A deep, intoxicating scent assaulted her nostrils. The rich musk aroma screamed out to her inner core like a light at the end of a dark tunnel. Every inch of her body throbbed for him.
The cool night air did nothing to quench the fervor of her body. The faint breeze blew over her naked skin, as delicate as a lover’s sensual touch. “Please.” Her voice became a raspy whisper on the emptiness of the night.
Large hands moved over her breasts with the skill of an expert lover, almost completely enveloping them. She craved his caress against her unclothed skin.
She arched into his hands as he cupped and massaged her, and arousal flowed from her secret depths. Tiny gasps of pleasure rose from her throat. His forefinger and thumb drew out an orchestra of melody from deep within her, as they rubbed the rose—colored nub of her right breast between them.
His lips and tongue closed over her left breast, brushing the swollen nub, slowly drawing forth pleasure-filled agony.
As her hands snaked up hard, muscular arms, he clasped them gently and guided them above her head, holding them in place with one hand while the other moved down her stomach, bringing a new gasp of pleasure past her lips.
“Just one taste,” she pleaded, before his lips touched hers. Her mouth opened for him, allowing the access she craved. Her legs parted, begging his body to enter hers.
“The night will come, my dark angel, when we satisfy the hunger we both desire,” he whispered against her moist lips. His tongue moved like soft velvet against hers; his body, solid as stone and just as hard, crushed against her.
Leisurely, his mouth ran down her neck in heated fervor. “Soon,” he promised in a raspy, confident whisper.
This man consumed her being with every touch, every kiss. He freed her hands, allowing them to rest on his shoulders. He inched his way down her body, leaving behind a burning trail of kisses.
With throbbing slowness, his lips and tongue explored her body. Each kiss brought a silent plea for release within her. Her fingers entwined in his mass of curly, dark hair as she blindly tried to guide him to the place that burned for him.
Urgency claimed her, driving her needs higher. His mouth glided down one leg, then up the other. His frenzied breath and then his fingers teased across the damp folds of the place no one before him had touched. Her breath caught in her chest as his free hand roamed back to her breasts.
“Do you want me?” he breathed.
“Yes.” Her ragged breathing came in short, anxious gasps. “I want you for now and always.” Her hips rose toward his mouth, eager for the release her instincts told her awaited.
Eyes dark with urgency looked up at her. This close to a state of ecstasy, she couldn’t fully grasp the meaning of his words. She could only answer with her body’s smoldering needs.
“You will feel pleasure tonight, my dark angel, a pleasure you will not be able to dismiss so easily.” He flicked her drenched folds apart with the slip of his tongue and thrust into her sultry wetness. Her body grew still, holding her breath, waiting for the gratification yet to come.
She trembled to feel him savoring her richness. As he moved up her body and his hands stroked her, she pulled him closer and her mouth sought his in a searing need so foreign to her; impulse alone, her guide. She tasted her juices on his lips as she threw herself into the warmth of the abyss she longed for.
Just one touch. Her hand slipped down his chest until it reached the buttons on his trousers. With the clumsiness of a maiden, she pushed at them, trying to move them down his hips. Against her lips she felt his breath catch in his throat as she completed her task and her long fingers closed around his length.
With shaky hands she explored him. She ran her forefinger down the underside of his swollen cock, sending a tremor through his large frame. His moans of pleasure acted as her guide and she stroked him until he exploded.
His head fell back; his eyes drifted closed. His seed ran down her fingers and she brought the salty taste of him to her lips. As his eyes opened they collided with hers. His body convulsed, watching her tongue lick first one finger then the next.
“I want you,” she sighed.
“Soon, my love, soon.” His husky voice promised.
Raven awoke with a start. Lukewarm water spilled over the sides of the copper bathing tub, situated between the enormous live oak dripping with Spanish moss and the rocky riverbank. As her naked body soaked in the floral scented water, the morning sun, already hot for a June morning, shone down on her upturned face.
What had happened? Was it real? Or was this just another of the strange dreams that haunted her nights for so long now?
The scent of the man overwhelmed her. She tasted him against her tongue. Worse yet, she felt his touch against her body. He had to be real. A dream could not leave one feeling this . . .
“Stop it,” she chided herself aloud. “Dreams can make a person mad and you know it.”
Water splashed over the sculpted wall of the bathing tub as her body sank back. Her hands took on a mind of their own as they tried to recapture what had been. His soft, sensual touch moved over her as no other. Not that she was very experienced in such things.
The most she had ever done was kiss a boy when she was eighteen, almost seven years ago. Her appalled mother had caught them and had beaten Raven until she thought she would die. Wisely she left behind the idea of having suitors until her mother’s death. Then, a fortnight ago, strange dreams began to haunt her nights, a seduction that drove her from somewhere deep inside herself, piquing a new curiosity.
Raven pulled herself from the chilling water, reached for a soft cotton blanket draped over a nearby fencepost, and wrapped it around her naked flesh. Odd, how she often found herself soaking in a bath after such dreams, something she was hard—pressed to explain away. Everything else was obvious.
Living in the old rundown plantation house along the river, secluded away from most of the world had been her life for more than a year. She would go into the small riverside town on the outskirts of
Content until the dreams had begun, now she found herself aching to know what it was like to hold a man. Not any man, of course, just the darkly handsome stranger who came to her in her dreams each night.
Raven inhaled the air as if he stood before her. She could still smell his earthy aroma, like pungent
Just as they had in her provocative dream last night, she felt his hands explore her, bringing forth pleasures she never knew existed in the human body. The heat of his lips against her own, their pressure, the taste of his tongue on hers. Even now, the penetration of his fingers within her intimate folds remained. Subconsciously her legs opened as if allowing him access. Her head fell back as ecstasy threatened to overtake her. Her hips began to move in time with his gentle plunges.
“Stop it!” she screamed, jerking herself back to reality. What was happening to her? Was she going mad? Did her loneliness seek an outlet from the insanity she sensed?
From the first moment the dreams began, a strange confusion overtook her mind and body. Larger than life itself, he stood more than six feet tall, with a build much like a warrior from the olden times. His massive size had almost frightened her at first. Yet, there had been something in his casual stance, in the way he had looked at her, bringing ease and comfort to her soul.
Beneath the live oak he’d perched, like a ghost, watching her. A thick trellis of Spanish moss draped from the tree’s enormous branches, framing his mysterious figure. His almost black eyes sought her gaze and held her attention throughout the night. She found her most unspoken thoughts and dreams lying in the heavenly abyss of his soul.
Long, dark, wavy hair fell over his shoulders, adding to his mystery, enticing her, until nothing mattered except the strange new desires he brought out in her.
For many nights after, it was the same. He would come and watch her from his hideaway under her tree. Never did he make a move toward her, never did he try to coerce her. All the same, her heart ached to go to him. The promises held in those luscious eyes, of what was yet to be, intrigued her.
This was what first drew her out into the sultry night, what had allowed him to touch her for the first time in her visions. She situated herself on a blanket beneath the tree where he always stood. She struggled to stay awake, but sleep overtook her, and then so had the man.
Kisses, more like magic, had transported her through time and space until there was nothing left but the man in her arms. But never had the dreams been as realistic as the one last night. She still tasted the saltiness of his seed against her lips and tongue. The warm burn of it lingered in her throat, as a fine whiskey might.
“Who are you?” she breathed into the morning light. “Why are you doing this? Can you not see you are driving me to madness? Are you real or just some fantasy I have created in my mind?”