D is for Desire [Witchy Women 2]

Alex's gaze swept to Dee, and something tugged at his soul.

Carefree mother earth goddess, hands thrown up in the air, forefingers pointed, eyes closed, sensuality personified. She bent her knees and did a rapid stripper's roll, circling her hip to the left. The burlap flap fell away as her bottom lifted, and Alex got a ten-second glimpse of a high, rounded, naked cheek. A slash of scarlet slashed its edge. Dizzying desire sparked lightning bolts, and primordial instincts wrestled away any remaining veneer of civilized man.

His hands snaked around Dee's narrow waist, and he locked them together. Dee jerked to a halt becoming un-pliant in his embrace. Alex pulled her back to his chest. Her head popped around, and she didn't seem surprised to discover it was he. Dee let him hug her, but Alex felt her doubt in the rigid tension of her spine. He loosened his hold letting a few inches separate them. Gradually, she began moving to the music, hips undulating. Alex drew her closer in small increments until they chipped forward together.

A large man bumped into Alex's shoulder, warm liquid from the bottle in his hand sloshed over Alex's arm. Sparks lit the dark morning to the right of them, and the pungent aroma of marijuana battled those of rum and perspiration for dominance.

"Here comes the rain." Michael materialized at Alex's side. The music halted for a moment, and his shout resonated over the shuffling of feet. "The bubbies, here comes the bubbies. I need some whiskey and a woman to wine on."

A smattering of stinging, cold raindrops assaulted Alex's skin.

Michael passed the bottle of Black Label to Dee. She twisted out of Alex's arms to get it, took a swift swallow, and plopped the bottle into his hands. He took a sip of the fiery liquid and gave it to Jake.

Alex's eyes were drawn inexorably to Dee's breasts. Sure enough, her nipples had hardened under the chill torrent of raindrops, tightening into stiff, round points. His lips dried out, parched, thirsting. His mouth burned with the need to suckle, sip at those nubs. He grabbed the whiskey bottle and took another long swig, trying to eradicate the flood of lust threatening an embarrassing release. When he encircled her waist again, Dee relaxed, snuggling into his arms. His cock grazed the small of her back, feeding on the slight friction. A fierce breeze whooshed down the six-lane road, puckering flesh.

Dee's petite form shuddered, bursting into a series of little shivers. Alex touched his mouth to her ear. "Cold?"

Dainty hands came up to cup her shoulders, and she nodded.

Planting his feet wide apart, Alex shouted, "Stay there." He braced against the crowds milling at his back, hooked his t-shirt over his head, and offered it to her.

The crowd jostled Alex along the length of a blaring music truck. A man wearing black spandex cycle shorts sang into a microphone under the fluorescent lights of a canopied music truck. He warbled a calypso, equal parts Rap and Soca, his bluesy voice climbing above the crowd's sing-a-long and the rain's drumming. The moment proved intoxicating in the extreme. The scent of musky coupling and sweet rum filled the air. The music wove into Alex's brain. Pelvises gyrated friction, from the front, behind, and at the sides.

As individuals, they held no goals, no direction. As a united crowd, bent on sensory pleasure, music, elation, touching, grinding, the scent of heated arousal, a sugary, languid, soaring excitement with one end in sight: climax, the poignant fulfillment of a bacchanalian dawning. J'ouvert, the day opening, the literal translation of the term.

Drunkenness stole over Alex in time to the rising red ball of the sun on the horizon. They crossed the Savannah Stage at six o'clock. The band refused to leave the wide wooden podium, even after some self-important official pleaded with them over a megaphone to let other bands have their turn.



ADULT EXCERPT

"We'll order room service. I'm starving, but food comes second. Your wining set me on fire, sweetheart." Alex tugged the scarlet tube top down, and suckled one, sweet, soft tip, teeth grazing it hard. He grasped Dee's bottom cheeks and hooked her legs over his hip. "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, what you do to me," he groaned.

She ground upwards, gray eyes half-lidded, a victorious female warrior smile curving her mouth.

It did him in.

The pale triangles of her breasts beckoned, bewitching him, and his last coherent thought was where the heck had his renowned control gone.

He shuffled forward, and they fell onto the bed in a tangle of legs, arms, pelvises.

The ultimate merging of polar opposites fated together, mated together, his mouth to her breast, his shaft to her mound.

Clothing flew left and right.

Dee's passion matched his.

"Are you sure you're not sore?" he whispered.

"Not a whit," she growled. "Kiss me again," and speared her tongue into his mouth.

He groaned his approval spurring her toothed exploration of his lips, sweet nibbles of his skin. His fingers moved between her folds, stroking the slick softness of her, furrowing into crevices, and finding her center. The other hand worshipped her nipples, playing with the ridged points until they stood at West Point attention.

Dee tugged his hair, breaking their warring tongues apart.

"What?" His lips returned to hers dazedly.

She tugged again and dragged his head down to her breasts.

"My pleasure. I could suckle you forever." And he set to it, using his tongue and his mouth relentlessly. She wrestled closer, spewing breathy moans, and mumbled something.

"What?" Another low murmur, but he didn't catch the words. "Say again," he commanded. "Tell me what you want."

"Bite them." A wash of color stained her cheeks at the words.

And he set to it, sawing first one nipple then the other between his teeth. She went up in smoke, murmuring, cajoling, begging for more, more pressure. He bit harder, and she convulsed in his arms all aquiver. A bead of perspiration rolled down her cheek. He lapped at it and whispered, "Did you just come?"

Bright splotches stained her cheeks, and she ducked her chin in conspicuous embarrassment.

"I've won the lottery," he said, his voice catching in triumph.

He settled between her thighs edging them wider with one knee and entered her slowly, inching forward. Her vaginal muscles vacuumed him inside, sucking at his penis.

"You're so tight, Dee, so damned hot." He snatched a pillow from the headboard and stuffed it under her hips. His penetration deepened and he knew when he hit her G-spot.

She screamed his name and raked his back with her nails. Dee hooked her feet around him. His testicles contracted, and he ejaculated, pulsing into her heat.

The sound of panting filled the air. His damp chest slid along her skin, and a deep, satisfied serenity enveloped the darkened room, their joined bodies.