She drew his face closer, until his mouth and nose were pressed against her cold, moist womanhood, where he concentrated what little remained of his free will upon the simple act of keeping his jaws clamped tight shut. She stroked his hair and gently urged him to open his mouth and bring pleasure to them both, but in spite of her hypnotically sweet voice and her even sweeter feminine scent, his concentration held fast, and though his jaw-muscles ached and his teeth chattered from the conflicting forces acting upon them, his lips did not part even slightly. Suddenly, her hands ceased their gentle stroking and gripped his hair and scalp like cruel talons, pulling his face away from her.
Our Beloved Tyrants Scene 12
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