Climax of Passion

The fingertips at her waist drifted down, tracing the curve of her hip, then slowly tempted to move over the soft mound of her buttocks. His other hand joined the voyage of discovery, caressing her back, following the sensual curve of her spine. She shivered in his arms and saw the leap of exultant pleasure in his eyes, the knowledge that her response was beyond any design or control.

Amanda slid her own hands over his shoulders, under the flowing headdress, finding and stroking the bare nape of his neck. A muffled cry was torn from his lips. He gripped her body more firmly, moving it to the rhythm she had incited in his, crushing her breasts against the hard masculinity of his chest.

Amanda felt the heat suffusing her body, becoming concentrated between her thighs, the sharpening awareness and piercing sensitivity growing, strengthening, spiralling towards involuntary orgasm, and her eyes clung to his, mirroring the sweet drowning inside her, her lips parting on a gasp of wonder, a breath of life that she offered to him as a gift of utter abandonment to the feelings he evoked in her.

If he could see her heart, he must know it pounded for him.

If he could see her mind, he must know he obliterated everything else.

If he could see her soul, he must know he resided there.

‘Amanda...’

It was a whisper of seeing and knowing and believing. He carried it to her parted lips, his mouth closing over hers, warm, sensual, the breath of his life mingling with hers, so softly, caringly, nurturing her gift of love with infinite tenderness, tasting it as though it was the most exquisite wine in the world, incredibly, wonderfully, uniquely intoxicating.

His fingers found the brooch that fastened the veil. With a single movement he unclipped it. He parted the flowing panels, baring her shoulder, and his mouth moved from hers, trailing soft burning kisses down her throat. Instinctively, Amanda arched her neck to the beat of his pleasure. Her hands moved restlessly, throwing off his headdress in her need to touch more of him, her fingers revelling in the silky thickness of his hair.

He eased the chiffon over her breasts with his tongue, absorbing the texture of her skin, sensitising it to his taste, leaving her with hot, licking imprints of himself that burned into a deeper possession of her consciousness. As the veil undraped and slid from her hips he followed it, adoring her body, the revelation of her nakedness, her satin-smooth flesh, all the way down until what the Queen of Sheba had once worn lay as a pool of formless cloth about her feet.

Agile fingers, never still in their ceaseless roaming, sent ripples of pleasure down her thighs. His mouth began its relentless march up her body towards the object of his pleasure. Amanda felt herself going limp, overwhelmed by the almost unendurable sensations he was evoking. She had to restrain herself from crying out in case it made him cease his exquisite ministrations.

Her breasts heaved. Her legs trembled. In a flowing motion he picked her up into the warmth of his arms, cradling her across the strong wall of his chest. Amanda was beyond caring where he took her. She clung to him, wanting him with a deep, desperate ache that yearned to be filled by this man and only this man.

He carried her through the archway to a terrace, and here the scent of the Xabian jasmine was stronger. The air was warmer, more sensual. Amanda could see the sky. The stars were brightly shining.

He lowered her on to an opulently cushioned dais, thickly strewn with the soft petals of wild mountain roses. Fronds of freshly cut jasmine leaves formed a semicircle around her upper body. The realisation that this had all been prepared for her was sweet confirmation of her faith in the feel

ings they had shared together. He had hoped...dreamed...wanted...and like a gently wafting summer breeze his fingers caressed her waiting breasts.

‘Come to me,’ she moaned. ‘Love me!’

His clothes were tossed aside. Her eyes feasted on his physical beauty. He was perfectly proportioned, his body sleekly honed to tight flesh stretched over the curves of muscles that were strongly delineated. The smooth sheen of his skin looked like polished bronze in the starlight. She was enthralled by the power of his maleness, the visible pulsing of his need for her.

She was aflame with desire. She did not try to hide her willing receptivity and need for his embrace. She lay fully exposed, her back arched in anticipation, her arms outflung across the cushions in complete abandon.

He came to her like a man who had ceased to function for anything other than joining with her. He slid between her legs. With a hoarse cry he plunged deeply into her body. Amanda felt a fierce and triumphant satisfaction as at last their union was completed. She closed around him, squeezing, a wild, exultant joy pleasuring along his manhood.

A gasp of astonishment emitted from his lips. Amanda felt a sense of exaltation. She knew he had not experienced anything like this before in his life. She was putting her imprint on him, possessing him as no other woman had or would, making him as deeply hers as she was his...linked forever by this moment of mating.

He started a fierce stroking that super-heated her inflamed responses. Her thighs trembled. Her body tap-danced to the beat of his rhythm and her need for climactic release. She gasped involuntarily as a suffusion of moisture melted around his pulsing flesh.

Xa Shiraq appeared to take it as some kind of signal. His back was arched like a bow, his weight supported by his extended arms, as he drove faster and deeper and faster within her. His breathing came in short gasps, feral and un-restrained. Amanda convulsed around him again. Short, rapid, staccato thrusts preceded a guttural exclamation of appeasement and release as the innermost seeds of his passion spilled from his body into hers.

Instinctively Amanda’s arms reached up to hug him and bring him closer to her. She had to be close to him now, closer than she had ever been. She had to prove her love and want and need for him. He had to know that he was the one.

He did not resist. His torso met hers and he cradled her in his arms. His lips brushed across her forehead, her temples, her cheeks, her mouth.

He rolled to one side, carrying her with him, then onto his back so that she lay on top of him. He rested her head upon his shoulder, their bodies still connected although the first rush of desire had been appeased.

‘Be at peace with me,’ he murmured.

His hands moved over her back and shoulders while applying a sweetly scented lotion to her tingling skin. His strokes were long and languorous and mesmerising, weaving another dimension of intimacy. Amanda felt herself relax under the spell of his hypnotic touch. He drew gentle, entrancing patterns over her body, down her arms, even to her fingers so that every part of her that was accessible to him was caressed into tranquillity.

Amanda was almost asleep from his gentle pleasure-giving when she felt him stir and quicken inside her. She did nothing. Curiosity as to what he would do and how he would behave towards her encouraged her to give no visible sign that she was aware of what was happening.

She felt him engorge to his full extent within her. She forced herself to remain limp and relaxed in his arms. She controlled her breathing so that no alteration could be detected.

He found the contours of her breasts and traced their soft fullness with the delicate touch of moonbeams upon a mountain mist.