<div align="center"><strong>Kris Fielding : Ansem Hyrals room</strong></div><br/><em>Damn he was beautiful</em>The thought ran through her head, his nude body making her already soaked black lace panties even wetter.  When he had her pressed up against the wall again, her arms pinned above her head, she sent him a challenging grin which was promptly wiped away from her face when his growing need was pressed up against the juncture of her legs.<br/><br/>"<strong>Your turn</strong>"  the words where whispered, but all she could think about was what was pressed up against her body.  Whimpering in need when he pulled away, she looked down as one by one he unbuttoned her blouse.  His playful stare met with one of desire, and need.  As she was barred to his lustful gaze, she allowed her head to fall back, the smooth column of her throat bared.  Her pulse picked up when his lips touched the soft skin of her breasts.<br/><br/>A low breathy moan escaped between her parted lips as the bare skin of their chest's touched, causing a delicious friction.  When his kiss came, and everything but her skirt fell from her voluptuous body, she decided that she had had enough.  Pushing him back until the back of his knees hit the edge of his bed, she pushed him down and slowly climbed on top, her lips kissing a line from his Adams apple to his soft lips.<br/><br/>"<strong>I guess it's my turn again?</strong>"  Was said with a smirk.