Free Mikalo's Fate (The Mikalo Chronicles) by Syndra K. Shaw Page A

memory of that house of broken hearts lingering.
    With another quick turn, we found ourselves stopped.
    I caught my breath.
    He jumped from behind the wheel, came to the passenger side and, easily taking my seat belt from me, lifted me from the Jeep and, together, his arms holding me, fell with me into the grass.
    Wordlessly, he pressed his lips to mine.
    Wordlessly, he lifted my dress, his fingers teasing my sensitive flesh, the pink nubs responding at once to his touch.
    Wordlessly, my panties ended up as a ball in his fist, his legs parting my knees as his fingers found a new target, gently rubbing me into shocked wetness as his tongue continued to assault my mouth.
    God, I loved it.
    I reached up, peeling the shirt from his body, rising to him, my mouth leaving his to taste his neck, the sweat of his chest, my hands reaching to paw at his back before reaching lower to cup the perfect globes of his astonishing ass.
    I started to speak, but he kissed me quiet.
    Yes, I understand.
    No words.
    His hardness stretched the fabric of his surfer shorts, the length of him precariously close to escaping.
    The zipper in my hands, I helped release it, the warmth, the thickness, his heat immediately in my hand.
    I wanted to taste him.
    Pushing him back, pulling my shirt free and tossing it to the side, I climbed on top of him, my lips on his as I kissed him deeply, his hands now pulling my hair as he guided my head, pushing his tongue deep in into my mouth.
    I moved away, diving low my lips finding him, his salty skin, the bead of sweat hiding in his belly button, my tongue teasing and licking lower as I inhaled his scent, my teeth oh so gently caressing his hardness as he slipped into the wet, warmth of my mouth.
    He gasped as I licked and sucked, my mouth easily knowing the rhythm he liked, my fist working in tandem with my tongue as I stroked and sucked his length, his legs spreading, his hips rising, his hands gripping fistfuls of my hair.
    The sighs became gasps, the gasps moans, the moans groans.
    And before the groans became words, it was my turn to kiss him quiet.
    I left him, his width slapping against his stomach, wet and shining with my spit and his excitement as I lifted, my flesh to his, my lips silencing him as he held me to him, rolling us over in the grass as he now took charge.
    And in the blink of an eye, he was sliding deep.
    For some reason, this shocked me.
    I had anticipated something slower, something sweeter, something I could prepare for, the width, the length of Mikalo still pushing me to the point of panic.
    At first.
    And then it was beyond heaven.
    As it always was.
    He moved slowly at first, watching me, relishing my expressions as he filled me, opening me, feeling my hips relax and rise, offering myself to him.
    I watched him. The sweat on his forehead running down his temple to his cheek. The crease in his brow. The glint of the sun as it kissed the shining sweat of his rounded shoulders. The flex in his biceps as he hovered over me. The part of his lips as he held his breath, my heat opening to him, accepting him, urging him deeper, allowing him to make me his.
    The helpless look in his eyes as he found himself buried in me.
    God, I loved this guy.
    I lifted my head, begging for a kiss.
    He answered, his lips gently, sweetly pressing to mine.
    Finally he exhaled, the warmth of his breath on my cheek as he nuzzled close, burying his face in my hair.
    Above, the sky was clear and blue. The sun hot, as always. The grass, even sun-scorched and yellow, still sweet. The air itself smelling of heat and dust and Mikalo's sweat. Our hunger for each other.
    The pace picked up, Mikalo's movements quickening, his hunger for me stronger than the romance of the last moment.
    My hips rising, I urged him on.
    I wanted it. The passion, the need, the urgency. Wanted to hear skin slapping skin. Wanted to feel the pebbles beneath me dig into my skin. Wanted my Mikalo, my beloved, to ravage me. Allow the beast to claim its