Issue # 19- A Shattered Clasp

A Shattered Clasp


*~~~~*

A log pops in the hearth as she lays two palms to his troubled breast.

“I fear you will drown in the dark eddies that surround me,” he whispers to her as his head drops to rest on hers, forehead to forehead they stand basking in the blaze`s radiant glow.

“Don`t worry about me,” she replies with a smile that heats him more than any pyre could,” I`m one hell of a strong swimmer!”

Mikel responds in the only way he can for words fail him. He claims her mouth with aching passion, his hand still wound into her tresses keeping her lips under his. Dante takes himself to the second floor to sit on the brass banister and preen as Mikel lifts her from her feet to carry her to the sofa, her mouth now tasting the right wing tip inked into his neck. Tiny slippers drop off one by one as they move; her teeth tug roughly on the symbols of light and dark in his lobe as he lays her on the sofa then covers her body with his.

His hands move over her needy flesh blazing a trail for his mouth to follow, making her writhe and call out breathily for more.

“I am sorry for my cutting words,” he tells her leaving her well laved breasts to run his tongue around the rim of her navel, flicking the ring of gold that resides there.

“You`re forgiven this time,” she answers breathlessly as he places one satin leg over his shoulder,” But call me a whore again and my lessening charm will shrink your….Nocturne`s ghost Mikel!!!” The rumble of his chuckle moves through her entire body as he nuzzles at her woman`s curls, his eyes shining like liquid mercury amid the tousle of his raven hair she sees as she looks down at him betwixt her thighs.

“You would cut off your nose to spite your face witchling?” he asks with male confidence before his mouth on her most erogenous of places erases any thought from her mind save the crushing need for him to bring her closer then propel her over. He does. Time and again until she entreats him to stop in ragged feminine mewls. His mouth then licks upward, tugging her back into an undulating spiral of need that only he can assuage.

Her hands move over him, massaging rugged male muscle and sinew until she has him freed from the black leather pants and resting in her hands. She looks up at him above her, onyx waves of hair falling over his face, his biceps as rigid as his member as he holds his weight off her slight form, his gaze burning like molten sterling.

“Lead me to the harbor you offer Ephra,” Mikel commands raggedly. She does as bid; linking her heels behind his ass she places him at the entrance to her womanly haven. With a snarl he finds his solace deep within her.