Taken... By The Hunger

Ruthlessly, she yanked up the bedsheet. "Get out now, before you do something that you regret! Maybe you have lost your mind?"

In slivers of light, she saw his quick half smile. "You don't know the half of it, Lynden," he answered calmly, continuing to lightly finger her nipple through the thin satin sheet. She was on her knees, pressed against the headboard. "I want you, and I'm damned tired of waiting, of being haunted... tempted by all that we once meant to each other!"

She shuddered at that, and struck him hard across his forearm. "I do not... I have not tempted you! Get your hand off me. I don't know what you're talking about... or even mean by that."

"Oh... is that so?" He dropped his dark pants in a pool around his ankles. His hips, thighs and lower legs... his size naked to her. He raised first one knee than the other to the bed, then crawled the small distance between them to her. Her shoulders already pressed against the headboard, Lynden tried to edge farther away.

"Come now, sweetheart!" he said in measure. "Don't avoid this... you've always been bold before." Abruptly, he came to his knees, seizing her and dragging her hard against his chest, opening his mouth over hers, and surging inside.

Fleetingly, she resisted him, clawing at his naked shoulders, raking her nails down his back, but he thought her determination somewhat half-hearted. In truth, her fingernails were a nice kind of pain, and he kissed her and kissed her until slowly, almost imperceptibly, she leaned away from the headboard and into his embrace.

A bit of renewed confidence found... his mouth left hers then, to open over the turn of her jaw, the curve of her delicate throat, skimming lower still, until he found her collarbone. Using his tongue-tip, he traced its arc and the taste of her, alternating gentle nips of her skin with his teeth. Moving lower still, until eventually he covered the upper curve of her left breast and drew it lovingly back inside his mouth. Lynden shuddered then, and slid her fingers up through his hair on the back of his head. "Ahh... ohh," she whimpered softly.

"Ohhh... Lynden," he rasped, pushing her down into the pillow. With his mouth still searching her, she shivered in his embrace. Deftly, he shifted to one side, and began massaging her nipple with his fingertips, around and around, until she arched away from the pillow, moaning, her hands tangled in the satin sheet beneath her hips.

He looked down at her then, and saw her eyes, wide and limpid, fixed on his fingertips as they worked on her. "You want me, don't you?" It wasn't offered as a sign of victory, but more a form of agreement, yet not really a question.

"Yes... No... Ughhh," she breathed, her head tipping backward, her voice choking with need as he drew her nipple between his teeth as if to torment her. He could feel her anger surging, shifting, and he had faith in what she began to feel... her sliding into mindless hunger.

Then, unable to deny himself the pleasure of watching her face, his mouth left her breast as a soft gasp tore through her. "Hush, Lynden," he whispered, letting his hand slide down to curve over the flatness of her belly. "Just let me love you. As I was meant to." The hand slid lower, to caress her lower stomach and pelvis through the satin bedsheet.

He felt utterly depraved, aroused beyond anything he had ever felt before as he watched helpless need play out in her expression, in her breathing, and ultimately, in her trembling. She was blushing hotly, refusing to hold his gaze as he continued to touch her, and he found himself thinking at this point, solely on her thoughts. He was so close. So close to having her again... trusting in a future forever.

Would Lynden stop him? Could he stop? He didn't think so, on both questions. He never felt surer of his purpose, but yet, felt like a man possessed. She moaned and urged her flesh against his hand. They had been apart for too long. His pulse raced. The shaft of his cock throbbed. The light and shadows of the bedroom washed over them. And still he kept touching her, smoothing his hands over her body, suckling her. Worshiping her in awe. Yet trying to keep his heart intact. Trying to hold back some small part of himself, in case he might yet be rejected again, while taking what he so desperately wanted.

But it would not work... this holding back! On her next breath, he knew it. He dipped his head to nip at her throat, shoulder and collarbone again, enthralled at her response to this... his touch. Her body shuddered, her flesh shivered time and again, as his teeth bit into her skin, then moved from neck to breast to stomach and back.

And suddenly, he forced himself to stop. He sat back on his heels. Beneath him, Lynden's breath came quick and shallow. With the bedsheet narrowly draped over her... more revealing than covering, and her hair in disarray, she took in rapid small breaths for him almost wantonly. As always, she was the 'stuff of dreams'... this vision of her feminine arousal.

It touched him. Oh, yes. Forcing his own breathing to steady, he let his gaze rake over her and saw her face blush with color again. With ineffective modesty, she absently tugged at the bedsheet, lowering her eyelashes across her cheeks. There was a sheen of perspiration to her cleavage, the product of inner turmoil and body heat, which added to the seductive vision laid before him.

"Ohh... Lynden, you really are the 'stuff of my heavenly dreams'," he said. "Such captivating beauty. Such natural sensuality... almost a wildness to you. And of course, an irrepressible spirit."

Her eyes flew open, and then flared with suspicion. He could almost hear something inside her shift. "Is that what you think of me?" she whispered. The trace of pain in her voice knifed at him. "After all, I'm just something to be possessed... an object of your lust right?

To silence the word that he could not bear to believe, he pinned her arms high against the headboard and took her mouth again, more roughly this time. Holding her with one powerful arm, he jerked the remaining bedsheet from between them. He forced his fingers into the damp heat between her thighs, only to find that it was himself, and not Lynden, whom he shocked.

Already, she was wet with arousal... and need. The sweet, agonizing scent of her desire came to him, almost undoing his self-restraint. He wanted to surrender his own control, and pound his flesh into hers. To simply give himself over to her. But he couldn't just yet.

Slowly, slowly he eased two fingers inside her. She was tight, so very tight, as she rode down on his hand. The pressure of her cunt drew him in. A sensual symbol, perhaps, for his relationship with her. He kissed her, and against his mouth, she whimpered once more. He pulled his hand and mouth away, bringing his fingers wet with her desire to his lips. His eyes held hers knowingly. Lynden made a fleeting, uncertain gesture with her hand, then jerked her gaze from his. He caught her hand, drawing it to his erection, already thick and throbbing. "Just take me, Lynden," he whispered. "No more talking."

This time, it was Lynden who stared unflinchingly into his eyes. "Do you want me to just play the slut for you? Do you want to simply fuck me... satisfying what we each need without anything more... like real intimacy or honesty?" When he offered no reply, she jerked violently against him, freeing her hands once more. "Is that all you want? All you can accept... or offer me?" she demanded, her pale blue eyes damp and glittering.

Her pain and outrage was his undoing. "I don't know... in part, because I can't make sense of your past words and actions. I don't know you now," he confessed into the shadows. "I know only that I need you... want you, Lynden. And to have you, I think that I would do just about anything... culminating in marrying you! It's almost as if I might even sell my soul for you."

"Phfff... 'selling your soul'... I find that hard to believe since... how uptight you've become regarding values." She responded. "But for me... you can keep all your principles and your wedding ring!" Grasping the sole remnant of the entangled bedsheet between them, she jerked it completely from between them, presenting herself uncovered to him. She was fully exposed to him now and stared at him with an expression that he could not place. Nor could he breathe... or think at that moment.

She came at him then, pushing at his shoulders and chest, until he fell backwards held up only by his elbows behind him. Lynden fell against him then, her tongue sliding down the curve of his jaw, weaving a sensual trail of caress, tickling lightly at the same beard that had rasped her tender breasts. "You're afraid of the truth about yourself... or us, I think," she whispered against his heated flesh. "But if I am willful, too independent and prideful, at least I am honest. Yes, I want you. Yes, I will give myself to you. But I will not lose myself in you!"

So saying, Lynden closed one hand around his cock and went fully down onto her knees. He gasped, lashing out blindly behind him to seize the mattress... fitted bedsheet... anything as she took him into her mouth, tentatively at first. And then slowly, she became more hungry, drawing his cock deeper into the warmth of her mouth. Down, down into a remembrance of past intimacy and decadence between them. Long, silver blonde hair fanned sensually across her back, as if pointing the way to her elevated fanny on display for him.

"Aaahhh, Lynden..." He gasped her name softly, straining not to cry out too loud in the night as her hand slid between his legs to fondle him completely. Lynden touched him tentatively, then more expertly, caressing the root of his cock with her fingers, and then her mouth, pleasuring him until he thought he might die. When his hips jerked uncontrollably against her, she roughly shoved him down into the soft tangle of the bedsheets underneath them at the foot of her bed, but still she did not stop, driving him rapidly to the edge of a bright, white light that sped toward him even as he rushed into it.

He wanted, he wanted... aahh, aahh, how he wanted... His hands clutched at the fitted sheet under him, fisting and clawing and grasping, as his head strained back against the mattress, and... oh, heavens, he was so close... so close... so close to losing himself. Spilling himself into her sinfully sweet... warm mouth. Losing his mind. Losing... control.

"Ohh... Aah. No. Lynden," he whispered, a strained smile coming to his lips. "Not so fast." Grabbing her shoulders, pushing her up and back as he rose to his knees. There would be, she understood then, no pacifying or distracting him. He firmly, but gently guided her back down into the pillows at the head of the bed. Yet she struggled in his grasp, and with a soft groan, he nudged at her thighs with his knee. "Open for me... my beautiful."

Unsure, Lynden shook her head and raked her eyes down his length. She had never been so afraid, nor so desperately enthralled. But perversely, she was scared of herself; enthralled by him. By his stark, naked, unbridled beauty. It came back to her then... for she had often thought him a beautiful man... and had told him as much. Any trace of his reserve and the honest decency she so admired in him... had been freely surrendered to her over and over again.

His cock rose between them, still pulsing and slick from her sweet mouth. The dim streetlight shone over his broad fit shoulders as big as her thighs. The raw power of his nudity was suddenly more in focus to her now. Again, she shook her head.

"This has gone too far, Lynden," he softly insisted, reaching out to fondle her. "You can't tease me like this... let me inside, my beauty. Won't you remember that this is where we each truly belong... our safe place where we can both dare to be insecure... our home... trusting each together?" In the shadows, she trembled, knowing she could not resist him for very long. He was determined to pursue her... fight for her... and in that instant... them together. Despite the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions playing out in her, she wanted him anyway.

And apparently, she was willing to give herself to him on these uncertain terms. As she let his weight bear down on her, the silken hardness of his cock brushed between her thighs, heated against her skin. Oh, yes! She did want him. She prayed that she could someday come to terms with just how much. Boldy, she stared him up and down in the diffused light. He was beautiful, this man whom a part of her - she didn't like to admit how much - had never ceased to desire! Hard and soft at the same time, with a sensual mix of both muscle and gentleness. In the end, his masculine beauty, the sheer allure of his body, was her undoing.

'Open your legs, Lynden," he softly asserted. "And then tell me that you want - desperately want - me inside you." The sensuous words registered to her in a way she did not understand. She exhaled deeply, focusing on the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed deeply. Again, she was taken by the raw sensuality of his hardness and the softness of the curves expressed by his chest and stomach.

Her gaze drifted slowly lower as those line pointed toward his sex, still heavy and prominent. She was driven by a hunger to touch those curves again, tracing those lines downward, and ending by feeling the weight and velvet surface of his cock. Almost involuntarily, she jerked one hand free of his grasp and reached out for him.

"Oh, no," he growled, swiftly recapturing her fingers. "I'm not sure that I trust that hand of yours." His hand left hers, and to her utter shame, he skimmed one hand lightly down her stomach to her kitty. With his thumb, he spread open the folds of her labia, sitting back now on his knees and thighs, he bent down... lowering his mouth to kiss her there. His tongue slid into her warmth, drowning her in sweet sensation.

A hot yearning coursed through her, pooled in her stomach, then tugged at her center. It was too much, too much... Lynden tried to push him away. "No," he whispered, then his teeth nipped at the tender skin of her inner thigh. "I want you to... want me... hunger for me now... as I have... these months we've been apart. I want you to ache and squirm and almost drown in it."

And beneath the sensual onslaught, Lynden felt herself slip deeper into the abyss. Firmly, his fingertips slid inside, touching her with a jolt of pleasure as he urged her apart to taste her more intimately. Lynden cried out in shock, then strained hard against him as his tongue touched her very core. She shook, then squirmed, as he continued touching her. Any shred of control she might have possessed was gone. This went far, far beyond their past mutual passion for each other. It was more than just a case of a ready spark and flammable fuel resulting in fire. The real byproduct of their chemistry together, was an explosion out of proportion to each ingredient. Oh he would have his way, because she would allow it. Willingly.

Lynden no longer thought to guard herself against him, of being consumed or possibly hurt. She stared down at herself. He had one hand on her knee, urging her legs wider, the other hand stroking her breast as his tongue slid sinuously into her wanton sex, which she willingly offered without modesty, restraint or any pride she might have cared to use in order to shield herself. She wanted the 'edge' just ahead; that sharp, shimmering blade of sensation that tatalized somewhere just beyond her reach right now.

And she knew that he could take her there. She had only to surrender to him, and... she began to feel the 'edge' draw nearer. Yes. So sweet, so very close. Her hips bucked again. Something inside her began to give way. And then abruptly, he stopped. She bit back a cry of frustration. In the darkness, she heard the accompaniment of nighttime insects intrude. "Tell me, Lynden," he rasped, his fingers digging into her thigh. "Tell me that you are mine!"

She felt herself shudder with an ache so deep she thought she would die. Against the pillow, she tilted her head to plead with him. "Please..." she whispered. "Don't stop. Finish it... Please!" Roughly, her jerked her thighs wider still and slid up her length. "Mine, Lynden," he growled in a whisper against her temple. "You belong to me! And I swear, I'll return and throw you over my shoulder... giving you "hell" to pay, if you ever shove me away again, do you hear me?" She tried to nod, but failed.

His teeth raked across her throat and down to her breast. "Ahhh, Lynden!" he said, his voice dropping to an unsteady whisper. "My most beautiful Lynden... what am I saying?" He glanced up at her with a soft smile. "I must be mad with passion. Insane with desire. For I love you too much. Too much."

Lynden listened to the words, all too aware of the weight and heat of his cock at her entrance. If she gave herself again to him now, there would be turning back from him. But had there ever been? No. Never.

And so she wrapped her arms about his waist, lifted her knees, and pulled him into her. He let his weight fall forward, bracing his hands near her shoulders. She felt him probe her, spread her, and then slowly begin to fill her. So very, very good. Better, even, than his mouth. Eagerly, Lynden tipped her hips up to take him, aching with a strange, soul-deep emptiness. His eyes tearing, and in the nighttime light she could barely see the dark lashes that rested across his cheeks. A bitter smile of satisfaction curved at his mouth as he thrust fully into her, then pushed swiftly, deeply inside.

It was then that he shuddered and paused... dropping his forehead to lightly touch hers. His eyes tearing at the thought of her surrender to him... all his angst over their recent past recast into better perspective... and momentarily dimmed in comparison to her well-being and what she offered him. "Dear Lord, Lynden." he whispered, breathing deeply, trying to force the lump from his chest. "What have I done... to you?"

Beneath him, she shifted, rocking her hips upward, taking him incrementally deeper in a sweet intimation of her wishes. Despite the heated press of tears behind his eyes, He found that below the waist, his flesh was too weak to refuse her. His baser instincts still ruled. Buried deep inside her feminine warmth, his cock hardened unrepentantly. "Mmmm..." she breathed. As if she had willed it, he began to move inside her again, knowing that he had no right, except by her grace.

But pace for pace, she matched him, rising up to meet his thrusts as he glided over her. Bracing his weight on his hands, he lifted himself high, and gazed down at her as he filled her with long, gentle strokes. Her hands came up to caress his waist, then slid smoothly around to the small of his back. Lower still, she skimmed over the tight muscles of his buttocks, urging him fully against her.

Her eyes closed as he stroked her. Her breath came short and fast. She parted her lips, and he could see the pink of her tongue - the same tongue which had so erotically tortured him - pressed high against her upper teeth. "I love you Lynden." He breathed the oft-spoken words into the shadows, feeling her quicken beneath him. Her legs came around his waist and her fingers pressed into the muscles of his thrusting hips. After that - and seemingly into infinity - there was nothing but the glide of flesh over flesh, raw gasps of pleasure, unrestrained groans. His or hers? He did not know.

The sounds of passion filled the night. He loved her. So much, he loved her. He always had, even when she drove him mad with frustration or wounded with rejection. Lynden would be the death of him. He'd always known it, and yet, he'd always loved her. Forgiven for her lack of trust... even the commitment of love. He lowered his head, placed his lips to her ear, and told her of his undying love again.