Mona Lisa Blossoming m-2 Page 12

  When she opened her eyes again and looked at me, wetness gleamed in the brown depths. She rubbed her cheek against Gerald's soft hair, hiding her face partly in the light, sand-colored fall. Then she stepped back.

  She was done, I thought, and found myself pleased with the progress that she had made. And it was progress, her willingness to just touch a man, embrace him. But instead of walking away, she reached back. The rasp of a zipper sounded loud in the silence of the room and the weighty fall of cloth to the floor was an erotic whisper teasing all of our senses. She stepped out of her undergarments with a dainty step and I caught the flash of her milky whiteness behind him before I looked away. Looking at a naked man was one thing. Looking at a naked woman was quite another.

  And yet… my gaze drifted back to watch her press herself fully against him from behind, to hear both their ragged release of breath at the brush of naked skin to naked skin, to almost feel the caress of her unbound breasts against his back, the curls of her silky thatch teasing his tight bottom. To see the pleasure sweep over her face as she absorbed the feel of unbound flesh against unbound flesh as she rubbed her entire body against him in a gentle swaying motion, sliding her hands over his bunched shoulders and down his bunched arms.

  Mona Carlisse stepped out from behind Gerald, moving to his right, letting her hand delicately trace the muscles and tendons of that one strong forearm, smoothing her fingers over the silver shackle that bound him captive at the wrist. Silver was one of the Monères' weaknesses. They were sapped of their full strength once chained by silver.

  She caressed the binding metal. Smiling at me, her eyes a glittering, shining blaze of brown, she angled Gerald to the side so that I could see them both in silhouette, so that she could still see me. Her loose and unbound hair flowed around her like a dark, rippling curtain, hiding one breast, revealing the lush fullness of the other, spilling down to curl just above her mysterious triangle of hair, drawing one's attention to the shadows there. With her dark, flaming eyes and that wicked, knowing smile, she looked like the original Eve. Only she wasn't trying to tempt Adam.

  She moved to the front and touched Gerald like she owned him. She did with him as she pleased, and it pleased her to bury her hands in the fine richness of his hair, to nuzzle the tender line of his neck, seek out its secret hollows. To brush the vulnerable little bushes of hair peeping out beneath his outstretched arms, making him squirm in discomfort. To circle the brown flat nipples, peaking them to little points, making him squirm in pleasure. A finger traced over the seam of his lips, parting them, sinking a finger into his mouth and then pulling it out.

  She was seeking out the most vulnerable parts of him, I realized. The crease of his elbows, his sensitive palms, the hollows of his knees, the softer, more tender skin of the inside of his thighs. And finally, there, where man was most defenseless. She cupped the tender sac of him in her hands, crouched before him, studying that part of him intently, his hairy bush almost brushing her cheeks, his risen sword pointing skyward, taut against his belly. Gerald trembled and I did not know if it was from passion or fear. A little of both, perhaps.

  What would she do with that most vulnerable part of him?

  Mona Carlisse rolled the little balls in her hands, tweaked some of the wiry hair, making Gerald jump, pulling a husky breath of laughter from her. She spilled her hands upward and grasped the fullness of him with both hands, firmly, not entirely gentle. He was of average size, not too big, not too small. Just right. One hand moved up, causing the loose, veiny outer skin to slip over his hardened shaft. Her other hand moved down, tracing down his length, seeking out and finding where he originated, to that little perineal swelling behind his scrotum from where he rooted. Having found what it had sought, the searching hand returned to its sister, snaking around his heavy shaft, pumping it fuller. An agile thumb slid up, smoothed around the crown, finding and spreading the drop of pearly essence that had leaked out from that weeping eye.

  Mona Carlisse lifted her head and our eyes met and clung. Holding my gaze, she pulled his shaft down like a lever, stretching him level. Gerald pressed his lips tight at the sudden, abrupt move, holding back a cry. He trembled as he felt her hot breath fall upon his sensitive flesh. Groaned as she reached out with her long pink tongue and licked him, long strokes up like she was sipping melting ice cream. Held his breath as she pressed the plump length of his shaft against her opened mouth. As she dangerously grazed him, letting him feel the sharp edge of her teeth when she traced the length of him and swallowed him in, then released him from her red, red lips with a slurpy wet pop.

  Mona Carlisse's arousal rose like heat in the air, a musky sweet scent to twine with Gerald's and mine. It excited her, having me watch them. It excited her having control like this.

  She licked her lips with that pink tongue, her eyes glittering up at me. "Still like what you see?"

  "It's a good show," I answered in a raspy whisper.

  "It's going to get better." So promising, she stood up and lifted her pelvis over his levered-down length. Squeezing him between her legs, she rode him, sliding that stretched out shaft between the dewy cleft of her outer lips, so that it moved outside of her, not in her yet. I saw his staff disappearing between her legs and re-emerging, the veiny dorsal surface wet and glistening, christened with her juice. She slid off of him and he sprang back up to slap against his belly, making him flinch and catch his breath. She grasped him again, angled him back at a 45-degree angle, then straddled him once more. With her legs wrapped around him, she sank down, engulfing him into her, swallowing him whole into her body.

  I closed my eyes, the image of his length impaling her, sliding into her, disappearing, eaten up by her, seared across my vision. The sound of her wetness as she moved upon him was slurpingly loud, calling forth my own juice. The sounds of his groans and her moans swelled my breasts, hardened my nipples.

  "Watch," Mona Carlisse said softly and I opened my eyes, unable to do other than her bidding.

  I watched her take her pleasure. I watched her ride Gerald with such vigor and force that he staggered backward under her uninhibited wildness, thrown off balance. His hands came up to grip her legs, support her, and the chains slackened with each step back that he took. He hit the wall hard, careening into it, then used the solid support to brace himself, his knees bent, his hips still, as she thrust herself upon him with fixed, ferocious intensity. Her slender white arms stretched up over her head like pillars of ivory, reaching for the chains anchored high above in the wall. A twist of her wrists and her hands wrapped those thick silver chains around her delicate flesh. With the hard metal biting into her palms, she lifted herself up, sliding herself almost off his shaft, and then dropped herself recklessly back down, plunging herself fully upon him with the force of her entire weight, crying out as she impaled herself upon his engorged length. Again and again she lifted herself up and dropped back down, sliding up off his glistening flesh, then slamming back down onto him, riding him so hard that I feared she would hurt herself, that she would hurt him. But his groans were of pleasure, not pain; her fervent cries not that of fear. She took him as if she was taking back a part of herself, with sobbing ferocity, with almost angry passion that was both beautiful and frightening to watch.

  Brilliant light filled the room, coming free from their bodies—his bracingly still, hers bucking and heaving like a wild thing above him. The luminescence limned their bodies white and translucent, washing them in the beautiful color and dazzling brilliance of the moon's own rays, claiming them as her creatures, her creations—incandescent beings of light, their skin so radiant, so luminous that that was all they seemed… pure glorious light. Nothing but a wash of energy, stillness, and motion. Giving, receiving. Taking and giving. Surrendering, demanding. Claiming, reclaiming. Power flooded the room, and then she was shattering. And as the power of her release began to take her, she became shockingly still. So still, so frozen, as if she wished to feel fully the inner undulations of her secret convulsio
ns, to savor abundantly the flooding heat of her claimed release. Tiny shivering spasms danced over her skin like ripples over a pond, fluttering over her closed eyelids as she shattered within.

  With a harsh cry and one almost gentle thrust, as if he could not hold himself from that one small act after all his remarkably passive constraint, Gerald clenched his jaw and shuddered in his own groaning release.

  Their panting breaths, my quickened breathing, sounded loud in the room as the light receded and returned back into them.

  Mona Carlisse unwrapped the chains from her arms and tore the blindfold from Gerald. She cupped his face softly, and with him still buried deep within her, she kissed him gently. It was a tender act, more intimate than all that had just gone before.

  "Thank you," she whispered against his mouth.

  Gerald smiled, kissed her gently back. "My pleasure."

  They both turned their heads and looked at me.

  "Thank you," Mona Carlisse whispered to me.

  "My pleasure as well." Opening the door, I quietly left them.

  Chapter Ten

  I moved down the hallway with conscious care, feeling tense, overripe, as if all it would take would be the brush of another's skin against mine to set me alight. Need pulsed in me like a living thing, and my clothes were a sudden unwanted, unbearable abrasion. With each step, fabric brushed my erect nipples, pressed against my swollen secret lips. I was hungry to be filled. Aching to be taken.

  I rounded a corner. From the darkness, a shadow detached itself and stepped forward. There'd been no heartbeat to warn me. No breath to hear. I halted.

  "Mona Lisa." It was Halcyon, my golden-skinned Demon Prince. His eyes were the color of my favorite weakness, chocolate. I'd forgotten that chocolate could melt, that it could become hot and steamy, liquid with desire. That it could boil over with want. He held out one elegant hand to me and that inviting gesture spoke more clearly than words for him. I know you need, I know you want. Let me fill you, let me please you. Let me love you.

  For one weak moment, I was tempted. His utter need called out to me, it always had. But never had it drawn me more than now, when my body wanted him so. When filling his need would quench the ache within mine as well. So unbearably tempted…

  But somehow I shook my head. "I'm sorry, I can't."

  Never had I seen his eyes swirl with so much emotion. "Will there ever be a time when you think you can?" he asked softly.

  "Halcyon," I said gently, trembling with the constraint I forced upon my willful body, "you cannot wait, hoping for that."

  "Then why did you wish me to stay?"

  Good question, when before I had asked him to stay away. No wonder he was confused. I was giving him mixed messages. I struggled to find the right words to express myself. But, dear God in heaven, it was so hard to do that when my body was literally throbbing in weeping need.

  Words spilled out: Truth. "I'm selfish. I want to keep your friendship. You are very special and dear to me, Halcyon."

  "More than a friend, but less than a lover."

  "Yes." Then more softly, "I want us to be your family."

  He looked at me, so still and quiet, though his eyes swirled with emotion. "You have a most generous heart."

  "I am sorry I cannot offer you more." And I truly was.

  "So am I." He looked at me with those chocolate eyes as I carefully eased past him, taking care that our bodies did not touch.

  I took one shaky step away from him, then another.

  "We both know I could just take you," he said quietly. "And that you would enjoy it."

  "I know." And it wasn't just his superior strength. His mental powers were even greater. He had the ability to cloud my mind and lure me with the promised pleasure of his flesh. With a simple flexing of will, he could become so lushly sensual, making one crave for him. Fact or figment of my imagination, I did not know. The effect had been scarily real. With little effort, he could become the embodiment of pure carnal pleasure. Irresistible. And I'd had only a tiny taste of what he could do.

  "But you are too honorable for that," I said.

  "For now." It was a quiet, simple warning.

  I backed up until I pressed against the wall. Tearing my eyes from his, I turned the corner and almost ran from my lonely Demon Prince.

  And both of us knew that I did so only because he allowed me to.

  My breath shook as I reached the entrance hall. I leaped up the staircase with impassioned need and turned down the west wing, my senses already having found that which I sought. I stopped before the door half a corridor away from my own bedroom. The other room directly across it was empty. But not this one. Not this one.

  The cool brass knob turned beneath my hand, and I entered, the heavy oak door shutting behind me.

  The room was cool and dark, generous in size, spacious in feel like the rest of the house. A large bed dominated the room but my eyes were drawn to the windows. They were flung open to let in the night. Amber stood framed before them, looking out, his hands braced on the sill, his back to me, still as a statue under the moon's soft, glowing shine.

  My swift feet were suddenly riveted to the floor at how he looked. Like a marble masterpiece chiseled by an old master, like an ancient god of war. Beautiful strength, brutish power. Only pants covered him. His feet were naked. The muscles of his bare back were tense, sharply defined, inviting one to trace each hollow dip and smooth rise. The deep swells of his arms were beckoning curves, and the tapering V of his waist drew one's attention and appreciation down to his tight, firm buttocks, hard as rock. But rock cannot be punctured by teeth. Rock did not taste sweet, did not bleed. I wanted to mark him there with my teeth, with my love bite as I had marked Gryphon.

  Amber turned slowly and faced me, and as enticing as the view from behind was, the front was even better. Even more interesting curves to explore here: the thick powerful mounds of his chest, the ridged flatness of his belly, the enticing fullness of his long, thick groin. His broad cheeks were slashed with color and his eyes burned amber yellow, glittering, almost glowing. His nostrils flared wide as he scented me, scenting my need, scenting my arousal. His chest moved, drawing it deep into his lungs.

  "Amber," I whispered and he came to me silently, with sure purpose and silent tread, unhurried. I waited for him, my heart pounding, my body yearning, unbearably tight. Aching. His big hands reached out to me and I almost cried with relief when he finally touched me… only to turn me sideways. I saw then what I hadn't seen when I first entered. A standing floor mirror, full-length and oval. But it wasn't the lovely cherry finish that I noticed. It was the image reflected back in its flawless mirrored surface. Us.

  I wasn't one to spend much time gazing at myself. I knew what I looked like. Common brown eyes and straight brown hair so dark that it looked black. Not ugly. Not stunning. Pretty, if one were generous and I was helped kindly by makeup.

  My body was just as common. A little on the tall side at five feet eight, slender but muscled, more athlete than centerfold. Far from lush. But it was a body that had served me well; I was happy with it. The only thing unusual about me was my eyes. They tilted up exotically at the ends. Almond eyes. Cat eyes. Other than that, I was just average, a simple fact I had long ago accepted and was comfortable with. My men were the beautiful ones.

  I looked away from the mirror, started to turn back to Amber, but his large hand gently turned my face out again as he stepped forward, so that I was pressed with my back against his chest. "Watch," he rumbled in his deep welling voice, and a wave of trembling heat washed over me. I shivered with excitement, with embarrassment as I looked at him in the mirror. "You listened."

  "And learned." The deep vibrations of the words rolled from the barrel of his chest into me, and plucked taut invisible strings of desire within me.

  "You like to watch," he rumbled. "Watch us."

  Though I was on the tall side for a woman, standing in front of Amber I seemed tiny, petite, my head coming only to his shoulders
. He was a whole head taller than I, and so wide across that he seemed to encompass me. I looked delicate, fragile in his arms, my white skin somehow whiter, softer against the hardness of him. His brown hair was ashen silver under the moonshine, while mine was darkened to pure midnight blackness. We were a contrast of colors and textures.

  As if cast under a spell, I watched as he lifted his large, broad hand and spread it across my upper chest, almost like a claiming, his fingerspan reaching from my one shoulder to the other, sitting like a heavy solid weight upon me, loosening my knees and weakening my neck so that it fell back to loll helplessly against his shoulder. My eyes grew heavy-lidded, and yet I still watched, unable to tear my eyes away as he slowly unbuttoned my shirt, as he deliberately spread it open and slid it off me in a sensuous glide. I watched my chest lift and fall in quickened tempo, saw my breath catch as I felt him unhook my bra from behind and brush it down my arms, pushing it slowly down and down until it slipped free past my fingertips and fell to the floor with a white twin-cupped flutter. I closed my eyes against the sight of my naked breasts.

  His hands lifted away.

  "Watch." His rough command sent a trickle of wetness sliding down my leg. Only when I opened my eyes once more did he touch me again.

  One big hand came to splay wide and open across my quivering belly. Deliberately, he pulled the button loose from my jeans, pulled down the zipper. A gentle push and the denim pooled about my feet. With his hands swallowing up my waist, he lifted me, freeing my feet, and with stunning ease carried me a few steps closer to the mirror. Languor made heavy my limbs and melting passion stunned me helpless in his hands, like a pliant doll with which he could do anything he pleased. I moaned at the thought, at the feeling of total surrender. His yellow glowing eyes burned me in the mirror, ravaged me fiercely with his restrained desire. One big hand slowly slid downward to my last remaining article of clothing. He cupped me lightly and fingered the wetness of the cotton crotch, making me tremble. Making me cry out as with one sharp, violent tug, he ripped it from me. I trembled helplessly in his arms, shocked and dazed.