Chase the Dawn Read Online Free PDF

her nipple.
    Bryony inhaled deeply of his scent, the very real scent of sun-warmed skin, of fresh sweat, of the soap-washedlinen of his shirt. She tasted salt and sun on his lips, felt the tangible, soft prickle of his beard against her face. And she felt the tightening of her breast’s crown beneath the insistent fingertip. It was an exquisitely pleasurable sensation, as exquisite as the feel of his lips on hers, of his other hand stroking over her buttocks as he held her against the long, lean length of him.
    One minute there had been only the abyss of a historyless anonymity, an insensate vacuum with no grip on reality, and now there was this. Pure, joyous sensation to fill the chasm, offering the handholds that would wrench her back into the world. Her mouth opened to him, her back arching to thrust her breast against the palm of his hand as she curled her legs around his body, responding in her innocence to the memories of bodily joy.
    Benedict’s world tilted as he drank greedily of her sweetness, recognized the demand she was making, and wondered for one bewildered second what she was. Not the innocent he had thought her. The cleft of her body was pressed against the hard throb of his penis, her fingers twining between the buttons of his shirt, twisting in the soft hair of his chest as she brought her lips to his throat, teasing him with her tongue. He groaned, and groaned again as her opened body pressed with increased fervor.
    “Love me,” she whispered. “Make me feel.”
    His hands caught her shoulders, flipping her onto her back with the force of desire now beyond control. He was on top of her, his mouth closing again over hers as their tongues warred, then danced, then plunged in a wild spiral of passion that excluded all but their partnered bodies and this utterly imperative passion. Hetugged at the waistband of his britches, and she helped him, pushing them off his hips, her hands running in greedy exploration over his chest beneath his unbuttoned shirt, over the narrow hips, enclosing that burning, throbbing shaft that lifted to her touch.
    Drawing her beneath him again, he parted her willing thighs and for one instant paused on the threshold of her body. Her eyes were closed, her face lost in joy, but as he gazed down at her, the long black lashes swept up, showing him the appeal and passion in those velvet-blue eyes. “Love me,” she whispered.
    With a little sigh, he guided his surging entry within the moist tenderness of her core. There was a moment when he sensed the resistance that he had never expected. He checked himself with a soft-breathed curse and the tautening of his muscles, but her hands went to his buttocks, gripping with that urgent demand, and it was too late. She could not breathe for a second as the aching fullness stretched her, then it yielded and her cry of pain was more an exhalation of relief. Benedict brushed his lips over her damp temples, touched the corners of her eyes, trailed to the sensitive corner of her mouth, while he cupped her breast, sliding his thumb over the pliant and responsive peak. As he felt her relaxation, the suppleness of her body, he eased deeper, and her eyes shot open at the prickle of pleasure that ran across her nerve centers.
    Watching her, he set the rhythm, which she picked up with the ease of an established lover, but he was too lost in the glory of this fusion to question any further. They rose and fell together, and Bryony was conscious only of the wonder of her need and the amazing wonder of its satisfaction. His hands closed over her buttocks,lifting her to meet him as he reached the very center of her self, and the steadily growing blossom of pleasure inside her burst into full bloom, and she cried out against his mouth. As her body convulsed around him, Benedict thrust once more, holding himself within her as his own fulfillment throbbed.
    They lay entwined, sweat-slippery skin molded, hearts slowly settling as the fever abated. Bryony fell