*Michael*
Although I offered, with all good intentions, to walk out if she wished, I am not sure how I will accomplish that action when my body strains with the need to be with her, to bury itself in her, to hear her cries as passion rides her. As she pulls me from the bathing chamber, I release my death grip on the towel and pad after her.
Never in my life has it seemed so important that I get it right, that I make it perfect for her.
As we near the bed, she lets go of my hand, reaches up, and begins plucking the pins from her hair. My gut tightens as the waves of dark silk cascade around her shoulders, along her back, halting just shy of the dimple in her backside. I plow my hand through the satiny tresses, stopping her from climbing onto the bed, turning her around, tilting back her
