Drake Sisters 06 - Turbulent Sea

over her head. Joley kicked off her sandals as his hands went to the waistband of her jeans. He unzipped them and tugged, taking her panties as well. She held his arm while she stepped out of them. The moment he unhooked her bra, the cold air shaped her nipples into twin hard peaks.
    She stood with the moonlight spilling over her soft skin, her dark eyes luminous, her silky hair tousled from the wind.
    'You're so beautiful,' he said, his breath catching in his lungs. He unbuttoned his shirt with one hand, reaching out with the other to cup her breast, his thumb sliding over her nipple, watching her reaction. 'I missed you.'
    She leaned into him for another kiss. She couldn't get enough, would never get enough. She ached with missing him.
    His arms slid around her, and he simply lifted her, kissing her the entire time, even as he laid her on the bed. The darkened shadow on his face rubbed erotically against her sensitive skin. When he raised his head, she felt bereft. He sank down beside her and removed his shoes.
    Joley couldn't take her gaze from him, afraid that if she did, he might disappear. She wanted to inspect him for injuries, and the moment he shed his clothes, she came up on her knees and ran her hands over him. Of course there were fresh bruises, scrapes and a couple of raw-looking gashes.
    His hand slid over her bare bottom, shaping the naked cheek lovingly as he brought his mouth down to the hollow of her shoulder. She went still, the breath leaving her lungs in a rush. She slid her arms around his neck and pressed close, still shaken by his absence - by his return - tears burning behind her eyelids even while her body was soft and aching with need.
    He lifted her hips. 'Put your legs around me, lubov moya?
    She was almost afraid to - she wanted to have him deep inside, yet she didn't want anything to interfere with this time, this moment when the love was so overwhelming she could barely breathe.
    He whispered to her in Russian, bit gently at her earlobe, her neck, kissed her upturned mouth again. 'Lock your ankles, Joley.' This time there was that edge of command to his voice, and it brought a rush of damp heat, a small thrill in her stomach.
    She raised her legs obediently and sank down on his thick length, impaling her body. He was larger than she remembered, forcing his way through the tight velvet folds, stretching her impossibly. She was slick with liquid heat and the sensation of pleasure washing over her, but love was also there in abundance. She felt surrounded by her deep commitment and emotion for this man, she felt lifted by it, but most of all - complete. She felt his ragged gasp, the heat and raw honesty in his whisper of love.
    Ya lublu tebya.

    I love you. The three words meant everything. She was a spell-singer, and her world was sound. She knew truth when she heard it. She tightened her arms around him, holding him closer, wanting to share the same skin, wanting to crawl inside the shelter of his body and have them be as close as they could to each other.
    'I love you, Ilya, more than anything,' she answered, meaning it, knowing he heard sound in the same way she did.
    Around them their colors swirled and merged like the notes of their song. It no longer frightened her. Ilya was part of her - the best part - and he felt the same way about her.
    His lovemaking started gentle, so incredibly tender she felt tears run down her face. Each stroke was slow and easy as his hands shaped and memorized her body. She felt as if he was worshiping her, the sweet pleasure washing through her in gentle waves. As his hips maintained that same gentle rocking, the tension began to rise, to build, until she couldn't think, until she was desperate for him to pick up the pace. She tried to force it, writhing and moving her own hips, but no amount of squirming or eventual pleading could change his tempo.
    Heat became an inferno; around them she heard the notes of their song catch fire as passion sizzled and burned through her veins. That slow burn grew hotter and brighter, threatening to consume her. She threw her head back, absorbing the sheer erotic magic of Ilya.
    Tongues of fire began to lick along her breasts, her belly, deep inside where that relentless stroke of velvet-encased steel continued to drag over sensitive nerves, until she heard her own sob and her body clenched and spasmed and began to coil tighter and tighter. Each stroke was precise, driving deep, a hard, thick piston that only tightened