Nikita pressed Michael back until his legs abruptly hit the edge of the bed. With a gentle tug, she removed the loosely-tied towel that hid the rest of his body from her. A purr of excitement crossed her lips as she contemplated her husband’s naked form. Though nothing but her ardent gaze caressed him, he grew hard, his arousal plain to see.

With another heartfelt sigh, Nikita fell immediately to her task. Bending her head, she licked lightly at Michael’s chest with her tongue, teasing his nipples into sharp, chiseled points. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back, his hands unconsciously playing with her hair. Her tongue was so warm, so wet on his skin. With a fierce groan, he surrendered to her increasingly heated ministrations.

Her palms slid down the hard length of his body, alternately holding and teasing him as her tongue approached his navel. As her tongue swirled closer to his groin, Michael’s legs suddenly refused to support him any longer. Abruptly collapsing into a sitting position at the edge of the bed, Michael watched helplessly as Nikita knelt between his legs. Stroking the insides of his well-muscled thighs, Nikita softly exhaled, her breath caressing his growing arousal.

He leaned on his hands as Nikita spread his legs wider, giving her greater access to his now aching groin. It was what he longed for, and yet, when he felt the first touch of her tongue upon him, there, he gasped. No matter what he expected, no matter how he anticipated, it always surprised him. Her tongue was like liquid fire pouring its flaming essence over him.

Stroking his hard length with her hands, she delicately nibbled at him. Looking up at him, her lips wet with his desire, Nikita felt his hands entangle themselves in her long pale hair. "Am I pleasing you?"

"Always," he said hoarsely, unable to think beyond the moment for once.

"Good," she said, a satisfied smile on her face.

He leaned down to kiss her, and she moved just out of his reach, grinning saucily. "Unh-unh...you can look, but you can’t touch."

Michael groaned loudly. "When did we make up that rule?"

She smiled mysteriously. "If I let you touch me, Michael, you’ll take control. You can’t help it. It’s the way you are. But in the meantime..." Her tongue lapped mischievously at his arousal. Teasing him. Enticing him.

"Oh, and Michael?"

He struggled hard to focus his eyes on her. He thought he would expire if she didn’t allow him to touch her soon.

"There are no rules."

She took him in her mouth, and he stiffened. It took a few seconds for him to regain enough control to permit her to continue. He stroked her hair as she bent over him. He didn’t like the idea of her being at his feet, as if she were serving him. But when he tried to pull her up, she resisted.

Oddly enough, Nikita had never felt more in control. She relished the feel of Michael’s soft, velvety skin against her cheek. How was it that it never felt like submission, even when he let himself submit to her? How was it that it never felt like capitulation, even when she was held captive by him? Perhaps it was because they had grown beyond that simplistic phase of their relationship. They truly were equals now...fully capable of driving each other...completely crazy with need.

He throbbed, he ached. He wanted to spill himself into her waiting mouth, and yet, he was reluctant. That would mean it was over. And it felt way too good to be over.

"Ki-ta..." he breathed.

She looked up again, seeing the helpless affection in Michael’s eyes, and she felt triumphant. "Come, my love. Don’t hold back another moment. I love you, Michael."

She wasn’t sure what he reacted to. But he emphatically did. With a fervid exclamation, he climaxed, pouring himself into the tender vessel that was her mouth. Her mouth filled with his life essence, she swallowed. For a brief moment, she felt so close to him, it was as if she were him. That feeling passed, all too quickly, but it left behind another feeling. A feeling of such utter possession.

He lifted her off the floor, and this time, she willingly went into his arms, sitting on his lap. He stared at her with such tenderness, she couldn’t bear it any longer. "Kiss me, please."

He did. But her heart sang that he followed her wishes until she requested otherwise. She loved him so much. And, at times like this, she could feel how very much he loved her, too.

His lips trembled against hers. Whether he was overcome by their impassioned lovemaking or the growing intensity of their love for one another was hard to say. But it was true. Each and every day, he loved her more. She was as vital to him as breathing.

He buried his face in the softness of her hair. "I love you, doucette."

She wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers entwining themselves in the curling tendrils at his nape. "I love you, too."

Nikita was still wearing the towel. With a buoyant laugh, she announced to no one in particular, "I seem to be overdressed for the occasion."

Michael tugged at the edge of the towel, completely revealing Nikita’s upper body. Pulling her legs around his waist, he felt her warm core brush against his groin. Nikita arched her body, thrusting her now-uncovered breasts towards Michael, and he responded by kissing each nipple lightly. At her low murmur of pleasure, he wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his hands on her well- curved buttocks. Licking each turgid nipple in turn, he brought them to rigid attention, their sharp, well-chiseled points in direct counterpoint to the soft, velvety feel of her skin.

Her head fell back, her long pale hair trailing halfway down her back now, her long slender neck vulnerable and exposed. Michael took full advantage, his lips avidly seeking a spot to suckle to his heart’s content. He lifted her by her hips, his well-sated body aroused and inflamed by her very proximity. Gently pushing his way inside her, he joined their bodies, only to pause when her excited gasp caught his ear.

"Am I hurting you, doucette?"

"Oh, no, no, Michael..." she sighed dreamily, her sparkling blue eyes half-shut. Still sitting on his lap, facing him, she crossed her legs behind his back, forcing him deeper and deeper into her most secret depths. "It’s better than it’s ever been..."

He hooked an arm around her neck, pulling her roughly towards him for a fervent kiss. His mouth teased and cajoled hers into breathless submission. "Mi-chael..." she shivered, feeling his fingers parting her, finding the exact spot that would trigger a release so overwhelming, it would make her cry.

His hands kneaded her buttocks as he kissed her, more and more deeply. He lifted her up, feeling his arousal slide out of her body, so slowly, it made both of them ache. A moment later, he slowly pushed her down, feeling her inner muscles clench tightly around his arousal, in prelude to a faster, more erratic rhythm.

Back and forth, they rocked, climbing higher and higher into the clouds. As Nikita approached her climax, she groaned sharply, her voice low and husky with need. As if he sensed just how close Nikita was to leaping off the precipice they shared, Michael abruptly pushed her back onto the bed, without breaking contact with her. His hips moving faster, he glided inside her slickly coated depths, feeling the trembling build within her.

Her feet tapping an erratic pattern on his back, he opened her body for a harder, deeper onslaught. "Ki- ta..." he called to her, letting her know that he could not hold onto his near-legendary control for very much longer. His breathing grew harsher, unconsciously in synch with their rhythm.

The moment he felt her climax under him, he knew he was lost. Lost in a spell-binding web of desire and love. There was no beginning, no ending. There was just infinite space. They fell into it together, their bodies crying out their release, their souls hovering overhead.

Thrusting his way inside her one last time, he spilled himself within her soft, endless darkness with a harsh shudder. Collapsing atop her, he bit gently at her earlobe, his nose poking its way affectionately through all that long hair. Wrapping his arms around her, he rolled onto his back, taking her with him. She settled comfortably against him, reluctant to let him go. "Stay..." she urged.

He kissed her hopelessly swollen mouth, his tongue working its way between her lips to caress her tongue. When she broke away, he felt bereft for some inexplicable reason. "I am...you’re the one who’s going away."

"It just feels that way, my love." Her fingers caressed his face, but he grew shy, kissing the tips of her fingers, just before he dove into the silken curtain that was her hair. Pressing an ardent kiss there, he sighed. "I don’t understand myself sometimes, Kita."

Frowning, she absently massaged his neck. "How so?"

His hands roamed their way over her back, constantly touching and reaffirming that she was still there, still his. "I feel like...my whole life was on hold...for so many years...and then...you came along. All the barriers I spent so much time building...came crashing down...one by one."

She kissed his chin playfully. "It took you long enough, Michael," she said, swatting his shoulder.

He grabbed her hand and kissed it. "Hey," he said, shifting her body gently. "I’d like to talk to our son," he said softly.

Hiding the burst of surprise in her eyes, she rolled onto her back. Michael lay his head on her gently curved abdomen, as if listening to something only he could hear. "What’s that? Oh, okay, I’ll tell her."

Pressing a kiss to her abdomen, he continued to caress her. Her fingers playing restlessly with his hair, she held out as long as she could before asking, "What did he say, Michael?"

A fiery emerald glint entered Michael’s eyes as he glanced over his shoulder at his wife. "He can’t wait to be with us, doucette."

He slid his face flush with her near-perfect skin, skin that hardly showed the evidence of bearing three children. "He loves you."

Oh, Michael. Emotion threatening to choke her, Nikita asked, "And what did you tell him?"

"That this is a pretty good place to grow up." Michael traced a random pattern across her abdomen, feeling almost as though he could touch his unborn son this way. "That his parents love each other...and that makes him one lucky kid."

Her hands moved through his hair, gently smoothing it back from his face. "Anything else, Michael?"

He nuzzled her skin affectionately. "That I love him...even though he’s not here yet."

"Oh, Michael, we’ve come such a long way..."

He smiled against her skin. "The journey’s not over yet, doucette..."