So I am reading the latest book in the Meredith Gentry series by Laurell K. Hamilton. If you have never read her I highly suggest you do. This is why I love her. Not the sole reason but damn!!!
A little excerpt from "A Stroke of Midnight" by Laurell K. Hamilton:
(Chapter 7, pgs 75 & 76)
His mouth touched mine, and the moment it did, he stopped fighting. He gave himself to the kiss with his lips, his mouth, his arms, his body. The wind was only wind again but Mistral did not notice. He picked me up in his strong arms, his hands pressing me against his body. One hand gripped my ass, an almost crushing grip that bought a small sound from my mouth. That sound seemed to urge him on. The kiss had been thorough before, but it had a certain gentleness to it; now he kissed me as if he would climb into my body through the opening of my lips. He kissed and ate with teeth at my mouth, biting and holding my lower lip until I cried out for him...Mistral smiled up at me, a fierce baring of teeth. His eyes boiled black with storm clouds so that he looked blind. He was suddenly on his feet, my hand still gripped in his. He jerked me against his body so hard it jarred my arm and drove a small moan of pain from me. A sound came form his throat and deep in his chest, a sound that started as almost purring, but ended in the low bass growl of distant thunder. He ran his fingers through my hair, pulling a fistful sudden and tight in his hand. He stared down at me, his face filled with raw, naked lust, something seperate and primeval like darkness and light. .. He felt so big, so thick, against the front of my body. The press of him, the strength of his hands made me shudder against him. He tightened his grip on my hair, forcing me to fight my bodies reaction, or cause myself real pain...The feeling of being trapped, of being helpless against his strength, his lust, and what my body needed was overwhelming...He whispered against my face "Do you want to ride the storm?" His breath was hot against my skin. His voice promised no gentleness, no compromise. I knew the kind of sex he was offering, and the thought of it tightened things low in my body, drew another small sound from my throat. "Yes" I whispered, "yes". The roll of thunder echoed down the hallway, shuddering between the stone walls. His voice growled against my skin, with the taste of thunder in it. The sound seemed to vibrate out of his body and into mine as if my body were a tuning fork struck against the rim of some great metal cup. His voice growled against my skin with the taste of thunder in it. "Good" he said and forced me to my kneees.
Jesus on a fuckstick that made me wet again just re-reading it. It gets hotter and rougher. Damn!! Call me a sick in the head but that is just the way I like it!!
A little excerpt from "A Stroke of Midnight" by Laurell K. Hamilton:
(Chapter 7, pgs 75 & 76)
His mouth touched mine, and the moment it did, he stopped fighting. He gave himself to the kiss with his lips, his mouth, his arms, his body. The wind was only wind again but Mistral did not notice. He picked me up in his strong arms, his hands pressing me against his body. One hand gripped my ass, an almost crushing grip that bought a small sound from my mouth. That sound seemed to urge him on. The kiss had been thorough before, but it had a certain gentleness to it; now he kissed me as if he would climb into my body through the opening of my lips. He kissed and ate with teeth at my mouth, biting and holding my lower lip until I cried out for him...Mistral smiled up at me, a fierce baring of teeth. His eyes boiled black with storm clouds so that he looked blind. He was suddenly on his feet, my hand still gripped in his. He jerked me against his body so hard it jarred my arm and drove a small moan of pain from me. A sound came form his throat and deep in his chest, a sound that started as almost purring, but ended in the low bass growl of distant thunder. He ran his fingers through my hair, pulling a fistful sudden and tight in his hand. He stared down at me, his face filled with raw, naked lust, something seperate and primeval like darkness and light. .. He felt so big, so thick, against the front of my body. The press of him, the strength of his hands made me shudder against him. He tightened his grip on my hair, forcing me to fight my bodies reaction, or cause myself real pain...The feeling of being trapped, of being helpless against his strength, his lust, and what my body needed was overwhelming...He whispered against my face "Do you want to ride the storm?" His breath was hot against my skin. His voice promised no gentleness, no compromise. I knew the kind of sex he was offering, and the thought of it tightened things low in my body, drew another small sound from my throat. "Yes" I whispered, "yes". The roll of thunder echoed down the hallway, shuddering between the stone walls. His voice growled against my skin, with the taste of thunder in it. The sound seemed to vibrate out of his body and into mine as if my body were a tuning fork struck against the rim of some great metal cup. His voice growled against my skin with the taste of thunder in it. "Good" he said and forced me to my kneees.
Jesus on a fuckstick that made me wet again just re-reading it. It gets hotter and rougher. Damn!! Call me a sick in the head but that is just the way I like it!!
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I was there visiting him most of the day. It gets real hard to see him like that.