by Mary Hughes
I stretched up, kissed him back.
He gripped me tighter, practically fusing me with his burning body, and rocked his pelvis into me. His hips were the blacksmith’s hammer and mine the anvil, sparking red-hot lust between. And oh, what a fine, large sword was developing.
I clutched his jacket, pulled him toward my room. We’d fall into a tangled heap on my bed. I’d be eager and open and suck him in for some mind-blowing sex.
As if he read my mind, Glynn purred, “Ah, Junior. This is what filled my dreams last night. You, all warm and wet and ready for me. It seems I have been waiting a lifetime to make love to you.”
Okay, that finally broke through the red haze of my mind.
Sex, sure, in small doses. But making love? Lovemaking led to neglect of duty, which led to regret. To rainbow dreams shattered. I had been a dutiful daughter for five years, and I was just on the verge of having it all, setting my parents up while fulfilling my dreams. I was not getting distracted now.
