A Visitor At Dawn

The stranger's face was hauntingly familiar. A haunting short.

The stranger’s face was hauntingly familiar. His eyes, ice blue and specked with silver, almost appeared iridescent in the muted light of the misty dawn. He was dressed all in black, his clothing caked with snow. He leaned wearily against the frame of the door.  “Can I help you?” she asked.  “Azalea,” he rasped. He stepped towards her, collapsing through her arms and onto the stone floor. With a pounding heart she pulled his limp form into the foyer. She scanned the grounds and the snowy woods beyond. There was no one in sight, and only one set of footprints in the road. She shut the massive oak door and bolted it. She bent down to examine the stranger. He had pale skin and flaxen hair, and with sharp angled features and arching brows he was both beautiful and masculine. She ran her hands over the hard contours of his body, checking for wounds or breaks. She found nothing amiss. No weapons. No means of identifying him. With a sudden start he came to. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her on top of him. “Unhand me!” she cried.  He drew her face close to his. The graveness in his eyes shocked her. “Never, Azalea. Never again.” “Azalea? You must be-“ He crushed his lips over hers, silencing her voice. She tried to fight, but she was no match for his strength. As he pressed his lips over hers again and again, she saw tears streaming down his cheeks. With a guttural moan his tongue found hers, inviting her into a primal dance. To her own surprise, she accepted the invitation. She softened against him and entwined her fingers in his hair. They kissed deeply and her sex grew wet with the longing to be filled. She felt his manhood hard against her hip. She straddled him and pressed down that she may feel him better through the layers of her skirts. With a breathy sigh she pushed against him - then again, and again.  She didn’t know this man. Yet she was delirious with lust, flaming with a desire hotter than she’d ever known. This was madness. This must stop! He yanked down the front of her gown and she pulled away, scrambling to cover herself. “No!”  “I must see!” He lifted her right breast and touched the large birthmark there. “It is healed…” he said with disbelief. Her brows furrowed in confusion. “It’s but a mark. I was born with it.” His ice blue eyes searched her own. “No, Azalea… You died with it.”

Author's Note

This was written for my weekly Sexy Flash Fiction Challenge. If you have an offsite blog (or even if you don't,) please consider participating in the challenge!! :)

http://www.athenamarie.net/p/the-sexy-flash-fiction-challenge.html

Reviews

[Ov3R_sKiLl3D]

i really enjoyed reading your story...
keep writing.... :)