Mikalo's Flame by Syndra K. Shaw Page A

oblivious to us, ambled past.
    Finding my courage, I lowered myself, his
width stretching me, his length filling me, the beauty of it almost
indescribable, the brief pain damn near addictive.
    He sighed, his forehead pressed to mine.
    It began.
    The movements, his movements, small, slow,
careful. The phone pressed to my ear, our cheeks pressed together,
my voluminous coat shielding us, our secret sex unknown to those
strangers who wandered past.
    Small beads of sweat rolled down his
forehead.
    I snaked my hand around the back of his neck,
my fingers reaching into his hair to grip and then pull.
    “Do it,” I whispered.
    A quick thrust.
    I bit my lip.
    “Fuck yes,” I gasped. “Do it. Quick.”
    I pulled his hair again, my lips moving to
his to kiss and then, gently pulling away, to bite, my teeth
catching his lower lip.
    “God,” I said into his mouth, “So fucking
good.”
    His pace quickened, the movements still
small, my coat still hiding us.
    “Yes?” he asked, his voice quiet and thick
with desire.
    “Fuck me,” I said. “Fuck me, Mikalo.”
    He was getting close. His eyes were closing,
his lids growing heavy with the approach of his own quiet
storm.
    “Do it,” I said yet again. “Fuck me. Hard.
I’m yours --”
    “Yes.”
    “I’m yours, Mikalo, to fuck. C’mon --”
    Another pull of the hair.
    “Do it --”
    “Oh ...”
    “Yeah, that’s it --”
    “My Grace .. “
    “C’mon --”
    “Yes ...”
    “Now,” I whispered.
    A groan, low and strong, his chest rumbling
with the sound.
    He stopped, throbbing deep within me, his
breath ragged, his flesh dripping with small beads of sweat.
    And then he was done.
    I kissed him as I stood, his hands at once
pulling down my skirt, his hardness -- yes, Mikalo still stayed
hard even after we finished -- uncomfortably tucked into his jeans,
pushed painfully to the side, and zipped away.
    The phone still to my ear, I kissed him again
and then, gathering my coat around me, sat next to him on the
bench.
    He leaned his head back, grinning from ear to
ear.
    Then he looked over at me.
    I smiled back and then was suddenly
afraid.
    What if we had been seen, our lovemaking not
as secret as I hoped, and there were cops on the way to bust those
perverts screwing on the park bench?
    “We should go,” I said.
    “Yes,” he answered with a nod of the head.
“In a moment.”
    He glanced down at his jeans.
    Oh right.
    “Think of your grandma in bloomers,” I said
with a grin.
    “Oh no ...”
    “Or a group of nuns --”
    “Are they naked nuns?” he asked with a raise
of his eyebrows.
    “No,” I said. “Just nuns. Old and saggy. In
black. Very stern and mean.”
    “I will think of Mara Byzan,” he then said.
“And then my excitement will go away.”
    I laughed.
    “You like this idea,” he asked, teasing
me.
    “I love it! Thoughts of me get you excited,
thoughts of her make that excitement go away. It’s perfect.”
    He paused, squeezing his eyes closed, his
nose scrunched up, a grimace on his face.
    “Ah,” he then said as his eyes popped open.
“And like the magic, thoughts of her make my pleasure go away.
    “Now I can stand, I think.”
    He stood, his hand out to me.
    I rose, his arms at once gathering me to him,
his lips pressed to my forehead.
    “Your scent,” he breathed against my skin. “I
love it.”
    Pulling away, I turned, pulling him along
with me.
    “Let’s get you home before we get into more
trouble.”
    He laughed, following me as I turned down the
path.
    We walked, hand in hand, around the
corner.
    We stopped.
    Deni stood hand in hand with a very young
handsome man.
    She smiled.
    I smiled back.
    With a nod of her head, she passed, her
gorgeous, silent stranger in tow.
    I glanced at Mikalo who waited, confused.
    She took several steps and then I heard her
stop.
    I turned.
    She was facing me.
    “You’re glowing again, Ronan,” she teased. “A
fresh glow. Minutes old.
    “In fact, he’s still got beads of sweat on
his