Read Online Light and Wine by Sparrow AuSoleil - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sparrow AuSoleil
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can do is slide.
So warm my blood tingles, so wet all along me, Lacie sings as I move against her with eyes closed. Swelled and soaking like a little ocean made of the softest flames, she surrounds the length of me on all sides, and each time I slide all the way up, I feel the tiniest, blessed just for loving part of her, and it makes her sing the highest, lushest, most ethereal note.
Slowing down already prudently slow strokes, I press and circle my hips against her there, drawing the prettiest little pleased and pleading sounds from the heart of light. The way it curves her up and into me, and makes her fingers grip onto my shoulders opens my eyes, and I smile at the sight of her: gleaming skin and parted lips, close to breathless and so overcome.
Steadying my hands on the altar, I lean just enough above her to create space that not only lets me see, but also lets her move freely.
Between us, candlelight flickers and feints, arches and angles glowing on our skin. Transfixed as she rises and dips against me in smooth rhythm, I look up for a moment and watch our shadows, already making love.
Further down, where candle brightness cannot find the length of me, I rock, and her body reminds me with every small sigh and every slick lift of her hips that aching emptiness awaits the mercy of fulfillment.
“Lacie,” I whisper, leaning further up to let candlelight between us. “Lacie, look.”
Dark lashes flutter as her eyes open and she tips her head just barely up.
Yours , hazel rims around dilated pupils whisper.
None before and none after.
Yours.
My smile grows, and her eyes follow my focus over her breasts and belly, down to beautifully upturned hips, to where we’re sliding together where only she has ever touched me and only I have ever opened her.
Slender limbs and thin muscles all tense, the sweetest cry breaking from deep within her.
“Do you see?” I ask, grateful and proud joy filling my words just as naturally as my hips dip against hers.
“I see. I see you,” she pants, little brows drawing desperately closer together. “Please, please—God, please …”
She tilts her hips higher , seeking more of me where she’s so small, but so devout in her desire. It brings me where we need most, and I press with patient strength, not entering, but testing, asking for more.
Cooing and helpless, Lacie falls back onto the altar with her eyes tightly closed and her lips sweetly parted. Her legs shake as she strains to open further, and her belly tightens as another release begins to pulse through her.
“Father,” she whimpers, and I shift my right hand to her hip, holding her body still and my breath deep to keep from pushing into burning, nearly blinding instinct.
To give and move and sink into love.
To fill and fulfill love.
“Father,” my illuminated soul cries, circling under my grip, soaking the length of me anew. “Father, Father, Marc, God, God, God …”
Her little hymns caress my control, centering me. I lift lids I can’t remember closing and slow hips I don’t remember I began rocking again. I still between quivering, slick-with-anticipation thighs and run my hand from her hip, up her side. Lilting and lulling, lifting and circling as she drifts from her peak, Lacie’s pulse flutters under my palm.
Blinking to focus, I let most sacred to me move freely in her revelry.
I watch her legs open more, and try to close, and strain to part wider still, like wings around me. She moves her hands from me to her hair, sliding through loose tendrils of dark and darker brown while her chest rises and falls under prayer beads that are pale compared to her blush. The quivering in her stomach slows and relaxes before my eyes, and lower, I’m enamored with the sight of her so bare, so pink she’s almost red where she cradles me so sweetly.
I almost curse again.
“Lacie,” I whisper instead, answering prayers she’s murmuring so quietly. Standing straight, I slide both hands from her
So warm my blood tingles, so wet all along me, Lacie sings as I move against her with eyes closed. Swelled and soaking like a little ocean made of the softest flames, she surrounds the length of me on all sides, and each time I slide all the way up, I feel the tiniest, blessed just for loving part of her, and it makes her sing the highest, lushest, most ethereal note.
Slowing down already prudently slow strokes, I press and circle my hips against her there, drawing the prettiest little pleased and pleading sounds from the heart of light. The way it curves her up and into me, and makes her fingers grip onto my shoulders opens my eyes, and I smile at the sight of her: gleaming skin and parted lips, close to breathless and so overcome.
Steadying my hands on the altar, I lean just enough above her to create space that not only lets me see, but also lets her move freely.
Between us, candlelight flickers and feints, arches and angles glowing on our skin. Transfixed as she rises and dips against me in smooth rhythm, I look up for a moment and watch our shadows, already making love.
Further down, where candle brightness cannot find the length of me, I rock, and her body reminds me with every small sigh and every slick lift of her hips that aching emptiness awaits the mercy of fulfillment.
“Lacie,” I whisper, leaning further up to let candlelight between us. “Lacie, look.”
Dark lashes flutter as her eyes open and she tips her head just barely up.
Yours , hazel rims around dilated pupils whisper.
None before and none after.
Yours.
My smile grows, and her eyes follow my focus over her breasts and belly, down to beautifully upturned hips, to where we’re sliding together where only she has ever touched me and only I have ever opened her.
Slender limbs and thin muscles all tense, the sweetest cry breaking from deep within her.
“Do you see?” I ask, grateful and proud joy filling my words just as naturally as my hips dip against hers.
“I see. I see you,” she pants, little brows drawing desperately closer together. “Please, please—God, please …”
She tilts her hips higher , seeking more of me where she’s so small, but so devout in her desire. It brings me where we need most, and I press with patient strength, not entering, but testing, asking for more.
Cooing and helpless, Lacie falls back onto the altar with her eyes tightly closed and her lips sweetly parted. Her legs shake as she strains to open further, and her belly tightens as another release begins to pulse through her.
“Father,” she whimpers, and I shift my right hand to her hip, holding her body still and my breath deep to keep from pushing into burning, nearly blinding instinct.
To give and move and sink into love.
To fill and fulfill love.
“Father,” my illuminated soul cries, circling under my grip, soaking the length of me anew. “Father, Father, Marc, God, God, God …”
Her little hymns caress my control, centering me. I lift lids I can’t remember closing and slow hips I don’t remember I began rocking again. I still between quivering, slick-with-anticipation thighs and run my hand from her hip, up her side. Lilting and lulling, lifting and circling as she drifts from her peak, Lacie’s pulse flutters under my palm.
Blinking to focus, I let most sacred to me move freely in her revelry.
I watch her legs open more, and try to close, and strain to part wider still, like wings around me. She moves her hands from me to her hair, sliding through loose tendrils of dark and darker brown while her chest rises and falls under prayer beads that are pale compared to her blush. The quivering in her stomach slows and relaxes before my eyes, and lower, I’m enamored with the sight of her so bare, so pink she’s almost red where she cradles me so sweetly.
I almost curse again.
“Lacie,” I whisper instead, answering prayers she’s murmuring so quietly. Standing straight, I slide both hands from her
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