Eloise knew there was something strange in the history of her family. But, how strange? All the women, as far back as she could trace, died before their own daughters turned five. Was it a curse? Was it coincidence? Could the lovely new stranger, from up the hill, really help her find the answers?
"Your skin feels good."
"Open my pants, Mitch. I'm yours to do with as you please."
His eyelids fluttered open, then closed again. Mark withdrew his mouth from his lips briefly to speak the words, and the pause gave Mitch a moment to contemplate. His senses were screaming to be appeased. His cock was straining against his zipper. The impression of Mark's lips burned hotly against his mouth. Sweat stood in tiny beads on his forehead. He hesitated.
"Play with me."
Mitch drew in a shaky breath. He dared to raise his gaze and look into Mark's eyes, but only for a moment. He felt embarrassment and desire mingle into a tight knot in his stomach. "We shouldn't."
"Yes. We should."
"But--"
"Don't look for an excuse to deny yourself. Live for the moment. I'm offering you a chance to prove something to yourself, Mitch. Don't pass it up."
The Stone House
148 pp 35000
978-1-55487-052-3
Eloise knew there was something strange in the history of her family. But, how strange? All the women, as far back as she could trace, died before their own daughters turned five. Was it a curse? Was it coincidence? Could the lovely new stranger, from up the hill, really help her find the answers?
Not at all sure which door to choose to take her to the Great Hall, as if this one isn't great enough, she turned and walked to the one on her left. The hefty gold handle turned smoothly in her grasp. The door opened with a soft whoosh and she stepped into a huge dim salon.
It took a few moments for her eyes to adjust. This clearly was not the Great Hall, but she couldn't resist a closer look. The only source of light came from the ten white candles lined up on the massive mantle over an equally massive stone fireplace. Two long sofas and two matching invitingly soft chairs formed a conversation area in front of the fireplace. The low cocktail table at the centre of the group was as big as her dining table.
Numerous other chairs, tables and lounges sat in clusters around the room. "This is more like a hospitality room in some fancy hotel than a living room in someone's house. I wonder what they use on those tables to get them to glow like that, and where did they get all these blood red roses? There are vases of them on every possible flat space. These people definitely have more money than sense, or maybe they just have so much of what I don't that I feel a tad jealous."
Her quiet, personal ramblings ceased when she stepped between the twin sofas and really looked at the huge work of art over the mantle. The way the row of candles flickered over the canvas it was almost as though the subject breathed.
The young woman, dressed in a long soft white gown, stood with her back to the room. Her arms outstretched, she clearly welcomed all the woodland creatures to her. Insects fluttered around her long wavy dark hair, birds of every sort circled her or perched gently upon her arms. The forest floor at her feet was alive with a heady assortment of visitors. Everything from serpents and lizards to fluffy-tailed foxes and one pure black wolf near her right leg.
The wolf drew her in even more than the woman herself. There was something about him-- something so pure, so strong, so virile. The artist had stroked every hair on his back with such perfection he seemed alive. As she stood with her fingers rested gently on the mantle, she desperately wanted to reach out and stroke his soft lush fur. She felt a warm heaviness in her lower stomach at the idea of digging her fingers into its thickness. Just as her hand lifted from the thick solidity of the mantle to stroke the canvas, the wolf turned to look at her.
Welcome. I am so pleased that you accepted the invitation.
People Also Bought:
