That Temple in Assam, Part 2 — Elaine Lowe

If you missed Part One of this sexy tale go to Part One and read it first.

That would be all the break her lover allowed her. His tongue touched her sex again, diving deep within her sheath and with fingers and tongue he brought her over the edge again and again, never giving a thought to his own pleasure until finally she could take no more and pulled on his ears. He growled as he rose over her and nipped at her neck and she shuddered with the sound, it touched something within her so primal she dare not examine it.

“All of it, all of it!” Gloria demanded arching her hips and demanding his cock to enter her and take her completely.

To her shock, for she had expected an argument, he thrust inside with unerring rhythm, catching her unawares with the pressure of being filled to perfection. She cried out wordlessly and he halted, but she clutched at his hips, wrapping her legs around him and pulling him so close he could not think to escape. She arched into him, slamming her hips into his and wanted to pleasure him as he pleasured her. She wanted him to feel just as worshipped, and vague plans swirled in her brain of how she could show all her gratitude.

But as he began to set an impossible rhythm, filling her with each stroke, exerting the perfect pressure on each sensitive spot within her channel, his hipbone pressing against her clit at the same time, she came once again against her will, losing her mind to the fire that he burned her with.

She came back to her senses with him whispering in her ear, soft, quiet words in Sanskrit that made her eyes fill with tears. “You are a fire in me. You are so hot, you burn. I will never be the same.” He thrust faster, harder, clutching her hips as she gripped his shoulders, needing him so deep inside that she’d never lose him. She felt his nails sharp against her skin, and the pain of it pushed her over the edge once again. She wept at the bliss he’d brought her, a release unlike anything she’d ever known. She was surrounded, submerged in throbbing pleasure and the scent of him and sex. He groaned against her, turning his head suddenly away from her neck as he came within her, his seed searing hot within her womb.

He slipped out of her body and wrapped his arms around her, tucking her head under his chin and holding her close to his side. It was nothing like what she’d been told. This was no controlled and disciplined search for the divine, more philosophical lesson than sexual encounter. This had been raw and brutal and deeply emotional. She felt flayed open and so sensitive that she didn’t know if she was going to laugh or weep.

“Who are you? Please?” She put and hand to her blindfold to tear it off, but he captured her hand, kissing the back of it.

“My fire.” He whispered, and she had to know why he was so familiar, why she felt like she’d come home in his arms. He let go, the weight of his body disappearing next to her with no warning, and when she tore off the damned blindfold he was gone, fled from the room preternaturally fast. He had to be an abnormal, he had to!

She lay back upon the divan, tears filling her eyes. She thought women who fell in love with a man for their performance in bed were idiotic fools. Now she could count herself in their number. In love with some tantric priest, who made sex an artform, an act of worship. But she simply could not distance herself from what they had shared. There was none of the training of the temple in that. It was worship, but not of the gods. She had felt love. And she was deeply afraid of it.

—

It was nine years later when Marko waltzed into her home in Toronto, his smile just as smug as the day he’d first stolen a kiss from her in 1922. Of course, he was bleeding copiously from a bullet wound, but he was still trying to act the part of frustrated suitor. His own magic worked to heal the wounds even as she cleaned the blood from his bare chest, but he used her nearness to advantage, caressing her face with his fingertips.

She placed her stethoscope on his chest and tried not to notice the firmness of the muscles under her fingertips.

He captured her lips in a kiss, and she let him.

“You are so hot.” He whispered in perfect Sanskrit.

Memories flooded her mind and body and suddenly she couldn’t lie to herself anymore.

“You! That was….you ruined me for other men!”

He grinned impossibly wide and she could have kicked herself for giving him such ammunition. “Why, didn’t you tell me? Why did you stay away?”

He looked at her, sadness in his eyes. “Were you ready to hear that I loved you? That I’d loved you since the moment I saw you in 1877? Or would you have run away screaming?”

She opened her mouth, but she knew she had no defense. She would have run.

“I took my one day and cherished it. For that day you were mine. You even called my name when you came, though I’m certain you were barely aware of it.”

He was still holding her tight to his body between his legs, and she could feel that their kiss had affected him rather strongly, given the pressure against her thigh. And she could no longer deny that she knew exactly what he could do with that particular piece of his anatomy, a blush flamed over her skin as soon as her mind descended into the gutter.

“What will you do now, Marco?”

“That depends on the woman I love. Will she wish me to disappear again into thin air, or will she accept my proposal to stay by her side, capture the occasional dragon and make mad passionate love to her with remarkable frequency and produce several small beings as proof of said love?”

His tone was flippant, but his eyes were on fire. He’d laid everything on the line for her, and she knew if she rejected him now it would be decades before he would try again. Because he would never completely give up on her. Just as she had refused to give up on him.

“Must I wear the blindfold this time?”

“I’d like to see your eyes for once. But perhaps occasionally for old times sake?” His blunt human teeth sank into her neck, nipping and sucking and making her moan.

“Bed, now!”

“Oh, bossy. I like it.”

____________________

To read more of Elaine’s sexy short stories go here.

Elaine Lowe is a work-at-home mom in Silicon Valley, California. Of her many part-time jobs, her favorite one by far is writing. A love of history, magic and romance combines to inspire a lot of her writing. That and her wonderful husband, who is a fantastic sounding board, support system, and research consultant. He really enjoys research. And so does she.

Her latest release is Memory Lapse, with Ellora’s Cave. Elaine has eighteen erotic romance tales on sale with Ellora’s Cave, Resplendence and Cobblestone Press. Check out her website, www.elainelowenovels.com, for more info.