Her lover was back, and she sank into the pillow, letting the dream take over. A drop, in the shape of a tear, trickled between the shoulders of a tattooed back. Sweat. She inhaled the scent of man as she watched the crystal fluid run between the rippling muscles that quivered and strained. He was naked, back ripped and sculpted, arms thick and defined, spread out at his sides. His face was covered by black hair that was long and damp, clinging to his brow. His ass was solid—unyielding—the smooth skin stretched taut over contoured muscles. His thighs were thick, powerful, possessing stamina and sheer strength. His was a body made to master a woman’s. Straddling his hips, she licked away the rivulet of sweat, tasting salt and arousal as she traced the sword tattooed along his spine with the tip of her tongue. A blast of heat wrapped around her despite the dampness between them. He arched, trying to connect once again with her tongue.
