At the moment when her eyes closed, when all feeling vanished in her, she thought that she felt a touch of fire imprinted on her lips, a kiss more burning than the red-hot iron of the executioner.

He was now in that state of fire that she loved. She wanted to be burnt.

A madness of tender caressing seized her. She purred as a tiger might have done, while she undulated like a snake.

When she closed her eyes she felt he had many hands, which touched her everywhere, and many mouths, which passed so swiftly over her, and with a wolflike sharpness, his teeth sank into her fleshiest parts. Naked now, he lay his full length over her. She enjoyed his weight on her, enjoyed being crushed under his body. She wanted him soldered to her, from mouth to feet. Shivers passed through her body.

Her body invited sex while her eyes screamed, 'Save me.'

but there was an immediately perceptible vitality about her as if the nerves of her body were continually smouldering.

Prometheus-like from heaven she stole The fire that through those silken lashes In darkest glances seems to roll, From eyes that cannot hide their flashes: And as along her bosom steal In lengthened flow her raven tresses, You'd swear each clustering lock could feel, And curled to give her neck caresses.

The fire blazing in her dark and injured heart seemed to glow around her like a flame.

Her eyes are pure stars, and her fingers, if they touch you, freeze you to the bone.

She had a need to feel the thunder,
To chase the lightning from the sky,
To watch a storm with all its wonder
Written in her lover's eyes.
She had to ride the heat of passion
Like a comet burning bright,
Rushing headlong in the wind
Now where only dreams have been,
Burning both ends of the night.

She couldn’t stop watching his eyes. They were bright black, surrounded by an incredible network of lines, like a laboratory maze for studying intelligence in tears. They seemed to know what she wanted, even if she didn’t.

…There is the heat of Love, the pulsing rush of Longing, the lover’s whisper, irresistible — magic to make the sanest man go mad.

So Conan, glaring from under his tousled mane, saw the white naked figure of Natala writhing in the lustful grasp of a black nightmare shape that could have only been bred in the lost pits of hell.

As if her veins ran lightning