Sanctifying Grace (Resurrection) Read Free Page B

urgently into my stomach. My mouth went dry with desire, whilst another part of me flooded with wet heat.
    He breathed deeply, savouring my own scent, and growled in satisfaction deep in his throat. I felt the rumble in his chest and, suddenly, I wanted to lay my hands on the hard muscles under his shirt and to feel his cool, cool skin next to mine. I wanted to stroke the dark curling hairs scattered like jewels over his chest and follow them down his stomach to where they grew in abundance around his manhood.
    He didn’t give me any more time to contemplate the contours of his body beneath his clothes. He bent his head, his hair falling loosely around my face, the stubble on his chin grazing my cheek, as he sought my mouth. His lips were cool , but the inside of his mouth was all sun-baked heat. I ran my tongue over his teeth and he shuddered deliciously when I touched his canines, which were sharp and fully extended. For Roman, sex would never be totally complete if he couldn’t use those fangs.
    He dragged his lips away from mine and trailed kisses down my neck, pausing at my throat where the blood pulsed and surged strongly in rhythm with the pounding of my heart. I knew it aroused him, the flow of that sweet, red liquid through my arteries and it probably aroused him even more not knowing if I would let him bite me or not.
    The power I had over him was purely imaginary – he could sink his teeth into me whenever he wanted and I wouldn’t be able to do a thing about it, but he let me pretend the choice was mine and, because he respected my wishes enough to comply if I didn’t want him drawing my blood, I could tantalise him with the promise of it. And, to keep him on his toes, I didn’t always let him bite me. Not knowing was part of the fun.
    He began to slowly undo the buttons on my blouse , but I wanted something rougher and more primeval, so I pushed his hands away and, gripping the top of the blouse with both hands, I tore the buttons off the front of it with one savage rip.
    Roman cocked his head to one side, his eyes narrowing slightly , and a smile spread slowly across his face. He knew my mood instantly and was very happy to comply. Both hands went to my breasts and he kneaded them roughly, pinching each nipple between thumb and forefinger, not quite hard enough to hurt, walking that thin line between pleasure and pain.
    I threw my head back and moaned, revelling in his touch, and then gasped as he grasped the back of my head as he kissed me hard. His other hand hiked my skirt up and delved underneath. He grunted in satisfaction when he discovered my lack of underwear, the palm of his hand cupping my mound and grinding against me. I answered by pressing my hips towards him, encouraging him in his exploration.
    He slipped two fingers deep inside, working them in and out and as I squirmed against him, feeling the delectable pressure building and I, too, was busy, unfastening the buttons on his trousers. I delved around until I found what I was searching for and his member sprang free of its cage. He most definitely wasn’t thinking of guns right now ; no indeedy!
    He was more than ready, the tip of him slick with his own excitement , and I was desperate to feel him inside. Fingers were nice but they were no substitute for the real thing, so I pushed him away slightly, hitched the skirt and petticoat further up around my waist, turned around and bent over the back of an overstuffed sofa.
    Roman needed no further invitation. I spread my legs wide for him and he guided the questing tip into the slickness between my thighs, plung ing deeply with one deft stroke. I cried out at the suddenness of it; he filled me completely and brutally, and once more I was on the cusp between pain and pleasure.
    Pleasure won out , as he gripped my hips, pulling me deeper with each hard thrust. I stood on tiptoe, fearing he would tear me apart, the back of the sofa digging into my stomach and making it difficult to breathe. A