by M. J. Scott
He moved in closer and I wrapped my arms around his neck, drawing him in tighter against me as the kisses deepened. Hotter. Wetter. His tongue flicked against mine and the taste of him flooded my mouth as other sensations flooded other parts of me.
This was what I wanted.
This. His mouth against mine.
This. I grasped one of his hands and brought it round to my breast, pressing against him.
This. For a moment his hand stayed still, merely rounded to my flesh, but then it tightened suddenly and fingers flicked across my nipple.
I gasped and Simon laughed. “I like that,” he said.
“What?” I managed.
“That noise.”
He liked the noise? Strange. But maybe that was normal for human men?
“Although,” he continued, “we need to be quiet.”
“Worried about what Guy might think?”
He stopped what he was doing. “Actually, I thought you might prefer it if we were discreet.”
Discreet? For a moment I didn’t know what he meant and then I remembered. Humans could be peculiar about sex. Many of them considered it taboo unless they were married. Though the brothels in the Night World and boroughs like Brightown seemed to do well enough, so perhaps it would be more correct to say that many of them did do it, they just didn’t admit to it.
Sex was also one of the main attractions of the Assemblies. Or rather, satisfaction. Not all Blood slept with their food. Or gave their blood to be consumed for pleasure.
I shivered suddenly, remembering Lucius and blood pouring down his wrist.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” I reached up and flicked my tongue against Simon’s lower lip. I didn’t want to think anymore.
He gasped, then followed it up with: “Are you sure?”
“Yes. Kiss me again.”
He did. I let his mouth carry me away again, driving the bad memories from my head, let his touch teach me new sensations.
But I couldn’t relax completely. Maybe it was the light, reminding me of the hall and all the Blood watching.
“Blow out the candle.”
“Why?”
I didn’t know how to explain it, so instead I pulled his head down toward me and kissed him, hard. “Just do it.”
His brows drew together. “I want to see you.”
“There’s the moonlight.”
In the darkness, I would feel like I could wrap the shadows around us and make a space for just the two of us. No room for doubts and indecision and the nagging fear that kept swimming up from beneath the other much pleasanter sensations he invoked.
Simon shook his head. “That’s not fair, you see better in the dark than I do.”
I kissed him again. “Do you want to argue or keep doing what we were doing?”
“Good point. But how about a compromise?” He climbed off the bed and crossed to the window. The curtains rustled as he pushed them halfway open to let in more of the moonlight.
He hadn’t yet blown out the candle and the flickering light played over his skin, outlining each muscle almost lovingly. I wanted to put my hands on his body. I wanted to run away screaming.
I settled for lying on the bed pretending my heart wasn’t racing and extremely glad Simon had human hearing and couldn’t hear the frantic beat.
He doused the candle as he came back to me. He paused at the end of the bed, slid his belt free of his trousers. He was just as pretty in the moonlight.
Just as terrifying.
I tried to smile as the mattress dipped.
“Hello again.” He lowered himself next to me. There wasn’t much room on the narrow bed, but for now a few inches still separated his body and mine.
I pressed a little farther into the mattress as my mouth dried. He smelled delicious. Clean male desire. Not bloodlust.
He wanted me.
I wanted him.
So why was I so hells-damned terrified?
Really, my virginity was a mere technicality.
It wasn’t as though I hadn’t had orgasms before. I’d just never had one involving two people that hadn’t included vampire blood and humiliation.
Which really was another reason to just get on with it and give my brain another memory to attach pleasure to.
Simon must have read something in my expression, as he made no move to close the gap between us. “If I was going to be clichéd right now, I’d say something about your skin and moonlight and pearls.”
“Pearls?”
He nodded. “You gleam.” Very gently his hand trailed over my bare arm. His skin did look darker against mine though the moon cooled it, hiding the golden warmth from sight. He felt plenty warm, though, and, as his fingers traced patterns over my skin, I began to warm up again as well.
He knew how to touch, this man. Like he had a precise map of all my nerve endings. Come to think of it, maybe he did. Healers would have to have a thorough knowledge of anatomy and physiology.
Pleasure bloomed across my skin under his touch. Across and beneath and between as he pulled me closer and set his hands roaming. Different from the need. Slower and more . . . more . . . I didn’t know what the word I searched for was.
More human perhaps?
But that didn’t make sense, because I wasn’t human.
The silvered darkness wrapped around us and my shirt hit the floor about the same time as his.
Yet despite the delight I felt when he touched me, I could also feel myself holding him off somehow. It wasn’t quite enough. I was still thinking.
Still scared, a little. Still held by years of denial and fear of letting someone so close.
And I didn’t know how to overcome that apart from confronting it. Taking it higher and faster. Letting the need take over and take me under.
I rolled, slightly, carefully, given the limited space we had to maneuver, but I still gained the upper position pretty easily.
Simon grinned up at me, clearly not bothered by the change in perspective. His hands sought and found my breasts again, flickering fingers seemingly knowing exactly what spots to touch to make me writhe against him, taken for a moment by pure sensation.
That.
That was what I needed.
I bent my head and scraped teeth against his neck. Not biting but not exactly gentle either.
“Oh? It’s like that, is it? Impatient, my lady?”
I growled briefly against his neck and he laughed again. Then he moved with lightning speed—faster than I’d thought he could—so that he was once again above me, my hands held above my head. For a brief moment the sense of being trapped, held down, panicked me, but then his hips pressed against mine, the hardness of him hitting me exactly where I needed the pressure, and I suddenly didn’t care.
“I’m getting a tad impatient myself,” he admitted, and set to work again.
I never thought I’d regret not wearing a skirt, but the delay caused by the need to get rid of my breeches seemed endless. With Simon’s help I managed it. His breeches were a lot easier to deal with and this time when he pressed me down to the bed, we were flesh to flesh.
He was warm against me, burning hot almost in one particular spot where his cock lay against me, hard and insistent. I arched against him and it was Simon who groaned.
“Not yet or this is going to be all too fast.”
“I don’t care,” I said, arching again and pulling his head down to me.
“But I do.” His voice was rough. “I want to touch.”
His hand slid down my thigh as he half rolled so we ended up lying on our side. Nerve endings ignited. And then flared hotter as his fingers returned on the inside of my thigh. Trailing up. Up. Up. Slowly. Too slowly.
I bit my lip as those clever fingers traced the crease of thigh and body and then started stroking across the hair that lay between. When they finally slipped against me, hitting that part of me that had been burning and throbbing for far too long, the part of me where the need burned most fi
ercely, I thought I’d lost the ability to breathe.
He toyed with me then. Fingers dancing an infuriating pattern. First against me, then lifting and flickering to stroke somewhere else and returning again.
Until finally they slid inside me and the sensation was so startlingly intense that I couldn’t help it, I slipped into the shadow.
“What in the name of—” Simon jerked backward, voice shocked. “Gods and suns, Lily, where did you go?”
I froze where I was, embarrassment flowing over me in a fiery tide that burned everything else away. Sweet lords of hell, what had I done? I was fairly certain that vanishing during such a moment was just not done.
“Lily? Did I hurt you?” Now he sounded horrified rather than shocked.
“No,” I whispered.
His head jerked. “You’re still here.”
“Yes.”
His eyes closed for a moment as if he was trying to gain some control before he spoke again. Then he shook his head and propped himself up on one elbow. “I should’ve known this wouldn’t be straightforward.”
He didn’t sound angry; that was a start. Lucius would have broken something by now. Me, in all likelihood.
“Lily? Would you . . . come back, please?”
“No.”
“No?” His brows drew down. “Are you sure I didn’t hurt you?”
“I’m sure.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
The tide of embarrassment washed higher. Even in the shadow I felt I must be glowing bright red. I was going to have to tell him. “You . . . surprised me.”
“Surprised you?” He blinked, and then his face went peculiarly blank. “Gods and suns, you’re a virgin.”
It wasn’t possible to disappear any more thoroughly than I already had done without actually leaving the room, but I wished I could. “Yes.”
He laughed.
Now it was my turn to be surprised. “What’s so funny?”
“It’s just that—” He broke off into laughter again, the richness of the sound echoing around the small chamber, but eventually brought himself under control. “It’s just that if you’d heard all the stories about you . . . and now, no fangs, no claws, and, despite growing up in the Night World, you’re a virgin.”
He was still smiling, the moonlight turning his dimples into dark slashes in his cheeks. I still didn’t understand what was so humorous. “I have standards, that’s all.” I tried to keep the edge of anger out of my words. He had no idea. . .
His cheeks sucked in as if he was trying not to smile any wider. “Of course you do. And I’m very glad of them. But you could have told me.”
“It didn’t occur to me.”
He blew out a breath. “Of course not.” He looked skyward as though seeking guidance, or patience. “Lily, will you please come back? This is a very strange conversation to be having with thin air.”
“I feel . . .”
“Silly? Embarrassed? Lily, sweet, everyone feels silly at some point during sex. It’s the nature of the beast. Even more so the first time. It doesn’t matter. Just come back.”
It suddenly occurred to me that he could’ve used his sunlamp at any point up to now to force me out of the shadow. But he hadn’t. And he wasn’t angry. He was right. The only thing stopping me right now was my own embarrassment. Which wasn’t going to solve any of my problems.
Nor could I feel his touch again as long as I stayed where I was. I took a deep breath and let myself fade into view so that we lay almost where we’d started, side by side on the bed, facing each other with mere inches separating us.
Simon’s eyebrows drifted upward again. “That really is the damnedest thing. How do you do it?”
I stared at his chest, not wanting to meet his eyes. “I don’t know.” It wasn’t a Fae power, what I did. Nor one of Beast or Blood or human mages. Whoever or whatever my unknown father had been, I’d never been able to work it out. “Nobody knows.” Other than Lucius and the Fae. And they weren’t talking. My eyes prickled suddenly. Would I ever know who I was? Know the truth instead of only knowing what everyone—including the man lying here with me—thought I was or should be? I blinked rapidly, drew in a shaky breath.
“Lily? We can stop right here.”
I shook my head. I didn’t want to stop. One day my truths might be revealed and who knew if Simon would want anything to do with me then? I would take this chance while I could.
“Then can you at least look at me?”
It took an effort of will to force myself to lift my head. But I did. And his eyes were full of that same warmth and desire and light that had drawn me to him since the first moment.
“That’s better.” He leaned in slowly, slowly enough to give me more than enough time to draw back if I chose. I stayed put and he kissed me.
Soft at first but then the heat between us flared and took over.
It was Simon who drew back. “Don’t take this the wrong way,” he said. “But I’m going to light the sunlamp now.”
I blinked. “What?”
“I’ll stop whenever you want. All you have to do is ask and I’ll stop. But I’m not letting you vanish again.”
“I wouldn’t—” I broke off. How was I to know what I’d do? “All right.”
The lamp glowed into life before I had a chance to say anything else.
His arms tightened around me, pressing me closer. I closed my eyes again and gave myself up to it. The feel of skin touching skin and the taste of him and the mingled scents of our bodies. Let all of it carry me away.
His hands started their dance with my nerves for a second time, and this time I wanted to touch too. My hand slid down and closed around his cock, feeling the warmth and strength of it against my palm with shocked pleasure.
Simon groaned. “If you do that, this is going to go a lot faster than you might like.”
“What’s wrong with fast?” I tightened my grip a little, then released it and repeated the action as he sucked in a breath.
“Nothing,” he managed. “But you’ll enjoy it more if—gods!” His hand gripped mine and stopped what I was doing. “Just trust me on this. Let me show you this time. Let me show you how this should be.” He added little nibbling kisses to his pleas, running his tongue along the curve where my neck met my shoulders and setting off tiny shivers like butterflies dancing over my skin.
He knew what he was doing. I rolled onto my back. “Have it your way, then.”
“Oh no, it’ll be our way,” he said. “It’s a dance. You do it together.”
“Then let’s dance,” I said, tugging him down to me. “Show me.”
He did. Relentlessly. He touched and tasted and sent the flames under my skin rising higher and higher until I couldn’t catch my breath. Until the world narrowed down to just Simon and what he was doing.
What we were doing.
I didn’t want to flee the second time his fingers slid into me. This time I wanted more. Wanted whatever it was that would ease the burning ache inside me.
Wanted him.
Fingers weren’t enough though I writhed under their touch. But he wouldn’t let me get away. Just teased and stroked until finally I shuddered fiercely and came against his hand with a cry.
It wasn’t like the need. Not a pleasure so sharp it burned. No, this was pleasure that swelled sweetly and turned my nerves transparent with delight.
When I rode the other side of the wave down, I didn’t collapse or pass out. No humiliation twisted my gut. No, instead I wanted it again. Not because the need drove me. But simply because I couldn’t not want him.
And because I knew there was more.
I curled my arms around his neck and kissed him. “Show me the rest.”
“You’re sure?”
I hooked a leg over his hip, pressing myself against him. He felt harder than before, his skin hotter. His breath was coming fast, and tension rode his muscles. I knew he wanted what I was offering. The trick now was to get him to forget himself and tak
e it.
“Please, Simon.”
It seemed that was all he needed. That last assent. His mouth took mine again as he rolled me onto my back, pressing my thighs open with his. The kiss deepened, burned, flooded through me, driving all thoughts from my head. Then he was pressing against me and I knew exactly what to do. I arched and he slid slowly inside me, the sensation like velvet drawn across my nerves.
This.
He moved within me. Sure and strong and with a passion that took me over and set me free. Sent me climbing once more as the pleasure built. Caught me when I fell and then, in turn, as I shuddered against him, sure there could be no more to discover, showed me even more as he gave himself to me and followed me over the edge.
Chapter Fourteen
When I woke, sunlight streamed through the window and Simon was gone. I hadn’t heard him leave. I imagined he was being discreet, returning to his room before the Brothers rose and started their day.
I stretched experimentally. A little sore but nothing that signified in any way. Nothing that even really registered as pain after everything else I’d been through in the last few days.
My body felt good. More than good, I realized.
I felt wonderful, energized as though I’d managed eight hours sleep. A glance at the window to determine the angle of the sun told me that it was, in reality, probably closer to only two or three.
Which meant, the only probable source of my renewal was the sex. I stretched again. No one had ever told me about this. About the sense of well-being that hummed through your veins after a night in bed with a man.
The need was different. When you fed its hunger, it simply died, wiping you blank—or it had until the last time Lucius had fed me—until it started to grow again. Leaving you feeling no better or worse than you felt before the blood and the orgasms.
Or rather, no better or worse from the need itself. I’d usually woken up miserable and ashamed and humiliated, so feeling even vaguely happy after an orgasm was an unknown quantity.
And the happiness I felt was more than vague. Here, lying in the Brother House, surrounded by Templars and crazy sunmages and possibly marked for death by Lucius, I felt positively content.
