Jade Fern Grove give me that secret hush i must yes i do need [m]

Isleña was accustomed to the idea of being worshipped — apparently something about her everyday demeanor simply demanded it. She did not need fancy techniques or innovations to incite desire in a man, as the fire which burned within her became a conflagration, a contagion, when around that of men. It was impossible to be anything but present when in the midst of such fanaticism; they brought gifts and wrote poems to her, and if she let them in her bed then she also allowed herself to be pleasured, but none of it was every good enough to cage her. They could please her, but they could never have her. 

Certainly this was the first occasion that she had ever be taken by force — but, if his entry had been forceful, there were little to no signs of it writ anywhere on her face, her body, or her response. The banshee had now fully given in to the serpent that lay just beneath the her skin, involuntarily moving her body in a complementary dance to his own grunting thrusts and grappling movements. She felt him everywhere; not only between her legs, but across her entire body, the back of her neck and within her soul. Words could no longer be formed, but even if she could, they would have been drowned by the man’s own red-hot verbal affair, in a dialect that was not common and further stirred her carnal desires. So, Isleña breathed deep and uttered tiny noises as her feet slowly slipped out from under her, but she kept moving them back into place so that she might be able to carry his weight for just another moment longer. He was divine.

As it often was, the arc of her sexual adventure was tied with his own; as she felt the stranger seize and fill her, Isleña too fell over the cliff and allowed herself to ride the mind-melding waves of pleasure that emanated from some place deep within her lower belly. The action was over, and it left a panting and quivering pair in its wake.

Soon, the swarthy male dismounted and turned to face her. Isleña did not have to feign her satisfaction; it was evident in her lazy grin, her heavy gaze and inability to speak. Isleña simply stared at him, loving the fact that he know how she felt from the inside, and proud to have bedded a man so handsome [if not a little bit entitled because of it]. Only when he supposedly announced his departure, did Isleña find her tongue. What was this nonsense he was speaking of?  “Leave?”  she questioned with breathless incredulity and a knowing smirk. “We only now start. ”