"Jeffrey Lord - Blade 11 - Dimension of Dreams" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lord Jeffery)

Annie was watching him with a strange mixture of emotion in her eyesтАФhalf amusement, half
something indefinable. She was part of a generation that tended to scoff at the kind of gesture Blade had
just made. But she was also from a family whose fortunes had been founded in the great days of that now
sadly shrunken Royal Navy. Her family home was filled with portraits, models, and books telling of those
days and of sons who had "gone down to the sea in ships" flying that same white ensignтАФand sometimes
not returned. She might smile at Blade's nostalgic gesture, but she would never ridicule him for it. And in
an odd way she was moved by it.
Whatever combination of emotions he had aroused in her was still working that night, after they had
dropped anchor in the sheltered mouth of a small creek and snugged the yacht safely down for the night.
Blade was conscious of her brown eyes, more intent on him and wider than ever, as they sat in the cabin,
baking the chill out of their bodies with the cabin heater and shoveling in soup, corned beef, and peaches
out of cans from the galley lockers.
Champagneglowed in the light of the lanterns and bubbled in plastic cups as she poured it from a
chilled bottle, then curled up on the leather-covered couch beside Blade. That couch was the one Annie
called her passion pit. As she passed in front of the light, Blade saw the silhouette of her lithe figure
through the thin yellow robe that was her only clothing.
She clicked cups with him and drained hers in a single long swallow, then put it on the floor and
reached out one long-fingered hand to caress the hard, chiseled line of his jaw. The hand moved down
along his neck and under the collar of his shirt, stroking the sinewy muscles of his shoulder. Blade turned,
his lips crinkling in a smile, and reached out with his own large left hand to stroke in gentle but rapid
succession her cheek, lips, jaw, neck, shoulderтАФand then the delicate curve of breast that thrust out the
light fabric of the gown and the even more delicate bud of the nipple, visible in its center.
 Normally she liked the long, slow warm-up, hands and lips roaming over each other's body,
approaching inch by inch the final merging and the joy. But that night whatever emotions had her in their
grip made her more urgent, more hungry, as though she had already been half-aroused before Blade's
hand reached out to her.
She loosened the belt of the robe and let it fall open so that Blade's hands could slip down inside it
easily and wander over her bare skin. Her breathing quickened as he cupped both breasts gently, his
fingers playing a gentle rhythm on their curves while his palms pressed with steadily increasing force
against the already rigid nipples. She shrugged the robe from her shoulders and stood up in a single
flowing motion, there reached out once more toward Blade.
Blade pulled off his own clothes. By the time he was naked, he was fully aroused by the sight of
Annie's body gleaming in the light, her blazing eyes and quick breathing, and her sinuous swaying. Now
he shared her urgency, responding to it in the most natural way. His engorged member jutted rigidly
before him as he turned to face her.
She flowed up against him, her long slim arms and legs winding around his, her firm breasts flattening
against his chest. This aroused him still further, more than he would have believed possible. His hands
traced a line down her spine and cupped her buttocks. She moaned softly and burrowed her face into the
side of his neck, her mobile lips and darting tongue working from his earlobe down to his shoulder and
then back again. It was his turn to make an incoherent sound. All the sensations of his body seemed to be
flowing from that swollen and stiffened rod. He felt his throat drying out and his breath coming in irregular
gasps that would have made it impossible for him to speak even if he had wanted to. But there was
nothing to say, only to do.
He urged Annie back toward the couch again while his hands tightened their grip on her buttocks and
her arms locked more and more tightly around his torso. Their bodies were pressed so hard together that
he could feel the delicate curls of her pubic hair twining around his phallus, now pressed hard against her
but not yet in her. Then it was her turn to force the pace. She momentarily slipped free from his arms to
lie back on the couch, legs spread and raised, eyes open, fingers curling and uncurling in a series of
beckoning gestures.
Blade responded to that beckoning and in a single abrupt gesture swung himself into position above