Free The Meeting Point by Tabitha Rayne Page B

to the floor. Holding it to his face, she made him study the intricacy.
    â€œMarcus, the man that made this butterfly will be summoned to us if we send it out again. Can you imagine what it took to make such a creature?”
    Marcus took it and nodded humbly.
    â€œIf we can get him here and explain how you’re bound to this place, I’m sure of all the people on this earth, he’d be the one to figure out what to do.” She smoothed his hair from his stricken face and kissed him softly. “Trust me, please. I don’t know how to live if you don’t trust me.”
    Deborah fell into him again and was at once engulfed in his arms.
    â€œI do. I do trust you,” Marcus whispered into her hair, and she felt the mood change in that one breath. He slowly slid his leg over hers and shifted position to allow her to feel his hardening cock at her thigh. “I’m so sorry. Let me make love to you. Let me show you how much I trust you.”
    Deborah smiled and let her head rest deep into the pillows as he moved away from her and crawled down between her legs. His face, his beard, even fuller now after a day without shaving or trimming, scratched at her inner thighs, making her moisten at the sheer ruggedness of his face. The joy of being so close to a man. It brought out her femininity in the most instinctive way. Her breasts swelled and peaked and her female sex poured out welcoming, silken fluid for him. It was a relief not to be the one in charge, and she spread herself for him, willing the domination she craved.
    â€œYour heat is so overpowering. I forgot this furnace. No one comes close to your burning desire.” He paused and looked up, a guilty, hurt expression filling his eyes.
    Deborah knew instantly he felt bad about mentioning other lovers. But to Deborah, it showed how highly he thought of her. How none of them mattered. How she was infinitely more important. She smiled and blinked, hoping he’d understand. With a grin of relief, he sank back into the folds of her hungry open cunt, so ripe, so swollen for him. Deborah was desperate to show him how much he turned her on and groaned loudly as he pressed his tongue into her, flattening it out over her entire pussy, then letting it flip into her entrance, fluttering there as she squirmed, juices flowing.
    â€œOh, Marcus, Marcus.” She grabbed at his hair and twisted her knees up and around his head, locking him in place, but trying to halt the mounting climax. She didn’t want to come yet. She wanted this to last and last. “Stop, stop.” She gripped tighter and he stilled his tonguing. Her body relaxed and the tension left her fists. Just as she’d almost composed herself, he flicked her clit cruelly with the very tip of his tongue, almost bringing her off with that one tiny motion. She squealed and he lifted himself away, smiling darkly.
    Engorged and left on the brink, her pussy was quivering, frustrated and so, so excited.
    â€œYou are a cruel, bad man,” she said, and he crawled toward her, hauling off his clothing. Snapping the belt of a robe in his fists, he licked his lips and motioned for Deborah to put her hands above her head.
    Yes, yes , she thought and did as she was bid. She arched the back of her chest high to thrust her breasts up, hoping to catch a lick to her nipples or at the very least, a grazing of chest hair. He resisted. She knew he would. It was delightful. Memories of life together in their house flooded back. Deborah studying and researching. Marcus crawling toward her, pulling her into a sexual embrace, then teasing her mercilessly until she turned into a climaxing, shuddering, spiritual shell. He was so good at it, and she was beyond aroused as she steadied herself and ceased breathing in anticipation.
    A thick cord was wound and tightened around her wrists and hands until the muscles and sinew beneath her skin tingled.
    Yes, yes. She rolled on a wave of silent obedience, while