Sabrina stretched, the heat of the fireplace against her back made clothing superfluous. Vlad slept at her side, clad in jeans. His chest, bronzed copper by the glow of the fire, rose and fell in a mesmerizing, even rhythm. Her stomach grumbled into the silence. With a grimace, she slipped into his discarded shirt and crept back to the kitchen to forage. He was still asleep when she returned with two mugs of soup and crackers. She set the tray on the low table near one of the windows and plopped into the easy chair alongside it. She sipped from her mug and savored the view. His long body dominated the bed. She blushed as she thought of the heavy weight of him on her and inside of her. She was the luckiest woman on the planet. A renewed surge of heat pulsed between her thighs, and she tucked her legs underneath her in the armchair.
She thought of letting him sleep but then recalled the nightmare of last night. It had been horrendous to witness the first time, and she had no wish for either of them to repeat the experience.
She pitched her voice low. “Hey, soup’s on.”
Vlad came awake quickly and with none of the angst of the previous night. He levered himself up in the bed and took the mug from her extended hand.
The canned chicken noodle soup was something that was on Sabrina’s menu every other day of the week, but today the plain fare tasted like the nectar of the gods.
Should she be embarrassed to sit like this and revel in his flawless body on display while she sat splayed in the chair, in his buttoned down shirt and nothing else?
She wasn’t. She examined his body with satisfaction, a pleasant ache making itself felt in her muscles. Vlad had made her feel amazing, and she wanted that feeling again.
“Thanks for the soup.” His voice was gritty with sleep, and he lifted his already empty mug in salute.
Sabrina waved a hand, smiling.
“You have a fine collection of canned goods in the pantry, perfect for the occasional hurricane power outage.”
****
He loved her smile. Loved? No, it was just that she had a great smile. It wasn’t a programmed show of teeth; it was big, spontaneous and genuine. And how sweet that he was on the receiving end.
“And for dessert?”
His voice had deepened a notch, his intent clear, his gaze trained on the spot where the hem of his shirt did not quite close over her thighs.
She squirmed as he focused the full heat of his gaze on her legs.
“Um, I did notice some canned peaches….”
He raised an eyebrow. He was enjoying the play of color along her cheekbones. She licked her lower lip.
“And a can of whipped cream,” she said.
Her gaze met his and a sizzling message passed between them.
“Indeed.” He nodded. “I’ll clear away the mugs into the kitchen. Only fair since you did the prep.”
He picked up the tray and left the room.
****
A trickle of moisture warmed the most intimate flesh between her thighs. Sabrina didn’t bother to
button the shirt. She just threw her legs over the arm of the easy chair and waited.
He returned moments later with the can of whipped cream and a glint in his eye.
“Not much of a dessert,” he shook the can absently, his gaze pinning her to the easy chair, “for somebody of my size.”
“You’ll just have to make do,” Sabrina murmured in a low voice she didn’t recognize as her own.
He strode toward her with purpose and she shrieked, jumping from the chair and leaping to the other side of the room.
Vlad was there before her and took her hand. “Shush, little one, all cats like cream.”
He led her back to the bed. She fell back onto it, bonelessly, at his urging.
He knelt beside her and parted the shirt, baring her breasts for his thorough scrutiny.
Without a touch, the nipples budded into rosy prominence, and Sabrina fought to keep her breathing steady. This was getting out of hand, and he hadn’t even touched her.
“A perfect dessert,” he said, leaning toward her to spray a coin-sized dollop of cream on each aching bud.
“Oh, God.” Sabrina watched as he lowered his head to place his tongue at the side of one nipple before slowly lapping at the cream. He was exquisitely slow when all she wanted was for him to take the whole nipple in his mouth.
“Ahh, oh.” Sabrina lost her words as only he could make her do and could merely watch as he proceeded to administer the same treatment to the other breast and nipple. Then he covered her navel with cream, and
licked it ever so slowly out again with his hot tongue. He moved lower still and Sabrina shook in a fever of need.
“Ah, Sabrina. Open for me. Let me see my dessert.”
She loved the way he said her name with that faint accent, rolling it into something exotic. The sheer sexiness of his words almost sent Sabrina over the edge. She had no will and no want to do anything but comply. Vlad’s fingers stroked through the folds of her femininity seeking and finding the responsive bud at the core of her. Then he sprayed a sizable drop of cream
right there at the heart of her.
She gasped on a moan as his tongue arrowed into her core drinking up the cream and, when it was gone, continued his ministrations.
She sobbed as her thighs began to quake. His hands were there, he held her legs open, and he gave her no respite from his wicked tongue until the massive orgasm quieted and she fell back onto the sheets, completely spent.
He gathered her to him as her breathing settled.
Then he shucked his jeans and reached for a condom. “Oh no, you don’t,” she said.
Still reeling from the aftershock, she rose unsteadily to her knees.
“My turn.” She was all take-charge attitude.
Then she pushed him back down onto the sheets and reached for the whipped cream.