He couldn’t believe this amazing woman was allowing him to make love to her again. In all of his thirty-four years, he’d never known such exquisite passion. His experience of women was not very broad, but even the affairs he’d had in Paris while studying at the Pasteur Institute seemed cold by comparison. Certainly the women had been creative, but it had only been a release for him, not this opening of his soul. "Sabrina, Sabrina, you are so perfect," he whispered while nibbling her ear, swirling his tongue around the delicate shell of flesh. Trembling beneath him her hand tightened around his length. He couldn’t stand another second of that if he was going to make this last longer than a few minutes. Reaching between them, Ford pulled her fingers away, locking her wrists above her head with one hand. This was much better, now he could taste and touch Sabrina to his heart’s content without worrying about ending this encounter before he’d had his fill of her succulent sweetness.
