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she felt the prince's sensuous fingers stroking her breast, and a palpable shock of pleasure gripped her senses. She opened her mouth to protest, but warm, tender lips covered hers and the words died in her throat. Arms that came up in remonstrance to push away the offending muscular chest ineffectually trembled and then, in capitulation, slid up around the powerful neck and clasped the hard male contours tightly.
    Alex, by way of apology for hurting Zena last time, set out to please her, kissing and caressing each sensitive area—lips, throat, breasts—and Zena felt the world slip away. Only feeling mattered: the movement of his hands on her flesh, his lips worshiping each part of her body, lingering and tantalizing until her breath came in short gasps and her hips arched, seeking once again union with this man, seeking to fill the burning, pulsing emptiness. The ache in her loins brought each nerve screaming with the need for possession.
    Alex reached up and gently unlocked her arms from around his neck, brushing her cheek with his lips. "Don't rusk, dushka ['little heart']," he whispered. "There's plenty of time."
    Zena whimpered piteously as Alex moved away, and reached imploringly for him, seeking the elusive release. But he brushed away the imploring arms and languorously resumed the subtle stroking, running his hands over her belly, twining his fingers in the silken hair below, gradually forcing her thighs apart and caressing a delicate pattern along their inner contours. Soon again sensuous fever was provoked; Zena was dewy moist, running wet as convulsive waves of sweet passion built and built. Alex slipped down the bed between her thighs and rested his head on her belly. His face felt softly prickly to her tender skin. Moving downward, he kissed the downy hair, and his warm breath stirred her deliciously. Moving still lower, his lips nudged at the soft folds of her pulsing, turgid, fleshy gates of paradise.
    What was he doing? Zena's eyes widened in alarm. He surely mustn't kiss her there. She reached down and frantically attempted to push the encroaching head away. Indifferent to her ineffectual efforts to dislodge him, Alex explored the outer lips, licking, kissing, softly biting until the horror of paralyzed shock in Zena's mind was overcome by a driving fever that pulsed in time to her frenzied heartbeat. Then Alex parted those lips with his long, cool fingers, and his tenacious tongue probed her innermost dew until he found the tiny lodestar of desire; and when he touched her there, Zena thought she would die. She was flooded with explosive waves of tumultuous passion as Alex tenderly sucked and tongued her rosy pearl. Her body writhed and twisted with the agony of her senses; her fingers curled into the black thickness of his hair and clung as shudders quaked her body.
    When she thought she would explode from the building sensual hysteria, Alex moved the full weight of his body onto her, slid his muscled legs intimately between hers, forcing her soft thighs apart, raised himself, plunged his throbbing hardness into her with a low groan, and drove in hungrily. Zena's thighs closed savagely around him, fusing their bodies in primeval embrace. She felt the hard, flat muscles of his stomach pressing against her, the power of his arms, the broad muscles of his back flexing as each fierce thrust tore into her; the power and energy, the gentleness and sensuous touch of this man filled her senses.
    Alex's hands reached down to grasp her hips, driving home with all the frenzied power of his lower body; his mouth closed over hers, and she moaned against the compulsive lips as she was impaled on his exploding shaft of love. Zena keened a wild cry of raw, primitive fulfillment as her climax burst and rapture flooded every fiber of her being.
    They lay quiet for a long time. The prince felt heavy on her, but she liked the feel of him. His breathing was still harsh, his pulse racing wildly as he brushed her cheek with his