Midnight Jewels

through the crisp, curling hair and into his skin just above his flat male nipples.
    When she heard his sharp intake of breath she became conscious of what she was doing. Anxiously she looked up at him. "I didn't mean to hurt you."
    He laughed silently down at her. "You couldn't possibly hurt me. But you could easily drive me out of my mind."
    She smiled back at him, reassured. Then, with a boldness that was new to her and that she quickly discovered she enjoyed, Mercy unfastened and unzipped his jeans. The heavy shaft of his manhood spilled out into her hand, filling her fingers and thrusting far beyond to brush against her stomach. The hard, blunt shape of him was as unyielding as steel but its tip was covered in the softest of velvet. The contrast was enthralling. Mercy cradled him in her hand and stroked him gently, wonderingly.
    "You're rather like a painting, yourself," she said. "There is a great deal more to you than first meets the eye. More than I expected." Much more, she added silently. He seemed massive, filling her fingers and pulsing with life and energy. She wondered if they were going to fit together as well as he seemed to think. She licked her lower lip and said carefully, "You're very large, Croft."
    Croft slipped one hand down between their bodies, raking through the soft thatch of hair at the juncture of her legs. Then, without any preamble he eased one finger just inside her hot, moist channel.
    "Oh!" Mercy's body clenched around his invading finger and she staggered a little, releasing her intimate hold to clutch his arms for support.
    "And you're very small," he murmured gently. "Silky smooth. We're going to fit perfectly. I can't wait to get inside you and feel you around me. This isn't going quite the way I had planned. You're so ready for me. I thought I could draw it all out a little longer. I wanted to take the time to do it right."
    "The way you're going about it doesn't seem wrong, believe me." She swayed against him, her body filled with an unbelievable urgency.
    "You don't understand," he muttered. "But this isn't the time to try to explain. Look at us, Mercy. Take a look in the mirror and see how right you are for me."
    He moved, turning them both sideways to the reflective glass and Mercy glanced to her right, half afraid of what she might see. The sight of her slender body pressed against Croft, his hands possessively gripping the rounded globes of her derriere was disconcerting, even though she had been expecting it. She drew a deep breath, unable to take her eyes off the scene in the mirror.
    "What is it, Mercy?" Croft eased one muscular leg between her thighs, forcing her to part her legs. "Don't we look good together? Don't you like what you see? We're creating a watercolor in that mirror." He caressed her hip, moving his palm upward until it rested alongside her breast The contrast between his bronzed fingers and her white breast was very erotic. His dark head bent over her tawny one made an equally sensual contrast. His leg tangled between hers was a bold invasion of her softness. "Sunlight and shadow."
    She pulled her gaze away from the hypnotic scene in the mirror. Her fingers sank into his shoulders as she looked up at him. The dark, husky sound of his voice was a seduction in itself. She felt very open and vulnerable as he moved his thigh gently back and forth between her legs. His muscled leg was hard and hairy and enticing, sliding up along the delicate skin of her inner thigh. She knew she was dampening him with her uncontrollable response; knew, too, that he was highly aroused by it.
    Mercy didn't understand how he could be as aroused as she was and still so much in control. Something was wrong with the situation.
    "Croft, you're very aware of what you're doing, aren't you?" she whispered, searching his narrowed gaze. He was with her every inch of the way, she thought, but there was a difference. She felt dazed and disoriented by her body's reactions, but she sensed that Croft was still completely in command of himself. It would probably take a great deal to shake that control, much more than the expectation of one night with a woman who melted like warm honey in his arms. The knowledge hurt a little, briefly disrupting the sweet web of passion that was weaving itself around them.
    "Hush, Mercy," he breathed, leaning down to lightly taste the skin of her bare shoulder. "Don't cloud the moment with logic. This isn't the time for logic and reason. This is a time to