Alexander grunted loudly, his body lurching forward. He sat up at once, grabbing a hank of her hair, blinded by passion. He was gasping for air.
With her tongue, Guinevere scraped and laved at him, pushing him higher, closer to that cliff's edge where he knew she intended to take him. She pulled back, and rubbed her thumb over his tip. He moaned savagely, his control unravelling, as he now was at the edge.
At once, he moved, and she was beneath him, in his arms, with her hair sprayed out and her eyes regarding him with lust and danger and love, breathing as heavily as him.
Under the moonlight, she shone like something divine, radiant and marvellously breathtaking. In that instant, he knew with certainty, she was everything he had ever desired. No one else could ever hold his heart the way she now did. He was entirely, irrevocably hers.
