This Stream of Dreams (Mirella, Rashid and Adam Book 2) (35 page)

Adam kissed Mirella on the cheek and said, “Let’s have tea.”

He and Turhan moved the laden tea table in front of the fireplace and to one side. Then they placed a pair of dark brown buffalo-suede-covered Louis XIV chairs opposite each other on either side of the table. There they sat across from
each other. The crackling fire cast a light on Mirella, who appeared so young and fresh and with a sparkle of life like the diamonds in her ears and a luster as rich and rare as her pearls.

Mirella kept studying Adam, who was dressed in a pair of black and white houndstooth-check trousers, a black cashmere turtleneck sweater, and a Saint Laurent jacket of chestnut-colored leather.

He seemed in his own very private room even more rugged and handsome, more a man unto himself. This lodge of his housed the memorabilia of an adventurer, a hunter of animals, a lover of the wild, an explorer of the primitive. Here she felt the rightness of the setting for this man she loved.

It was difficult for her to balance the different sides of her husband’s character. Was this then the man who played with panda bears and raised rare birds, who tucked his youngest child into bed as if family were all that mattered to him? Or was he the international manipulator who was reputed since his business coup in Ethiopia to be the next Armand Hammer? Or was the essential man the passionate lover she fell for, who changed her life, her erotic soul mate? What more was there for her to learn of him? This was her husband, and she hardly knew him when she married him and she hardly knew him now. Yet shamelessly she didn’t care. Enough that her body yearned for him, and her heart yearned for him.

Like two nervous lovers they barely spoke, while their desire for each other grew. Over the rims of teacups they watched Muhsine pull the large, soft cushions from the sofa and lay them on the floor in front of the gigantic fireplace. It looked positively feudal with its five-feet-long logs lighting the entire area where they sat. Turhan covered the cushions with the polar-bear skin and laid the silver-fox rug nearby.

“The man knows me so well he anticipates perfectly,” said Adam, a twinkle in his eye.

They ate small triangular smoked salmon sandwiches on crustless brown bread, paper-thin cucumber sandwiches that melted on the tongue. They ate hungrily after the cold and the romping in the snow. The cake was only five inches in diameter and four inches high. It was covered in a hard, thick white chocolate and looked more like a handmade cream-filled Belgian bonbon. The white chocolate casing covered
thin layers of moist dark cake and, between them, thick layers of mocha cream.

Turhan heated the silver cake slicer over the open fire. With a white napkin around its ivory handle he melted a line through the casing and sliced the cake without cracking it.

“A champagne among cakes! Good enough, do you think, to toast absent friends?”

Adam’s allusion to Rashid’s weakness for chocolate was oblique, but enough momentarily to startle Mirella. For a piquant second, the man’s presence troubled the perfect happiness that enveloped her. Yet she felt secure, too, in the mastery and acceptance by her husband that the quick allusion might imply.

Turhan and Muhsine left them to finish their tea. A silence fell over the room except for the crackling of the fire.

“There are so many things I have wanted to say to you since I arrived, but there seem always to be people around and things to do. I haven’t even thanked you for the coat. I do thank you, it’s so beautiful. And my pavilion, I cannot begin to tell you how much I adore it. But those things amount to very little when it comes to thanking you for the love and understanding you show me. For your being the man you are.

“In the fairy tales you would be like the prince that kissed Sleeping Beauty. You awakened me to a life I missed while I was sleeping, albeit with my eyes open. Do I tell you often enough that I love you? That I always want you, no matter the distance or the people, or the time, that separate us.”

He gazed into her eyes. He could see the depths of her soul in them, that was enough. He needed, wanted no other words. He stopped her.

“Some things need never be said. If we were to begin that, we would create a barrage of words trying to tell each other how grateful we are for finding real love. Let’s just live our love for each other.”

With those words Adam rose from the tea table, went around and drew Mirella’s chair back. Together they stood before the open fire and watched the flames dance and leap into the air, disappear, die, and renew themselves as flames. Silently they turned away from the fire and faced each other. They raised their hands at the same time, and Adam took Mirella’s in his, lowered his lips to them and kissed them.

Chemistry, electricity, desire, and affection were working for them, as it often did when they were alone together. There was something about the very touch of Adam’s skin, his natural body scent, the very essence of the man, that stirred new life within Mirella. It was the same for Adam.

Still holding hands, Mirella stepped closer and kissed Adam gently, ever so lightly, tenderly. He felt the tremble in her lips and he felt the sheer elation of her kiss. They broke contact and stepped back from each other as if seared by burning desire, and gazing deeply into each other’s eyes, their hearts and souls met.

Slowly they undressed themselves and let their clothes lie where they fell. Naked in the firelight, love danced between them. Adam finally reached out and touched her cheek with one finger, as if to reassure himself that she was real. He arranged the pearls over her naked breasts and covered her diamond handcuffs with his hands. He raised first one hand, then the other to his lips, and turned them over and kissed her palms.

He found her dazzlingly exciting, naked yet adorned with priceless jewels that sparkled in the firelight. Here before him stood the true and natural loving beauty of Mirella combined with her sensual, lascivious soul. This was the Mirella who had captivated him, heart and soul.

Mirella broke the spell between them when she laid hands on her husband and moved them lightly, with tenderness and love, over every inch of his body. His nipples rose under her fingers, his mass of blond pubic hair was combed by them. She held his penis in both hands and caressed it. The weight of it, the life-force she felt pulsating in the long thick phallus, excited the warmth and desire she felt for him. She lowered her lips to his large and beautiful testicles and kissed them, licked them and then ran her hands around the inside of his thighs. Mirella could feel the wetness of her own orgasms, and he had not even touched her as yet. Choked with unblushing desire for him, she said, “I love you so much, Adam. I want you so much. No matter what happens in our lives, you must always remember that.”

“I do, and I always will, and that’s why you are free to do anything you want with your life.”

Mirella had no answer for that.

He reached out and caressed her large, rounded breasts. Her nipples enticed him and, taking them in his mouth, he used his tongue to lick, and his mouth to suck. He pulled her body against his, kissed her. Their lips opened, their tongues repeated the kiss, and they drank their passion from each other.

Adam slipped his hands beneath her arms and moved them lovingly along their sides, resting his hands at her waist. He gripped hard and raised her high above his head. She opened her legs wide and her hands went between her legs. He saw the droplets of her passion glisten on the luscious, dark triangle of hair. With trembling fingers she parted her most intimate lips. Her clitoris was like a tiny, round pink button, and the satiny wetness of her orgasm lay along her delectable, deep pink slit, waiting for his kisses.

She marveled at his strength and control as he lowered her over his mouth and licked her opening, nibbled at her clitoris, and when she sighed, he pushed his tongue deep inside her, moving it in and out and around. Scooping out her sweet nectar, he drank from the heart of her femininity.

His cunt kisses sent shiver after shiver of delight through her, and she came with new, fresh orgasms. The passion and love they had for each other was infinite. He lowered her still further now and looked into her deep violet eyes and then held her away from his body. She forced her legs and her cunt wider apart and he set her on the tip of his rigid penis. Then with one huge thrust he pulled her all the way onto him. She wrapped her legs around his waist. Now with his free arms he encircled her and with his hands he caressed her hair and kissed her, standing with his penis throbbing deep inside her.

Yet he held himself back and, with her close in his arms again, he slipped down on his knees and laid her on the polar-bear skin. Here the glow of the fire seemed to burnish her flesh, inflaming his passion for her anew. Outside, beyond the room that enfolded their loving, was the chill of the snow. As if to affirm his oneness with the life and warmth of the fire within, Adam continued his lovemaking until she cried out for them to come together. For a split second, it was as if their hearts stopped on the same beat. For a poised and perfect moment, they encountered oneness.

As Adam draped the silver-fox coverlet over them, Mirella
tried to compose herself. The calm of her being was not easily restored. Fanciful or not, something seemed to have stirred in the moment that their orgasms mingled … something that had never stirred, never taken life in previous lovemaking with Adam or any man. She had felt within her a moment of creation.