Edain beheld Alill through an untarnished prism. As he slept, her eyes chased his jaw line to full, moist lips, and then upwards to his mahogany eyes, the corners of which arched slighty downward divulging his exotic lineage. Lustily, she drank him in, his broad shoulders and well defined back, his stout thighs, his chiseled hands. She supped on his strength and became drunk with desire. She craved his embrace, his lips, his weight pushing her down into the the mossy bed.
