"You are very clever."
"I have proof that I only shine in the light of your inventiveness." Joelle leaned back to look down on the side of Saxon's face as he looked down at her bare shoulder.
"We will make it then?" she asked, half questioning, half answering as she felt a telltale stir firming against the thin cloth wrapped around Saxon's waist, to which her lower belly was pressed too.
Saxon's head lifted as he spoke. "Together we will."
Joelle wanted nothing so much in that moment, but to kiss Saxon. A free kiss. Not coerced by a hypnotist. Her desire made her courageous. "I want to kiss you." Her gaze lingered on his full sensual lips.
Saxon's answer was to lean forward and their lips kissed. It was like the first kiss ever between them. It was new, soul entrancing, and gently exciting. His lips moved over her mouth slowly and her mind centered exclusively on the sensation of their mouths touching each other. As natural as time passed, their kiss deepened and her nipples thrust outward in acknowledgment, poking the firm sinew on his chest. She purred her pleasure, humming against his lips, while she felt his male organ thicken and stiffen against her.
"I live for the sounds of your purrs, firefly." His mouth turned against her lips, "I want you." Joelle's answer came with an undulation against him. A woman's sexual body stretching of beckoning. His lips abruptly pulled from hers. "But, I mustn't."
"Hmm," she murmured with disappointment. Nonetheless, she followed him with her lips, until his head lay back and she pressed her mouth down over his lips.
Her body shifting brought his warm hand to cup one of her buttocks as her naked mound found the lightly hairy bareness of his thigh. Then, her lips which were searching, living, and lusting with his mouth spoke to her sex and her sex agreed by riding his thigh with little craving undulations. It seemed a moment later that she conquered any hesitation Saxon had because he used his hand on her buttock to help lift and ride her mound over his thigh. She could feel the dampness she exuded, painting his flesh and making the way lightly slick.
He rumbled in his chest as his tongue dashed into her mouth. The soreness of the ride and the temple sacrifice was deeper inside her. What she did now was as arousing and tempting as Saxon's mouth on her sex. She wanted more! Perhaps she wanted to prove the natural goodness of it, or perhaps because she was simply selfishly allured. Saxon was everything desirous to her. He was her ideal of attraction. He even tasted like more . . . more . . . more.
Saxon knew he should stop. Not that he was the soul purveyor of the igniting affair. Nevertheless, he was the man and he cared, and he would not be the sexual instrument of physically hurting Joelle again. There was no hope that after his brutish coupling upon her at the ritual that she could take his penis inside her. It loomed as a tragedy in his mind on more fronts than one. However, the exquisite feel of her over him, pressing supple female curves, riding the butterfly of her heart with wet promise over his thigh, and her lips. Oh Lord. Her lips, god help him, her lips. How could he ignore the inspiration and dedication they inspired? He was lost in the feel of her, and he did not want to be found. He was tumbling toward relenting, as his mind played, "what if's," with him.
What if they did not couple, what if they kept from that, "what if?" He knew it would aid his healing. It would tug his mind away from reality. But it was a decision he could pull away from. He was strong enough.
Well . . . he made the decision with a delicate mouth carnally sucking his tongue. He wanted light and fire. More, he wanted Joelle's mind to twirl away into what pleasure he could give her. He found that love was equal degrees of greed and giving.
Their flesh warmed as their mouths played deeper and deeper into passion. Joelle's body moved over him. Her bare breasts tantalizing his chest as her hips swayed and she wiggled her pussy from his thigh to the base of his penis, with the rigidness of his penis lying down between his thighs. The thin material he had wrapped around his waist, and hanging like a loin cloth, did not hinder the feeling of dampness or heat as Joelle rubbed her impassioned pussy on the root of his prick. His hand helped, lustily squeezing, fondling, and guiding the curves of her naked ass. He could spend hours just playing with the curving configuration of her buttocks. Her hard little nipple tips grazed up his chest, burrowing around with her increasingly aroused movements.
Saxon kept his hook out to the side, away from their entwined undulations. But the part of his brain that could still function knew it was safer to remove it in the throes of lust. Leaving Joelle's lips was a conquest of its own, yet he finally managed . . . nearly, with just pecks of her lips as he said with a husky tenor. "Let me take my hook off."
Joelle rotated her pussy as she kissed down his jaw, purring, and he squinted over her shoulder trying to see the straps. She was not helping as she nibbled down his throat using his body like a mat that she could sensually undulate on. However, her lower position did allow him to see better. Now if he could just get his eyes to focus. Fire and light. Fire and fire, he thought, finally able to toss his hook aside as his lady of fire suckled on the depression between his neck and shoulder. It seemed she was not willing to nibble lower and lose her seat at the base of his cock. He groped her buttock with a squeeze, tickling his finger along, and then into the crease.
"Rise up," he ordered.
"Mm mm." she moaned. The sound half-petulant at leaving her perch, but she found his lips again with a heated kiss, while she rose up on her knees. He had intentions, but it was very hard to think straight as arousal steamed through his thoughts. And then, he remembered to tug his wrap aside rather haphazardly in an awkward manner of trying to do two things at once. But he managed to get it free and himself bare as his hand returned downward for his prick, and he lifted it, until it lay on his belly.
"Now, ride this, my hot little firefly."
Saxon used his fingers plied intimately along the sultry crevice of Joelle's swaying ass to guide her understanding. She scooted upward on her knees, until her pussy lips spread out over the roundness of his shaft.
"Oh mm."
Saxon agreed wholeheartedly as Joelle braced her hands on his shoulders, sliding her knees back until she could rub the soaking heat of her splayed pussy from the root to the head of his penis. Lord, and back again. The position put her breasts ripe for the picking and his mouth heated with the desire as he raised his head to nuzzle her lusty mounds.
The sound Joelle made was pure delight as she waggled her hips and her breasts pitched closer. He kissed one rounded curve, then the other with his mouth and chin grazing in the middle. His one hand latched onto the curving motions of Joelle's ass, enabling him to stretch his fingers around the curve and down through the crease, until his fingers kissed the hot and wet backside of Joelle's pussy.
"Mm mm." She wiggled down the shaft of his prick until his fingertips had more contact.
"You like that," he murmured against the soft flesh of her breast.
"Oh . . . yes," she moaned and he lightly circled his finger around the opening to her torrid vagina.
His cock thumped at the feel of this haven and it happily oozed seed from the slit, while Joelle drew her pussy up and down his shaft.
"Higher," he urged, fingering her sopping entrance to nudge her pussy toward the head of his prick. "Ah sweet, smear your pussy with my seed."
"Saxon," she gasped, and he knew his words inflamed her as they did him. Then, a moment later, when she did it and they moaned together, he knew that inflamed them more. The slit of his penis was ever sensitive, and with Joelle's butterfly dancing over it caused his hips to lift with prodding intentions. Slick and hot prods over an ardent clit, while his fingers fondled the opening to her vagina from behind and his mouth closed over one of her swaying nipples. The long set of mewls that rolled from Joelle at these actions fed his own arousal.
Joelle saw black stars in her eyes at the piercing aches that Saxon's mouth tugged on her nipple tip. Oh. She had never felt anything so wonderful, besides perhaps the exquisite pl
easure of smudging her loins over the turgid outline of his hot cock. That was pure lively bliss, and although her clitoris was the heart of her arousals convergence, with each escalating twinge building upon each other, her core was wildly beseeching her. Saxon's fingers skimmed that torrid opening that magnified the ache intensifying an action in her mind. Filling. Oh spirits, her core ached, upon ached, to be filled the more her clitoris tightened, and then into her mind came the need to satisfy Saxon's hunger too. His engorged and searing cock throbbed with his desire and his seed clinging to her loins and coating his cock spoke of his desperate need.
Saxon's teeth nibbled her nipple tip making her body shudder as her hand reached between her thighs, urgent for his pulsing cock. She grasped the scorching weight of it with her fingers slippery and sticky as she lifted the head to her vagina, while angling her hips forward. The beat inside Saxon's cock was beating with the rhythms buffeting her inner sheath and the aches slithered down her thighs with greedy abandon. When the cumbrous head touched the entrance to her core, she gasped at the feel of it as her body eagerly began to lower.
Saxon was nearly sideswiped before he realized Joelle's intent, so immersed was he with the feel of her and the taste of her nipples on his tongue. But the sudden pitch of his penis feeling the opening that it craved most, crashed through his senses. His hand quickly found Joelle's hand and he closed his fingers over her fingers, stopping her motions to lead his penis inside her.
"Saxon," she gasped with raw earthiness, as he looked up over the jut of her wet and ruddy nipple tip, into her eyes of black longing.
"Roll over with me," he ordered suddenly, unable to deny her needs or his own needs as he moved his body taking her with him, until she was beneath him. Her knees lifted up over his hips with her pussy open and eager, a wet and rosy sight, as he braced on his hand. "You are too tender, you cannot take me. Let me lick you..." he began.
But Joelle stalled him with a passionate mewl. "I want you inside me, Saxon, please, please." Her hand cupped his neck and she tugged him downward for an impassioned kiss. Then, she begged against his lips. "I want your pleasure too. I want your cock so badly, Saxon."
He groaned, straining against her lips, but more straining to keep his hips from pumping forward. "Hold the base with two hands, love. Do not let go" he commanded.
"Yes!" she cried, and she grasped his heavy cock holding one hand on top of the other, until only the head and an inch down the shaft was free.
"Do not let go," he rasped, lowering his hips, pressing the head of his penis toward her searing vagina. And he pressed slowly through the tight opening, while they both gasped. The head of his prick was soaked and Joelle was wet with hot arousal, yet still her haven was so tight at the entrance that the muscles just yielded, but then tightened again around the head, as he entered her to the top of her hands.
"Saxon, Saxon," she cried, and he knew it was from pleasure and not pain as her heels dug into his upper buttocks. "More, more," she panted.
Oh Lord, he would give her more, Saxon thought, with his lust drawing tight tension through his body. And then, he began to pump, slowly, in and out, dragging the head of his prick through heaven as Joelle's head arch backward and she panted mewls of pleasure. Her hands stayed tightly around his penis not allowing it to rent deeper inside her, but what they had was all they needed as her hips strutted upward meeting his poignant, but abbreviated strokes. He watched her passion-rife face as his own features strained within the twisting grip of lust, escalating through his balls into his prick, and drawing suction from the head. His chest heaved and his buttocks clenched as he held his ejaculation back by the reins of his willpower.
"Come with me, firefly."
"Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!" Joelle cried, feeling the startling rush of a climax twining through her clitoris and yawning against the rapid friction, along the head of Saxon's cock. "Oh hh hh!" She arched upward praying for more of the rapid thrusting as it pumped, writhing her climax higher.
Joelle's pussy, clutching with a climax, snapped Saxon's neck backward, while the wet and searing edges of her quim convulsed over the head of his penis. The sensation sucked his seed, like a flame, up the shaft of his prick and his body bowed forward as his hips strained to a halt, and then his penis threw bliss. Again, his prick drew and threw more rapture as his body shuddered and he groaned deep and hard.
"Firefly. Love, love," he hissed, swamped in rapture as Joelle cried within the throes of her release beneath him. They should be devastated, too overwrought and weary to manage going on after what they had been through, yet here was the wellspring of life. It was the food and soul to sustain them, to enliven them, and to heal them.
Saxon unbent his replete body and he lowered to find Joelle's lips and he kiss her panting into soft murmurs, until he rolled to his side, bringing her beside him, to hold her in the cradle of his arms. She lay with her head on his shoulder as his handless wrist stroked strands of her hair that had come loose from the band holding them back. She patted his chest softly with her eyelids half closed and her lips turned into a winsome smile.
"We beat them." Her eyelids opened.
"Yes, love, and we will bring them down."
Joelle's irises sparked as she looked at him more intently. "We will? I hope we will."
"You will come to England with me, Joelle, and I will show you how."
"England?" Joelle rose slightly with her hand resting on his chest.
"Joelle, you cannot go back to Paris. I would not allow it even if you could. And in England I can promise you that we will find the means to destroy this cult and its abhorrent leaders."
"To be with you, Saxon?"
"More importantly to be with me, Joelle."
Joelle raised his handless wrist to her cheek "Then that is where I want to be."
The End
Read an excerpt from the exciting conclusion in the last My Lady ebook called My Lady Gambled (an erotic novel) Where the Archangels and their ladies try to destroy Hellion and his cult revolving around Laird Brynmore's romance with Kit Montoya.
The Order was a cesspool of sexual depravity. Anyone trying to infiltrate into its folds was going to have to act as perverted. A woman trying to enter The Order would be extremely vulnerable to sexually explicit abuse. He knew he sure as bloody hell was not going to allow any woman in this room to do it!
"I'll go," Brynmore announced loudly, so there was no mistake anyone did not hear him. "Tis obvious," he added, still leaning against the bookcase as if it were just another lazy day. He used his unaffected posture for all he was worth.
"Not so obvious," Wyndham casually retorted.
"Aye, it is. I'll have me one bonny torrid little romp to remember my wild times when I'm old and rickety," Brynmore said, winking. "Looking forward to some of that tawdry tomfoolery, I've been missing."
"You will need a woman," Wyndham said, against Brynmore's bravado, which Brynmore was not certain had fooled anyone. "Each of us has those available," Wyndham finished.
"I dinna see the need of a lass. I can do fine on me own . . . and, I'm certain there are many married men attending The Orders depraved gatherings without their wives. Single men too," Brynmore countered, lifting his shoulder from the wall to cross his arms over his chest.
"It would be unwise to send a lone person undercover for this venture. The risks are too high going in alone, not to go in without backup," Drummond stated.
Brynmore knew then that two were going in. No one questioned Drummond's reasons. He was brilliant at what he did, and truth be known, they'd never set up an undercover operation with only one person. It was a type of unspoken rule of safety, not broken until Wyndham had gone into Valcourt alone to help Orelan escape the clutches of Alexei Tropov's. Brynmore knew he could argue that point all night against Drummond's opinion and in the end, Drummond's decisions would win out. Drummond would not do this lightly, he knew the personal sacrifice.
"So unless it were two men," Drummond continued, breaking Brynmore
's thoughts. "Which, I see as appearing too suspicious looking."
Still, Brynmore did not realize the concern and fear for his friends and their relationships that he felt, until he found himself heatedly blurting, "You cannot mean to send any of you couples in!" It came forth like an accusation, said as though he thought Drummond was crazed. "I'll get a tart to pose!" Bloody balls. Brynmore's gaze swept to Nia. He'd not meant to say that. She'd been a lady of the night once, but he'd not meant it that way.
"We'll go!" Joelle exclaimed. "We will, . . . well, we'll disguise ourselves. Right, Saxon?" Joelle turned to Saxon. "We know best how to keep safe . . ." Joelle's voice faded off.
"I will stop this now," Drummond interceded. "I've already made my decision and it will involve none of the couples here."
Brynmore felt the urge to sag with some relief.
Drummond continued, "There are many issues involved. We will not argue the point whether any of the couples here should be chosen to go and why not. One thing we learned from Yojo was the entrance fee into The Order always involved the person seeking inclusion needed to offer something of enough value that they could themselves be blackmailed with. Quite clever actually, and it shows the determination of the members to satisfy their individual depravities."
This was news to Brynmore, but he was grateful for whatever kept his friends and their lass' away from this particular venture. He did wonder what in the world Drummond could have in mind. Just as he knew Drummond did have something in mind.
"All of us are too visible. Our titles and our prominent places in society make it unbelievable to attempt blackmail against those of us noteworthy enough to gain entrance to The Order," Drummond said. "Now, listen closely, dear friends. I believe that a wealthy married woman, foreign and not well known on our shores, along with her adulterous lover, might do it."
"And I will be a ring-tailed polecat!" the voice of Kit Montoya pierced the room. "Because I have two of those three." Brynmore jerked, turning to see Kit walking through the open entrance to the library, continuing to say, "Now, compadres, I only need the third, an adulterous lover."
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