that I could see all of her. Utterly naked, exposed to me. In a flash her hands flew to cover her body.

I sat up over her, staring down. "No, Elisabeta. You are mine, body and soul. You want to give yourself over to my every desire. Don't you?"

"Yes."

"Then say it."

"I am yours," she moaned. "And you are mine, my prince."

I stripped away my garments in a frenzy of desire, and then I lay atop her, my hands pressing her thighs apart as I lowered myself to her center, and without hesitation, slid inside.

She gasped, her nails digging into my shoulders and her thighs going taut.

"Open to me," I whispered.

And she did; she opened wide and I sank myself inside her to the very depths of her, like burying myself in a sweet haven from which I never wished to emerge. I pulled back and drove again as she moaned in sensation.

With my hand I tipped her head to one side, and pushed the golden hair away from the skin of her neck, baring it, and watching the tiny pulse beat just beneath the flesh as I took her body and lowered my head to take her blood, as well.