growl of temper sprang from her lips as she challenged him. “Get over yourself. I happen to trust you. I just realized this is something we need to deal with. Hiding our affair may make things more complicated. Now, I’m going home.” With a strong shake of her head, she turned on her heel.
He spun her right back. “Don’t you get it? I never wanted anyone else like I want you.
I’m just trying to figure this out.”
“No, you want things nice and tidy. I told you I’m not one of your yoga worshippers, ready to follow you around and do your bidding.”
“I don’t want a worshipper! I want you!” he shouted.
Silence slammed upon them. He waited a beat. Another. Another.
Then he moved. He grabbed and took hold, his mouth coming down hard on hers and suddenly the fire ripped through them. She tore at the band of his hair and fisted her fingers into the inky strands. His tongue thrust in and out of her mouth, demanding more and more, until she wrapped her legs around his hips and squeezed tightly. With one quick motion, he grabbed a mat from the wall, tossed it on the floor and pushed her down. Hands and mouth and teeth tore at each other with a ravenous hunger. He ripped off her clothes and buried his fingers in her wet heat. She arched underneath him and cried out, and he went deeper, harder, until she shimmered with tension and she came against his hand in a rush of wetness and heat.
He ripped down his pants and thrust into her, keeping the movement urgent, pushing her to her second climax, then slowed his movements to a gentle rocking. Her body relaxed, spent, and she felt him still hard and buried deep.
“What happened?” she asked in confusion.
He nuzzled her breasts through the tight lycra, teasing her nipple to tighten and push against the material. “I don’t have a condom.”
“Then I can take care of you.”
He chuckled and kept her firmly under him. She felt him pulse between her legs. “No, I just want to feel what it’s like to stay inside you for a while. You’re so tight, baby, tight and wet.
I can stay here forever.” He rocked again and tugged down her top to lick her nipples. Arianna moaned. The friction on her clitoris kept her on the fine edge of the third orgasm. Sensitive to every movement, he teased her. The rough hair on his thighs scraped against her sensitive skin.
He circled his hips so she felt the whole length of him pressed deep inside of her. Every sensation felt electrified, her nerve endings raw, her orgasm close. His control was a fine edged sword of pain and pleasure. Time dragged on as he brought her close and back, over and over, until she urged him with her fingers and her voice and her teeth to finish.
He reached down and found the slick nub. His thumb pressed while he thrust one last time. Arianna screamed as the final orgasm ripped through her and relief and sheer pleasure broke over her in waves. She felt him slide out of her with excruciating slowness.
Minutes ticked by while they caught their breath. Finally, he broke the silence.
“You have a temper,” he said.
She snuggled closer. “And I thought you didn’t. This was a pleasant surprise.” A laugh escaped his lips. “I can count on one hand how many times I’ve lost my temper in the past year. You seem to bring out a whole variety of emotions.” She sighed and gave her surrender. How could she fight a man who wanted control so badly, yet believed in the concept of letting go? Grant taught from the heart and built his entire school on the principles of yoga. Principles such as living in the moment and being present, letting go of negative emotions, and trusting in the Universe. He thought he had succeeded.
Arianna knew he had not.
His faith had been shaken and he didn’t know how to get it back. The closer they became, she realized he practiced only in theory, but his heart was an ancient medieval castle, and a woman would need a horse and a sword in order to breech and
He spun her right back. “Don’t you get it? I never wanted anyone else like I want you.
I’m just trying to figure this out.”
“No, you want things nice and tidy. I told you I’m not one of your yoga worshippers, ready to follow you around and do your bidding.”
“I don’t want a worshipper! I want you!” he shouted.
Silence slammed upon them. He waited a beat. Another. Another.
Then he moved. He grabbed and took hold, his mouth coming down hard on hers and suddenly the fire ripped through them. She tore at the band of his hair and fisted her fingers into the inky strands. His tongue thrust in and out of her mouth, demanding more and more, until she wrapped her legs around his hips and squeezed tightly. With one quick motion, he grabbed a mat from the wall, tossed it on the floor and pushed her down. Hands and mouth and teeth tore at each other with a ravenous hunger. He ripped off her clothes and buried his fingers in her wet heat. She arched underneath him and cried out, and he went deeper, harder, until she shimmered with tension and she came against his hand in a rush of wetness and heat.
He ripped down his pants and thrust into her, keeping the movement urgent, pushing her to her second climax, then slowed his movements to a gentle rocking. Her body relaxed, spent, and she felt him still hard and buried deep.
“What happened?” she asked in confusion.
He nuzzled her breasts through the tight lycra, teasing her nipple to tighten and push against the material. “I don’t have a condom.”
“Then I can take care of you.”
He chuckled and kept her firmly under him. She felt him pulse between her legs. “No, I just want to feel what it’s like to stay inside you for a while. You’re so tight, baby, tight and wet.
I can stay here forever.” He rocked again and tugged down her top to lick her nipples. Arianna moaned. The friction on her clitoris kept her on the fine edge of the third orgasm. Sensitive to every movement, he teased her. The rough hair on his thighs scraped against her sensitive skin.
He circled his hips so she felt the whole length of him pressed deep inside of her. Every sensation felt electrified, her nerve endings raw, her orgasm close. His control was a fine edged sword of pain and pleasure. Time dragged on as he brought her close and back, over and over, until she urged him with her fingers and her voice and her teeth to finish.
He reached down and found the slick nub. His thumb pressed while he thrust one last time. Arianna screamed as the final orgasm ripped through her and relief and sheer pleasure broke over her in waves. She felt him slide out of her with excruciating slowness.
Minutes ticked by while they caught their breath. Finally, he broke the silence.
“You have a temper,” he said.
She snuggled closer. “And I thought you didn’t. This was a pleasant surprise.” A laugh escaped his lips. “I can count on one hand how many times I’ve lost my temper in the past year. You seem to bring out a whole variety of emotions.” She sighed and gave her surrender. How could she fight a man who wanted control so badly, yet believed in the concept of letting go? Grant taught from the heart and built his entire school on the principles of yoga. Principles such as living in the moment and being present, letting go of negative emotions, and trusting in the Universe. He thought he had succeeded.
Arianna knew he had not.
His faith had been shaken and he didn’t know how to get it back. The closer they became, she realized he practiced only in theory, but his heart was an ancient medieval castle, and a woman would need a horse and a sword in order to breech and
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