The Passion

Prologue

Journal entry, July 16

I take up my pen once more, aching with the struggle in my heart. I must escape this passion that consumes me, but I know not how.

You came to me tonight. I felt your presence, your warmth, before hearing your footfall, my senses are so highly attuned to your nearness. The spell you cast over me has made me your slave more surely than any shackles.

You murmur my name and I turn to you. Your dark eyes are intense, questioning. I stare back, entranced. You have only to look at me and a rush of pleasure fills me.

I move into your arms, aching with love and desperation. Your touch is like a balm, your hand on my breast at once soothing and arousing.

I close my eyes, feeling your maleness, your strength, against my fragility. You know so well how vulnerable I am to you, to your fierce passion. I feel my body flame with it. I tremble at the caress of your lips, your heated breath, your deft fingers as you undress me.

Your robe falls to the floor. In the light of musk-scented candles, your nude body shimmers with grace and power, the master of any woman's fantasies.

Your hand brushes along my loins and I feel myself shudder. In turn I stroke the thickening swell of your hardness. I feel no shame. You have taught me desires of the flesh, sensitized my body to pleasure, burning away all inhibition.

I am already flowing, my center hot and throbbing, turning liquid with your touch, as you lie with me. Your eyes filled with challenge and desire, you move over my body and glide within me, thrusting deeply. My cry is hoarse with delight as I arch in surrender.

You command my senses. I am desperate, hungering to taste you, drugged with your opiate, with the need to fill and be filled.

You flood me in your passion. lam drowning and I draw you down with me.

Afterward, we lie close, our harsh breaths mingling, our damp skin clinging. I feel you grow still as you taste the salt of my tears. Rising above me, you stare into my eyes and see the ache in my heart I cannot hide.

Your fierce kiss is meant to soothe, but it only deepens the conflict tearing at my heart.

The choice is mine, you say. You offer me freedom, a precious gift. Because my happiness means more to you than your own, you will let me go.

But can I bear to live without you?

And is the choice truly mine to make?