Your gown was already loose, my desirable and scintillating Rosine, arms clothed in soft linen closed around you...my lips and teeth grazed the long line of your throat and my hands moved over you. They knew you well, those wicked, wanton hands, knew how to make you shiver, shudder, knew how to make your flower beneath your skirts. My touch was not delicate but possessive, each caress tending to the primitive ....I made you hunger for more, made you want with a level of desperation that strangled your breath in your throat. One hand closed possessively over your stomach, kneaded provocatively. Head back against my shoulder, you moaned and shifted your hips against me ... my hand slid down, pressing between your thighs, I rubbed the side of my hand against you, slowly, deliberately, until you thought you'd go mad ....our coupling would be heated, furious - primal. The prospect - the promise in my voice, in my body - sent excitement lancing through you. My hands closed about your waist and I lifted you forward....My gravelly purr sent heat curling through you. I set you on the daybed, the rain pouring down, your knees close to its edge. I straddled your calves, keeping your knees more or less together ...