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Her mouth became as dry as Kemet's desert, her throat constricting as he grasped her shoulders, lifting her up to him so that she stood on her toes, her body arched into his. He lowered his head, his mouth descending to slant over her lips. His tongue tip begged entry and she welcomed him with a sigh. Their tongues entwined like sacred asps.
She drew her arms around his neck, and recollection overtook the present reality: her wrists were bedecked with gold serpent-shaped bracelets. Soon she would remember all, where now she had only tantalizing glimpses of images and half-memories; whispers on the periphery of consciousness.
"These garments you wear offend me. Remove them."
She laughed at his demand, a flush racing from her head to her heels.
Slowly, teasingly, she unbuttoned her blouse, her jeans, casting aside all her clothes until she stood before him naked.
She held her arms above her head and pirouetted on one foot, offering him a complete view.
"Do you like what you see, Kha'em?"
She saw his eyes darken as his fierce gaze feasted upon her. Her woman's mound pulsed, a silent cry for him to plunder her, to impale her, as his eyes now plundered and impaled.
"I like it well, Neji," he said. "And soon I shall like all that I cannot see. Do your muscles tighten at the thought of my cock within you?"
"Yes," she said hoarsely.
Laughing, he walked to the ebony chest and drew from it a pot and brush. Kha'em returned to stand before her, placing the paint pot and brush on the cabinet.
He loosened her hair from its pony tail and gently raised her russet tresses to his lips. "Even Great Lady Isis would not have locks as yours,beloved."
He smoothed her hair back over her shoulders, his fingertips caressing.
"Your skin is like silk, Nedjemet. I want to feel your skin against mine. I want to feel my flesh inside you; I want you to weep for me, and enfold me in your shroud."
She shivered. "I will do all this for you, Kha'em. Soon. Have no fear."
Nodding, he turned away. Drawing in a deep, steadying breath, he lifted the brush. He dipped its tip into the clay pot, his slow movements ritualistic.
Facing her, he smiled. "You are ready?"