“Lie still now.” He leaned over and flipped her onto her stomach, kneeling astride her. His hands moved skillfully over her back and shoulders, kneading and stroking until her skin tingled and a deep relaxation seemed to press her deeper into the mattress. As his fingers moved down over her buttocks and the backs of her thighs, pressing into the tightness of her tired muscles, she groaned into the pillow. It seemed he left not an inch of her back untouched before she found herself lying on her back again, looking dreamily up at him as he continued to work over her arms, her belly, her thighs.

“Where did you learn to do that?” she asked as her body seemed to float, her skin warm and alive, despite the deep relaxation.

“Macedonia,” he answered with a chuckle. “No more questions.” He moved back, lifting her legs, resting them on his shoulders as he slipped his hands beneath her bottom and lifted her on the shelf of his palms, his penis sliding easily within her, pressing deeply within her, filling her it seemed until she could take no more of him. He moved lazily, his hands resting on his hips as he knelt above her, bringing her with almost agonizing slowness to the brink of climax. Petra could sense the moment when the intense flood of sensation would overwhelm her and she would topple into glorious molten oblivion, but it didn’t come. Guy held them both on the brink, moving occasionally, allowing her to feel him pulse within her, then holding still. His eyes were on her face, her half-closed eyes, her parted lips as the moments seemed to lengthen into forever.

And then he touched the exquisitely sensitized nub of her sex and the shock sent orgasmic waves crashing over her so that for a moment she lost all sense of herself, of her surroundings, only the deep throbbing inside her body, the liquid melting of fiber and sinew.

Guy let her legs fall to the bed and leaned over her, drawing her against him, kissing her, his tongue deep within her mouth as his penis slowly slid from her body. She clung to his neck, wanting to stay a part of him, her body cleaving to his, until finally he released her, laid her back on the bed, where she lay stone still, unable to move a muscle, her eyes closed, her breathing swift.

“I think I died,” she managed to say after a few minutes.

“La petite mort,” he said, speaking with some difficulty himself as he stretched out on the bed beside her. “A rare and beautiful thing.” His hand rested on her belly and he drew a deep, steadying breath.

Petra rolled onto her side, kissing the damp hollow of his shoulder. “Can we sleep now?”

For answer Guy sat up, lifting her against him, putting her underneath the covers, maneuvering himself beside her, pulling the sheets up over them. “There. Sleep well, sweetheart.”