Carved In Stone by Jennie Kew

Author:Jennie Kew [Kew, Jennie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Wooden Key Press

Chapter Three

Arnaath

* * *

Chloe narrows her eyes at my reasoning, but just when I think she’ll turn tail and run from me, my girl surprises me and demands, “Turn around.”

With a languid smile, I do as instructed and face the fireplace, then listen in torturous rapture to the sounds of her undressing, every little movement, every rustle of fabric echoing in my ears until one salacious image after another dances through my mind.

Images of Chloe’s soft body, of her hair let loose so it spills across her shoulders and down her long back. Of her strong arms and thick thighs, the generous curve of her hips, the swell of her stomach and plentiful breasts….

My cock hardens with such speed that if I actually had a blood supply, the draining of it from my body to fill my cock would leave me dizzy.

Chloe is my favourite type of woman. Big and bold and spectacularly sexy.

“All right, you can turn around now.”

I close my eyes, letting my anticipation linger as I turn to face her. But when I open my eyes, I see more than a naked woman, more than my friend, more than Chloe. I see the life I should have had, the life of a real man. The life I’ll never have.

When I look at Chloe, I see the wife I crave, the mother of the children I’ll never give her.

The keeper of my heart.

As much as any man ever had one. A heart, that is.

“Say something,” she whispers.

But I can’t. My voice has deserted me along with my wits.

Only one thought remains.

Mine.

All I can do is reach for the tie at my waist that holds my habit in place and tug it loose, allowing the enchanted stone to pool at my feet like the fabric it was carved to imitate, and let her see my desire for her.

She watches, fascinated, as the cloth falls away, then drags her gaze higher. I know when she reaches my very large, very erect cock because her eyes widen and her cheeks darken with colour. “Oh,” she murmurs.

Stepping towards her, I hold out my arms and beckon her to me, pushing away my melancholy. “Time to warm you up,” I say with a grin, then pull her into my embrace and move her towards the fireplace, rubbing my hands up and down her back and arms, smoothing the goosebumps from her cool flesh. I flirt with temptation as I brush my fingertips along the sides of her breasts.

“Arnaath,” she says quietly, rubbing her cheek against my chest, “how is this possible? How are you possible?” She turns her head to gaze up at me, curiosity and wonder dancing in her eyes. “How is a marble statue warm to the touch when it’s been overcast all day? How is your skin soft when you’re made from stone? How does your hair move in the breeze? How did the cloth tied around your waist fall to the floor as if it wasn’t carved in stone? How is any of this possible?”

“It’s a kind of magic,” I whisper.

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