A Handful of Heaven

s the cold faded he took the nipple in his mouth again, this time suckling it softly, laving the tip with his tongue. Devon gasped at the sensation. She arched toward him, her head thrown back into the pillows. Oh, God, it felt so good. . . .

He took her in his arms, maneuvering her body until she was straddling his right leg. With his thigh pressed hard against the throbbing spot between her legs, he forced her to move: a slow, rotating rhythm that ground their bodies together.

A fire burst to life in her loins, and she didn't need any coaching to stoke it. She reacted instinctively. Grinding her hips against his thigh, she moved in a dance all her own,

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rubbing, pushing, writhing-anything to assuage the excruciatingly sweet ache that pulsed from the epicenter of her body.

"God," she whimpered, "do something. It hurts. . . ."

He rolled her beneath him. Shamelessly she opened her legs, welcoming the hot hardness of his flesh as it pressed against hers. Her knees came up, hugging his hips.

"Christ," he groaned, feeling her legs slide along his body. A shudder racked him. His control was stretched to the breaking point. Slowly, with a gentleness he'd never before possessed, he slid into the warm, wet sheath of her body.

He felt the evidence of her virginity and stopped.

"Don't stop," she moaned, raking his back with her fingernails. "Please ..."

He gave one hard thrust and ripped the maidenhead apart. She cried out in pain.

He froze then started to pull out. "God, Dev, are you-"

Her hands clutched at his buttocks, holding him in place. "If you stop now, I'll never forgive you," she whispered.

He eased back inside, then stopped, waiting for her body to relax. After a few seconds his hips started moving, a slow, rotating grind against hers.

The fire returned, raged. They moved together. Faster and faster still. He thrust full inside her, then drew slowly back and thrust again.

She writhed against him, moaning his name over and over again, her face buried in the crook of his neck. She could smell their passion; it smelled of sweat and wood smoke and lichen.

The throbbing between her legs intensified, turning into an almost painful burning. She moved faster, wanting- needing-something more. He matched her movements, « driving deeper and deeper into her body with each thrust. I

Devon moaned. God, she thought, it can't go on like this. Something has to ...

"God, Dev." Stone Man's harsh, raspy voice penetrated the haze surrounding her mind. "Let it happen."

What? she thought desperately. What?

And then it happened. A harsh scream tore from her throat.

Her senses exploded, spiraling out of control in a thousand shards of white-hot light.

Stone Man plunged wildly into her. She closed her legs around him, clinging to his sweat-slicked body. His release, warm and wet, filled her. But it was the ragged whispering of her name that lodged in her heart.

For endless minutes they clung to each other. The sweet smells of lichen moss and spent passion surrounded them.

When Devon finally opened her eyes, she found Stone Man staring down at her. "Did I hurt you?"

The vulnerability in his face squeezed her heart. Too choked up to speak, she shook her head.

"Thank God." He started to pull away.

She clung to him. "Don't go."

He sagged against her, burying his face in the crook of her neck, holding her tightly. She brushed a damp tendril of hair out of his eyes and stroked the side of his face, hoping the gentleness of her touch would speak the words her mouth could not.