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Primal Magic 2: Scent
Amber Heat, the erotic imprint of Amber Quill Press
Excerpt from Primal Magic 2: Scent:
The night wind howled as the sleek silver Lincoln pulled up outside her house. She pulled the black satin cape more closely around her shoulders against the cool night air, as the dress she wore offered little protection from the clinging breeze swirling all around her. Energy seemed to surge and twirl inside her. She had managed to contain the fiery, intense response she'd had to the perfume, although it felt like something alive now resided inside her just beneath the surface of her skin. It was a rippling presence, ready to explode on contact. She needed to get to Julian and with that thought she practically ran down the steps. Shivering with anticipation, she raced toward the car, eager to be reunited with him. She reached up to caress the necklace encircling her neck as she entered the dark recesses—the connection soothed her. The soft, supple leather of the luxurious black interior conformed to her contours as she sank into its enveloping embrace. A dark window separated her from the driver, so she had no idea who actually drove the car—it could even be Julian himself, for all she knew. Why did she never ask? Because it wasn't important. The only thing that mattered was the man waiting at her destination, wherever it might be. Why did she trust him so completely? The door closed, locking her snugly within its embrace and she settled back to begin the journey. She loved him more than she should considering how little she knew about him. The incident tonight with the perfume should make her more than wary. It didn't. It might be unexplainable, but then so were most things about Julian. It was not her way to trust so completely, but with him there was no other choice. There were moments, when she was at work, or the lulls between the arrival of his notes, that she questioned her motives in pursuing and accepting this mysterious relationship. When her thoughts turned to ending it, panic consumed her and that now familiar blaze of desire zinged through her blood, the fire of his touch, his demands, driving her wild, bringing her alive, and the knowledge of being bonded to that one person that made everything else fade into the background, halted her thoughts in that direction. From the very beginning she'd willingly given herself to him with an understanding of souls long parted, a sense of recognizing the need for this man, and only this man, seared deep beneath her skin. As she dropped her head back and closed her eyes, she inhaled the animal earthiness surrounding her. It was the mark of his lingering presence, the elemental power in the air stroking across her body, bringing her to life. As usual, his note had been explicit, accompanied not only by the box containing the perfume bottle, but by a be-ribboned silver box containing the clothing she would wear this evening. Curiosity at what he planned for the evening ran rampant through her mind as she prepared carefully for the night before her. She felt the urge to lie on the seat and bring herself to climax, thinking of him, feeling him, scenting his presence inside the slow-moving, silent vehicle. She itched to touch herself and her arousal permeated the air in the close confines. Memory brought his scent to her mind. Rich, primal, and seductive. Parting from him became more and more difficult with each encounter. Why was it he only sent for her near the stroke of midnight? The only difference from those earlier meetings was that he no longer waited for a full moon. The trysts had now escalated to weekly missives calling her to his side. He never let her drive herself, but always sent a car for her—always sent a special gift. And it was always he who initiated the contact, and he'd warned her never to come to his home without the summons. She'd been tempted to break the rule on more than one occasion, but had feared the outcome. What if he'd sent her away forever? Refused to see her again? It wasn't worth the risk. She wanted to be with him more than just on these midnight encounters. She wanted him in sunlight as well. Or was it the mysteriousness of these midnight trysts that intrigued her? His passion for her submission thrilled her. If it became ordinary, like every other couple she knew, would she still want him so intensely? And really, wasn't that the reason she didn't question his demands? She liked the feeling of fire raging through her veins—the tingle of excitement that flooded her pussy with anticipation of each meeting. She loved the look of him—the mask he insisted on wearing even though she knew what he looked like—had seen him in town. She knew he was heart-stoppingly attractive and the mask hid no imperfection. He was leonine perfection—primitive, intense, driven. She clenched her thighs together, urgent for his touch, could feel the sharp rasp of his nails against her legs, opening them, delving between them. Oh, God, she ached for his possession. Her breathing grew harsher and her nipples contracted at the thought of his thick fingers driving inside her, pushing her toward the abyss of swirling need only he could assuage. But tonight was different somehow. The hunger gnawed at her stronger than ever before, needing to be taken by him ferociously, obliterating all thoughts but him from her mind. By now, he was intimately familiar with every inch of her body, knew exactly where and how to touch her, to bring her to the very edge of desire, and hold her there, begging for release—only the release he could give her.
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Stories on this Site are the original works of Adrianna Dane Copyright 2005-2007 Adrianna Dane |
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