RE Topics : 【蘇珊強森傑作選】‧【限】2

Her lashes slowly drifted upward at his touch. “I need you all the time,” she whispered with a kind of wonder.

“I’m a lucky man,” he said, brushing her jaw lightly with the back of his fingers, charmed by her winsome bewilderment.

Raising her arms above her head in a luxurious indolent stretch, her movement exerting an intoxicating friction on the jeweled pendant resting inside her, she smiled up at her husband with sated contentment. “How are you doing,” she lazily murmured, “now that I’m selfishly satisfied?”

“I’m fine,” he replied with unruffled calm.

“But what will you do with this now?” Elizabeth asked, reaching out to rub her fingers over the obvious prominence of his erection, the fine wool of his breeches stretched in taut ripples over the bulge.

“Actually,” he said, with a small half-smile, covering her hand with his so she could feel him more acutely, “I was thinking about replacing Agnès Sorel’s jewel with it.”

“And if I’m no longer interested?” But her eyes had already begun to change as he swelled against her palm.

His grin was easy. “Then I thought I’d wait five minutes until you were.”

Which proved in reality to be longer than necessary.

The jewel was slowly removed, a procedure that powerfully incited her desire. Johnnie stripped off his shirt and breeches, then lifted her on his lap, sliding her onto his arousal with an effortless strength. As the hanging ropes of pearls undulated in great swinging loops between them they moved in a glorious untrammeled rhythm—eager, unrestrained, reckless at times—until they climaxed together in cries of pleasure.

Afterward, when Elizabeth playfully rolled Johnnie off the chaise onto the carpet so she could hold him and rub against him, kiss him and feel every inch of his finely muscled body with a rambunctious giddy urgency, the necklaces caught and snapped, sending hundreds of ivory pearls streaming across the silk pile.

With an anxious cry Elizabeth began to collect them, moving on her hands and knees to follow their scattered paths, gathering them up in a small vase she’d taken from a table near the chaise. Lying in a lithe sprawl before the fire, Johnnie watched his wife with fascinated attention, her nude body in motion a delectable attraction. Her breasts gently bounced and trembled as she crawled across the carpet, their full swollen abundance a sensual feast to the eye, the bountiful curve of her bottom lush and blooming, her position on her hands and knees provocative, as if she were tempting him to mount her.

When she drew within range in pursuit of some pearls that had rolled under the chaise, he leisurely reached out and brushed his fingers over the rivulets running down her inner thighs, tracing a teasing fingertip across her glistening wet vulva, up the sleek crevice of her bottom, around the pale sphere of her buttocks in a tantalizing act of primitive possession, putting his mark on her.

“Leave them for the maid to pick up,” he said, enticed by the ripeness of her breasts and satiny bottom, the wanton display of jewels on her nude flesh, the erotic evidence of their lovemaking on her thighs.

She’d gone motionless at his touch, her heart beginning to race, fevered tremors quivering through her senses at the light pressure of Johnnie’s fingers. After weeks of extravagant pleasuring, her body was ripe, in constant readiness like a sensuous vessel, devoted to her husband’s touch, his voice, his moods….

“Leave them,” he said more emphatically so she turned her head and gazed at him through the veil of her pale hair.

“Come here.”

His penis slowly surged, rose, grew hard before her eyes and she trembled a little at the enormity of his arousal. A molten heat began to wash over her. Utterly sensitized, susceptible to the sight of him, she felt herself open, felt the sweet liquid of desire dissolve inside her.

“Come here now,” her husband restlessly repeated, his erection straining upward. Rolling over a half turn he grasped her ankle shackled with the gold padlocked chain and pulled her back. When she was close again, he released his hold on her ankle, turned over on his back and, steadying her with one hand, eased himself under her.

Her heavy breasts were provocative inches above his mouth, her large nipples so near his warm breath caressed a quivering tip as he spoke. “I can’t reach you,” he said and his tongue flicked upward, barely grazing a tantalizing pink crest.

Shuddering at the infinitesimal touch, she immediately responded to his soft order, and dropped lower so he could reach her. His mouth closed over a taut point and then his lips slid up her nipple as exquisite desire rushed through her body. With lingering deliberation, his mouth surrounded her aureole, enlarged and sensitized by pregnancy; his lips brushed back and forth over the receptive bud, as a baby would searching for sustenance. After a delicate survey, his mouth drew powerfully on her nipple and she shivered at the bewitching rush of pleasure.

He handled and played with the full globes as he suckled, squeezing them gently, his fingers drawing the plump flesh downward in long stroking movements so her nipple slid farther into his mouth, milking the soft swollen roundness, his dark fingers sinking into her yielding flesh.