Free To Murder Matt by Viveca Benoir Page B

personality. One minute hostile, cold and then, the next, she was relaxed, smiling and occasionally giggling. Her robe fell apart slightly and he couldn’t help but look at the exposed skin. Her hair fell in silky strands and he reached forward to move the hair aside. Their eyes met and time seemed to stop. His heart was beating so loudly that he thought it would burst forward, and come right out through his chest. Her eyes were just staring at him, glazed and glassy without feeling. He felt momentarily ashamed of himself; ashamed at the lengths he would go to, to get her. He shrugged off the thought and leant forward and kissed her lightly on the lips. He could taste the wine. She giggled and pulled back, and as she did so, he leant forward and kissed her fully on the mouth. She leant backwards and he followed her with his lips and body. He could feel her breath on his face and he kissed her with more intensity. His eyes were wide open, watching her, as she had closed hers. This wasn’t meant to be happening. As much as he wanted her, he wanted her to know it was him, to choose him. If he took her this way, he could be anybody. He took her upper arms and pushed himself back and looked at her intently. Her hair was flowing over her shoulders and down on to her bronzed body. Her robe was open, giving him a full view of the delights previously hidden within. He felt his dick jump in his trousers, and he held back a groan of desire. She smiled at him, and then her head lolled to one side, and she grinned to herself. The gentleman in his heart was fading fast, and replacing him was the devil, the man who had spent years lusting after her, and the man who, despite everything, loved her from afar.
    Unable to control himself any longer, he leant forward and kissed her once more. Her lips were warm and tender, the strength and passion growing. He could feel the desire welling up inside him. He wanted to tear her robe off her and take her, right there and then, to feel himself plunging into her hot depths, her pussy like a warm velvet glove yielding to him until he came deep and hard, but he stopped kissing her, pulled away, knowing that if he didn’t stop then, he never would.
    She laughed again, lost in her own world. A drunken laugh that pulled at his heart strings escaped her. She needed him, she needed protecting, and he could feel it. He stood up and crossed the room, and helped himself to another drink. When he turned back towards her, she was sat on the edge of the sofa, leaning forwards, her hands were holding on to the edge of the seat and her hair had fallen forwards. He wanted to cross the room, kiss her, caress her, touch all the softness that her now exposed body offered him. His eyes flashed hungrily as he walked back towards her. She looked up and smiled at him, inviting him, her eyes full of drunken mischief. He didn’t know what to do and so he picked her up and carried her through to his bedroom.
    Hours later, he still watched her, she had slept almost the instant he had lain her down and since then, he had been watching her childlike innocence; her trust in him, her natural ethereal beauty in the soft lighting. He had been transfixed by her breasts, rising and falling, as she breathed, and he had lain next to her, wanting to feel her close to him. Her perfumed, naked body, wanting her, aching for her, yearning for her. As the dawn broke, he couldn’t stand it any longer and he left her side and went to sleep on his sofa in his living room. 
    When he returned to her side, she was still sleeping peacefully. He crept in and was surprised when she turned over to nuzzle into him, her arm draping across his chest. Her hand stroked him and twirled in his chest hairs. He felt his body instantly reacting to her touch, and the desire mounting in his groin. He had such desire for her; he kissed her lightly and was pleased to feel the kiss being returned. He moved towards her and lightly stroked her skin, feeling the