Wild Desire

After enjoying his close scrutiny a moment longer, Stephanie twined her arms around Runner’s neck and drew his hard and ready body against hers.

“Your eyes tell me that you like what I am wearing,” she teased.

She leaned her lips close to his and flicked her tongue across his lips.

“You wear a sort of garment that Runner has never seen before on any woman,” he said thickly. “And, yes, I approve. You are always beautiful. But tonight you are a vision.”

Runner’s hands went to her breasts and cupped them through the silken material of the gown. Stephanie moaned and ground her body into his as his mouth joined hers, hot and eager. Through the thin fabric of her gown, she could feel the throbbing length of his manly need.

She slipped a hand between them and encircled his velveteen shaft with her fingers. She heard him moan and felt his body stiffen when she started moving her hand on him, in awe of the heat that she felt against the coolness of her fingers.

Runner’s heart pounded so hard, he was dizzied by it. He reached for her hand and gently eased it away from him. He then grabbed Stephanie up into his arms and carried her to the bed.

His fingers went to the hem of her gown and slowly began pushing it upward, stopping momentarily to kiss each part of her as it was uncovered.

She shivered with ecstasy when he kissed and taunted the insides of her thighs. She closed her eyes and sucked in a wild breath of pleasure when he kissed his way slowly upward.

Smoothing the gown on past the crown of hair at the juncture of her thighs, Runner leaned down low over her and flicked his tongue against the center of her desire. Then he nestled his face into the soft fronds of her hair and kissed and nibbled at her tightened bud, the tip of his tongue swirling . . . moist . . .

“Runner,” Stephanie whispered, reaching her hands to his head, twining her fingers through his hair.

She urged him closer as she moved her legs farther apart. “What you are doing? Oh, Runner. . . .”

Runner’s tongue titillated her there for a moment longer. Then he scooted the gown farther up her body, so that her breasts were exposed, beckoning him to them. His hot and hungry mouth on her flesh, Runner kissed his way across Stephanie’s flat tummy, causing it to quiver. Then he moved his body over her, his lips inhaling the nipple of one of her breasts into his mouth: he sucked; he flicked his tongue around it; he licked it.

Stephanie groaned and tossed her head with pleasure, and when he nudged her knees apart and he slipped his throbbing need inside her, a delicious languor stole over her.

With rhythmic motions, he began to move within her. Stephanie slipped her gown over her head, then placed her hands on his cheeks and drew his lips to hers.

She gave Runner a meltingly hot kiss, a wild, exuberant passion swimming through her. She sought the feel of his sleek, muscled back, then moved her fingers lower, anchoring them against his tight buttocks. She pressed her hands against him, urging him deep inside her, the silver flames of desire leaping ever higher within her.

Stephanie arched her head back as Runner buried his lips along the delicate column of her throat, his hands kneading her breasts. Then he showered heated kisses over her breasts, the feelings soaring through him blazing . . . searing . . .

Feeling the intensity of his pleasure, he anchored her fiercely still. He gave her a kiss of total demand as they both gave in to the rapture, the silent explosion of their needs accompanied by their sighs and groans.

For a moment longer they clung to one another, then Stephanie slipped from beneath him. “The champagne,” she said, running her fingers through her hair as she stepped delicately onto the plush carpet. “We must drink champagne. Don’t you think we have much to celebrate, darling?”

She turned to him and took his hands and leaned over him, brushing a kiss across his lips as he stretched out on his back. “We have us to celebrate,” she said, giggling as she went to the bottle of champagne and removed it from its bucket.

She took the bottle back to Runner. “Would you please?” she asked, handing him the bottle to uncork.

Runner took the bottle. He sat up on the bed and rested against the headboard, then began reading the label.

“Champagne,” he said softly. “I recall my mother and father drinking champagne when I was a child.”

“It’s what most people drink when they are celebrating one thing or another,” Stephanie said, plopping down on the bed beside him. “It’s wonderful and bubbly. It’s a delight to drink.”

Runner frowned and shoved the bottle back into her hands. “I did not drink the wine at the lunchroom. Nor will I drink this now. I do not drink alcohol of any kind,” he said flatly. “I understand its evil. Some of the young Navaho braves, and even some of our older warriors, have found a strange sort of solace in alcohol. It is best that I do not practice what my father and I have both preached against.”

Stephanie stared disbelievingly at him. “Darling, just one wee little glass won’t harm anyone,” she pleaded. “Please? For me? It is a fun thing to do between two people in love. I absolutely guarantee that you will not get drunk on such a small amount of alcohol.”

When he folded his arms stubbornly across his chest and tightened his jaw, she started to rise off the bed. Instead, she stopped and looked mischievously up at him. She struggled with the cork for only a moment, and then it popped from the bottle. As the fizz rolled over the sides, she licked it up with her tongue, and then she turned and leaned over Runner.

She heard his gasp of shock as she began slowly trickling the champagne over his stomach, making a trail downward, until she reached that part of him that lay spent amidst his frond of dark hair.

Slowly, she allowed some of the champagne to drip from the bottle onto him there, watching his eyes as surprise leapt into their depths.

“What . . . are . . . you doing . . . ?” Runner gasped.