by H. M Reilly
Ramsey took her to the bed. Her body arched against his as he moved down along her curves, his tongue and lips becoming acquainted with her much like an instrument to be played. More of those soft moans lifted from her as he found her navel and made his way down to remove her panties from the warmth of her body.
He lifted his gaze, black as pitch from his arousal of the seductive creature below him. He wanted to see the look on her face as his hand found the warmth of her lips. He kept her close to him. She only moaned harder, lower, his hand finding the sensitive bud between her parted legs. She moved more erratically as he continued.
Her warmth seeped from her, and he slipped his fingers within her, firmly yet tenderly pleasing her. His thumb continued to tease until he felt her body moving faster, her breaths coming harder, and he wanted to taste her before he claimed the crimson that flowed through her veins.
He withdrew his tongue and gently nibbled down her inner thigh, his fingers finding their way back into her warmth. He could not hold back any longer. She let out a low moan of pain, but he could still hear the pleasure at the edge as he claimed her blood with the warmth of his tongue. She had given herself to him.
“No,” Charlotte muttered.
Ramsey had filled a gap in Charlotte’s memory from that night in the hotel she could not recall. Did this explain the wounds on her thigh and breast? Her conscious mind barely started to flutter back, filled with confusion at events brought anew. More questions started to develop in her mind. She jolted away when she felt a warmth at her lips.
“Please don’t do this to me,” she pleaded with a gentle whimper. Her eyes fluttered as she started to slip in and out of consciousness in a way that was all too familiar to her. She did not receive a reply. She only fell into darkness.
When Charlotte woke again, it was still dark outside, but the snow on the ground glittered beneath the moonlight. The red stain across the pure snow was the first thing she saw when she opened her eyes. Hot tears started to well in her eyes as she laid there. What she had thought was only a dream had been her whole world cracking open to reveal the truth.
A rose, the color of deep burgundy, lay clasped loosely in her hand. The thorns cut into her flesh, drawing droplets of blood to the surface. The tears fell from her eyes, staining her cheeks as mascara bled from her eyelashes. She slowly closed her eyes, lying motionless on the cold ground.
The Sanguine series will be continued
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
H.M is an independent author who writes dark fantasy and contemporary fantasy. A fan of the macabre since she was a kid, she was born and raised in central New Mexico where she lives with her partner and two cats. Her debut novel, The Darkness Within, is the first of the Sanguine series:Awakening.
