scared…”
“Scared, yes,” she agreed. “I don’t want to be…”
CHAPTER FOUR
Her eyes were pleading, wide and suddenly vulnerable in a way Dylan had never seen before. It gripped at his heart that there should be anything in the world that might make her vulnerable. She was the decisive one, the honest one, the strong one, like Chris. He cursed the poachers in his mind, not just for shooting at him or for injuring Chris, but for wounding Sarah’s bravery such that she looked at him now with a child-like apprehension.
“Never,” he managed to choke, and this time, it was Dylan who leaned in.
Sarah’s head tipped back gratefully as he plunged his mouth against hers, rough and textured, and his eyes shut. She let out a long ponderous moan, mingling pleasure and surprise, and tilted her head back further, as if offering herself to him.
His hand touched her cheek again as his mouth worked against hers, kissing her frantically, until she opened her lips and he licked them inside and out. Another long moan and she shivered, as if overtaken by a freshly kindled desire. Her tongue moved out to meet his, and they grappled in the lamp-light, the wet sounds of their kisses filling the small room. His hand moved lower, over the supple flesh of her neck, along her collar-bone, and gently traced her small breast through the fabric of her tank-top.
She stifled another moan as his thumb circled the small bud of her nipple and it hardened under his touch as she stuck out her chest, craving more of him than he was giving. His whole hand began to knead her breasts, and she placed her own hand over top of it, guiding it in a swift motion. She gasped as his hand dipped lower and moved under her shirt, and almost rocked backward with the sheer pleasure of his skin against hers.
“Harder,” she whispered in his ear, “rub them harder.”
Dylan’s breath was sharp as he kissed at her neck, eliciting more sounds from her, and he pulled her tank-top off over her raised arms in a jerking motion. Sarah’s breasts caught the lights and pooled shadows in their arcs. He moved from her neck, tracing her jugular vein, over top of her breast bone and she looked down dreamily at the top of his head as his mouth took her breasts. She made a sound that was like pain as his tongue circled over her right nipple, causing it to harden and grow dark before her very eyes, and another spasm rocked her body as his hand slid around her waist, trapping her in the wet embrace of his lips.
Gently, he pushed her back, until her head was propped against the end cushion of the couch and she turned her head to one side and let him lick her body in its entirety. Her skin was the color of peaches in the light, and he worked on her noisily, his tongue carving his own name on her in a dozen ways, until at last, he moved over her navel and his lips brushed the fine white hairs above her pelvis.
“I’ve never…” she began.
“Can I try something?” he asked, another whisper, and she nodded, biting her lip and letting out a timid sigh, spreading her mouth in an expression of pleasure.
His fingers plied at the rim of her shorts, inching them further down over her waist until she was only in her thong and his hands went to the black lace of them as well. She let out a little gasp as he pulled them over her knees, revealing the full dark beauty of her sex. Both of his hands cupped her knees and caressed the inner softness of her legs. She awkwardly slanted both legs, as if to cover herself, some latent Victorian sensibility suddenly awoken. But it was too late, his hands moved further down, brushing the soft white flesh with his finger tips, and causing her to squirm as she widened her legs until her pubis was a small mound in front of his nose.
She had little pubic hairs, a little field of straight black hairs that all converged at the tip of her clitoris. He leaned in without warning and the top of his tongue scoured over the top, forcing
“Scared, yes,” she agreed. “I don’t want to be…”
CHAPTER FOUR
Her eyes were pleading, wide and suddenly vulnerable in a way Dylan had never seen before. It gripped at his heart that there should be anything in the world that might make her vulnerable. She was the decisive one, the honest one, the strong one, like Chris. He cursed the poachers in his mind, not just for shooting at him or for injuring Chris, but for wounding Sarah’s bravery such that she looked at him now with a child-like apprehension.
“Never,” he managed to choke, and this time, it was Dylan who leaned in.
Sarah’s head tipped back gratefully as he plunged his mouth against hers, rough and textured, and his eyes shut. She let out a long ponderous moan, mingling pleasure and surprise, and tilted her head back further, as if offering herself to him.
His hand touched her cheek again as his mouth worked against hers, kissing her frantically, until she opened her lips and he licked them inside and out. Another long moan and she shivered, as if overtaken by a freshly kindled desire. Her tongue moved out to meet his, and they grappled in the lamp-light, the wet sounds of their kisses filling the small room. His hand moved lower, over the supple flesh of her neck, along her collar-bone, and gently traced her small breast through the fabric of her tank-top.
She stifled another moan as his thumb circled the small bud of her nipple and it hardened under his touch as she stuck out her chest, craving more of him than he was giving. His whole hand began to knead her breasts, and she placed her own hand over top of it, guiding it in a swift motion. She gasped as his hand dipped lower and moved under her shirt, and almost rocked backward with the sheer pleasure of his skin against hers.
“Harder,” she whispered in his ear, “rub them harder.”
Dylan’s breath was sharp as he kissed at her neck, eliciting more sounds from her, and he pulled her tank-top off over her raised arms in a jerking motion. Sarah’s breasts caught the lights and pooled shadows in their arcs. He moved from her neck, tracing her jugular vein, over top of her breast bone and she looked down dreamily at the top of his head as his mouth took her breasts. She made a sound that was like pain as his tongue circled over her right nipple, causing it to harden and grow dark before her very eyes, and another spasm rocked her body as his hand slid around her waist, trapping her in the wet embrace of his lips.
Gently, he pushed her back, until her head was propped against the end cushion of the couch and she turned her head to one side and let him lick her body in its entirety. Her skin was the color of peaches in the light, and he worked on her noisily, his tongue carving his own name on her in a dozen ways, until at last, he moved over her navel and his lips brushed the fine white hairs above her pelvis.
“I’ve never…” she began.
“Can I try something?” he asked, another whisper, and she nodded, biting her lip and letting out a timid sigh, spreading her mouth in an expression of pleasure.
His fingers plied at the rim of her shorts, inching them further down over her waist until she was only in her thong and his hands went to the black lace of them as well. She let out a little gasp as he pulled them over her knees, revealing the full dark beauty of her sex. Both of his hands cupped her knees and caressed the inner softness of her legs. She awkwardly slanted both legs, as if to cover herself, some latent Victorian sensibility suddenly awoken. But it was too late, his hands moved further down, brushing the soft white flesh with his finger tips, and causing her to squirm as she widened her legs until her pubis was a small mound in front of his nose.
She had little pubic hairs, a little field of straight black hairs that all converged at the tip of her clitoris. He leaned in without warning and the top of his tongue scoured over the top, forcing
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