Dance of the Crystal (29 page)

Knowing how close he was to shooting off, he found the inner strength to pull his cock out of her weeping pussy and quickly positioned it at the entrance to her asshole.

“Yes, Soren,” she begged, wiggling her ass in invitation. “Every inch!”

Soren took it both ways, as he hoped she’d meant it—every inch of her to be cleansed, and he’d give her every inch of his cock. Slowly, slowly he pushed the biggest hard-on of his life into her asshole, feeling the thick ring as the head slid inside. He knew he was slick from her cunt juices, but still he took care, pushing, stopping, pushing again, penetrating a bit at a time, taking his cues from Crystal.

Until he was as deep as he could go inside her tight passage.

It took his breath away, the trust she had in him not to hurt her. He ran his hands over the gentle flare of her hips, the incurved waist.
Mine
! Crystal was his now, in every way. It was such a heady feeling to know he was the first and, he vowed, last man to ever be where he was at this moment. He’d never given much thought to ass-fucking before, but oh, how gloriously tight she was, how hot, how sublime.

He began to move his hips slowly, rocking back and forth, his cock pulling out more with each stroke then thrusting back in more on each backstroke. Faster, harder, the pressure building, Crystal moaning and rocking beneath him, her shoulder and head now on the mattress, ass in the air, fingernails digging into his ass cheeks, Soren fucked her hard and deep until he heard her scream his name and felt her muscles start to contract and—oh Jesus, it was so different, the muscles in her asshole instead of her pussy clenching around his cock, that he felt himself spiraling out of control.

His balls pulled up painfully hard to the base of his cock. Reason deserted him. All he could do was hang on to Crystal while, with a feral roar, he spurted jet after hot jet of his cum into her welcoming body.

After an endless heaven of ejaculating, Soren sagged to his side on the mattress, pulling Crystal down with him, his slowly deflating cock still imbedded in her rear. A minute or an hour later, he wasn’t sure how much time had passed, he asked her, “Are you okay?”

She moved and his limp shaft slipped out of her. Arranging herself on her back in the middle of the bed, she said, “I’m absolutely delicious. Come here.”

“If I move, do I get a medal?”

Crystal laughed, reached for his arms and began tugging. Soren managed to pull the disconnected pieces of his body into enough of a coherent unit to slide himself up to her then collapsed at her side.

“Woman, you are incredible.”

She flung an arm across his chest, a knee over his thighs, and snuggled close. “I think you’re the one who’s incredible. You did all the work.”

His laugh was more like a gasp. “I wonder if anyone heard us.”

“Nope. Grandma said everyone—including her—would be out of the house by eight o’clock.”

“Mmph. What time is it now?”

“Five-thirty,” she said primly.

Soren sat bolt upright in bed. “What? Holy shit, what will they think? Did I compromise you by making all that noise?”

The giggle told him something was fishy. He narrowed his eyes at her.

“Look out the window. It’s full dark. It’s around—” she looked past him at the digital clock on the far nightstand. “Ten o’clock. At night.”

“You minx,” he said, flopping back to the mattress and pulling her atop him. “Life will never be dull with you near me. Will you hang around and keep me on my toes?”

“Soren Thorvald, is that a proposal?”

“Um.” He thought a moment. About how loving Crystal was, how much fun. How open to new ideas.

How intelligent, how sexy. Definitely sexy. “You know, it doesn’t matter how we met. I mean, that woo-woo crap about the crystal telling you I’m you’re one and only. Because you know what?”

“What?” Lying atop him, her elbows propping her up so their faces were inches apart, her eyes sparkled.

“I am. The One, I mean. For you.” He pulled her closer for a kiss. “Wait a minute.” He rolled her back onto the mattress, ran his fingers around her throat. “Where is that damn crystal? You’re never without it.”

“Tell you the truth? I don’t think it has any magical powers at all.” Crystal smiled up at him. “You were the magic. As soon as I saw you, I knew you were The One. I don’t think I ever really needed it. But when you walked out on me because of…I think you said ‘some kind of voodoo shit’…I decided that you were right. I didn’t need it. Because I knew, deep down inside my heart, that we were meant to be together, and I’d do my darnedest to convince you of it.”

“Okay. Convince me.”

So she did.

The End

About the Author

Cris Anson firmly believes that love is the greatest gift…to give or to receive. In her writing, she lives for the moment when her characters realize they love each other, usually after much antagonism and conflict.

And when they express that love physically, Cris keeps a fire extinguisher near the keyboard in case of spontaneous combustion. Multi-published and twice EPPIE-nominated in romantic suspense under another name, she was usually asked to tone down her love scenes. For Ellora’s Cave, she’s happy to turn the flame as high as it will go—and then some.

Married for twenty years to her real-life hero, Cris enjoys slow dancing with him to the Big Band music of the Forties. She also plays the piano, nurtures a small garden at their home in eastern Pennsylvania, wishes she had time to bicycle more often, and is known to break out in song (yes, she can carry a tune) when the spirit moves her.

Cris welcomes mail from readers. You can write to her c/o Ellora’s Cave Publishing at 1056 Home Avenue, Akron, OH 44310-3502.

Also by Cris Anson

Dance of the Butterfly

Dance of the Seven Veils

Discover for yourself why readers can’t get enough of the multiple award-winning publisher Ellora’s Cave. Whether you prefer e-books or paperbacks, be sure to visit EC on the web at www.ellorascave.com for an erotic reading experience that will leave you breathless.

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