Desert Storm
Page 41
A ground flash of lightning went unnoticed as Angie rolled onto her back and reached for Pecos. Thunder boomed closer as he covered her with his long, lean body and they began a stormy night of loving. The first violent mating was over almost as soon as it began. In a heightened state of arousal that demanded immediate release, they moved together in a frenzy. Within seconds, Angie, her bare bottom rising to meet the thrusting of Pecos’s slim, driving hips, was calling his name through fevered lips as the first earth-shaking ripples of her climax gripped her, tossing her about. Pecos joined her in abandoned rapture and groaned with satisfaction as he spilled himself deep within her.
It was only the beginning.
The summer storm continued to build and intensify, the desert winds reached gale proportions and the hailstones enlarged in size. The streamers of lightning brightened the bedroom, and thunder shook the walls.
So it was with the lovers. The storm within them continued to build as their passion intensified, their breathing becoming as rapid and forceful as the winds.
They tumbled around on the floor, each anxious and determined to give everything to the other. Each was dedicated to touching, kissing, claiming every inch of the other with searching hands and lips. Each was resolved to push the other to unbelievable new heights of ecstasy. Eager to please, they were more anxious to give pleasure to their beloved than to receive it, as it is when one human being truly loves another.
Angie, still naive in the ways of love, knew only that she wanted Pecos to have the ultimate bliss. To have this beautiful man she so loved reach the pinnacle of passion atop her, calling her name, was to Angie the answer to every girlish dream of happiness. She loved him; she wanted him to reach paradise, and she was overwhelmed that it was she who could take him there.
Pecos was not so naive. There had been other women in his life and in his arms. He had always been a considerate, caring lover, giving as well as taking. But never before had he so longed to take a woman to new heights of ecstasy. For the first time ever he took more pleasure in seeing this beautiful, golden-haired woman ascend upward to the fiery, uninhibited release he brought her, than in experiencing his own. To hold this fragile, trusting young woman in his arms, to know that she was his and no one else’s filled him with a possessive pleasure unlike any he’d ever known. To lie beside her and caress her with his mouth and hands until she was writhing in unrestrained passion, begging him to take her, filled him with an almost frightening happiness.
Pecos was totally, completely, unendingly in love.
The loving continued throughout the long, stormy summer night. Neither Angie nor Pecos thought about moving to the bed. They remained on the floor, kissing, stroking, caressing, mating, resting, dozing; rousing to again kiss, stroke, caress and mate.
Like the storm in the desert, the storm within would lull, abate, almost die, only to gather new steam, rage once again, heighten to new limits.
The powerful storm in the desert would not be forgotten for many years to come, but the equally powerful love storm would never be forgotten.
Neither Angie nor Pecos realized that their wild, abandoned lovemaking had produced a new and precious life. Neither knew that years later they would look proudly at their handsome, healthy son and smile knowingly at each other, happily remembering the glorious night of loving that had brought him into the world.
For tonight they thought only of each other. Both were filled with love to overflowing and acutely aware that this passionate, stormy night, in all the years they had lived, or might yet live, was one of the priceless, never-to-be-forgotten times of their lives.
“Happy?” Pecos’s voice was a low caress, his hand moving down over Angie’s gleaming white belly.
“Umm,” she breathed and waited for his warm hand to go between her legs. “Love me?” she sighed as his lean fingers began to gently stroke her.
“Forever,” he promised as again they came together in mind, spirit and body.
And the desert storm raged on.
About the Author
Nan Ryan (1936–2017) was an award-winning historical romance author. She was born in Graham, Texas, to Glen Henderson, a rancher postmaster, and Roxy Bost. She began writing when she was inspired by a Newsweek article about women who traded corporate careers for the craft of romantic fiction. She immediately wrote a first draft that she refused to let see the light of day, and was off and running with the success of her second novel Kathleen’s Surrender (1983), a story about a Southern belle’s passionate affair with a mysterious gambler. Her husband, Joe Ryan, was a television executive, and his career took them all over the country, with each new town providing fodder for Ryan’s stories. A USA Today bestseller, she enjoyed critical success the Literary Guild called “incomparable.” When she wasn’t writing, she was an avid sports handicapper, and a supporter and contributor to the Shriners Hospitals for Children and Juvenile Diabetes since the 1980s. Ryan passed away peacefully in her sleep, surrounded by her proud and loving family.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 1987 by Nancy Henderson Ryan
Cover design by Connie Gabbert
This edition published in 2012 by Open Road Integrated Media
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NAN RYAN
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