manhood.
Without guidance, she lifted up. Holding him tightly in her fist, she brought him to her vaginal lips, a wet, hot kiss of intimate desire. Only to tease him with herself. Or perhaps she teased herself with him.
'Do you mind?' she gasped.
Robert gasped when she slid him past her opening and up to the top of her clinging, swollen lips. He could feel the hard bud of her clitoris, could feel it throbbing. She rubbed the crown of his manhood against her there, round and round, slid it back down to tease her opening. Again. And again. On the forth pass he couldn't hold back a reflexive arch of his hips.
It wasn't going to take much for Abigail to gain satisfaction. Suddenly Robert minded very much that she should orgasm alone.
When next she brought the crown of him down to moisten it at her opening, his hand was there, too, holding his manhood steady while, with his left hand, he pulled her right thigh wider, forcibly bringing her body down closer.
This time the gasp belonged to her.
'Easy. Are you sore?'
'A little.'
He pulled her thigh out furtherand sank further up inside her.
Her muscles clenched and tightened around him as if they could force him out.
He gripped her more tightly.
He
'Bear down, Abigail. Once I'm in, I won't hurt you anymore, I promise. Open up. Relax.' Having breached her body, he slid his right hand down to her left thigh; using both hands, he steadily, relentlessly, pulled her thighs wider and wider apart until she had no choice but to 'Take it. Take all of me, Abigail.'
She did.
He knew he was causing her pain. He also knew how to take that pain away.
Lightly he soothed the taut muscles in her thighs. 'Relax, sweetheart. Relax, Abigail.' When her muscles eased, he slid his left hand up and rubbed her nipple. Bringing up his right hand, he touched her clitoris.
A pearl, she had called it.
From
Below her swollen bud was a taut ring of wet, pulsing flesh her surrounding him.
Robert had never realized before how thin feminine skin stretched to hold a penis… or how fragile was the bonding of a man and a woman.
She quivered as he rimmed her clitoris with the pad of his thumb. Her inner muscles told him all that he needed to know. They told him how hard to press, how fast, until suddenly the taut band of flesh surrounding him relaxed utterly. In the next instant it clutched him so tightly it was almost painful.
Abigail cried out.
Robert cried out.
But he didn't move. He had promised her he would not bring her any more pain, only pleasure, and he meant to keep that promise.
Before she had time to catch her breath, he rubbed her swollen bud again. Until her inner muscles again gripped and milked him in climax.
He used her pleasure to bring about his own peak. It took six orgasms in all. When he arched up into her, she collapsed over him in a blanket of soft hair and damp flesh.
Mustering up energy he had never known he possessed, he jerked the bedcovers out from underneath his body and pulled them up around her.
Holding her tightly in his arms, his flesh snugly encased in hers, he prayed that the storm would last another night.
chapter 4
Rain was a steady drum of sensation; it pounded against the walls and the ceiling, impaling Abigail's body on a shaft of raw heat. She shifted to find a more comfortable positionher pillow was fuzzy and the bed bone- hard.
The feeling of being impaled grew. As did the raw heat inside her lower body.
Her eyes flew open.
A mat of wiry black hair greeted her gaze. It covered a very broad, naked chest.
Stifling a cry of alarm, Abigail lifted her head.
She stared into pewter-gray eyes framed by ridiculously thick, long black lashes.
Every muscle in her body clenched in recognition at what filled her to capacity.
She had taken a stranger into her bed. She had taken him into her mouth. And she had taken him into her body.
Where he was still lodged.
Pale-gray light illuminated the dark stubble lining the oddly tensed face of the man underneath her. 'Good morning.'
In the dark heat of night Abigail had been a woman; in the cold light of day she was once again an aging spinster.
An aging spinster who had propositioned a strangerand then had begged and cried for him not to stop.
Abigail stiffened her spine. 'Good morning.'
He folded down the covers from around her shoulders and eased her upright so that she sat across his hips. 'Do you mind?'
Flesh she had named.
Her muscles tightened in protest; she felt as if she sat on a fence post. His shoulders were brown against the white of the sheet and pillowtight little brown nipples peeped through black chest curls.
Which meant that her breasts were equally visible.
Breasts he had suckled like a starving infant.
She slapped her arms across her chest.
His hips surged upward with unmistakable intent.
Abigail gasped. At the sensation of him prodding the very depths of her body. At the realization that the intolerable pressure had nothing to do with what was inside her vagina and everything to do with what was inside her bladder.
Freeing her right arm, she braced her hand on the mat of wiry chest hairchest hair that
Words failed her.
She closed her eyes at the loss of whatever dignity she still possessed.
There simply did not exist a polite formula for informing a man buried deep inside a woman that the dictates of nature preceded the urges of the flesh.
A boisterous laugh penetrated her mortification. The motion of his body combined with that of the bed caused her to jiggle up and down on the extremely solid flesh planted between her legs.
Opening her eyes in pained outrage, she anchored herself to his chest with both hands; her freed breasts swayed unimpeded. Hard, calloused fingers dug into her hips while pewter-gray glinted up at her.
'A lesson for the both of us. Men wake up with a hard-on. Whereas women, I take it, wake up merely needing to relieve themselves.'
Gritting her teeth, Abigail attempted to scramble off him, only to find that her legs refused to movethey were
