The Gift Read Online Free PDF Page A

and began to part her soft red hair with his thumbs. It was thick and lush and flossy, but with care he exposed her, baring the gleaming rosy geography of her sex – the plump lips, the gloss of her juice, silky and abundant, and her clit, proud and exposed, peeping from its hood.
    Fighting for control, shaking with emotion, he extended his tongue in a furled point and delicately licked her.
    ‘Oh. Oh God.’
    Her voice was reedy and shocked, and he lifted his head in alarm.
    Shit, fuck, damn. What was wrong with him? He’d only really spoken to her for the first time less than half an hour ago and now he had his face between her legs. He started to back away, but her small hands closed around his scalp, her fingers shockingly strong.
    ‘No … please … don’t stop.’
    Her eyes were brilliant when he looked up into them, vivid green, yet dark, slightly spaced.
    Your wish is my command, Princess
, he told her silently, and began to lick gently, savouring her sumptuous foxy flavour. The taste of her told him she wanted him, even if she didn’t know him.
    This was easy. This was wonderful. There was no stress, no angst about this. He went to work, giving, giving, giving, revelling in pleasuring her. The cries she uttered thrilled him. Little gasps, mutters, grunts. Exciting, but somehow unexpected. Not the pliant helpless sounds of surrender that had coloured his ‘rescuing’ dreams and fantasies. No, these were the noises made by a grown woman who knew what she wanted and was pleased to be getting it.
    Almost angrily, he increased the pace of his tongue, went in harder. At the same time, he slid his hands under herspread thighs, lifting her, opening her further, making a ripe fruit of her for his delectation, and to feast on. Gripping the globes of her bottom, he slid his fingertips into the hot groove there, playing wickedly, touching and taunting, opening her in other ways.
    Her heels kicked against him but he didn’t feel it. He could only taste, inhale and relish her. When she growled something indistinct and gouged her nails into his shoulders through the cloth of his shirt, he thought his heart would burst with pride and possession, sweet emotions both. As her pussy pulsed against his face, his cock throbbed too.
    He could do it now, he thought as she subsided, still holding onto his shirt. Right now, he could rip open his trousers, free himself and plunge into her. With her, at this supreme instant, all would be well.
    But it was too soon, too much of a shock for her. He couldn’t just fuck her like that, because he wanted to and because she was probably the only woman right now who it would be so simple and easy with. He needed to romance her, woo her, gift her with all the niceties and foreplay she deserved. You didn’t fantasise about a woman for fifteen years and then shag her senseless without so much as a by-your-leave.
    After dropping a last kiss on her perfect pussy, he drew away. He knew it was better to wait. He was beginning to feel the cold to the marrow in his thin shirt, and Sandy’s dress was very sheer; now was not the time to seize the moment. But there was still a nag of regret, of unease. He’d just passed up a chance to prove to himself once and for all that there was nothing whatsoever wrong with his potency, and that his previous problems had simply been part of thehealing process. To prove to himself that he was still, and had always been, a man.
    I’m such a screw-up, Princess. If I told you only a fraction of what’s going on with me, you’d tell me to fuck off and never touch you ever again.
    But, rising to his feet, and grimly suppressing the pain in his still recovering bones, he knew he couldn’t tell her anything just yet. He wanted a little window of time to get to know her. To uncover the truth of her.
    Was she the woman of his dreams, or another woman entirely? And if she was that other unknown undiscovered woman, what pleasures and sexual explorations might they still