“Wait,” I said. She looked at me quizzically as I continued. “I want to paint you naked…on the horse.”
She seemed to hesitate and then replied softly, “I trust your artist’s eye, Logan. I trust you.” And then she began to undress, without the formality of the bathroom or the terry robe.
“Stay here a moment,” I told her. “I’ll come back to get you.”
I took the paint supplies out onto the porch, then went down the steps and unsaddled the Appaloosa. The horse looked at me curiously as I draped a small, fresh blanket over her back, then went back to grazing as I walked into the house to get Rêve. I led her out of the house and down the steps. She was naked, yet she walked out into the day with the dignity of a queen. If I hadn’t fallen in love with her before, I fell in love with her then.
“What do you want me to do?” she asked.
“I want you to lie on your back. Let your legs and arms drape down on each side. Turn your head toward me and close your eyes.”
She grabbed the horse’s mane and mounted it; then she lay back, her head toward the horse’s rear. She relaxed into the pose, and I was delighted at the picture in front of me. She had effortlessly captured what I wanted, as though she could see the picture in my mind. Luckily, the horse did her part, standing and grazing as if nothing were different. Still, there was something wrong with the picture, and it didn’t take me long to realize what it was.
“Do you mind if I touch you?” I asked as I always did before rearranging her pose. “This isn’t quite right.”
Her eyes were laughing as she answered. “You are the artist, Logan. Come. Do what you must.”
I rearranged her hair so it fell like a blanket across the horse’s rear. I opened her legs just a little wider, and then I took her arm and laid it across her stomach until the long fingers of her hand rested against her pubic hair.
“I need your nipples hard,” I told her as I ran my hands over her breasts, lingering just a little too long.
She moaned slightly as I touched her.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I…I didn’t mean to…It’s just…”
Her emerald eyes darkened in what I thought was longing, but I wasn’t really certain. I hesitated, worried that I had offended her. She broke the silence first. “It’s all right,” she said. “I want you to get this right.”
I painted in a frenzy, each stroke bringing Rêve to life on the canvas. When I was done, I took the painting into the house and placed it in order among the finished paintings. Then I removed the covers that draped the others and went out to get Rêve.
I was surprised to see that her eyes were still closed. I stood watching the rise and fall of her perfect breasts. How I longed to reach out and cover them with my mouth! Instead, I shook myself from my thoughts and touched her hand. She opened her eyes, using one hand to shield them from the sun as she looked at me.
“Are we done?”
“Yes. Here, let me help you.” I moved to help her from the horse and was surprised when she took my hand and placed it on her breast.
“Don’t be shy, Logan,” she purred. “Touch me. Stroke me.”
I stood on the ground next to the horse. She was of average size for an Appaloosa, little more than fourteen hands—about fifty-eight inches high at the withers. For once I was thankful for my height, which put my mouth and hands at just the right level to reach Rêve’s body without effort. I began to stroke her, running my hands down her body and across her breasts. I could feel the tremor in her muscles as my hands moved on her skin. I walked around the horse, looking at Rêve as I went, touching her firmly as though I were examining prime horseflesh. She lay there so beautiful and exposed, so trusting.
“Touch me, Logan,” she said again, guiding my hand between her legs.
I opened her lips and looked at the pink flower covered with pearly wetness. I slid my fingers into her and laid my thumb against the swell of her desire. Her breath came in short gasps as I moved slowly in and out, up and down. She let her legs relax, opening them wider, inviting me deeper. Almost imperceptibly, she seemed to stop breathing and I knew she was going down into the orgasm, focusing on the feeling that was building between her legs. She tightened around my fingers and then she came against my hand, her juices running out over my fingers. I placed a soft kiss on her stomach and laid my head on it as I waited for her body to calm.
She moaned as I slipped my fingers from her. I lifted my head off her abdomen and looked deeply into her eyes as she sat up and slid off the horse into my arms. Her body burned against mine as I gently lowered her to the ground. We stood for a moment, barely touching, and I fought the desire to cover her mouth with mine.
“Logan,” she whispered, stroking my cheek with her fingers.
I grabbed her hand and brought it to my lips. “I know,” I whispered back.
“Do you?”
I nodded as I took her hand and led her into the house. The first painting she saw as we entered was of her standing at the edge of the pool, her back arched, ready to dive into the cold water. She walked slowly from painting to painting, and I watched as one small tear rolled down her cheek. I held my breath when she stopped in front of the picture of her by the side of the pond, her long fingers tangled in the auburn hair between her legs, a look of ecstasy on her face.
“These are extraordinary,” she said as she turned to face me.
“You are extraordinary,” I replied solemnly.
She stepped into my arms as easily as she had ridden into my life. I sank my fingers into her hair and pulled her mouth against mine, drinking in the sweetness of her lips. She answered my kiss with her own, and somewhere in the distance, I heard myself moan as her tongue danced hot and demanding against mine.
“I’m going to take you, Logan,” she said huskily, pulling me toward the mattress in front of the window.
She tore at my blouse as we fell onto the pillows, and I felt the buttons pop, then heard them clicking against the wooden floor. All the desire I had kept locked up burst in waves of burning heat as my breasts touched hers.
“Oh God, Rêve,” I groaned as I pulled back and struggled to get rid of the rest of my clothing.
She lifted her mouth from mine and nibbled her way down my body until her mouth reached the essence of my desire. Her fingers opened me and slid up and down in firm, circular motions. I lay under her, atop the green satin sheet, and her chestnut mane feathered against my thighs as she placed her mouth on me. Her tongue was firm and insistent and her mouth was soft but demanding as she pulled me into it. I pushed hard against her, moving my hips to let her know that she was reaching just the right spot.
I wanted this to last; I wanted the moment of our coming to be perfect—not the hurried passion born of frustration, but the deep waves of an orgasm born of love and desire. I knew I was about to come, but it was too soon…too soon, and so I stopped her.
She moved up and lay against me, breathing heavily. “Mon Dieu, why did you do that?” she complained as she rolled over on her back.
“Shh. Shh. Just let me love you, Rêve. Just let me love you.” Her skin was soft and smooth under my fingertips as I drew ever-widening circles against her thighs. She arched up against me, grabbing my wrist and pushing my hand between her legs.
“Not yet, Rêve,” I whispered against her mouth, then placed my hand just above the curve of her buttocks and slid her closer to me.
I touched her cheek and kissed her reverently, with small, soft kisses that trailed a path down her throat to her breasts. Her breasts were so beautiful, firm mounds of silky flesh that fit perfectly in my hands. I lifted first one, then the other, into my mouth. I sucked them, then took the hardened nipples gently between my teeth. I could feel her body react with each movement I made, and my body responded with equal fervor.
“Oh, Logan,” she cried, her voice thick with desire.
I kissed and touched every inch of her skin, delighting in her desire, until I lay between her legs, my cheek against her thigh. I slid
my fingers between her lips, opening them gently. She was swollen and hard; small drops of her juices glistened like diamonds in the chestnut hair between her legs, and it excited me to know that I had done that to her.
I leaned into her then, opening her hood with my tongue just enough to touch the hard bud beneath before pulling her into my mouth. I slipped my fingers into her and curved them ever so slightly until I found the small rough button that lay just inside. I massaged and tapped it gently, letting her movements lead the way until she arched against my mouth and trapped my fingers inside with the pulsating waves of her orgasms. I stayed in her until I felt her body relax against the pillows, and then slowly moved up to hold her in my arms.
She didn’t say a word, but the wetness on her cheeks told me all I needed to know. She stretched against me as though she could not get enough contact and then slid her hand down to touch me. Her hand covered me and her long, slender fingers slid between my folds. No piano concerto she ever wrote could be as beautiful to me as the feel of her fingers playing against my skin.
“I want you, Logan,” she said, slipping her long fingers inside me, filling me with her touch. “I want you to come for me, now.”
Her words, her touch, were all it took. I couldn’t hold back a second longer. The dam burst, and I rocked with wave after wave of ecstasy. Her fingers were magic, and I was alive again.
We lay sated in each other’s arms, lost in our own thoughts, until I heard Rêve sigh. “I don’t want this to end, Logan.”
“It doesn’t have to end. We have all the time in the world, Rêve.” I kissed the top of her head softly and ran my hand down her side, bringing it to rest gently against the curve of her hip.
“Do we?” she whispered.
I lay awake until dawn, holding Rêve in my arms as she slept, listening to the soft puffs of her breath caress the silence of the night.
“I love you, Rêve,” I whispered into her hair as the morning light started to move slowly into the room. Then I began to stroke Rêve gently, waiting for her desire to reawaken as mine already had.
Even in the twilight of her sleep, Rêve responded to my touch. She stretched against me and slipped her hands between my legs as she began to wake. “I heard that,” she mumbled sleepily as she nuzzled my breast.
“I’m sorry. I thought you were asleep.” I was suddenly shy and unsure.
She sat up, her legs stretched out in front of her, and looked down at me. “Logan?”
“What?”
“Come here.”
“Come where?”
“Here,” she said as she pulled me to a sitting position and motioned across her lap.
I straddled her, sliding close enough for our pubic bones to touch, and put my arms around her neck. She nibbled on my upper lip and I was surprised when I felt sparks of electricity between my legs each time she did that. I sucked on her lower lip and she pressed harder against me. I started to grind my pelvis against her as our kisses deepened, but she put her hands on my hips and stopped my movements.
“Just the kiss, Logan. Feel it.”
And I did feel it. I felt her breath moving into me, stimulating the nerve endings from my mouth to my clitoris. I felt myself becoming engorged and wet again. I began to breathe in sync with her. I let her lead me deeper and deeper into ecstasy until we both came with achingly beautiful orgasms born of a lover’s kiss in the early morning hours of an Appalachian dawn.
In Pursuit of Love
Lesley Davis
Detective Dana Silvester tentatively twisted the doorknob
and sighed under her breath as the door opened. “Careless,” she muttered and drew her gun before taking another step. Silently, she entered the house. As a precaution, she flipped the lock on the door so that whoever had gotten in would not be getting out so easily. She listened carefully, trying to pinpoint where the intruder was in the house. She crept along the wall toward the living room, where she
could hear muffled noises. Her ears pricked at the sound of a clock’s chime being played. Its merry tune sounded loud in the otherwise
silent home. The living-room door was ajar and Dana cautiously stuck her head through it, searching for the figure she knew to be inside. There she was, dressed in a black bodysuit that clung to every curve
of her slender form, standing at the mantelpiece, the clock chiming in her hands as she placed it in its rightful place. Dana’s eyes swept from the jet-black hair down to the shoes designed for speed rather
than fashion. Gun drawn and trained on the intruder, she entered the room.
“You left the door unlocked,” Dana said softly.
“That wasn’t very smart of me, now, was it?” The woman started but didn’t turn around, reaching out instead to silence the chimes. “After all, it just invites anyone in here to follow me.”
“You just can’t keep your fingers off the timepieces, can you?” Dana said, stepping farther into the room and trying not to gasp when the woman turned around and fixed her with beautiful blue eyes.
“I admire things of beauty and precision, is that a crime?”
“Stealing them is,” Dana countered.
The woman spread her hands out before her. “I haven’t stolen anything yet. I was just admiring this one’s charms.” She grinned at Dana. “You can put your gun down, Detective. You know I’m never armed.”
“I feel like every call-out I get, it’s to find you taking clocks. I always arrive after the fact. Tonight, though…” Dana paused. “Tonight you’re waiting for me. I’m curious as to why.”
“I wanted to see the intrepid detective who keeps chasing after me. I’ve been waiting for the right time to introduce myself. I felt tonight was the night.”
“Who are you?” Dana lowered her weapon and holstered it, never taking her eyes off the striking woman before her.
“You can call me Carrie.” The woman moved toward Dana with the grace of a cat. She reached out to touch the detective’s hair. “I wondered what your hair would feel like. It’s so very blond. You cut it short; it’s like fine bristles. Fascinating.” She continued to run her fingers like a caress over Dana’s hair.
Dana had to resist the urge to close her eyes against the seductive touch. She grabbed Carrie’s hand. “You’re awfully cool for someone caught in the act of stealing.”
Carrie shrugged. “But I haven’t taken anything. The clock is on the mantelpiece.” She gestured over her shoulder nonchalantly. “Tell me, Dana, are you always this dedicated to getting your woman?”
Dana frowned. “How do you know my name?”
Carrie laughed sweetly. “I made it my business to find out who was on my trail. I liked what I saw, but you’re even more beautiful close up.”
Dana swallowed hard against the lump that appeared in her throat. “I need to arrest you,” she said finally, trying to break the staring match that seemed to have started between them.
Carrie reached out to trace the wrinkles firmly etched on Dana’s forehead. “Tell me, Detective, do you ever smile? Does anything ever make you laugh and chase these lines away? Or do they only go in the throes of passion?”
Dana stared at her. “I smile,” she replied, watching as a look flirted its way across Carrie’s face at the blush that obviously had covered Dana’s.
Carrie pulled her hand from Dana’s grasp. “I could make these nasty lines go away for a moment.” She gently rubbed her fingertips over Dana’s brow.
“Could you now?” Dana asked, feeling the warmth from Carrie’s touch easing away the tension.
“I could make you feel so good,” Carrie all but purred.
“I’m on duty,” Dana muttered, trying hard to keep her feet firmly fixed in reality.
“Don’t all you officer types get doughnut breaks?” Carrie teased, brushing her fingers through the short hairs on Dana’s neck.
“I have to report in, tell them there was something suspicious going on in this house.”
“There’s nothing suspicious goin
g on here. My motives are very clear where you’re concerned, Dana!” She pressed close to Dana’s chest, snuggling into her. “Hmm, you’re shorter than I am, but more solid. I like that!” She pressed in closer, her hands still in Dana’s hair. She gently tilted Dana’s head up a fraction. “You have the right to remain silent.”
With that, Carrie pressed her lips to Dana’s. She kissed her gently, softly. Only when Dana let out a soft moan did she turn up the heat. Kisses rained over Dana’s cheeks, then over the lines on her brow with such tenderness that Dana felt her knees begin to buckle.
Carrie nibbled on Dana’s earlobe. “Anything you say will be used against you.”
“Like what?” Dana asked, lost in the feel of Carrie in her arms.
“Like how much you could love me,” Carrie replied.
“I hardly know you,” Dana retorted, trying to move her head back to reach Carrie’s questing mouth.
“Oh, you know me. You’ve been following me for months now, and I’ve been watching you. I know all about you, Dana. I want to know more. I want to show you how easy you are to fall in love with.”
Dana pulled back from Carrie’s hold. “If you truly have been finding out about me, then you know I have a lousy track record with women!”
Carrie smiled widely. “That’s because none of them are adventurous enough for you. You crave excitement, a touch of danger; you yearn for the unexpected. I am all those things in one.” Carrie pulled Dana toward her. “I’m going to steal your heart.”
Dana groaned. “You’re too much of a complication that I just don’t need right now.”
“I am exactly what you need right now,” Carrie countered and ran her hands up Dana’s front to push aside her jacket and reach for her breasts. She began to chafe the nipples that responded even through the material of Dana’s shirt and bra.
Dana’s hips bucked when Carrie deftly unfastened her trousers and tugged them down enough to reach under the boxer shorts to rest against Dana’s soft fur.
“What I have in mind for you is surely illegal! Would you arrest me for breaking and entering?” Carrie rubbed her fingers across Dana’s sex.
Stolen Moments Page 16
