Slowly Bida massaged his thighs through his pants, pulling her mouth away from his skin she whispered hoarsely into the curve of his ear. "Samael my dearest why are you still wearing these?"
Her deft fingers moved to the button at the top of his pants before Samael caught both of her wrists in the palm of his big hand.
He wagged a finger in front of her, "No, my darling, not yet, I want to make sure you remember this for the rest of your life. " Firmly he pushed Bida flat on her back deep into her mattress.
"Put your hands above your head and don't move them." his voice was very compelling as she felt herself grab her wrists with the opposite hand. Samael ran a hand over her eyes and whispered in a deep rumbling voice.
"Close your eyes and trust me, Bida." Bida squeezed her eyes shut a smile playing on her lips. Samael surveyed the beauty laid out before him, before reaching down and ripping the rest of her nightgown off her body. Shivers ran down Bida's
Gingerly Samael spread her thighs with one hand while the other teased her tender rose-colored pebble that topped her creamy globe. A breathy cry escaped Bida's swollen lips as sharp jolts of pleasure raced through her body. Kissing slowly Samael traced a tantalizing trail down Bida's graceful neck to the curve of her shoulder before dropping butterfly light kisses between the valley of her chest and onto the pert creaminess of her bosom. His long fingers gently probed her nether petals brushing her most sensitive part in an artful carelessness, while his other hand roughly pulled and rolled her turgid pink flesh between his fingers. Gasping Bida snaked her hand down to cradle his head and tangled her fingers in his inky tresses, gently she tried to guide his warm mouth to the other aching pebble desperate for some relief from the throbbing he had awaken in her.Samael disentangled Bida's delicate hand from his mane of jet and grabbed her wrist. Growling through clenched teet
Michael Steel watched from the rafters of the old warehouse. He had worked his way up into the dank and dusty old beams carefully and quietly. It had taken precious time. Time that he knew he might not have had.There was just enough light filtering in through the clouded window panes of the warehouse's old roll-up door for him to see. The scene below him was eerie enough without the criss-cross pattern of shadows on the floor. Steel slowed his breathing even further than he already had. He slowed his heartbeat down to what should have been dangerous. He relaxed, centering himself, and he waited.Below him, sprawled onto the damp and dusty floor, was a young woman. She was about 18, Michael figured. She was pretty, but not beautiful. Plain was the descriptive word, with her brown hair pulled into a ponytail. She was dressed in a short vinyl skirt and a one-strapped tank top. Steel noticed that the half-shirt had been pulled low, revealing a bare left breast. The skin t
That sandpaper texture, like hard leather, of a working man's hands scraped across her skin; kneading and sliding in a slippery rhythm, but not so much so that it took away from the delicious friction, nor obscure the under lying coarseness of his touch. It seemed as if his hands were electrified. Then, the sensation shifted as the space between her skin and his buzzed and mingled in volts of passion. He held steady and torturously just out of touch while she tried to pay attention to the symbiotic flow of sparks that erupted over her erogenous zones. How was it possible that she could still feel every stroke of his fingertips, though they stood inches away from her skin? How could each manipulation of empty space give way to flutters deep down inside her? It made no logical sense, and he watched the gears turning, but would not relent in having the spell broken by an overactive mind.He pressed hard against her and her focus faltered, somewhere along the way he'd stripped do
Camilla looked up as the man entered the room, smiling slightly as he approached. The heavy door clanged shut behind him, the insistent strobes and rainbowed lights of the club winking out, leaving only a dull reddish glow. She looked him over; tall and lean, well muscled like a dancer, his hair surrounding his face in dark waves. Her tongue clicked in her mouth and she smiled wider, her long teeth gleaming. He only smiles at this and drew closer, his own long teeth creasing his bottom lip. He reaches to grasp her.She stands and fades into a chill mist as he draws close, and the room fills with a thousand whispered voices, a susurrus of sound, a thousand bloody pleasures promised.He glances around, young yet in his talents and unable to follow, the red glow in the room deepens and the mist settles about his shoulders, a smell of grave dirt and lilies filling the air. The cold settles about his shoulders and he shudders as a cold, manicured hand settles on his shoulde
It was a cool, windy day sometime in the spring, and a bright chorus of birds chirped in the throng of trees outside the small wooden-slatted hut. Inside it was warm thanks to the fire in the fireplace, burning strong even though it was perhaps three in the afternoon. A small spit of meat was hooked over it, stripped from a few of the meatier birds that had lived outside the hut until that morning, and the juicy smell hung in the air, scenting the place with a rich and homely aroma. A plain, flat wooden table sat near the fireplace, and across from it, a simple pot and grill of sapling twigs and were arranged ready to be used over a second fireplace. There was a plain straw bed-down in the far side, nestled between two slatted windows that were at the moment wide open, and two doors in opposing walls. One, the frontmost door, hung ajar, an abandoned woodcutting axe propped beside it. A commotion of voices and footsteps could be heard from inside.'I will not bed with you,' sa
The wind blew restlessly, scattering leaves and dust in its path. Though it chilled, Allie did not pull her coat tighter, or shiver in the dimly lit dusk. The stars were already overhead and she walked with steady resolve along the drive towards her ancestral home. When she had played here as a child, tall sycamores had lined the cobbled path and the wilderness waited only a few steps from the driveway. Now carefully tended hedges and overly green lawn stretched as far as the eye could see. A rose garden grew peacefully along the west veranda of the house.Coming here always filled her with an irrational remorse and anger for the spreading disease called suburbia. All that was missing was a white picket fence and a few obnoxious little dogs called "Muffy" or "Fluffy." Fortunately, this was no longer her home. So she quashed her guilt and continued up the drive, her heels tapping quietly, skirt fluttering just above her knees. The house itself loomed out of the twilight, light
Once she was dressed again, she checked over the room making sure it was clear of all her personal items. And her prints or scent, masked by cleaning solutions. True, the Pack knew where she lived, but they also knew better than to trespass on a Witch's property. And Pack lore held them from entering the domain of another shifter unless invited. A few might try anyway, but Allie knew how to handle herself and what she claimed as her own.Sudden knocking on her door caused her to swing her head around. No one but no one should have known where she was. A peek through the peephole, safer than giving away her presence by asking her caller to identify them self, put her looking into another eye, distorted by demagnification. A very familiar green eye."What do you want, Grey?" If he expected her to open he door, then too bad for him."A quick explanation of that very tense and heated scene I was just treated to. And to apologize if what I said upset you and made you
A bead of sweat traveled slowly down Elizabeth's back under her thick wool dress as she sat stiffly with her brother's family on the cramped wooden pew. The heat of the many bodies crammed into the small church heightened the sweltering conditions of the already unseasonably hot October day. She felt glances from around the room as she focussed on appearing intently fixated on the minister's sermon. The vivid descriptions of the certain fiery damnation that faced the sinners amongst them were accentuated by the surrounding sizzling atmosphere. It seemed her fellow parishioners did not have the same qualms about ignoring the minister as Elizabeth, the young new widow from Virginia. She felt their judgmental stares boring into her from every direction, even the minister himself gawked her way for a substantial portion of the sermon.Elizabeth had been married to Henry for two short years. They had had a quiet and peaceful existence that was pleasant and comfortable, if somewhat