Rose of rapture Read Free Page A

ever seen. They were so pale, he could see the barest shadows of the blue veins through which her life's blood flowed. They filled the palms of his hands as he caressed them; the hollow between them sloped like a gentle valley as his mouth crept down it tantalizingly, then enveloped her nipples once more. Again, his tongue titillated the small, rigid peaks, swirling around them deliciously in a way that sent sparks of fire radiating from them in all directions. Isabella felt the ripples of pleasure that coursed through her flesh, and she strained against him, hungry for more.
    The Lord's lips began to sear their way down the length of her lithe body. TTiere was no part of her he did not already know but want to discover yet anew: the sides he often tickled mischievously in the mornings, the slender waist, the thighs that trembled and opened for him of their own accord, the backs of her knees and the swell of her calves... her ankles... her feet.
    He raised one dainty foot to his mouth and kissed her instep. He sucked her toes, which tasted of the tall sweet grass and wildflowers upon which she had trodden earlier. For a moment, his gaze rested eagerly, intrusively, on her face. Her head was flung back; her eyes were closed; her mouth was parted slightly in exultation. For the barest instant, the Lord's heart stopped beating, then started to thump rapidly in his breast. The sight of her countenance, naked in its expression of desire, aroused him fiercely, possessively. That look was for his eyes alone. No other man would ever see it. The Lord would kill any man who even dared to try. Isabella belonged to him—and him alone.
    She sensed his searching stare; her eyelids fluttered open. Their eyes met, locked. Time was caught, held suspended. Their breathing ceased, then continued raggedly as she turned away, made vulnerable again by his prying.
    She is so shy, he thought. She would hide her innermost thoughts from me, but she cannot. Even the very essence of her being is mine
    The Lord reveled in that victory as his hands swept up to part her flanks. Slowly, slowly, he trailed his fingers along the insides of her thighs, then, with a low groan, bent his head to the downy curls that twined between her legs. He pressed his lips to the

    honeyed moisture of her womanhood, his tongue seeking, probing. Isabella gasped at the intimate contact. A burning ache seized her, where his tongue darted hotly, and began to build, spreading through her body like wildfire. The need to have him inside her was overwhelming, blinding her to everything but him.
    Sensing her need, his fingers slipped inside her, easing her desire momentarily with their languid, fluttering motion. Again and again, he stroked her, filled her, tongued her until he could feel the tiny tremors that started deep within her, then burst forth uncontrollably as she suddenly arched against him, her hands wrapped in his hair to draw him even closer as she stiffened slightly, inhaling sharply once more, then gave a soft sweet whimper of ecstasy that held him spellbound until she relaxed beneath him. Then lingeringly, he kissed his way back up to her mouth and drew her near, breathless with expectation, as tentatively she began to explore his body as he had hers.
    Isabella worshiped the Lord, as he had her, for he had suffered too in the past. Aye, once, they had been halves, searching blindly for that which would make them whole. They had found it in their love, and they cherished it more deeply for that, taking their time with each other, giving as much as they received—and more.
    Caressingly, half-marveling, her hands moved slowly over her husband. She was filled with wonder and awe that this handsome man belonged to her and her alone. Her palms brushed lightly across the mat of hair that covered his sun-bronzed chest. She loved the feel of it, soft and silky as it rippled through her fingers, in sharp contrast to the hardness of his firm flat belly, scored here and there