StrokeofMidnight by Naima Simone Read Free Book Online Page A

thick, black fans of
lowered lashes hid her eyes. He pressed a kiss to her temple and, without
words, declared how beautiful he found her. With his hands he worshipped her,
molding her flesh, circling and then pinching the hard tips cresting her
breasts.
    The pained cries in no way resembled the sobs from that
afternoon. Rowyn arched and twisted under his touch, then encircled his wrists
like cuffs with her fingers. But not to restrain him. To hold on.
    He nipped the curve of her ear. “Do you know how good you
feel to me?” he rasped. “I could come just from squeezing these lovely breasts.
Or your nipples.” Darius released a rough, broken chuckle that sounded
tormented to his ears. “I’ve dreamed about sucking your nipples, sweetheart.
How they felt on my tongue. Sometimes I wake up savoring the imprint of them,”
he growled and rolled the stiff peaks, tugged them until she shuddered against
him. The restless shifting of her thighs, the sensual roll of her hips—they all
telegraphed her heightened lust. So fucking responsive. He gritted his
teeth as her ass stroked his dick.
    “Fuck this,” he snapped and abandoned her breasts. Ignoring
her whispered protest, he shifted backward and attacked his belt. In seconds he
had the slim leather freed of its buckle, the pants closure open and zipper
lowered. With one hand he reached inside his boxers and fisted his aching cock
while with the other he shoved his pants and underwear beneath his balls.
    “Lift your skirt.” The guttural command reflected the hunger
that flayed him. He wanted to give her tenderness—should have been controlled
enough to do so—but it eluded him at the promise of being balls-deep inside her
pussy after six long months of dreaming about it.
    Rowyn obeyed. She clutched the skirt of her dress and
bunched the material until the hem brushed the bottom curve of her ass. Then,
like a seductive striptease, she revealed the perfect globes bared by a pink
lace thong. Son. Of. A. Bitch.
    A bead of precum appeared on his cock head.
    “Now the panties, sweetheart,” he encouraged, rocking his
hips forward and thrusting his dick through his fist—a poor substitute for the
wet, swollen flesh Rowyn slowly bared as she inched the lace underwear past her
ass. “Don’t let the dress go,” he ordered when the skirt started to drift down.
“Hold it up and bend over. I want to see your pussy.”
    Rowyn hesitated, the minute clenching of her fists around
the dress hem a sign of uncertainly or embarrassment. Didn’t she realize how
hard she made him—how hot she made him burn? Shame on him if she doubted
his desire or need for her.
    “Do it, sweetheart.” He rubbed his palm up the outside of
her smooth thigh. The muscle tensed then relaxed. He continued the sensual exploration
to her bare hip. “I’ve dreamed about your pretty pussy for months. I need to
see, baby.”
    She gathered the skirt in front of her and bent over at the
waist. Immediately he centered his gaze on the pink, swollen folds that
glistened with her cream. He tightened his grip on his cock as Rowyn smoothed
her thong down her slim thighs and exposed more of her lovely sex.
    He couldn’t help himself. Darius reached out and traced her
slit with his forefinger. His balls drew up at the first touch of her flesh
after so long. He groaned. Warm. Soft. Heavy juices coated his fingertip and he
stroked forward, covering the whole length of his finger in her wetness.
    Rowyn flinched, a low, needy moan escaping her. She froze,
clutching her ankles where her lacy panties pooled. Except for that small,
initial jerk, she remained steady for his caress, her breath harsh pants in the
otherwise silent room.
    He strummed her clit once, twice. She repeated the low
groan—the one that twisted his gut—but stayed motionless for his touch. As a
reward, he gave the engorged nub a firmer touch. Her thighs quivered. He drew
back, dragging moisture with him. And when he came to the tiny entrance of