The Bridegroom (3 page)

“I will comfort you,” I say again in a husky
whisper.

With surprising force, I push his shoulder
until he understands what I want, and he falls on his back, staring
up at me and my mass of tangled hair. Then I straddle his waist
with my strong thighs. This time I ride him. Lowering my head, I
kiss him greedily. He slides his fingers down my back and into the
curve at the top of my arse.

He returns my kiss, his tongue taking my
mouth with fierce possession. I feel his erection touch my
buttocks. I know he craves release, yet I play with him by making
him wait. I will not accommodate his needs, only tempting him with
the promise of my
mons veneris
, my mounds of love. Once
again I flick my tongue over his nipples.

“I long to die in your lap!”

Still I will not relent, but scorch his skin
with my fingers, my tongue, and the movement of my thighs against
his hip bones. His muscles quiver from my onslaught. I torture him
with a profound pleasure.

All the while, he watches me with half
closed eyes. I drop my head to let my hair surround us. Then I
throw my head back, breathing hard myself, a wicked, wanton smile
spreading faintly on my lips. By pleasuring him, I am pleasuring
myself, and at the same time driving him mad with my deliberate
seduction.

“Sweetheart, please.” He makes a hoarse
sound, raising his hips up, touching my buttocks, begging.

I answer him with a whimper and push myself
up on my knees briefly. When I lower myself, I sit on his hard,
long penis.

“My lady!”

I want him. He wants me. He reaches up to my
breasts and cups them, teasing my nipples until they peak, and I
toss back my head, my mouth falling open as I pant hard.

And then I move on him rubbing up and down
so I drive him beyond madness. He writhes beneath me and clutches
my arms, his fingers biting into my flesh. I rise up again and come
down gently on the tip of his shaft, hovering there so he feels me
slick and throbbing.

I run me tongue over my lips and gaze down
at him with a taunting, come on look. He closes his eyes and moans
his need. Then I settle around the full length of him, surrounding
him with pure delight, letting him fill me. I place my hands beside
his head to support myself as I drive against him, pushing him to
the brink.

“Sweetheart,” he cries out. “I love
you!”

He explodes, thrusting upward, every muscle
in his body recoiling and then bursting forth with waves of sweet,
dazzling sensation.

Closely after his climax I shudder with
mine, climaxing for the first time. “My lord!” I cry out.

Sweet torture!
My body shakes, out of
control, and then I collapse upon him, breathing roughly in his
ear.

This is what I am missing. His love. Now I am
complete. Now I am fully a woman.

Darby York

Darby York believes her past lives have
prepared her to write historical romance. She is happily married in
this lifetime, dabbles in the metaphysical, and rescues stray cats
and dogs.

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Dirty Bits
story by
Darby York,

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Dirty Bits

Short Stories by Sapphire Nights Books

www.sapphirenightsbooks.com

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is the erotic imprint of

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