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Title: Rivers of love
Description: Arytiss


Calanta - May 4, 2011 01:26 AM (GMT)
[dohtml]<center><table width="416" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" border="0" background="http://i1213.photobucket.com/albums/cc473/calanta1/Calanta%20ps/Calantavars2mid.png"><tr><td><center><img src="http://i1213.photobucket.com/albums/cc473/calanta1/Calanta%20ps/Calantavars2top2.png" alt="image"></center><blockquote align="justify"><p align="justify"><font color="#5a6e6e" size="1.9" face="Georgia">Night loomed in the distance, lingering there like a nightmare. With night brought slumber, with slumber brought dreams of Sean. Calanta feared falling asleep. She feared it because she would see his face, feared how vivid he was in her dreams. It concerned her, made her worry, that one night she may moan his name while slumbering. She knew Arytiss would not enjoy that, and that man seemed capable of anything. He had been a warrior for Spain, and was a Lord in their political ranks. Cal had heard of his many victories, and battles. He was a man to be feared for the power that lingered within those sculpted, and rugged muscles. Those chiseled, well toned, firm muscles coated with heated and light caramel flesh. The thought of strong vast expanse of his chest caused her to groan softly, lids closing briefly as she relished in the thought of her and him bare beneath the covers. Her warmth ached dully, moisture collecting at the entrance, and when she realized how much enjoyment she took in this, she stopped.<br>
<br>
A knock at the door caused her attention to surface from her sinful thoughts. Warm honey depths flicked to the door to watch the maid walk in. <i><font color="#acacac">"Miss I wanted to let you know that Krixx has been bathed, clothed, and is in his nursery."</font></i> The maid spoke a bit timid for interrupting Calanta's thoughts. The Spanish Duchess nodded slightly. <i><font color="#ffffff">"Thank you. You are dismissed now."</font></i> Cal spoke a bit absent minded, and slightly frustrated at the fact she had enjoyed Arytiss's image so much. The maid thanked her softly before turning, and quickly walking down the corridor.<br>
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Scoffing, the exotic beauty sauntered over to the plush bed. Her ivory silk nightgown ruffling slightly, tickling her lightly tan flesh. See through lace covered the breast region, showing a supple amount of those large, succulent bosoms of hers. Drawing back the comforter, Cal climbed into bed to quickly cover up. No doubt that barbarian of a husband would waltz on in at any moment, and ask for something she didn't feel up to giving just yet. Her cranium pressed into the soft pillow, and she sighed, allowing her lids to flutter shut again. Maybe if she faked that she was a sleep, he wouldn't bother her. (<i>One can only hope.....</i>)
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<i><font color="#ffffff">""</font></i>
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Arytiss - May 4, 2011 02:18 PM (GMT)
[dohtml]<center><table width="500" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" border="0" background="http://i1213.photobucket.com/albums/cc473/calanta1/Random%20graphics/Arytissmid.png"><tr><td><center><img src="http://i1213.photobucket.com/albums/cc473/calanta1/Random%20graphics/Arytisstop.png" alt="image"></center><blockquote align="justify"><p align="justify"><font color="#8e8e8e" size="1.9" face="Georgia">Silence. It was something he enjoyed as it made it easier to think. But at this moment there really wasn't much silence as he looked into the nursery. The nursemaid had just left the little boy to his own devices so that he could fall asleep. But he watched in the doorway, blocking the light that came from the lanterns that lit the hallway. Watching the little boy that he would adopt as his own. A tiny little babe that could easily threaten everything if he was to ever know of who his father really was. Teeth grit slightly as he thinks on this man that he had never met, the man that had taken what should have rightfully been his! A soft grunt would escape his throat without warning before he would quietly close the door to the nursery now that the child had stopped squirming and was falling into a peaceful slumber. The man strode through the hallways with purpose. He wore a pair of breeches, black in color and fitting well, tucked into boots as they should be. At his waist he still wore his sword, the silver hilt gleaming in the firelight. But his chest was bare, feeling more comfortable in such a way when he was within home. This castle, it would be his new home it would seem as it was his wife's wishes. What was it that made her love this place so? But he would give her this bit of happiness but if it was to see <i>that</i> man, he would not have it. Not at all.<br>
<br>
He would open the door to their room without warning, he would not glance about the room but making sure to close the door behind him so that none could dare look in on <i>his</i> woman. Silence. Hazel eyes would roam over the room, to see no disrepair to anything. He would take a deep breath seeing his bride nestled so perfectly on her side of the bed but furthest from his. She seemed to try and resist him, to keep him at a distance but he would not have that. And even now, he knew she was faking. No smile would trace his lips, his eyes however were soft as he would walk to the window and unlock it, letting in the cool spring breeze. He would press his hands to the window sill and close his eyes, taking a deep breath of the fresh air. A beautiful night and the creatures slept soundly and the Shire was also going to sleep. Opening his eyes, he would see that not all of this new place would rest as the guard was moving through the streets but any shouts, were too far to hear. He would not turn his gaze to his bride, no, he would not but he knew that she knew he was there. He knew she was trying to hide from him but it was a wasting effort. A battle against his Queen, but as in all games, he would win. <i><font color="#ffffff">"Sé que estás fingiendo. Usted tiene un ronquido muy suave cuando usted duerme. Eso y que se retuercen un poco las palabras, intangibles murmurando."</font></i> ( <i>I know you are pretending. You have a very soft snore when you sleep. That and you squirm a little, muttering intangible words.</i> )<br>
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He knew every little thing about her sleeping habits, often waking up when her nightmares seemed to get at their worst. Though he wished to hold her close and let her know that he would protect her from it all, he knew that she would resist him and see her as an attacker. He knew that there were times when he saw fear in her eyes, fear of <i>him</i> and it wasn't something he was not use to. No, it was common to see fear for the war hero but it was something he did not want to see in <i>her</i> eyes. <i><font color="#ffffff">"Dime, ¿por qué te escondes de mí?"</font></i> ( <i>Tell me, why do you hide from me?</i> ) His eyes do not look down, they never look down out of shame or confusion. He just looks forward, his gaze never faltering, never changing, even if he were to hear his lady stir. <i><font color="#ffffff">"¿Me odias? ¿Teme usted conmigo? ¿Te molesta conmigo por este matrimonio? Me gustaría saber."</font></i> ( <i>Do you hate me? Do you fear me? Do you resent me for this marriage? I do wish to know.</i> ) And that was all that would be said and he would wait. He would wait to see if she would respond or go on pretending that she was asleep to avoid speaking to him.
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Calanta - May 4, 2011 06:25 PM (GMT)
[dohtml]<center><table width="416" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" border="0" background="http://i1213.photobucket.com/albums/cc473/calanta1/Calanta%20ps/Calantavars2mid.png"><tr><td><center><img src="http://i1213.photobucket.com/albums/cc473/calanta1/Calanta%20ps/Calantavars2top2.png" alt="image"></center><blockquote align="justify"><p align="justify"><font color="#5a6e6e" size="1.9" face="Georgia">Krixx’s conception was completely, and utterly accidental. He wasn’t planed, there was no thought behind whether she wanted a child or not. Hell Calanta could have gone several years comfortably without having off spring. Yet her first time with a man, the time her virginity was broken, was also when she got pregnant. Sean and her had spent the night making love in a closed shop after he tended to an arrow wound upon her arm. She should have planned better, should have told him to wait, but when it got right down to it there had been no stopping what occurred. There had been passion, and heat, between them that night. How can you stop something that wasn’t suppose to happen? Each day she saw more of Sean in Krixx, but she still loved the child all the same. Cal admired how tender Arytiss was to the small child, and she was thankful that he seemed to accept the kid. She felt selfish, she felt horrible, that she expected him to care for a child that was not his. Watching her husband interact with his step-son always made her grin tenderly. It turned to be working out in Arytiss’s favor as well. The Spanish Duchess falling for him with the small acts of kindness he did for them both.<Br>
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His foot steps, heavy and relentless, sounded as his feet collided with the floor. The mere sound of his presence had her holding her breath with anticipation, and slight excitement. Excitement of the unknown. Arytiss was a wild man in his own way, someone who was so hard to tame. Not knowing what he would do next always had her sitting on the edge of her seat, making her thirsty for thrill. His musk lingered in the air, an alluring natural scent, and she struggled not to simply drown in it. Covers will still drawn up over her, the top brim of the soft material tucked under her small and delicate chin. The exotic woman heard the hinges of the door creak and squeal as her husband allowed the bitter spring night air in. Shivering slightly under the covers, Calanta silently wished that he’d climb into bed so she could curl up against him and bask in his heat. Cal tried her best to resist everything he did to her, gave to her. Arytiss was slowly winning though, breaking past the walls she used to guard her heart. She feared falling for him, feared of what he could do to her. Not physically, but emotionally. That was the reason why fear lingered in those warm amber jewels of hers.<Br>
<br>
The Duchess surfaced from her thoughts upon hearing his first statement. Letting a soft sigh whisper out into the chilling room, her slender and elongated limbs drew up into her body. Shifting her weight, her thin arms lifted her up into a seated position. Knees came to rest up against her ample breasts, the rose hued peaks growing erect from the touch of the spring night air. <i><font color="#ffffff">"Yo no ronca!"</font></i> (<I>trans :: I do not snore!</I>) Calanta scoffed, a bit playfully, as her right hand picked up a plush pillow and tossed it gently at him. <i><font color="#ffffff">"Usted ronca como un oso. ¿Qué hacer? Mírame como yo sueño?"</font></i> (<I>trans :: You snore like a bear. What do you do? Watch me as I sleep?</I>) She inquired, slightly curious if he did. To tell the truth she felt insecure about him seeing her at such a vulnerable point. Her dreams often warped to nightmares, and she’d wake screaming and crying, and she hated appearing weak and tormented.<br>
<br>
It was his next comment that stunned her. The lower jaw slacked as she went to find the words to say, but yet she could not speak them. They were on the tip of her tongue, but his question caused her mind to just draw a blank. <i><font color="#ffffff">"Yo no hago eso."</font></i> (<I>trans :: I don’t do that.</I>) Her voice a bit distant as she tried her best to lie, but failing miserably at it. Her feelings were brought out into the open, and was now their main topic this night. Unlike him, she allowed her gaze to fall from his back to the bed’s covers. <i><font color="#ffffff">"Yo no te odio Arytiss. Me tienes miedo, pero el único miedo de que lo que tengo es el temor de caer para usted. No te molesta para este matrimonio. Me molesta que mis padres por ello. Tengo que admitir que al principio yo no te quiero. No pude. No es su culpa que mis padres nos empujó a este matrimonio. Es mío, y mi decisión absurdo tener intimidad con un hombre fuera del matrimonio."</font></i> (<I>trans :: I don't hate you Arytiss. I fear you, but the only fear of you I have is the fear of falling for you. I do not resent you for this marriage. I resent my parents for it. I have to admit at first I didn't love you. I couldn't. It is not your fault my parents pushed us into this marriage. It is mine, and my foolish decision to be intimate with a man out of marriage. </I>) Calanta’s voice was soft, and smooth, showing her shame that she held for her actions. (<I>I still care for Sean, but I have to let him go.</I>) The Spanish Duchess paused only to let out a light breath. <i><font color="#ffffff">"Tengo que aprender a amar a ti, Arytiss. En mi propia voluntad. No pueden ser presionados o forzados a ello. Entienda por favor que ... para mí. Es que me lleve poco tiempo, puede tomar mucho tiempo. Sin embargo, me he comprometido a usted, y usted solamente. Tú eres mi marido, el futuro padre de mis futuros hijos. Voy a caer por ti, lo sé. Yo no sé cuándo. Por favor tenga paciencia conmigo, por favor."</font></i> (<I>trans :: I have to learn to love you, Arytiss. On my own accord. I can't be pressured or forced into that. Please understand that...for me. It make take me a short time, it may take a long time. Yet I am committed to you, and only you. You are my husband, the future father of my future children. I will fall for you, I know that. I just don't know when. Please be patient with me, please.</I>) Cal murmured, hoping that he would understand.
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<i><font color="#ffffff">""</font></i>
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Arytiss - May 5, 2011 02:02 AM (GMT)
[dohtml]<center><table width="500" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" border="0" background="http://i1213.photobucket.com/albums/cc473/calanta1/Random%20graphics/Arytissmid.png"><tr><td><center><img src="http://i1213.photobucket.com/albums/cc473/calanta1/Random%20graphics/Arytisstop.png" alt="image"></center><blockquote align="justify"><p align="justify"><font color="#8e8e8e" size="1.9" face="Georgia">The Spanish warrior knew that he was an intimidating man. It was something that he had been raised to be. To be strong, to be something that many would fear and obey. The soft rustle of the blankets reached his ears and he knew that he had been right. The way the movement was told him that she was not squirming beneath them, that sound was more subtle. And though his expression was always trained to be that blank expression, though angry looking by most standards. His mother always told him it was his eyebrows but he told her he couldn't change that. In those moments that expression broke as his lips curved into a very subtle smile. <i><font color="#ffffff">"Es suave, casi ... lindo."</font></i> ( <i>It is soft, almost... cute.</i> ) And he would remember the times that he <i>had</i> watched her sleep. Having someone next to him at night on a constant basis was still something odd for him, something that he was growing us to. Out of the corner of his eye he would see the flying object and quickly his hand would reach out, catching the pillow with precision. Always on guard it would seem. <i><font color="#ffffff">"Y sí, hay noches en que tengo problemas para dormir. No puedo dejar de verte."</font></i> ( <i>And yes, there are nights when I have trouble sleeping. I cannot help but watch you.</i> ) And though he knew, just knew that she didn't want him to see her when she was in a weak state, it is was his job as the man in the family to be able to protect her from her own weaknesses, and as her husband to help her get through them.<br>
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And then she lied. The man hated when people lied to him, it was an easy thing to detect with her. She was horrible at it with the way her voice seemed to distance itself, and she seemed to go far away. Hesitance was another signal there and his lips would pull into a slight frown as he brings his muscled arms over his chest, his eyes staring out into the darkness. He would notice a light flicker in the distance briefly before his attention was once more on her. Though his eyes never met her, he did not wish to intimidate her and he found that it was easier for some to speak to him when he was not looking them directly in the eyes. ( <i>It is not my fault for this marriage? But you do not know how I pulled the strings from the beginning do you?</i> ) But he would not reveal this. No, this would be his little secret. His secret of how he had made the whispers infiltrate her parents mind, reminding them of his proposal before they had left. Of how he still was hoping that she had changed her decision. All because he heard a rumor and the rumor happened to be true. <i><font color="#ffffff">"Tonto, sí. Sin embargo, muchos se dan en el deseo Carnel."</font></i> ( <i>Foolish, yes. But many will give into carnel desire.</i> ) And it was when she was finished speaking that the man finally moved from his spot, his eyes leaving the window as a breeze would blow through and move the curtains within the window. He would walk to her and lean over, kissing her ever so gently on the top of her head. Dispensing the pillow nearby. He knew that women were delicate and through the trauma that she had endured, she was a little more so. He would be careful with something as fragile as she.<br>
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<i><font color="#ffffff">"Tómese su tiempo, voy a esperar. Usted aprenderá que soy un hombre muy paciente Calanta."</font></i> ( <i>Take your time, I will wait. You will learn that I am a very patient man Calanta.</i> ) And he knew that she had been snared. Not by his words but her words alone. Giving her the chance to show that he was truly patient, that he waited for plenty of things and he got what he wanted in the end. He could wait for her to show affection and though he was not sure if what it was that he felt for her was love or desire, he would find out in the end. She was a beauty that could not be compared, not even the women he had been with before compared to the radiance that she seemed to exude. And he would give her a soft smile before setting on the bed at her feet, his hazel eyes looking her over and taking in all that is her. Just as she sits there, all is revealed to him. The silken gown revealing much to him from the roundness of her breasts and the chill that grips her body. The gentle curves of her body, hidden beneath the soft fabric. Even the length of those beautiful legs of hers caught his attention and he wanted to hold her close, feel her against him. But he would keep himself relaxed. A latin man is able to control themselves after all. Better than most men. (Don't believe me, take a good look at Latin dancing. It is like having sex on the dance floor and they are still pretty collected.)
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Calanta - May 5, 2011 04:42 AM (GMT)
[dohtml]<center><table width="416" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" border="0" background="http://i1213.photobucket.com/albums/cc473/calanta1/Calanta%20ps/Calantavars2mid.png"><tr><td><center><img src="http://i1213.photobucket.com/albums/cc473/calanta1/Calanta%20ps/Calantavars2top2.png" alt="image"></center><blockquote align="justify"><p align="justify"><font color="#5a6e6e" size="1.9" face="Georgia">The Spanish Lord and warrior was intimidating, there was no doubt about that. His broad, muscular frame, was evenly proportioned and towered above most in this day and age. He was imposing, and the dominance he held both physically, and emotion, radiated from him in thick, and relentless waves. When he walked into a room it was no wonder why everyone stopped to stare. Calanta feared falling for him, feared what he could do to her. When someone snaked their way past her barriers of protection, she felt vulnerable and bare to them. Arytiss was no different. Resisting him was becoming hard each and every day, and that frightened her. Could she bring herself to love another after Sean? The outlaw had done nothing to harm her, but not being able to have him whenever she wanted severely damaged their hopes of being together. Arytiss was real though. Completely real, and fully hers, but she was still trying to be stubborn and push him away. With his little passionate and caring gestures she fell more, and more, becoming less rebellious to the idea of loving him. She surrendered little pieces of her on a daily basis.<br>
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Rounded knees, bent, were still drawn up against her succulent bosoms. It was a slight gesture to hide them, but mainly so her body could retain some heat. With the open window the night’s bitter chill could seep in. Cal had lived in England for a year, and still she was struggling to adjust to the cold that filled the air. Spain was warm and sunny all year around, so there was no such thing as snow or cold temperatures. Little goose bumps flooded over her supple caramel hued flesh, unnoticeable hairs pricking up at the cold’s embrace. Brows furrowed, kneading together upon her brow line. <i><font color="#ffffff">"Los ronquidos no podría ser lindo."</font></i> (<I>trans :: snoring could never be cute.</I>) She spoke a bit dryly as she lifted her chin with slight defiance. Shuddering slightly, her hands came up to rest on her upper arms, rubbing the cool flesh trying to regenerate her body heat. Her brows lifted slightly as she watched him catch the pillow with ease. Huffing, she grumbled a few choice words under her breath. <i><font color="#ffffff">"Mostrar el señor está bien apagado puede usted por favor cierre la ventana. Tengo frío."</font></i> (<I>trans :: okay mister show off can you please close the window? I’m cold.</I>) Cal muttered, a bit frustrated that her attempt to hit him with the plush object failed so miserably.<br>
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When he replied that he did watch her at times caused the beating muscle within her chest to melt slightly. Calanta had to admit that having him slumbering at her side made her feel safe. If she ever desired it, she could just turn to face him so she could bury her face against the vast expanse of muscle that was Arytiss’s perfectly sculpted chest. She knew if she ever needed him that he was there. His body heat kept her warm during the long and cold nights. His toned arms that wrapped around her was like a security blanket. Calanta found comfort in his presence, but she wouldn’t tell him that. <i><font color="#ffffff">"que es clase de espeluznante."</font></i> (<I>trans :: that is kind of creepy.</I>) Words mused out, holding a teasing texture to them. She would confess that it was actually romantic, and cute how he watched her sleep. Nor would she tell him that when he finally lulled off to a deep slumber that she would watch him too. <br>
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Thankfully he had not been watching as she lied. The Spanish Duchess had the habit of being a poor liar. Her nostrils would flare in an adorable fashion, her voice would distance itself, and she would indeed become withdrawn. Plus those honey and hazel jewels could never keep focus on anyone’s eyes when she attempted to lie. Back when she was a Spanish outlaw she was able to lie perfectly, yet receiving a comfortable life style of a royal made her acting skills become covered with rust. Plus she found her strength dwindling when it came to being able to lie to Arytiss. His shifting physique was noted, and those heated liquid pools of honey watched as he stalked over to her. Those soft, but rough rims of his pressed gingerly into the dome of her cranium, causing thin fleshy lids to close briefly as she allowed a content sigh to release. The feeling of security and tranquility trickled over her body, and she felt herself surrendering to the blissful feeling.<br>
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<i><font color="#ffffff">"Va a encontrar, mi querida, que yo soy una mujer paciente."</font></i> (<I>trans :: You will find, my dear, that I’m a patient woman.</I>) Calanta whispered, words hardly audile. As he perched himself on the foot of the bed, she studied him in silence. The light of the room flickered from lit candles. Each captivating, and exotic detail of the brutish man was illuminated. The light danced across his heated tan flesh, the faint outline of his battle scars noticeable. They made him more imposing, but captivating at the same time. The man’s muscles etched out, the masses toned and inviting. His body called to her own, and she found herself desiring him in the silence that dragged past slowly between them. There was an aching need to feel his strong and firm physique pressing into her. A burning craving to mold her fragile stature into his own, to become one with him, to sate all his desires and needs. Just looking at him made her blood feel like it was being ignited. Swallowing softly, she tucked the cover up more over her chest, hiding the succulent breasts from his dark vision. Calanta wondered if he felt the same erotic cravings that she did now. He was so composed, and calm, as was she. Inside of her chest the beating muscles raced, and blood rushed through her. Each breath that was drawn in slow, and shallow. Would he close the distance between them, and claim her? Ravish her until the dawn, and quench her thirst for him. Could he tell that his guarded wife wanted him to bury himself deep in her core, and let his essence join with her own. <i><font color="#ffffff">"¿Cómo estás disfrutando de Inglaterra?"</font></i> (<I>trans :: how are you enjoying England?</I>) The royal woman commented, her voice held a slight quiver, as she tried to hide those sinful desires that drowned those striking amber orbs.
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<i><font color="#ffffff">""</font></i>
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Arytiss - May 5, 2011 05:28 AM (GMT)
[dohtml]<center><table width="500" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" border="0" background="http://i1213.photobucket.com/albums/cc473/calanta1/Random%20graphics/Arytissmid.png"><tr><td><center><img src="http://i1213.photobucket.com/albums/cc473/calanta1/Random%20graphics/Arytisstop.png" alt="image"></center><blockquote align="justify"><p align="justify"><font color="#8e8e8e" size="1.9" face="Georgia">The mention of closing the window had those hazel eyes looking to the billowing curtains from the breeze. The chill, he felt it but it was just a part of everything he would plan. Each thing a meticulous way of bringing her closer to him without her realizing it or making it blatantly obvious that he wanted her near. As he looked at her, watching her as she would pull the blankets around her to either keep herself warm or hide herself from him, he was not sure which in this moment but what it was, it didn't matter. <i><font color="#ffffff">"Ah, pero yo sólo puede usar este frío para que se acerquen a mí. Puedo fácilmente proporcionarle calor a mi señora."</font></i> ( <i>Ah, but I may just be using this chill to make you come closer to me. I can easily provide you warmth my lady.</i> ) And with this he would simply shake his head and he would just give a slight smile to himself. She was fun to toy with in such harmless ways. But he knew that she would catch onto his games eventually, it would just take time. She was a sharp woman and it was one of those attractive qualities about her.<br>
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He would pull his boots off and move over the bed, though despite it having to be a crawl to get to the other side, he didn't even move towards the window. It would remain open, that he would make sure of. After all, what good was a warm body if there wasn't a reason to cling to it? He would settle the blankets over himself before adjusting the pillows to just his liking. His expression showing little interest but yet, he was watching from the corner of his eye, watching her for her movements and glances. Do not think he did not see those longing glances. He was not an oblivious man unless it came to the English language. He was still trying to grasp it. Speaking of England. <i><font color="#ffffff">"Es un lugar frío, pero interesante. Aunque si yo fuera más de huésped real no sería la interrupción tanto en esta ciudad. Vamos a ver lo que está sucediendo, estoy muy curioso."</font></i> ( <i>It is a cold place but interesting. Though if I was more than royal guest there wouldn't be as much disruption in this town. We will see what unfolds, I'm quite curious.</i> ) He would then rest back with a heavy sigh as he would untie the ties within his hair and beard, tossing them to the night table. He would then open his arms and give her a small smile, one reserved for her. <i><font color="#ffffff">"Si no me va a tener, al menos para mí utilizar para mantener el calor. No me gustaría ver que coger un resfriado."</font></i> ( <i>If you will not have me, at least use me to keep warm. I would hate to see you catch a cold.</i> ) And there would be a slight chuckle as he would speak. If he couldn't tease her, then things would be a little rough.
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Calanta - May 5, 2011 06:12 PM (GMT)
[dohtml]<center><table width="416" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" border="0" background="http://i1213.photobucket.com/albums/cc473/calanta1/Calanta%20ps/Calantavars2mid.png"><tr><td><center><img src="http://i1213.photobucket.com/albums/cc473/calanta1/Calanta%20ps/Calantavars2top2.png" alt="image"></center><blockquote align="justify"><p align="justify"><font color="#5a6e6e" size="1.9" face="Georgia">It appeared that he did not plan on closing the window any time soon. Calanta gave him a small glare as he refused to shut it. Even with spring gracing these lands it was still a bit bitter at night. The summer night appeared to be more warm. Oh how she missed Spain right about now. Nights balmy and comforting. There was never the true need to shut the windows because it would only be more hot with the glass closed. Each land had their pro and cons, and it just so happened the frigid climate was a con for England. Snorting softly, the Duchess pulled the plush covers tightly around her stature. Still the rose tinted peaks remained erect, and constricted, yet thankfully the soft comforter covered her bosoms to hide the perfectly rounded and shaped temperature gauges. <i><font color="#ffffff">"Eres un culo inteligente."</font></i> (<I>trans :: you are such a smart ass.</I>) The exotic royal grumbled under her breath. Those honey pools still narrowed at him, watching as he refused to give her comfort by shutting the glass panes. His cocky grin caused her blood to boil with slight frustration, yet at the same time she couldn’t help but to find some attraction in it.<br>
<Br>
Her gaze was trained upon him, watching as he freed his feet from the heavy boots. Muscles rippled though him with ease with every movement he made. When Arytiss crawled across the bed, Cal’s legs remained bent and folded up against her succulent breasts, allowing him to get to the other side of their bed without being hindered by her long and slender limbs. She felt the blankets tug as her husband settled into bed for the night. The royal allowed the comforter to loosen around her delicate and fragile physique so he could have just enough covers to be comfortable. Liquid amber pools studied him as he adjusted his pillows, and for a moment she contemplated on tearing the covers away from him so he may experience the cold air like she was. He seemed unbothered by the fact the room was filling with frigid air. Nostrils flared as a defiant snort rushed out in a hiss, her jaw tightening slightly. A warm body was nice to curl up against, even if the room was nice and cozy with heat. <i><font color="#ffffff">"A veces creo que la gente de aquí son más civilizados que los que están en nuestra tierra de origen."</font></i> (<I>trans :: At times I believe the people here are more uncivilized than the ones that are in our home land.</I>) Calanta commented lightly. There was less rebellion in her step father’s kingdom than there was here. <i><font color="#ffffff">"Tal vez debería aspirar a ser rey algún día"</font></i> (<I>trans :: maybe you should aspire to be king one day.</I>) She retorted. Arytiss didn’t seem like he would make a bad king.<br>
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His toned arms unfolded, opening wide for her to crawl in to. There was a need for his warmth, to mold into his body and drown in the heat his body generated, but Cal felt rebellious tonight. If he didn’t want to close the window to please her, than she would not sate his wishes and desires. <i><font color="#ffffff">"¿por qué se apiñan para cuando fácilmente se puede cerrar la ventana maldita?"</font></i> (<I>trans :: why huddle to you when I can easily close the damn window?</I>) The exotic woman inquired as a single brow arched. Pushing the covers from her slender stature, her limbs unfolded and swung over the side of the bed. Nimble feet pressed against the cool ground, as her elongated legs urged her to her full height. Sighing heavily, she stormed over to the window, aiming to shut and latch the lock.
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<i><font color="#ffffff">""</font></i>
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Arytiss - May 6, 2011 12:29 AM (GMT)
[dohtml]<center><table width="500" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" border="0" background="http://i1213.photobucket.com/albums/cc473/calanta1/Random%20graphics/Arytissmid.png"><tr><td><center><img src="http://i1213.photobucket.com/albums/cc473/calanta1/Random%20graphics/Arytisstop.png" alt="image"></center><blockquote align="justify"><p align="justify"><font color="#8e8e8e" size="1.9" face="Georgia">More uncivilized? He had yet to experience the fullness of what was England. He didn't know the way the people worked just yet but it didn't help that he really didn't know what they were saying. He was only able to read their gestures and he knew the difference between what was rude and what was inviting. Even now, he could see her body's hesitance as she had so subtly moved towards him without her really knowing, before she was getting to her feet. He wouldn't take that for an answer. He would move across the bed and stand on his knees on the mattress. His strong arms reaching out to wrap them around her waist and pull her to his chest. To feel her back against him through that thin fabric. His hand running along her stomach for the briefest of moments before he pressed her against him, kept her close as he always wanted. His nose would bury into the crook of her neck, his beard tickling her soft and supple skin. To feel her, to <i>touch</i> her sent shivers through his body. His breath hot against her neck as he places one, gentle kiss there. <i><font color="#ffffff">"Ahora, ¿dónde está la diversión en eso?"</font></i> ( <i>Now, where is the fun in that?</i> )His voice coming out in a husky whisper as he keeps her close, for she is forever his.<br>
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Now, he did expect retaliation. He expected her to push away, to wiggle, to do anything. He half anticipated for her to turn around and hit him even but he was prepared. To expect it is to be prepared and he would never harm her. No, he had never hit a woman unless it was on the battlefield but it is there that gender does not matter. <i><font color="#ffffff">"No se puede negar que no encuentra la tentación de tener cerca de mí. Yo sólo soy para ti mi amor."</font></i> ( <i>You cannot deny that you don't find the enticement in having me close. I am only for you my darling.</i> ) He knew that she would not wish to share and neither did he. Oh the jealousy he felt for any man that had laid a hand on her before he could even dare. But wouldn't she feel the same? Men were not as confined as women when it had come to anything sexual after all. Actually, he could only find enjoyment if she felt some jealousy for any woman that he had been with before they were wed.
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<i><font color="#ffffff">"Arytiss talks like this"</font></i>
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Calanta - May 7, 2011 11:20 PM (GMT)
[dohtml]<center><table width="416" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" border="0" background="http://i1213.photobucket.com/albums/cc473/calanta1/Calanta%20ps/Calantavars2mid.png"><tr><td><center><img src="http://i1213.photobucket.com/albums/cc473/calanta1/Calanta%20ps/Calantavars2top2.png" alt="image"></center><blockquote align="justify"><p align="justify"><font color="#5a6e6e" size="1.9" face="Georgia">Calanta knew all too well how uncivilized these people could truly be. People fought and bickered at the market every day. Their government wasn’t really stable, constant over throws and shifts in power. She had been kidnapped from the forest near the castle. A group of men had grabbed her from behind, immobilizing her feet and hands so that she had no chance in escaping or fighting back. They dragged her to a remote part of the woods, a cottage on the far outskirts, secluded and all alone. She spent three months chained up in a basement. Ankles bound, wrists shackled with thick cuffs and attached to the wall with a thick, heavy chain. Each day was hell, and she was tortured on a daily basis. They took iron pokers, ivory from the blistering heat of a fire, and laid it against her light and supple flesh. Small scars, ridges of tissue, littered her body from what they did to her. Thankfully though she wasn’t raped, just tortured for no apparent reason.<br>
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The floor was cold beneath her feet. Wood absorbed the chilled air too easily, and hardly retained any of the previous heat that had fled the room. She shuddered slightly from how chilled the ground was. It was almost as cold as the bedroom air was. The rounded tips to slender digits barely brushed against the glass panes, before she felt those firm, muscular arms wrap around her physique. Her slow gate had came to a shuddering halt, her body unable to move. The fragile, and delicate waist of the Spanish Duchess caught in a heated vice grip. Calanta could feel his frame molding perfectly against her back, the thin fabric of her silken nightgown acting as a barrier between their flesh. She let out a frustrated sigh, her hands slipping down to nudge at his arms, trying to pry them off.<br>
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His nose pressed against the nape of her vulnerable neck. The hair of his long beard tickled her skin, causing her to squirm. A soft giggle bubbled up inside of her throat as the strands of brunette wisped against the warn caramel flesh. The heat from his body radiated from him in comforting, relentless, and unforgiving waves. Her own body absorbed it like a sponge, and she found herself melting into him. Cal relaxed, feeling weak, at his touch. Even though he was rough with many others, he was tender with her. The feel of his skin, his frame, against her own always sent chills trickling down her vertebrate, making her blood boil with pleasure. His soft rims pressed gingerly against her neck in a show of passion, and affection. That alone caused her warmth to pulsate from desire. Swallowing hard she tried to ease the rising pain between her slender thighs. <i><font color="#ffffff">"¿Quién dijo que se supone que debe ser divertido?"</font></i> (<I>trans :: who said it was suppose to be fun?</I>) She taunted in a soft, seductive purr.<Br>
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Calanta didn’t resist him. She actually surrendered, allowing her body to completely relax against his touch. <i><font color="#ffffff">"Yo sólo soy para ti también querida. Sin embargo, usted nunca sabrá si puedo encontrar algún tipo de incentivo de su contacto le."</font></i> (<I>trans :: I'm only for you as well my dear. Yet you will never know if I find any sort of enticement from your touch will you.</I>) Cal spoke playfully, but the first part was gravely serious. Was Calanta jealous of all the women who had bed Arytiss before she became his bride? Yes, there was actually extreme jealousy that lingered within her heart, and the pit of her soul. She never showed she was jealous, for that wouldn’t be proper, but one could easily tell from the tone her voice held when she addressed any woman who conversed with Arytiss with Cal around. The exotic woman would never admit she was jealous, instead she bottled it up inside, which probably wasn’t a good idea. She was his, completely his, and he was all for her. Anyone who dared to flirt with him, to share any sort of intimate moment with him again, she would surely attempt to kill.
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<i><font color="#ffffff">""</font></i>
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Arytiss - May 8, 2011 04:40 AM (GMT)
[dohtml]<center><table width="500" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" border="0" background="http://i1213.photobucket.com/albums/cc473/calanta1/Random%20graphics/Arytissmid.png"><tr><td><center><img src="http://i1213.photobucket.com/albums/cc473/calanta1/Random%20graphics/Arytisstop.png" alt="image"></center><blockquote align="justify"><p align="justify"><font color="#8e8e8e" size="1.9" face="Georgia">Feeling her move to him, just the way that her body seemed to press to him, closer and closer. Trying to get warm because of the cold that <i>he</i> purposefully had filled the room with. His own body would produce more heat than that of his lovely bride. Though her fingers pried at his arms, his grip was un-relentless as he just held her to him. But they were simple nudges, as she was not truly trying. This just told him that this was something she <i>wanted</i> but she would not admit it to him. No, she was too stubborn to admit it to him. Beneath his touch he could feel how soft her skin was, even past the scars that she held she was still a beautiful woman worth the desire. Worth all the planning and the timeless and countless hours that he spent developing how she could be his! And here she was, in his arms. For so long she had been unattainable but now, now she was bound to him by law and forever, she would be his. Then her voice would purr out and he felt the goosebumps rising along his spine and he ached for her now. Oh how easily she was able to play him! But in the end, always in the end, it would be him who would turn out victorious. He did get what he wanted in the end. <br>
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Then she surrendered, the white flag being raised. Arytiss would feel her body relax into his and he would support her with his strength. For beneath his touch she was so fragile and must be dealt with care. Her words are playful but he knows better. She does not struggle against his touch, proving that she only wished to tease. <i><font color="#ffffff">"Si mi tacto no te quisieren engañar, entonces ¿por qué has dejado de luchar?"</font></i> ( <i>If my touch did not entice you, then why have you stopped struggling?</i> ) His voice almost a soft growl and he would tighten his grip around her. He would then lift her with such ease from the chilling floor, and whether she struggled or not, she was his. There was no escaping him now. With an easy movement he would have lifted her and set her on the bed, sure with probably a bounce as he would shift her so that she would land on her back. It was then that he would hover over her, looming with fire in his eyes as he would press his lips to her neck, whispering softly so she could hear. <i><font color="#ffffff">"Siempre podré encontrar a cabo."</font></i> ( <i>I could always find out.</i> ) And he would read her reactions as he pressed his lips to her neck, lining just beneath her jawline with soft brushes.
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Calanta - May 8, 2011 06:48 PM (GMT)
[dohtml]<center><table width="416" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" border="0" background="http://i1213.photobucket.com/albums/cc473/calanta1/Calanta%20ps/Calantavars2mid.png"><tr><td><center><img src="http://i1213.photobucket.com/albums/cc473/calanta1/Calanta%20ps/Calantavars2top2.png" alt="image"></center><blockquote align="justify"><p align="justify"><font color="#5a6e6e" size="1.9" face="Georgia">If the exotic woman really wanted to, she would have attempted more to pry his arms off of her slender, curvaceous physique. Yet she didn’t have much energy to put up enough resistance to him. Nor did she honestly fell like it. With each day that came to pass, she surrendered more and more of herself to her husband. They had been married about two months now, and every day there was an inner conflict about putting up those barriers to shut him out. Arytiss was a very handsome man, extremely charming. He was like a Spanish god in his own way. Strong, passionate, brave, domineering. When he walked into a room his presence was imposing, and he demanded respect from on lookers. Girls in Spain swooned over the warrior and Spanish Lord. He could have any woman of his choosing, that much was obvious. What shocked her was that Arytiss had chosen her, out of hundreds of women, she was picked. Cal was hesitant about it, for she feared he only loved her political rank and that she was next in line to inherit the Spanish throne. People loved her for her ranking, and her angelic features. Few truly loved who she is. (<I>Sean did.</I>) Still she struggled to get over these fears, but Arytiss was becoming victorious when it came to the battles of her heart.<br>
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It was his heat that seeped into her supple skin, her body continuing to absorb the intoxicating warmth. She felt utterly weak, completely powerless, when he touched her frame. Little flames of fire licked up her flesh, around her neck, as a chill crawled down her vertebrate causing her to shudder against him. Their bodies were molded together, as if they had been made for each other since birth. The back curve of her skull gingerly rested against his shoulder, her hands resting gently upon the firm arms that were laced around her waist. She was melting, drowning in a sweet pool of forbidden ecstasy. The Duchess desired her husband, but she wanted to have some fun first. To string him up, and play wicked games, before allowing him that toxic release. Where her head came to rest upon the vast muscular expanse of his chest, she could hear his beating muscle. The royal woman studied the heart beat, wishing and waiting to see if there were any signs foreshadowing his arousal. <Br>
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Before she could hone in upon the hypnotic rhythm his heart sang, she felt the world fall from under her nimble, bare feet. Arytiss was successful in lifting her from the cold floor, and onto the plush and inviting bed. Her back pressed lightly into the mattress and warm covers. Brunette and blonde fibers splayed out beneath her exotic frame as those heated pools of liquid honey and soft hazel was trained upon Arytiss. <i><font color="#ffffff">"Tal vez me di por vencido, porque estoy agotada a partir de criar a un niño."</font></i> (<I>trans :: maybe I gave up because I’m exhausted from raising a young boy.</I>) There was slight truth behind her words, but mostly it was all for play. Fragile hands lifted to rest gently upon his chiseled chest. Nimble finger tips played with the warm, velvet flesh there, pressing tenderly against the skin and muscle. His rugged, but soft, rims pressed against her vulnerable throat. Passionate, yet teasing, kisses taunted the caramel flesh under her proud, but delicate, jaw. A moan, soft and light in sound, bubbled up through her throat, and pooled out past those plump folds. Lids closed briefly as she drew in a sharp, uneven breath. <i><font color="#ffffff">"¿Cómo piensa hacerlo?"</font></i> (<I>trans :: how do you plan on doing so?</I>) Calanta purred in a sultry voice, another moan lacing in with those seductive syllables.
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<i><font color="#ffffff">""</font></i>
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Arytiss - May 9, 2011 10:27 PM (GMT)
[dohtml]<center><table width="500" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" border="0" background="http://i1213.photobucket.com/albums/cc473/calanta1/Random%20graphics/Arytissmid.png"><tr><td><center><img src="http://i1213.photobucket.com/albums/cc473/calanta1/Random%20graphics/Arytisstop.png" alt="image"></center><blockquote align="justify"><p align="justify"><font color="#8e8e8e" size="1.9" face="Georgia">Her body no longer resisted him. Though he knew that somewhere, she was probably trying to. Trying to keep him at bay for something she was still unsure of. <i>If she did not want, then why does she cave?</i> He feels her touch his skin, exploring the contours of his chest. He can feel her fingers dance over the bone and flesh and it sends a tingle down his spine, one that travels further and further. But it was the moan, oh the moan, that would tell him that he was right. She felt the desire as much as he did and this caused him to smile just a bit before letting his lips travel kisses to her her ear. One last kiss on the lobe before finally whispering. <i><font color="#ffffff">"Parece que tengo. Usted gemido bonito."</font></i> ( <i>It seems that I have. You moan beautifully.</i> ) Oh how it seems to cause him to spark a fire and he does not care if she is tired, he knows that she'll be begging for it as he would then prop himself up with his left elbow, his right hand traveling along her side. Feeling what he could through the fabric. His touch his gentle and barely there. A soft brush and he travels his fingers from her hips and up her sides towards her shoulders.
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Calanta - May 13, 2011 03:31 AM (GMT)
[dohtml]<center><table width="416" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" border="0" background="http://i1213.photobucket.com/albums/cc473/calanta1/Calanta%20ps/Calantavars2mid.png"><tr><td><center><img src="http://i1213.photobucket.com/albums/cc473/calanta1/Calanta%20ps/Calantavars2top2.png" alt="image"></center><blockquote align="justify"><p align="justify"><font color="#5a6e6e" size="1.9" face="Georgia">There was conflict, great conflict actually. Her body craved, and desired him. The beating muscle inside of her chest was guarded by walls of steel. It had to be. After all the heart ache, the abandonment of her father, how her mother tore apart her own life, it frightened her to actually trust and love someone. Sean still had her love, but she knew she had to let go of him. It’d be for the better, it had to be. She’d damn herself to hell, along with this marriage, if she continued to hold a torch for the handsome outlaw. As she laid there, beneath Arytiss, she struggled with herself to let Sean go. Seeing him a day ago caused her world to turn upside again. She clawed for solid ground, needing something to grab onto for she felt like she was falling into a pit of disarray. Only gazing upon the outlaw made her realize how strong those old feelings were, and it scared her, shaking her to the core. Calanta <I>needed</I> to forget about her past with him, her feelings for him, in order to survive.<br>
<br>
His venturing lips were warm and soft as they pressed into her light caramel flesh. Groaning, her finger tips played with the outlines and contours of the toned muscles upon her husband’s chest. This man’s touch alone caused sweet blissful ecstasy to leak into her veins. She wanted to drink in more of him, wanted to be as close as she could. Calanta yearned for it, wishing nothing more than to become one with him. Her stubbornness though, would not allow her to admit such. Arytiss’s words whispered into the inner labyrinths of her ears, tickling the drums with their teasing texture. Heat flooded through her cheeks, causing them to warm at their touch. <i><font color="#ffffff">"¿Cómo sabes que no estoy fingiendo?"</font></i> (<I>trans :: how do you know I’m not faking?</I>) She mused, trying to change the subject from how beautiful her moans are onto something else. The exotic woman laid motionless, cherishing the little trails he made up her sides. As much as her warmth ached, needing release, needing him to bury deep inside her walls she’d refrain from blurting it out or begging so soon. <i><font color="#ffffff">"estás disfrutando?"</font></i> (<I>trans :: are you enjoying yourself?</I>) Calanta inquired playfully, the rounded tips of delicate digits venturing over the hot sea of skin that clad his rib cage.
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<i><font color="#ffffff">""</font></i>
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Arytiss - May 13, 2011 04:58 AM (GMT)
[dohtml]<center><table width="500" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" border="0" background="http://i1213.photobucket.com/albums/cc473/calanta1/Random%20graphics/Arytissmid.png"><tr><td><center><img src="http://i1213.photobucket.com/albums/cc473/calanta1/Random%20graphics/Arytisstop.png" alt="image"></center><blockquote align="justify"><p align="justify"><font color="#8e8e8e" size="1.9" face="Georgia">Her body was still but he could see the slight prickle on her skin from the chill, the ecstasy. The groan that leaves her and she just can't help but let his body want to take over. His body presses to her, his pelvic region brushing against her and he can feel that she is warm through his clothing. Hazel eyes look up at her when she speaks and he just gives her a smile, the hand that had traveled up her side now gently brushing over her cheeks, feeling the warmth. He could see the dark flush that was forming. He could see that she was not embarrassed, she was not angry. The flush could only be from arousal and he knew this all too well. <i><font color="#ffffff">"No sería rubor tanto si estás fingiendo."</font></i> ( <i>You wouldn't be blushing so much if you were faking.</i> ) That mischievous smile is on his lips as he just watched her. He would then move his fingers to the edge of her night gown which had ridden up so slightly from her laying down position. Fingers feeling the smoothness of her skin. She was meant to be explored, she was to be conquered by him. Though still it pained him that he was not the first. Oh but he would be the one to remember! He would let his hand trail up her nightgown, causing it move against his wrist but the fabric is so light it barely gives him a tug. His hand landing on her hip where he would hold her and feel what it is like to have her that way. His eyes are blazing with passion as he looks upon this beautiful flower of his. His exotic rose. <i><font color="#ffffff">"¿Dónde está la diversión en la falsificación? ¿No quieres experimentar lo que el placer que le puede dar?"</font></i> ( <i>Where is the fun in faking? Don't you want to experience what pleasure I can give you?</i> ) His words are promising, his small gestures to feel her skin and bring her close showing that he is ready to give her a world of something she would have never felt before.
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