Enchant the Dawn Read Free Page B

shocked her heated skin, adding another layer of sensation to her already overwhelmed system. The smooth slide of their flesh was merely aided by the water, and before she could quite understand it, he was kneeling between her thighs and he was holding her ass in his hands as his thick cock pressed against her clit. She wriggled and writhed until he was poised at her entrance, she wouldn’t accept anything less than the full measure of him within her.
     
    He slid inside and she hissed in satisfaction, clamping her thighs around him as she wrapped her legs around his ass, allowing him to take her weight in his arms as she bucked against him, feeling every glorious inch of him within her tight sheath. His lips captured her nipples and she keened her approval, her hands clutching his biceps hard enough to leave welts. Deeper and deeper she impaled herself, until she knew that the warmth filling her soul would never go away again. Pleasure cascaded through her as she heard his deep roar, the sound of his voice triggering her own climax. She would never be cold and alone again.
     
     
     
    Jarred awake, her eyes remained shut as she clung to the last remnants of a wonderful dream. But she knew she had to wake up, as she was not alone. She felt their presence before she heard their voices. There were three— no, four—other people in the room but only two of them were talking. One had a slow voice that caressed words like only a Southerner could. The other was clipped, almost tense and very matter-of-fact.
     
    “Nana, we’ve got her home safe and sound. I promise I will send Patsy or Robin to check on her later if you are so worried.” This was the clipped, upper crust accent and it was followed afterward by the mewling that must be from an infant working up the energy to cry.
     
    Sure enough, as Sophia cracked open an eyelid, she saw a nattily-dressed woman bouncing an infant in her arms. The sunlight of early morning streamed in weakly through the tiny window in the top of her basement apartment, setting aglow the dust particles that floated in the musty air.
     
    The rusty Southern voice cut in, “Not so fas’, Miz Irene. I ain’t never seen a youn’ gal go down quite like dat. Not after what done come out of her. Dat dere was some powerful moco , dat’s fo’ sure. I’m thinking that Mr. West will be wantin’ one of us to stay here for a bit, to keep an eye on his woman.” This woman was old. Old as Grams had been, maybe more so. Skin that had once been dark as chocolate had faded with time to a powdery gray. But the soul within had faded not a jot. It was warm to the touch and Sophia would have basked in the forgotten glow of such energy, if there hadn’t been another silent presence in the room.
     
    The man from her dream, the man from Central Park was standing just inside the door, as though unsure of his welcome. Or he was simply overeager to leave. Mr. West, she presumed, had bound up his hair and almost looked respectable, standing with a cap on his head and his hands in his trouser pockets. He was looking intently around the room, staring at her motley collection of jazz posters and dried herbs, dancing shoes and weighing scales, beeswax candles and French lingerie. Especially at the lingerie.
     
    So, he’s definitely just a typical man then…sure, dear, you just try to convince yourself of that one. Those arms and that chest don’t belong to your average man . The plain linen shirt he wore seemed too small to contain him. He’d taken off his coat, even though it wasn’t nearly warm enough in her little basement hovel. Truth was, she didn’t do much here other than sleep and she’d collected a mountain of blankets to keep her warm when she’d stopped collecting men. Not that she was averse to having a man keep her toasty. Especially the right man.
     
    Just the thought of what she’d like to do to the mysterious Mr. West filled her energy she had no right to have so early in the morning when