Passion Read online

  As he drew closer to her, the feeling intensified. He raised his hand. Her shoulders lifted and fell in a sigh. His fingers reached for her. She bowed her head. Was she praying? And then he touched her—lightly, the tips of his fingers trailing gently down the middle of her silk clad back.

  Her body jolted and then visibly relaxed. He stayed be­hind her, shielding her from the room, as he pressed his hand firmly against her waist and breathed in the fra­grance of vanilla and orange blossoms that clung to her.

  Feeling her and smelling her exhilarated him. Thank God he had found her. Thank God she had come. The urge to pull her into his arms was almost overwhelming. “Hello,” he said, quietly.

  She turned, and he let his hand slide around her waist before removing it. Her long lashes fluttered before she met his gaze. “Hello.”

  Her eyes were even more beautiful than he had re­membered. Was it the golden hazel orbs that he found so compelling? Or the expression of gladness reflected there?

  He held her gaze as a large group of ladies moved past them to admire the gothic screen. His cock stirred at the memory of yesterday. Was she thinking of it, too? Was that the reason for the look in her eye?

  Mark glanced at the open Bible on the prie-dieu. Take ye heed, watch and pray: for ye know not when the time is. Mark 13:33.

  “It was open there when I arrived.” She nodded toward the Bible. “Mark is my favorite gospel, so I took it as a sign that you might come.” Her lips turned in an almost reluctant smile. “So I watched and prayed.”

  The high-pitched twittering of the ladies faded as they walked away. “And why is Mark your favorite gospel?”

  She smoothed her gloved hand over the page in a slow caress, and her words came thoughtfully. “It has a pure, spare quality. In its original, it doesn’t offer every answer. And it isn’t always pretty.” She looked up at him. “But Mark doesn’t care. He’s honest and unfettered.” She shrugged, and her small smile appeared again. “Because it’s probably the first, the oldest, I’ve always believed it’s the closest to the word of the Lord.”

  Mark felt a weighty moment of divine influence before discarding it as ridiculous. He couldn’t contain his smile. He actually had a disciple to thank for reuniting him with the woman he wanted to fornicate with. A disciple he shared a name with, no less.

  “You’re laughing at me.”

  Mark’s smile softened as he studied her beautiful face. Truly, God worked in mysterious ways. “Tell me your name.”

  She hesitated. “Why?”

  “Because,” he said quietly, “I like to put a name to the women I fuck.” He felt a flicker of regret for his phrasing but then dismissed it. Though crude, it was true, and she should have no misconceptions about what he was there for.

  She glanced over her shoulder as a blush darkened the pink of her cheeks, but then she held out her hand. “Pas­sion.”

  Mark stopped, his hand midway to hers. He shook his head. “No. I want your real name.”

  She looked at him with those soft, deep eyes. “My name is Passion. I was born on Passion Sunday.”

  Mark paused. The sapphire blue ostrich feather tucked inside the brim of her bonnet framed her face in a soft, sensual arc, the long, darkly iridescent tendrils fluttering gently against her temple. Her beautiful eyes regarded him unblinkingly, and her pink mouth parted with her breath. She was Passion. His cock lifted hungrily. He closed his hand around hers. “I’m Mark.”

  Her eyes widened, and one of her hands pressed to her chest. “Truly?”

  He stroked her palm and nodded. “Not always pretty, but honest and unfettered.”

  She smiled. “Then, perhaps, it really was a sign.”

  He shrugged. “If you like.”

  The room was experiencing an ebb. A family stood near the exit with some all too observant children. When they left…

  Mark turned back to Passion, partly shielding her with his body. “Personally, I don’t believe in signs. I believe in what I can see.” He pulled off her gloves. “What I can touch.” He brought her hand to his stiff erection. God, how he loved her fingers curving around him. “And what I can feel.”

  She bit her pretty lower lip as she explored him dis­creetly under the cover of his long topcoat.

  The slow shifting of her hand up and down the length of him made him even harder, made him want to have her even more. When he stopped her with the press of his hand firmly over hers, she looked up at him and her eyes moved intently over his features. What did she see? He saw need and desire in her expression. Need and desire softened with something else. What, he didn’t know, but she should have no delusions.

  He tightened his fingers around hers and thrust against her palm. “This is the reason I’m here, Passion. For no other reason but this. Do you understand?”

  Her lovely lips trembled a little. “Yes. I understand.”

  He released her hand and returned her gloves. Her voice made him want to fuck her. Damn, everything about her made him want to fuck her. He looked over his shoul­der. A few couples milled at the other end of the room. The family was gone. He took a step toward the screen. Passion moved with him. Another large group filed in at the exhibit entrance. Wait—wait. He clasped her hand. No, now. And he pulled her into the shadowed corner that was theirs.

  Mark fell back against the wall and brought Passion with him. His arms crushed her close, and he swooped upon her uplifted mouth like a bird of prey, latching onto her tender lips with bruising ferocity. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, tasting her, penetrating her. As he pushed his tongue deeper and drew on her breath, he knew he was being rough. But she brought this out in him. And be­tween her breathy gasps, she didn’t pull away, but col­lapsed more against him, her mouth opening wider to the force of his tongue.

  He felt her pulling his hat from his head and, as her fin­gers threaded through his hair, a soft moan wafted from her mouth to his. He swallowed it and demanded others while he yanked at the fastenings of his trousers. Her body moved wantonly against him, and he felt as if rivers of blood pumped, unabated, into his cock.

  He was so fucking hard, he couldn’t get out of the opening in his trousers, and each brush against the light wool was torture. Tearing his mouth from hers in a gasp of relief, he finally freed his rampant erection. It jutted up, bigger and harder than he’d ever seen it, and the head bobbed swollen and purple.

  Passion pulled back from him and stared, open-mouthed and hungry-looking. She licked her swollen lips. He loved that; she had done the same thing yesterday.

  Mark reached down and pulled free his heavy balls so she could see all of him. As her eyes feasted on his dis­play, he gripped himself firmly and stroked. He clenched his jaw as he squeezed clear fluid from his prick’s protu­berant head. Then, with his thumb, he smeared the thick drops over the throbbing purple crown until it glistened. “This is what you want, isn’t it, Passion?” he murmured low. “If I wanted, I could make you beg for it, couldn’t I?”

  Passion’s whole body seemed to be trembling. The feather at her temple shook, but her eyes hadn’t flickered, even for a moment, from his little demonstration. She looked at him now, and the blatant longing in her eyes al­most pained him. “Yes.” Her voice was a sweet, breathy whisper.

  He smoothed the back of his fingers across her cheek. “But I won’t.” Voices floated over the top of the screen from without. He ignored them and spoke near her ear. “Now take off your bonnet and open the front of your gown.”

  Passion loosed the bow beneath her chin and let the hat fall to the floor, revealing her dark auburn hair. The straight severity of her center part and braided bun some­how enhanced her beauty and made her eyes look even more doelike. As her hands fluttered at the buttons of her high-necked gown, Mark’s breath caught and his cock pulsed painfully. But a shrill laugh from the exhibit room made her pause.

  Mark frowned. “Passion, open your damned gown.” He sounded harsh, impatient. But damn it, this was what she did to him, and he needed t
o see more of her—now.

  She seemed unperturbed by his tone and quickly re­leased her buttons. As she moved from one to the next, glimpses of her neck and chest were revealed. Finally, she peeled back the two sides, revealing fine pale skin, delicate collarbones, and a deep V of lacy undergarments. Mark’s breathing quickened, and he pulled firmly on his tight cods to ease the pressure of his roiling sperm.

  Her skin glowed creamy and smooth in the shadowy light. She pulled the pink ribbon tied at her breast, and after undoing the tiny buttons of her batiste corset cover, spread it open. Arching over the neck of her chemise and pushed up by her corset, the high, lush mounds of her breasts rose and fell with her rapid breath. But as beauti­ful as that sight was, Mark’s eyes locked, instead, on the dark shadows of her nipples. Showing just above the curv­ing support of her corset stays, and straining protuberantly against her chemise, in at least the thickness of his little finger, were two of the most succulent-looking buds he’d ever seen.

  With a low moan, he pulled her close and brought her hand to his straining cock. As her fingers curled around him, he yanked the layers of her bodice, corset cover, and chemise down from her shoulders. Lifting her against the wall, he braced her with his leg and rubbed his cheek against the hard nub of one nipple while exposing the other with a firm tug at her chemise. Passion gasped, and her back arched.

  Mark’s cock pumped in her hand, and his mouth wa­tered. Her exposed nipple was dark rose and the bud was thick, distending even farther once released from its con­fines. He left the other covered. He liked the sight of it pressed to the fabric. They looked positively edible—tits for a man’s mouth, not a babe’s. How did he get this damned lucky? While he pinched and rolled the bare one between his fingers, he closed his mouth over the one still covered by her chemise. As he sucked and laved it with his tongue, it grew and lengthened even more. When he fi­nally pulled back, he stared hungrily at what he had wrought. The thick little finger of flesh stuck out almost an half an inch from its rosy base, and the wet fabric of her chemise clung to it like a second skin.

  Passion’s breath came in short heaves as she arched against him, one hand grasping his nape, the other work­ing magic on his aching member.

  Even the sound of her breathing inflamed him. He bit down on the covered nipple and flicked the end with his tongue. Passion’s body leapt in his arms and as pre-come dripped from his weeping cock, she rubbed it over his now flaming flesh. Mark groaned and latched hungrily onto her naked nipple, sucking it hard and rubbing his tongue over the long, stiff nub until Passion writhed against him.

  “Please!”

  He heard her urgent whisper even over the growing noise of the crowd without.

  “I—I need…”

  Mark tore his mouth from her juicy nipple and let her slide down his leg. Her hips jerked, and her fingers curled in the fabric of his coat sleeves as if she needed help to re­main standing. When she looked up at him, he stopped breathing for a moment. Her beautiful face was the picture of such desperate and poignant longing that a small, an­swering wash of come actually spilled, thick and creamy, over the head of his prick.

  A long red-brown curl had fallen free from her bun, her face was flushed, and her moist lower lip trembled, sweet and pouting. Her heavily lashed eyes begged him better than words ever could. And as he gazed at her, a single tear tumbled down her cheek and splashed upon the heav­ing rise of her breast. He watched it trickle down the slop­ing bank and rush to rest upon her rosy nipple.

  “Mark, I—I need…”

  How he loved her voice.

  “What do you need?” He spoke low and close as he rubbed his come down the length of his shaft. Her lashes fluttered down for a moment as she watched him. “Tell me what you need, Passion.”

  A frown wrinkled her brow as she lifted her wet eyes to him. Another tear fell. “You know.”

  He smoothed the back of his finger down the wet trail on her cheek and then brushed the moisture from her nip­ple, drawing a gasp from her. “But I want to hear you say it. Just tell me.”

  Passion bit her lip and her fingers clenched in his coat again. Two more tears fell down her cheeks. Such lovely tears.

  “Many more of those and you’ll force me to take pity on you.” He pressed a kiss to the path her tear had taken, then pressed another to her trembling mouth. “Come, Pas­sion.” He kissed her again. “It pleases me to hear you speak.” He bit down briefly on her soft lower lip. “And no one shall know what you say but me.”

  “I need you,” she said breathlessly. Her fingers clenched, and her breast heaved. “I need you, inside me.”

  “Ah. Well, that’s good, because I need to be inside you.”

  He could drown in her eyes. He brushed the back of his fingers over her thick, bare nipple. “Are your thighs wet?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is your cunt clenching hungrily, even now?”

  Her lashes fluttered down, and a blush darkened her cheeks. The noise of the crowd floated over the top of the screen.

  Mark tipped her chin up. “Don’t look away from me.” He slid his thumb across her lower lip. “And never be ashamed. There’s no need.” He glanced down at himself. “Look at me, standing here with my prick out—so full of spunk that it’s spilling out on its own.” He pressed his mouth to her moist cheek. “But I don’t care, because I’m with you”—he drew her hand to his cock—“and this is what we’re here for.” Her fingers moved down his shaft and cupped his balls. He bit back a moan. “Now tell me something, before I dump all my come right down the front of your skirt.”

  She met his gaze; her long, wet lashes spiky. “I am clenching,” she whispered. “And right now, I feel that if you don’t fill this emptiness in me, I might be driven mad with longing.”

  Two more tears fell. He loved watching them. He had the power to fulfill her, or not. She needed him.

  “Please, Mark.”

  His breathing quickened.

  “You have what I need,” she breathed.

  “Damn right, I do.” He took her lips in a hard, potent kiss. He could taste her tears and pushed his tongue in­side, sweeping over her smooth teeth and brushing the roof of her mouth. As he thrust deeper, nudging her wider, he yanked up her skirts and swept his hand between her legs. He moaned into her mouth, and her body almost col­lapsed in his arms. His blood rushed. Her arms clung to him. He’d never felt anything like it; she was dripping onto his hand.

  He broke the kiss and sucked in air as he whirled her around to face the wall. Come was spilling from his prick. The knob was dark purple and distended. Fuck! He crammed it against the slippery mouth of her quim and shoved.

  Mark gasped out loud as he slammed the tender head of his cock against the door of Passion’s womb. He heard her soft moan beneath the thundering noise of his blood pounding in his ears and the steady hum of the crowd. He could feel sperm, still trickling out of him, as he thrust again, harder. Harder!

  His cock felt as stiff as steel, and her cunt was stretched so damn tight around him. He held her hips and thrust again, loving the explosion of mind-numbing pleasure that shot through him with each assault upon her womb. His whole shaft throbbed, and come kept boiling up from his sac and spilling out of him in a slow, constant stream. He thrust again, grinding the swollen head of his penis against the tight opening to her womb, as he bore down forcefully on her hips. He heard Passion gasp. He bit back a groan. The pressure felt so fucking good—and he was so fucking hard—he felt like nothing could keep him from forcing his way into the deepest cavities of her body.

  He spoke against her ear, his voice a hoarse whisper, as he kept bearing down on her hips. “This is what you need, isn’t it? This is why you came back”—he withdrew and thrust—“to be filled up completely. That’s why you need me.” He shoved harder. “Isn’t it?”

  Passion’s cunt clenched even tighter around him. “Yes! Yes!”

  He squeezed his eyes shut as his hips suddenly pistoned uncontrollably into her, e
ach forward thrust tender­izing the fleshy door of her womb. He heard a choked gasp and, pushing down hard on her hips, crammed his prick with unrelenting force against the barrier.

  And with a great inhalation of air, Passion gave, just the smallest degree. An animal-sounding grunt escaped him as he felt the incredible pressure. But he could not withdraw, not now. Her cunt was throbbing with such force—a pulling force that milked exquisite little spurts of come out of him.

  Mark’s breathing was ragged near her ear. “Passion, your cunt is sucking my prick like a hungry little mouth.” He bit her soft lobe as a strong pull leached more from him. “It feels like a plea for more. Is it?” His cock throbbed, and he tilted his hips ever so slightly. “I have more to give you. Tell me you want it.”

  With one cheek pressed to the wall and the other flushed and moist, her loose lock of hair curled in front of her face and fluttered with each of her short, gasping breaths. Her whisper was so low he had to strain to hear it. “I want all of it. I want to be filled with it. If I could offer my whole body as a sheath for your cock, I would do it.”

  Mark’s legs almost buckled. His prick thumped with a hot surge of blood. “Oh Passion, I would die for that!” He pushed into her with renewed force. “Open for me. Open!” His hips pumped into her in quick, tight, ever-forward thrusts as he bore down harder than ever. She arched her back, and he almost shouted as he felt the head of his cock wedge deeper against the trembling doors to her womb. His balls swelled with more come. “That’s it. Open! Let me inside you.”

  Passion began to shudder. Her hands clawed the wall, and tears poured down her cheeks. Her voice was a tor­tured whisper. “Mark! Mark, I’m going to—it’s coming! I can’t stop it!”

  Mark sucked in his breath as her body erupted. He slammed his hand over her mouth just before a long, sob­bing moan would have burst from her unhindered. “Yes, yes,” he gasped into her ear. “Do it. Come!” He leaned on her hip with his free hand and, as wave after wracking wave of quivering cunt clenched and pulled at his weep­ing prick, he knew he was going to go with her. He squeezed his eyes shut, his cock throbbed in expectation, and then her clasping cunt actually sucked him deeper. He choked back a groan and bit into her pale shoulder as he thrust against the tight, tilting fingers of flesh that pro­tected Passion’s womb. He had never been so deep in a woman.