Free Hideaway by Rochelle Alers Page B

her lips. He devoured her mouth.
    One hand held her chin gently as the other searched for the zipper at the back of her dress. Forcing himself to go slowly, he lowered the zipper to her waist, exposing her bare back. Martin didn’t want to hurt Parris nor did he want to frighten her.
    Both hands feathered over her naked skin until his hands grazed the cotton panty of her pantyhose. She moaned once against his invading tongue as one hand gathered the hem of her dress to her waist.
    Parris was lightheaded with her rising desire and her hands were as busy as Martin’s when she untied the deep rose pink length of satin from around his neck. The bow tie floated to the floor.
    A low tortured groan was swallowed up by the drums the moment Martin’s hand slipped under the waistband to her pantyhose and he found her hot, wet and pulsing.
    “That’s the fire, baby,” he crooned against her moist lips. “You are the fire.”
    His hand claimed her womanhood, one finger searchingbetween the succulent folds and finding her ready. Her pulsing flesh closed on his finger and he swept her up in his arms, taking the stairs two at a time.
    Placing her on the center of his bed, Martin didn’t take his gaze off her face. He recognized the flood of desire flushing her features. Her dress, bunched up above her waist and down around her shoulders was a twisted ribbon of orange. Silken nylons shimmered on her long legs and the variegated colors of orange, purple, pink and red on the snakeskin high heels on her narrow feet contrasted sharply against the white bed sheet.
    Undressing quickly, his trousers, cummerbund, socks and shoes were pooled on the carpeted floor. Seconds later his briefs joined the pile, and he stood above her, naked, proud and magnificent in all of his throbbing male splendor.
    Parris wanted to look away but couldn’t. She could not believe the perfection of the body poised above her. Martin Cole was larger, much larger than she thought he could possibly be. His broad chest was covered with thick black curling hair which tapered to a thin line before disappearing into an inverted triangle of even coarser hair, from which throbbed a long, thick length of hard dark-brown flesh nestled between strong muscled thighs.
    She closed her eyes, registering the overwhelming heat from his body as he sank down to the bed. She curled her fingers into tight fists as he removed her dress, shoes and then her pantyhose, opening them only when she heard Martin’s breath explode from between his compressed lips.
    Every muscle in his body screamed and vibrated. The smell of her perfume on her skin and hair rose sharply in his nostrils, making his blood rush hot and uncontrollably in his veins.
    Martin laid his right hand, fingers outstretched over her flat belly. She inhaled deeply and her firm golden breasts with their dark nipples trembled noticeably above her narrow rib cage. He lay down beside Parris, pulling her to his side. He had to force himself to go slow; slow enough so he wouldn’t spill out his passions before he claimed her body.
    “I am going to love you, Parris. Love you until you forget anyother man ever existed. Love you until you want me as much as I want you.” Moving over her, he supported his weight on his elbows and lowered his body.
    Her arms curved under his arms and grasped his thick shoulders. “I want you, Martin. I want you so very, very much,” she confessed.
    He kissed her forehead, her nose, her mouth, then moved lower to her neck, his tongue tasting and savoring her flesh. “Oh, baby,” he moaned before his mouth closed over a breast. He devoured the breast, his teeth tightening on the nipple, then moved over to give the other one equal attention.
    Parris swallowed back the sobs threatening to spill from her throat. She ran her hands up and down his damp back, feeling the muscles contracting under her fingers. She did gasp when his tongue traced a path downward between her breasts to her ribs and further