Feminine Powers [Erotic Romance]

I dance upon the night sun, my hips shivering from night sweats. It peaks the energy in my soul. Tempted by the wind of moist air.

The dark mimics my moves as the flames of light shine on my shadow. I dance within myself, feeling the breeze surround my naked flesh.

A creak from my left gives me notice of another. I know who has called upon me, but I don’t respond.

He stands preying in lust. His visits leave me no remorse for retribution. He feels for a taste of power.

I turned finally, “Do you have to disturb me?” I called out.

He slowly walks between the tall bushes. His bright violet eyes find me in all my glory. I smell his need as it carries across the winds.

“Do you always dance naked?”

I ignore his casual words as I stand by the fire. The temptation always peaks when he is near.

“Why must you deny me,” he says.

His arms reach out as they glide around my hot heated skin. His hands run across my stomach as it contracts below my breasts.

I can’t help it, I lean into his touch.

“I can express your body better than any dance. If you would just let me taste you,” he whispered.

“Once was enough,” I told him.

His spread hands glide down my stomach slowly around to my hips and squeeze my curves. His fingers tighten as his nose runs up the side of my neck beyond my ear.

I can feel the heat of his breath against the hot temperature change. He burns for me to turn to him. Open myself to the desires of the power of seduction. I may thirst for the need of pure ecstasy, but it leaves me feeling dry after.

“Let me soak in your essence,” he whispered.

His nose slides across the other side of my neck, heavily against my blonde hair, lingering to tempt me into his breath.

“I want to taste the purity of your cream,” he echoes against my ear.

I rolled my eyes.

It calls to me to manipulate his senses or stop the effects of his demands. Yet, I’m tempted, and my arousal perfumes my lies.

His hands rise higher, fondles, embracing the weight of my full breast. His large palms grasp them, sizing the fullness.

He hisses loudly, “So perfect for me in every way,” he whispered.

His thumbs coat my nipples as they rub back and forth. He kisses down my jaw line before letting one breast go. His free fingers rub up past my collar bone, enclosing around my throat. They slightly tremble as it tightens by his knuckles.

“I could make you shower under the moon,” he claimed.

I bite my lip as my core twitches. It grasps for the words that pulsate with need.

“Just a taste,” he offers lightly.

“A taste, hmmm,” I told him, “what do you get out of it?”

“The power of your perfect pink clit against my tongue.”

I cackle.

“We’re not supposed to be,” I reminded him.

“Under the twilight, we burn more than the stake.”