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Her silver-blue eyes were glazed, her lips parted, her breaths coming once more in little pants, which swept her soft patisserie scent over him, which in turn was like a new set of fingers rubbing ever so lightly over his cock.
With great care he positioned her, lifting and adjusting until her hips were low on the table and he had arranged her legs carefully over his shoulders.
He trembled now, not from exertion, but because what he had wanted for so long, for five long months, was within a few inches from his tongue.
She had a perfect chestnut triangle of hair and as he sank to his knees, not caring that the cement floor was hard and cold against his skin, his lips finally met her lower lips. Her hands now pressed into his scalp as though urging him to go where he needed no urging to go.
He kissed her long and deep and made use of his tongue. How he had wanted to be here, to taste her, to feel her rippled flesh over his tongue.
Her hips rolled beneath him. He used his forearm over her hips to keep her seated. The heels of her feet pushed against the muscles of his back.
For him, a woman’s nest was a place to savor, to take his time, and for once she did not rush to a climax. He smiled and licked a long line from her sweet opening to the apex of her nest. Yes, for once she was in no hurry and he began to build her fire with each kiss and lick. One upon the next, he felt her urgency grow as well as the elegant flow of power that moved in waves over him now.
He groaned and, in response, his mind filled with her thoughts, Jean-Pierre, thank you, thank you. I feel so peaceful and your tongue and lips, like heaven.
He made love to her with his mouth and tongue for a long time, driving her to the edge, then pulling back until her heels pushed harder and harder into his back and her whimpers turned to cries.
Jean-Pierre, she cried out in his mind.
He pushed into her now, deep thrusts with his tongue. He shifted one hand to press on her nest, pushing and pressing. Her cries grew lower in timbre until she groaned and arched her back. He drove his tongue hard now, deep inside, faster and faster until she screamed. But on he pushed, so that he brought her again and again.
At last her hips settled. He kissed her very low once more, slowly and with reverence, savoring each delicate fold.
He rose up and saw that her eyes were still glazed, but in his mind, her thoughts were coherent. How you satisfy me. I have never felt like that before. Always, it’s a quick rush, and pleasant, but not like this … oh, Jean-Pierre.
He responded, Your power, Fiona. It is as though you possess my mind, as though you are inside my mind. It is so beautiful. And I feel your power in a flow of waves over my body. I have great need of you.
Her lips tried for a smile but enthrallment tended to keep the face very quiet. Then take me, chéri.
He carefully repositioned her legs, drawing them around his waist as he stood up. She locked her ankles.
He looked down and shuddered because he was so close to possessing her as he had wanted to, ached to, since Toulouse. Using his hand, he guided himself and began a gentle push. She was very tight and moaned at the presence of his cock.
He pushed a little more, and began to enter her, slowly, so slowly, savoring this first taking. She gave little cries and tugged on his arms, urging him on. He watched his long thick hardness begin to disappear into her body. He trembled now, the muscles of his arms shivering like a stallion ready to run.
He curled his bu**ocks and took her another inch. He rolled his hips and pushed from side to side.
She cried out and her hips arched off the table. Only then did he lift his gaze to her face and saw that tears trickled from her eyes. Only then did he realize his eyes were wet as well.
There was great beauty in making love.
Once more he looked down between them. The dark hair of his body now shielded their connection from sight. But he had to see more and he pulled back. His c**k was wet so that when he pushed back in it was a smooth glide and he collapsed forward, catching himself with his hands on either side of her. His hips would not stop as he wished them to and he was hard, so very hard.
* * *
Fiona was lost, deep within her mind, because Jean-Pierre held her in this magical place. She was at the same time so at peace yet stimulated and alive as she had never been before. He was thrusting now, into her, and rubbing over a place inside her body that was bringing her such pleasure. She wished he would continue forever, thrusting and driving.
She rolled her head from one side to the other.
Fiona, he whispered inside her mind.
She could hear him, but she couldn’t focus on him. Oui, she sent.
She heard him groan, and his thrusts were faster now.
I want to remove you from thrall. Will you allow it? Will you try?
I’m afraid. This is so wonderful. You don’t know. I’m afraid. Afraid.
Never mind. His voice was but a whisper. Are you close?
Close? Close to heaven? Yes, she was. Close to ecstasy? Oh, God, yes. She had never felt anything like this before.
But there was one thing she desired, something very specific to the vampire world in which she now belonged. She wanted Jean-Pierre to take her blood.
Jean-Pierre, she sent.
He groaned. I love your voice in my head. Tell me what you desire. I will do anything.
Take my blood. There she had said it and the moment she did, her internal muscles tightened around him.
Cherie, I wish for nothing more than that, you know I do. But after all you have been through—
She cut him off. It’s not the same thing at all. You have to remember, what was done to me was done with needles and machinery.
But are you certain you are ready? Blood is what was taken from you all those years.
Jean-Pierre, you’re not “taking” my blood, I’m giving it to you and I want this more than I can say.
“Shit,” he said aloud and his body stilled.
The trouble was, she was so ready and thoughts of his fangs in her neck so aroused her that she played him, deep within, as though the well of her had fingers and he was her instrument. She couldn’t exactly control what she was doing, but the feel of him, so still, so hard, brought deep groans from her throat.
“You must stop. I’ll come. Fiona.” He gasped each word. “Please stop.”
She sucked in a deep breath and grew as still as he was. She panted lightly, trying not to feel so much. The only thing she regretted was that she had waited so long to give herself to him.
After a long, long moment, he relaxed his shoulders and seemed to take a deep breath. He leaned over her now and nuzzled her ear, her throat, her neck.
He began to lick right above her vein. Each stroke of his tongue sent shivers down her shoulders, her br**sts, over her abdomen, and caused her to tighten around him. He began to move within her once more, slowly now.
