Medieval 03 - Enchanted

you to
stop. I wanted to stand there forever with the icy storm around me
and your sultry pleasure pulsing over me.”
    Simon’s name became a whimper of pleasure as
his tongue stole softly around the line of Ariane’s
mouth.
    “You trembled and cried out just like
that,” Simon said, “and asked only that I thrust more
deeply into you. Yet you were all but a virgin.”
    “I wanted you until I was wild.”
    “I wanted you the same way. And when it was
done and neither of us could breathe for the ecstasy shaking us,
you clung to me, holding me deeply inside you.”
    “I loved being joined with you.”
    “Yes,” Simon said. “Your body
told me. It wept your passion and I wanted to drink the scented
tears. Never has a woman given herself more generously to a man, yet you were all but a
virgin .”
    A shudder tore through Simon, making the line of
his mouth even more harsh.
    “Simon?” Ariane whispered, not
understanding.
    “I should have been gentle,” he said,
his voice thick with regret. “I should have breathed kisses
over your hair and your face and your hands.”
    While Simon spoke, he matched his actions to his
words, breathing kisses over Ariane’s hair and face and
hands. She closed her eyes as desire stitched through her, making
her tremble.
    “I should have opened your clothing
slowly,” Simon said in a low voice.
    Silver laces whispered free and amethyst cloth slid
aside as his fingers moved over Ariane’s dress. The cool air
of the room only heightened the vivid heat of Simon’s mouth
as he bent down to Ariane.
    “I should have praised your breasts,”
Simon said huskily against her neck. “They are perfectly
made, silky, warm, and they beg so sweetly for my mouth.”
    Gently he kissed the crown of each breast. The
nipples drew taut and flushed, their pink a shade as deep as that
of her mouth.
    “Simon,” Ariane began.
    Then she fell silent as a slow, delicious shudder
took her voice. Simon’s tongue was caressing her lightly,
drawing her nipples even tighter.
    His hands traveled the length of the amethyst
dress, undoing all the laces. He smiled to feel the cloth caressing
him with tiny movements, heightening the sensitivity of his
skin.
    “I should have smoothed your dress from your
body,” he said. “I should have lingered over every
newly revealed bit of flesh until you sighed and shivered and gave
me what no man had ever asked for, only taken from you.”
    Closing his eyes, Simon very lightly drew his
fingers down Ariane’s legs. They parted for him with a rustle
and sigh of fabric sliding away.
    “Are you giving yourself to me?” he
asked.
    “Yes,” she whispered.
“Always.”
    Only then did Simon’s eyes open.
    “I saw you like this the first night,”

he said huskily. “And instead of telling you how beautiful
you are, instead of gently coaxing passion from you, I spread you
wideand drove into you as though we had been
lovers for as long as we had drawn breath.”
    Ariane tried to speak, but Simon was bending down
to her, caressing her with his hands, his words, his mouth. A low
sound came from her throat as the tip of his tongue traced all the
layers of her softness.
    “They have an exotic fruit in the Holy
Land,” he said against her, caressing her. “’Tis
called pomegranate and its hidden flesh is more deeply pink than a
ruby.”
    Pleasure radiated through Ariane, taking her breath
even as it melted her body. Simon made a low sound and stole the
sultry drops of her passion.
    “You are like that pomegranate…tart
even as you are sweet, flushed with color, meant to be slowly
savored with teeth and tongue.”
    A luxuriant heat rippled through Ariane, arching
her body in sensuous reflex. Simon had seen her move like that
before, slowly, elegantly, held in the thrall of a healing dream
whose reality still baffled him.
    “I feel…” Ariane’s voice
unraveled as she looked into Simon’s dark eyes. “I
feel…I have dreamed this…before. Exactly this. Yet you
have never kissed me thus.”
    “But I have kissed you thus,” he
countered softly.
    Simon touched Ariane with the tip of his tongue,
circling the satin knot of her desire. She sighed and languidly
arched again, moving as slowly as a dream.
    “And you have answered thus,” Simon
said, “lifting to me, allowing
me…everything.”
    “When?” she whispered, knowing it was
true yet not understanding, echoes of a transcendent dream.
    Heal me .
    “In a dream,” Ariane said.
“ You healed me