Midnight Jewels

Croft circled each dark aureole with the edge of his thumbs. He watched her face in the mirror with a relentless intensity.
    Mercy gasped as her nipples puckered into even tighter peaks. The feeling was almost unbearable, an ache and a longing and a sizzling sensitivity. Her lashes lowered until her eyes were almost closed. She said with total honesty, "I'm not sure what to expect with you."
    "Sometimes there is a very fine line between pleasure and pain."
    "Do you always know the difference?"
    "Yes. Always."
    She believed him and knew she should find the knowledge terrifying, but it was exhilarating. He was a man who was at home with violence. Perhaps he was not adverse to crossing the invisible barriers between pleasure and pain when he was aroused. Instead of caution, however, Mercy was suddenly rilled with supreme trust. Croft did know the difference and he would never cross the line. She could give herself to him in perfect safety. With him she could learn the thrills and pleasures that lurked at the farthest edges of sensation without fearing the fall that would take her over the edge.
    This man would always protect her. She could trust him. Once again her eyes met his in the mirror and this time she smiled at him.
    It was a slow, sensuous, utterly female smile of invitation and longing and ancient promise that came from the depths of her being and radiated in her eyes. There was a warm flush to her skin that started just above her breasts and rightly colored everything in its path all the way to her cheeks. She knew from the look in Croft's eyes that he was vitally aware of her glowing excitement. His body was tightening in reaction and he muttered thick, dark words of encouragement into her hair.
    Her fingers still clung to his forearms but she offered no resistance when he released her breasts and let his hands glide to her waist. There was a faint metallic rasp as he unsnapped her jeans and slid the zipper down. Mercy could feel the shift of muscle and sinew in his arms as he began to push the jeans over her hips. She was very conscious of the hard pressure of his manhood straining against his own denims. He had pushed himself close into the small of her back where she could feel him very distinctly. He was big, she thought. Solid and heavy and totally male.
    "Do you have any idea how sexy you are? I could look at you for a long time, sweet Mercy. You're full of soft, round curves and hollows waiting to be explored. All kinds of shadow and light."
    Mercy heard the words, but she didn't see his face because she had closed her eyes again when he shoved the jeans down her thighs. She could feel her panties going with the denim and knew that if she lifted her lashes she would see herself completely naked in the mirror.
    Her natural inhibitions rose suddenly to assault her. "I don't want to be the only one standing here in front of a mirror without any clothes on," she whispered in protest.
    He laughed softly, the sound dark and sensual in her ear as he leaned forward to kiss her shoulder. "Then undress me."
    With a small cry she turned in his arms and opened her eyes to meet the lambent flames in his gaze. Something she saw there both provoked and excited her. "I want to touch you."
    "I need to feel you touching me."
    She unbuttoned his shirt, having to concentrate on the small task because her fingers were trembling. Croft didn't make matters easier for her. He kept murmuring sensual promises and dropping light, unbelievably tantalizing kisses on her temple and behind her ear. His fingers played havoc with the sensitive nape of her neck as she fumbled with his garments. Never had she realized just how sensitive that part of her body was.
    Croft shrugged impatiently out of the shirt when she had it undone and then he pulled her close again. When her breasts were lightly crushed against his chest he looked into the mirror behind her and smiled. Slowly he stroked his hands down her back to the curve of her bare hips. When he let his fingertips slide along the edge of the small cleft that separated her soft buttocks, Mercy caught her breath.
    "Croft."
    But he ignored her. His touch went lower, tracing a sensual path until he found the damp, feminine beat that told him all he needed to know about her state of readiness. As he drew his fingers through the gathering dew between her legs Mercy splayed her hands across his broad chest. Her head tipped back and a small cry was caught in her throat. She sank her nails