There came a twinge of disappointment when the intimate curve of his rugged mouth withdrew from the shackle of her desperate affections.  Deeper it delved into that well of bemusement when the slender curve of her heaving stomach felt the brisk chill of his absence.  He'd been so intent on enveloping her, warming her naked skin with the hard plane of his battle-hewn body that the seeking sterling of her gaze sought the angular jut of his shadowed face.  Ethel still saw the greedy way his eyes raked over her and hers did the same in turn when the whole of his cock buried itself to its full extent.  Dewy lips parted with an unrestrained moan.  Though their kiss had dissolved, their maddened coupling persisted.  "You're beautiful."  A compliment bestowed countless times from the lips of other men.  From them, it held little weight.  She'd graciously offer her thanks - of course - before leading them away to the dance floor where their eyes seemed to never leave the gentle arch of her mouth or the sway of her bosom.  Coming from Dimitris, however, the words stirred a flame to her face and heightened the pace of her racing heart thundering like waves against the rise and fall of her chest. Ethel wanted to answer him, to tell him how handsome, how truly divine he was upon the eyes.  Like a statue of virile Ares carved meticulously in elegant marble, a deity who had been sewn for the throes of war.  Dimitris had the scars to prove it, his steel-forged seams, and while her fingers lovingly traced them down the flat of his stomach to the bend of his hip, she did not view them as flaws.  They were part of him; the story of his life. Her words were bewitched into pleasured moans for his carnal touch against her risen leg, the caress of his nimble fingers upon her sweet treasure of which he'd taken possession, created a tickling, maddening feeling creeping upon her.  Eyes remained half closed in languid repose, full lips giving vent to the excursive exclamations which announced extreme gratification the volume of which startled her.  Were she of sound mind and not maddened by this intense desire, a wild flush would have depended on those already burning cheeks.  As he continued to smoothly thrust into her constricting mound of Venus, there was little regard for much else than the desperate need for release.  The muscles of her abdomen grew taut with the heightening sensation, her thighs quivered, her back arched and delicate fingers fervently grasped the pillow on either side of her head until her knuckles were white.  Close, so close to the edge.  With a stroke upon her glistening gem, an earnest thrust of masculine determination and she was finally pushed into the sea of immeasurable pleasure.  It was announced with a series of heightened, heady cries and her body tensed before attempting to ease itself.  His teasing of her twitching bud made it difficult, however, and roused a purring, content laugh.  Ethel sought his wrist, a quiet plea of mercy if only to stop the violent jolt of her vice-like thighs. ‘All that we see or seem’, ‘Is but a dream within a dream.

Jahi

I'LL USE YOU AS A WARNING SIGN. . .

Had he imagined this before? The girlish pout of her mouth, the sounds she orchestrated that sent chills down the length of his spine. The way she writhed, panted, clenched him? Perhaps in a dream, a faraway imaginarium far from waking thoughts and any hint of reality. Madness, all of it. Even in present time and action. Madness. She burned him. Smote him to ruin. She made him seethe and yearn and indulge, all sins in which he had not once considered committing. No, he had always assumed his end upon the battlefield - illuminated or otherwise - and yet here she was, threatening to suffocate him by stifling the air within his very lungs. When he did exhale, the sound was heavy, accompanied by the gravel of his tone.

She engulfed him, swallowing him like the merciless tide at sea. Her arms were the tempestuous currents threatening to drag him unto the undertow. He would let them, gladly. To drown in her would be a kindness, a mercy he had never found anywhere else. Should she choose to rob him of his breath, perhaps only then would he ever know true peace.

Her fingers traced the ghosts of his past, those that refused to leave and instead embedded themselves within him. Discomfort would have stirred should anyone else stare at him in the way she did, yet his skin didn't crawl beneath her scrutiny. He found no whim to withdraw from her hungering caress, the warmth of her affection serving to drive the underwhelming chill from him, fuel to the fires. Feeding their razing destruction. She was one in the same, however. Her features set alight, her lips parting in full, pleased that she did little to try and stifle herself now.

She sang to him, voice and body. A hymn of desperation, of greed, and he responded in tune to her symphony. Her roving hands abandoned him, her legs gripped the virile thrust of his hips, clenching, quivering. His smooth rhythm stuttered with the sensation, chasing quickly that extraordinary high of release just as she did, relishing in her unrestrained cries. It wasn't until she gently batted his hand away that he realized he'd still been tormenting her. A quiet ah left him as he sought to reign in his breathing, stare lingering away, his cheeks flushing sharply as he felt the shudder of her slender thighs. "Sorry."

!

. . . THAT IF YOU TALK ENOUGH SENSE THEN YOU'LL LOSE YOUR MIND

When the wild race of rutting hips stilled, a torrid burst filled her with the warmth of his impassioned virility.  A release from those tempestuous flames; the vehemence of their smouldering infernos.  An endearing smile creased the shadow of Ethel's kiss-swollen lips still parted for the draw of languid, grounding breaths.  Thus, having soothed their sensual aches, the world began limping back into her senses.  The former tension of lithe muscles fully eased into the mattress beneath.  Searching fingers keened for his hand to weave those calloused digits into a gentle hold, a doting squeeze, a lavishing kiss upon the knuckles of each. "For what?"  She asked him while slowly opening her hooded eyes to watch the violent red of his cheeks.  There were no words to describe the feeling that awakened in her chest at the sight of him, only that it made her... happy.  Overwhelmingly so.  Ethel wanted nothing more than to hold him, to ensure that nothing - and no one - could ever cause his heart to ache in a cruel and unfair way.  She knew with utmost certainty that Dimitris was fully capable of taking care of himself when push came to shove but that niggling notion still whispered in the back of her mind.  Protect him.  Was this what it felt like to truly and unabashedly care about someone?  It was her turn then to flush a vivid crimson, more so when her tongue began unleashing those precious thoughts. "I like you a lot, Dimi."  Her gaze rose from the arch of his cheek to his icy blue eye.  "And I like when you're selfish." ‘All that we see or seem’, ‘Is but a dream within a dream.

Jahi