A Masquerade in the Moonlight - By Kasey Michaels Page 0,145

didn’t deepen the kiss, as she had half expected, but only kissed her, over and over and over again, before sliding down her body, his lips feathering the skin of her throat, her upper chest, the hollow between her breasts. His hands cupped her, lifted her, molded her, and when she felt his mouth on her nipple she drew her breath in sharply, not expecting the thrill that shot through her.

Now he used his tongue, running it in circles around her nipples, laving her skin as he ministered to both breasts equally, using his fingers to gently pinch, and tease, and excite her. She pushed her fingers into his hair, her eyes shut tight, her head tipped back as he ministered to her—yes, ministered to her—finding all the sensitive, erotic places she had no idea she possessed, the curves beneath her arms, the slight hollow at the base of her throat, the full undersides of her breasts, the taut skin on the sides of her ribs, the dip of her waist, the everyday, usually forgettable indentation of her navel.

The covers slid back as he moved away from her so that she could no longer hold his head, so that she had to raise her hands and press them to her mouth to keep from crying out as he gently spread her legs and pressed his mouth against the inner sides of her thighs.

She was floating somewhere above the mattress when he lifted her legs and deposited them on his shoulders. She experienced no shame, no embarrassment when she felt him high between her legs, his mouth moist and warm against her, his tongue seeking and finding the wet, hot center of her. She held no secrets from him, offering him everything, accepting what he volunteered in return, and gloried in the beauty, the rightness of the exchange—the giving, the taking.

So this is love, she thought before she couldn’t think any more, but only react—before Donovan’s ministrations took her to the very edge of rational thought, and beyond.

Until she could not do anything less than raise her hips, dig her heels into his back, and allow him access to anything he wanted, any intimacy.

Until she felt his fingers inside her—everywhere probing her, learning her, filling her with a pressure that threatened to explode.

Until his mouth drew on her hotly, rapidly, his tongue flicking at her, urging her to even greater heights, aiding and abetting the flowering that was impossible to halt, the pulsing that began deep inside her and traveled downward, to explode in a wild throbbing that surely must kill her, for nothing could be this shatteringly wonderful and not prove fatal!

And then he was fully on top of her, and she reached up to him, needing an anchor, needing something solid to hold on to or else she would spin off the surface of this bed, of this earth. He slid into her, filling her yet again, and the spiraling and the breathtaking pulsing began anew, surprising her, nearly frightening her, because she hadn’t believed she could go any higher.

He moved inside her, his arms slipping around her back, his legs straight and powerfully muscled against her softness. He must have been feeling at least some of what she had felt, was still feeling, for his movements were suddenly swift, and deep, and gloriously urgent.

She helped him, raising her hips to hold him inside her, and felt his hardness swelling her, his body replacing his mouth against that special, mysteriously wonderful part of her.

And then, when she thought she could bear the ecstasy no longer, he pressed into her one last time, his manhood throbbing, gifting her with his seed as her own body convulsed yet a third time, endlessly, leaving her too spent to breathe.

“God, Marguerite, but I love you!” Donovan groaned at last, falling onto his back and dragging her against him, her head on his chest.

“And I love you—Thomas, “she said, her voice catching on a near sob as she buried her face in the mat of hair that delighted her so. She loved him so very, very much. She longed to show him how much.

Later, several glorious minutes later, he agreed to allow her to learn his body, increasing her knowledge a hundredfold, and with this new understanding she knew she had finally become a woman. Complete. Absolute. Controlled and controlling, so that there was no superior, no inferior. Just equals, attuned in mind and body. Two individuals who had become one perfect whole. For