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in
his voice catching me off-guard.
    "It's, it's too good," I managed to say, his
fingers still driving my hips into the air.
    "But too good is good," he answered.
    And then his mouth was on me again, his wet
fingers now rising to my nipples as I leaned back, closed my eyes,
and surrendered.
    Surrendered to his tongue, his lips. His dark
eyes and smooth skin. His gentle heart and insistent desire.
Surrendered my shame. Let the ghosts lie where they belong.
Relinquished control and let this man, this handsome, wonderful
man, have his way with me.
    The thump-thump-thump grew as the wave built
and then crested before crashing in one jerking spasm after
another, my body releasing my desire onto Mikalos' face, his lips,
down his throat.
    He groaned as he accepted my gift, his tongue
still licking and rubbing, nudging and loving me, my wetness
exciting him as another wave hit, my back arching as, his hand
still in mine, I gripped until my knuckles grew white, another
groan filling the room.
    And, again, a third wave, this one too hard,
too much. I gasped, my legs now shaking uncontrollably as my body
twisted and bucked.
    "Mikalo," I said, my voice now a whimper.
    Moving his mouth away, he rubbed me and then,
somehow knowing my secret desires, my longing for that special
sting, he slapped the folds. Once. Twice.
    Oh, this boy was good. Too good.
    And then, his mouth on me again, he pushed
his tongue deeper, his fingers now teasing me further as they
stroked my inner thighs, my calves, my thighs again.
    I almost sobbed, my body no longer my own as
my flesh burned, every inch of me now sensitive, so sensitive. My
wetness ruling me with the beating of its own heart and its own
mind, Mikalo and it bonded and wed forever, their secrets whispered
and now shared.
    My body shook again, another wave cresting
and then crashing, my emotions raw and my heart now on the verge of
tears. The release, this release, it was too much. Too intense. Too
loving and tender and harsh and honest. It's blessed brutality
ripping the veil from my heart and soul, exposing their wounds.
    The tongue stopped, the lips now gently
kissing me, a cool breath quieting my fever, the whispers of thanks
grazing lightly over my inner thighs, my waist, my stomach. My
juices wiping clean from his face as he inched his way up my body
toward my lips.
    We kissed. Deeply. My taste on his tongue, my
wetness, my scent, branding him.
    Then he stood, shirtless and gleaming, his
obvious desire aching, the length of him stretching the denim from
his crotch to mid-thigh.
    I reached for it, feeling the hardness, the
thickness, the heat.
    His fingers snapped open the top button on
his jeans.
    "You'd like more, yes?" he asked, a grin
teasing his moist lips.
    Oh god yes.
     
     

Chapter Eleven
     
    He was on top of me, his face close, but not
close enough to kiss. His dark eyes looking into mine.
    Moving, he inched deeper inside me.
    I gasped, my eyes closing.
    "Open," he whispered, his lips grazing my
cheek. "Open."
    I opened my eyes.
    He watched me.
    His hands held my wrists above my head as,
teasing, he slowly withdrew, paused, and then slowly slid back
in.
    "Oh god," I breathed.
    His eyes narrowed as he continued to stare,
soaking in my lust, my hunger, my growing desperation and need.
    Again he withdrew, slowly, very slowly, only
to, again, pause, teasing me, making me wait for it, taunting me,
before slowly, so very slowly, sliding back in.
    I moaned, my wrists fighting against his.
    "I want to touch you," I said.
    He shook his head, his eyes still on
mine.
    In a sudden movement, he plunged deep.
    "Fuck!"
    My eyes closed.
    "Open," came the order, his breath hot on my
lips.
    I opened my eyes.
    My god he was gorgeous.
    Even in the dark of my bedroom, the shades
drawn, my comfort found in the safety of shadow, the day having
been spent veering between sex and sleep, there was no masking the
man's beauty. Or the intense longing he felt as he watched me
exquisitely suffer.
    Or how excited