Before anyone could say anything else, Marian seemed to come to herself and noticed the pot.
“That will not do at all,” she said to no one and then snapped her fingers.
The flames flew up on all sides of the pot, licking it and crackling in the air.
Everyone jumped back a step.
“Let’s go, ladies. We have work to do,” Marian commanded.
Without hesitation, as they had been instructed earlier at the barbeque, they formed a semi-circle around the pot, trying not to breathe the putrid fumes.
And they started to chant the words Marian had taught them over vegetable shish kebabs.
* * * * *
Sibyl was on her back on the bed, Colin on top of her, Colin all over her. His mouth was at one breast and he’d pulled down the other cup of the nightie and there his fingers were teasing her. Unlike normally, when the spirals of hot desire went from her br**sts, her stomach, tingling up from her toes and zooming toward the space between her legs, instead, the spirals were zooming out from between her legs and going everywhere.
She’d torn his sweater off, nearly ripped it off over his head before he pushed her back on the bed. Now he was only in jeans, she in her nightie and she could stand it no more. She wanted his skin against her skin, she wanted him inside her.
She put her hands in his hair, tugged his head up to hers and kissed him with every bit of love (which was a lot) and every bit of arousal (which was a lot, a lot) she felt.
He tore his mouth away and gazed at her with eyes blazing so intensely, she was sure she’d melt.
She whispered, “Now.”
Without hesitation, he left her. As she absently heard thunder fill the air, she watched with fascination as he removed his jeans and then leaned forward and in one, quick, luscious jerk, he pulled her panties down her legs. He smoothed the lace up over her h*ps as she reached for him to bring him to her.
He spread her thighs and surged over her and with one, fierce, beautiful, fluid movement he filled her.
“Yes,” she breathed.
* * * * *
“Yes,” Beatrice breathed.
They were finally na**d on the cloak, skin against skin. Royce had taken pains to make her ready for him, he’d tasted her, tempted her, teased her. He couldn’t believe the beauty of her body, could not believe she was all his, to touch with his hands, his lips, his mouth.
He was certainly going to enjoy a lifetime of this. Very, very much.
Now with his head bent to her breast, he pulled her nipple sharply in his mouth, rolling his tongue around it and listening to her soft, exquisite moans.
His fingers had found resistance earlier but he had loosened it using her unwavering trust in him against her instincts, as well as his talented fingers, and they were now, finally inside her.
And she was dripping wet.
She was ready for him.
He spread her legs and rolled between them while his mouth took hers in a sweet kiss, his hands moving to frame her face.
“This will hurt, my love,” he murmured against her lips as he found her with the tip of his shaft and, controlling his h*ps with an immense effort of will, he slid inside her just an inch.
Her eyes grew wide as she felt his invasion.
“Royce,” she breathed.
He slid in more, mere centimetres and gritted his teeth. He had avoided death in countless gory battles on countless blood-drenched battlefields but the exquisite torture of her lush tightness was finally going to kill him.
“I can’t stop the pain, but I shall try and make it…” He had to stop speaking and again grit his teeth so he wouldn’t drive into her with the wild abandon his body was demanding but only press in less than an inch more.