Mikalo's Flame Read Online Free Page A

roughly pulled me from him, my hair
clenched in his fist as he brought me away from his chest and
lifted me to his face.
    His lips desperately found mine, his tongue
pushing its way deep as he stretched out, forcing me back, laying
on top of me, his knees parting my legs as his weight tenderly
crushed me, his hardness grinding into my heat.
    I groaned and ran my hands up his back. And
then, knowing his likes, understanding his needs, slowly raked my
nails down his flesh, the manicured talons scratching their way
lower and lower.
    He gasped, his mouth leaving mine, the breath
hot against my lips.
    I watched him as he leaned his head back, his
eyes squeezed shut, his brow quietly furrowed. He breathed slowly,
his lips parted and teeth clenched, reveling in the twin sisters of
Pleasure and Pain, my nails reaching the tender span of flesh
around his waist as they finished their journey.
    He was in heaven, my Mikalo, my love, his
eyes almost stinging with happy tears.
    I tugged at his jeans.
    “Please,” I said. “I want to feel you.”
    Another kiss.
    He then lifted, his arms outstretched as he
looked down at me.
    “No,” he said. “You. I want to see you
now.”
    Bending low, his quickly kissed me again.
    “Please,” he insisted, leaving me to kneel
between my open legs as he waited.
    I slipped out from underneath him and
kneeled, facing him.
    He watched me, silhouetted in the orange and
red of the fire, the flames in the fireplace having quieted to a
glow.
    Peeling the shirt over my head, I ran my
hands over my breasts, my pace slow, my fingers calm,
unhurried.
    I avoided his gaze as I traced my own
sensitive circles of flesh, the pink eager and willing. Hungry for
a touch. A kiss. The twin nubs yearning for the grazing of
teeth.
    I knew he was watching. I knew this excited
him. And I knew the more I did and the slower I did it, the more
desperate his need for me became.
    Grabbing a nipple, I pinched. Hard.
    I closed my eyes, losing myself to the gentle
pain.
    He sighed, the unexpected breath thick with
emotion. With need. Desire.
    And then he cleared his throat, softly, as he
swallowed, his tongue shooting forward to quickly lick his
lips.
    I glanced at him from beneath the curtain of
my dark bangs.
    His eyes were on my flesh, my fingers
caressing my breasts, my stomach. The small pink mountains of flesh
he so loved to suck and lick and bite.
    Standing, I undid the first button of my
jeans.
    He raised his head, watching me.
    Moving near him, I lifted a foot, placing it
in his lap.
    He took it, slowly peeling the thin sock free
and wrapping his large hands around my slender heel.
    Taking it from him, I offered him the
second.
    Again, the resilient cotton came clear, the
foot briefly held and caressed.
    I snapped the second button open.
    The jeans slid from my waist, the remaining
buttons preventing the denim from drifting further.
    Shirtless, hungry, horny, Mikalo waited, his
frustration growing as his hand flirted with the hardness still
hidden in his pants. The fingers first gripping his width and then
moving away, denying himself the necessary luxury of that squeeze,
before moving back, his need for release growing as I undid a third
button.
    I stepped away from him and turned, my back
now to him.
    My hands reached to my breasts again, feeling
the generous, smooth flesh, the pink once more teased and
pinched.
    A fourth button snapped free, my gaze quickly
catching his as I looked over my shoulder.
    His hands were now rubbing the flesh of his
own chest and torso, the fingers toying with his own dark nipples,
his mouth slightly open as his breathing grew ragged, the tongue
sneaking out again to run themselves over his lips.
    I slid the denim down and stepped free.
    Behind me, he moaned.
    “My Grace,” came the whisper.
    My ass was nice. This much I knew. As were my
legs. Slender but strong, the calves sculpted from years of
navigating the city’s streets and climbing its many stairs in an
almost endless variety of