Sunny - Mona Lisa Darkening

"Condom," I gasped.

He lifted my left leg higher and pulled something out of his back pocket. "Got one," he muttered and set me back down on the floor so he could undress me.

A terrible thought came to me as he pulled off my shirt. "Maybe I'm completely human now. Maybe we're too different in chemistry to find pleasure together."

His hard body plastered me to the wall again, his hips, his hardness grinding into me. "Does this feel like no pleasure?" he growled, nipping at my lips.

A sweet feeling of need, of building pleasure rippled through me at that lovely thrust and swivel of his talented hips. "Okay, guess you're right."

I pressed him away, and his weight shifted back, not because of my strength… no, I was vividly aware of how little there was of that… but because it was my desire and he was not yet entirely certain if I had changed my mind. He stepped back hesitantly, and I tackled his shirt, the reason I'd needed the room, unbuttoning it with swift, hasty speed, pushing it off him.

"Oh, my," I said, looking at the treasure I had unearthed. I moved my hands, my lips, over the lovely expanse of his torso, branded red kisses across the white skin of his chest, and felt his hesitancy melt away. My hands moved to the waistband of his trousers.

"Me, first," he said, and tugged down my dress pants. Easy to do with the elastic-banded waist. Underwear came off next, then my shoes, one foot then the next. Moving in a blur of speed, he draped my pants and top neatly over a chair, and returned to me, kneeling and pressing his mouth to me before I knew what he intended. A swirl of his tongue against my shaved nether lips had me crying out in shock, in weeping pleasure. Then the electric buzz of his tongue licking there over the little bud he had searched out. The sensation of him, of his touch, had me screaming and jerking in a quick, explosive climax.

"I think that answers the question of whether or not we can feel pleasure together." His smile was sharp and feral, an aggressive male intent upon the woman he was about to mate. The sight of him looking up at me like that, with his red lips, branded by me, moist with my body's most intimate fluids, rolled another shudder of gratification through me, inside me.

"Take off your pants," I panted.

He did so with a quick economy of motion, not taking his eyes off me, burning, bright, intense.

I moved my gaze over him — those brawny arms, wide shoulders, wide muscled chest tapering down to a flat abdomen, every part of him strongly cut, perfectly defined. And then lower to where he lay thick and pointed.

My gaze slid hungrily over his shaft. Watched it bob under the hot caress of my eyes. Moved down his bulging thighs, the thick muscles of his calves, the delicate arch of his feet. I moved my gaze just as slowly back up. Licked my lips, smiled. Shook my head when he started to rip open the packet.

"Not yet." Brushing his hands aside, I knelt between his legs. "My turn." My turn to run my hands down the backs of his thighs, to flex my hands there, testing the hard muscle. To sink my short nails in, just a little, into that taut, supple flesh. My turn to lick him, taste him, encircle the thick base of his male organ with my hand and take him slowly, luxuriously, into my mouth. To smear every inch of that hard rosy flesh with the red paint of my lips. To suck and draw on him, and watch that red rosy flesh begin to glow luminously bright, spread from there out to the rest of his body. I watched him glow with lunar light. Watched him glow with pleasure as his hands buried themselves in my hair, gripping tight, pressing my mouth down over him just an instant before he eased me gently back.

"No more, please, or I will go, and I don't want to yet. Not until I'm inside you for the first time."

"You were inside me before."

"But not here," he said, fingering my swollen folds. "Not touching your womb. Not facing you, kissing you, feeling your heart beating hard against mine as I take you. Don't make me wait any longer."

"No. No more waiting."

With his face etched fierce with desire, he ripped open the packet and slid on the condom like a pro. I knew he'd never used one before; I'd had to explain to him what a condom was a couple of weeks ago.

"You practiced."

"Yes," he growled, drawing me to my feet. One easy lift and he hoisted me up, so effortlessly strong, and began to sink me slowly down on his shaft. My legs wrapped tightly behind his back, his waist, and I cried out, my body dancing with little twitches and shudders as I felt him enter me, penetrate me, sink inside me as he kissed me and drank up my cries.

"Look at me," he whispered. My eyes fluttered open, locked with his. How gloriously bright and beautiful he was. A creature of light, all aglow. With his strong body, beautifully handsome face, and blond hair turned almost white in the luminescent light, he looked like a fierce warrior angel. All he needed was a pair of wings and a sword in his hands.

Then he sank into me that last final inch, and all thoughts of angels and wings disappeared and it was just Dontaine and me, this beautiful Monère man making love to me — a creature broken, unable to return his light, though my body tried for one stuttering moment. Tried and failed.

"I can't glow," I sobbed.

"I don't care." He lifted me with those strong hands, careful and aware of his strength. Lifted me up, and let my weight sink me slowly back down onto him. I felt him, every single hard sliding inch of him as my greedy sheath slowly, voluptuously swallowed him back in with fluttering wet pleasure, as his eyes bound us together in even deeper intimacy.

"I don't care," he said, jaw clenched tight. "I don't need you to glow to tell me that I'm pleasing you. I can feel your body's hot, weeping response. I can see every emotion, every feeling in your eyes."

Lift and slide. Eyes locked together. I felt enveloped by him, surrounded by his light. Bonded with him.

"Sweet Goddess," he muttered. "The way you look at me. It almost hurts how nakedly you look at me. And yet I need it, crave it like a starving man. Had to see it again in your eyes."

Another lift. Another slow, wet glide back down.

"What do you see?" I whispered.

"I see your soul — beautiful, generous, and bright. I see that when you share your body, you also share your heart."

"How can it be any other way?"

"Only with you," he said. "Only with you. Sex is not casual for you because you share yourself with so few."

"I have five lovers, Dontaine."

"As I said, few."

I smiled, nipped lightly at his low full lip. "How differently you see things."

"As do you, thank the Goddess. As do you."

A rapid lift and slide. Another, then another, his hands helping now, faster, harder, deeper, his hips lifting and thrusting in thrilling counterpoint to the fast rhythm he set with his hands. And with each deep thrust, each thick slide in, small sounds were pulled from my throat. He held me with such easy strength. Tilted my body forward so that my breasts, the hardened points of my nipples dragged across his chest with each slide down and up. So that my swollen, sensitive clit rubbed against his body with each spearing upstroke. So close together that our breaths mingled in the intimate wholeness of sharing, loving.

"Love me," he cried.

"I do!" And with that final added emotion — love — my arousal peaked, and I splintered into brilliant climax. I closed my eyes. Saw — felt — a spark flicker and die in me — my body trying to match his light, and failing still to glow.

I opened my eyes as Dontaine groaned and thrust even harder into my spasming sheath, his eyes glittering, his face wild and tight. I watched and felt my climax detonate his own. Watched him give himself over to his own heaving, pulsing pleasure, sharing that final intimate moment.