She felt his hot breath in her ear. “I’m going to teach you something very special, Cassandra.” His clever hands played well-practiced arpeggios along her breasts and flat belly, coming to rest at the juncture between her thighs, which had been wet with anticipation from the moment she felt his first caress. “This,” he said softly, noting her wetness as he began to explore the deepest recesses of her sex, “is your yoni.” He took her soft hand in his and placed it gently on his fully erect sex. “And this is my lingam. Look into my eyes, Cassandra, as I touch you. No, don’t be ashamed,” he urged, when she turned her face away. His fingers began to titillate her until she cried his name, hoarse with desire, craving more. Needing release.
C.J. reached down and gently touched Percy’s hand, as if to temporarily halt his progress. “Percy?” she began tentatively. “I think you should know that I am not a vir—”
He slipped one, then two fingers inside her, feeling her slickness and readiness with no physical barrier to impede the taking of their pleasure. “Shhh, love. I know,” he replied softly, continuing to stroke her. “Keep looking at me, Cassandra. The rhythm of your breathing will begin to match mine,” he whispered. And when Percy excited her most exquisitely sensitive spot, just behind the pubic bone, C.J. cried out as she held his gaze. Tears, formed from the deepest recesses of her soul, coursed like summer rain down her flushed cheeks. It was as though she had lost all control of her own body and was no longer human, but had become color—pure color. First scarlet, then persimmon orange, then vibrant kelly green. “Everything is green,” she gasped in an astonished stupor as the tears continued to flow freely.
“It’s the Tantra,” Percy whispered. “The weaving of energy. An Eastern practice nearly four thousand years old. All of the energies of the body are brought into harmony, creating the highest form of pleasure possible. Green is the color of the heart—the anharta,” he added, tracing circles around her rosy aureoles.
C.J. reached up to wipe away her embarrassing tears. Percy stroked the outside of her sex, teasing her by gently tugging at the downy hair covering her pubis. The slight pinching sensation increased her craving for him. “It’s all right to weep,” he soothed. “When I touched you deep inside your yoni, your tears released your fears and opened your heart.” He continued to rhythmically caress her. “It is the fullest way to experience lovemaking. Your eyes—the windows to the soul—your heart, and your yoni all open to me at once, like a beautiful blossom. You give and receive completely at the same time.”
He kissed her eyelids, first with his soft lips, then bestowed butterfly kisses on her lids, cheeks, and lips by fluttering his lashes against her skin, provoking tiny tingles of electricity. Percy nibbled at her lips, drawing her bottom lip into his mouth and deftly continuing a southern migration down her entire body, marking her with tiny bites on her throat, breasts, belly, mons, and thighs. Every time Darlington lifted his mouth from her body, he left C.J. wanting more. Each caesura was an exquisite moment, rich and full, suspended in time; the reward that followed every pause became a revelation.
“I am marking you as mine, Cassandra. In India, these ancient sensual practices were codified in the fifteenth century in the Kama Sutra of Vatsyayana. It has never been translated into English. Imagine how much I could pleasure you if I were fluent in Hindi!”
Before C.J. could reply or ask him how he had come to know portions of the sacred sexual text—an answer she was unsure she wanted to hear—Percy had placed his mouth over her nether lips and was exploring the soft folds of her sex with his tongue. He continued to tease her into wave upon wave of ecstasy until she could swear she was floating above her own body.
She continued to come in colors as he brought her with each increasingly powerful orgasm closer and closer to nirvana. Sticky rivulets of amrita, her own natural love juices, ran down her thighs, and once again, she no longer felt earthbound.
Now. Now it was time.
Darlington eased himself on top of C.J., claiming her mouth with his as he entered her with a cry of relief commingled with the purest ecstasy.
Rising to meet his rhythm, her body responded to his as though they had been destined for each other. She felt her flesh shudder and explode; and as his hands reached behind her neck to take hold of her hair, she became a wild thing, giving in to an even more primal pleasure as he took her higher and higher. It was as though C.J. had become every element in rapid and rotating succession—first all earthy desire; then an unquenchable fire of unslaked ardor; then air itself as she soared to new heights of rapture; then water as her body turned to liquid, melting into and around him.
Covering her tender eyelids with kisses, honoring her flushed cheeks, her throat, and her searching mouth, Darlington cried his pleasure into her.
It was a celestial experience. C.J. was certain she was seeing stars. In fact, she was. As their lovemaking had progressed, day had become dusk and the slender wax tapers now illuminated the ceiling above where they lay satiated in each other’s arms. Where the candlelight captured the luminescence of the gold leaf, the constellations shone, creating a dazzling effect. C.J. released a throaty sigh of sheer contentment. She flexed and relaxed her muscles, gripping him, then releasing; gripping, then releasing. He was still
