His position was that of prayer, of worship, which it was, in essence. Kneeling with his head to the floor, a compact package of thrumming need, bowing at her feet.

Stepping back until she felt the smooth coldness of the wall on the warm skin of her back, she slid slowly down to the floor in front of him until her naked arse bumped against the carpet, her eyes never leaving his body. Holding her knees to her breasts, she contemplated his stillness, knowing the quiet was disconcerting to him. Slowly she relaxed her stance, widened her legs, the movement … Continue Reading