Warning: mild sexual innuendo between married persons

Wicked

Wicked. A word he previously had associated only with evil. A slow smile tilted his lips. There was no other word for her when she looked like this, however. Her sensuous eyes trailed over him, inviting – no, promising – such wicked things to come. His smile widened with an invitation of its own. He crooked a finger.

She shook her head, backing away, her loose dark hair falling in waves over her form. Her fingers crept to the ties of her nightgown. The fine linen slipped from her shoulders, and she eased it down, her tongue darting out to tease him as it ran over her full lips.

Oh sweet Elbereth. He stood, unable to bear not touching her another moment. Her eyes flashed as she fled him, her eyes urging him on. He stalked her as a hunter after an elusive, yet glorious prey, until with a soft chuckle, he captured her, drawing her against him.

His hands ran down her back, over the curves hidden by her hair. She looked up with such trust, such desire, he groaned and captured her lips with his own. Sinking with her to the floor, he managed to speak only her name.

"Arwen."