Chapter 32

Andrew was dreaming about the woman. The odd beautiful maiden who appeared in his dreams so many nights now. Her body danced against him—the smooth, fresh, sweat-slicked skin of her backsliding against his rock-hard chest. The smell of vanilla and lavender filled his senses as he buried his nose in that fiery blond hair, held in his fist, and heaved away from the bare nape of her neck. He sensed her beauty with his heart because it was weaved from threads of love and Andrew was all the more confused, how did he think of that? Who is this woman?

His lips tasted her sweet delicate skin, and she breathed in a painful broken whine of delight. Her familiar little bottom grinds back against his thick, hard shaft, and he grunts in a sweet passion of pleasure as he believes it twitches and pulses against her. Andrew's hand tightens in her hair, his lips teased over the back of her skin. And the woman moaned. His other hand clasps her waist, pulling her against him before it slides up