The Roots of the Ivy and Other Stories of Middle-Earth

Maybe it was the gleam on her lips, from the peaches, that just had to be licked off. Or the nape of her neck, that always begged to be kissed. Maybe it was her monumental ability to completely arouse him with nothing more than a whiff of her scent or just a simple look. Whatever it was that started it, they always found it impossible to keep their hands off each other, coming together in a frenzy of passion that always ended with him spent inside her, their breaths coming in gasps, skin slick with sweat, bodies entwined in love.