by Poppet
Opening my eyes, illuminating her face with the deep red glow of my irises, I plant a tender peck on the tip of her nose.
She clenches in silent objection, popping another unexpected explosion out of my sensitive dick, shaking my bones and wrenching a hoarse grunt out of me.
I feel like I just ran a marathon for twelve days straight.
Her eyes open, staring quicksilver magic at me, their iridescence smothered in a lagoon of unshed tears.
Ellindt only cries when she's heartbroken or damn afraid. I know she's not afraid right now. It thickens my swallow and I lift up to get a better look at her. “Ellie?”
She twists her head to stare at the Rembrandt on the wall, her eyes spotlighting the gilded frame.
Gripping her chin I force her face back, “What?”
“Don't do that again.”
“Not likely sweetheart,” I smirk, giving her sexy slot a quick thrust to make my point.
Her lip trembles and she sniffs, “Don't ever make love to me. Don't do it again.”
She could have just electrocuted me with a lightning bolt, that's how profound her statement is. I did, didn't I? I made love to her for the first time in our long miserable existences.
Why the fuck can't I? She lets everyone else.
“You can't stop me,” I hiss, watching my emotions flicker the two shades of my eyes across her pale face and hair.
She wriggles, “Get off me.”
“No.”
“Zarak, get the fuck off me! You kissed me! You made love to me. You're a sick demented freak!”
“Fuck you, Ellie,” I snap, annoyed, rolling us, transporting her instantly to my home, right into the vicious clutches of my bed.
The liquid satin swallows her whole, burrowing her into the cocoon which is an extension of myself.
I'll bury you where no one else can find you, you little spoiled bitch. So deep inside me even your guardian will never locate you.
Angry, I stomp to the stairs, stepping out my deep bed, twisting to sit down on the top step, yanking my jeans back over my naked ass and zipping up. “You're mine, Ellie!”
Leaving her to the sexual delights of a bed on a mission to ruin her obstinate resistance to me, I prowl away from its comfort in search of a potent drink.
When I get back baby girl, you will be sorry you ever turned me down.
Chapter 3
Jowendrhan:
No! NO!
Standing and straining against the chains, I yell at the doorway, “Akae! You fucking shit! Did you feel that?!”
Tensing against the restraints, I roar my anguish into the catacombs. It breaks something inside me. The entire world experienced that pulse. Now I have an inkling of how powerful my adversary is.
I'm sorry Seithe. I'm too late. They've taken all our girls and left us none.
“She did call for you, first,” drawls in a satanic hiss.
Looking toward the doorway, I stare at Grastle, a red eyed vampyre from Pravus.
“What the hell do you want?”
“The same thing you do,” he smiles evilly.
“Who took her? Who is hurting Phoebe?”
Grastle loses the smirk, “Arelstin.”
And I'm the one in prison? Nothing about this adds up! Why am I locked up and that freak is out running the streets, murdering humans, abducting Slakax?
“What the hell are the neuri doing about it?” I demand.
He throws his head back, laughing indulgently, “Nothing.”
“What do you mean nothing?” Get me out of here! Do those bastards have no soul?
“Free your mind, Jowendrhan. A cage is only a cage as long as you believe it is.”
Seithe would understand that, but he's long dead and isn't talking from beyond the grave. I'm an elder damn it! I shouldn't even be in this mess!
He stands, “Your turn will come to avenge. When you do, be all that you can be, and all that there is.”
*
Aisyx:
I can't rush things. She's naïve, possibly even stupid, and the last thing I need is to have Ryan up my ass and down my neck for taking liberties with some rare mountain spirit.
Checking the doors, closing the curtains, the fog outside is so thick it's like winter soup. We're trapped in a snow globe of cloud vapor and it dulls everything, pocketing us inside a bubble of magic.
Smiling again, my hands trembling with excitement while my heart zings at the thought of having found a lady when I'd given up on that hope, I face the living room, knowing that I can't expect her to be a sophisticate like the fashionistas of Belgrade. This lady is an innocent inside the hottest body this side of Jupiter.
This is my chance. I finally get to be some babe's Prince Charming. Charging into the kitchen I pop on the kettle, getting out the Belgium hot chocolate that comes ready packaged with those tiny marshmallow thingies.
Halting, bending my legs to readjust the goolies, I hope the tension in my abdomen will ease up if I distract myself. Snatching a bag of microwave popcorn I rip off the cellophane and pop it in for two minutes, using those crucial seconds to grab the duvet off the couch where I veg to watch late night infomercials and reruns, frantically looking around, an idea blossoming.
She'll love that!
Piling up the pillows from the couch where I'm guilty of sleeping more often than my bed, I dump them under the dining table, making a nest, using the duvet, dashing to the hall cupboard to grab blankets and all the necessaries.
The ping of the microwave summons me back to the kitchen where I empty the contents into a bowl, stirring the boiled water into the mugs of hot chocolate, then balancing it all and carrying it carefully to the lounge.
It's cold enough for a fire and I'm lucky in that I have that vampyric ability. Glowering at the empty grate I manifest logs and pine cones, bursting them to fiery life, using it as the romantic lighting coming into the gap of my sultan's tent.
Where is she?
“Nada?” I call out.
In a white jumper she fills the doorway, like a ghost solidifying from the shadows.
“Something smell verri uhm... word?... Tasty.”
My brain's mushed into wobbly jelly at the sight of my enormous Aran v-neck draping off her shoulder, worn like a mini dress, the sleeves far too long for her arms. It looks like a straitjacket on a sex kitten.
Whistling, I shove my hands in my pockets to hide the growing appreciation. “Look at you.”
She lifts one leg, like a flamingo, leaning against the doorframe, “What? I do something you no like?”
It's her shy face. My staring is making her self-conscious.
“Oh, I like very much.” Standing straight I yank my hands out my pockets, offering invitation with an outstretched arm, “Come on darling, the sultan's tent is waiting for a princess to come and sample Belgium chocolate and melted marshmallows.”
“What it ees?” she asks in that husky lilt. Her voice is like dancing starlight off a flowing river in the dead of night. It's mesmerizing.
“You'll have to come into my den to find out.”
She watches me, curiosity stroking her face with pleasant trust. She reaches me, stepping lithe legs between mine and trailing her arm around my middle, pausing to sniff my chest.
Bizarre.
“You smell verri good.”
All I can smell is the gaje in her hair. Sacrosanct, pure, reminding me I can't be a total idiot on my first night with her.
“In the tent with you young lady,” I urge, helping her under the dining table, into my childhood den of blankets.
She sits with her legs crossed, totally unaware that a woman in nothing more than a jumper stretched wide and presenting holiness is enough to derail the best of intentions.
“Da?”
“Da,” I nod, sitting with her, ducking my head, forced to recline on my arm, reaching beyond her to produce the hot chocolate. “For you, my princess.”
“Ees hot.” She sniffs it the way she sniffed me, her poin
ty nose wrinkling, steam curling into her eyes and making her blink. “Hmmm, smell almost good as you.”
Still unfair. I want to smell you, taste you... god fucking damn it.
Swallowing the wedge in my throat I watch her, lifting my own mug and showing her, “Sip it. It's hot so be careful.”
Taking a deep appreciative swallow, lubricating the nerves cringing my Adam's apple into my gonads, I smile at the white foam lining her lip.
“Ees verri sweet. So sweet! Make eyes run.”
I thought women lived for chocolate. “Too sweet?” I ask, putting mine down, worried I've struck out already.
She shrugs, and I can't resist, leaning closer to run my thumb over her lip, sucking the foam off my finger, staring into her clear green eyes. She smiles at me, beguiling, glancing at the bowl of popcorn, the makeshift tent, and the flickering fire beyond the blanketed entrance to the cave.
“This normal?”
Shit. In trying to do something fun I've obliterated any suave factor I had in my credit. “No, it's something we … idiots ... do – for fun. It's like camping inside.”
“Cozy,” she nods, reclining, cooping a pillow under her chin to stare out the gap to the dark living room balmed in hot flames spreading their glow. “So, what you do... make time pass?”
Watch TV. I shouldn't say that though. Hey! I bet she's never seen a TV.
“Watch movies,” I smile, giving her the cunning smirk.
“Movie?” She shakes her head, trailing light blond swirls of hair all over my aran jumper. Damn but she looks fine in that. “Nada not know that word.”
“C'mere,” I beckon, crawling out from under the table and helping her get to her feet. Plonking down on the sofa, propping my heels on the coffee table, I pick up the remote and flick the flat screen on. “This is a movie.”
Spellbound she sits next to me, snuggling up to my side and resting her hand on my thigh, glued to the images walking across LED's. “They speak?”
Nodding, I turn the volume up, smiling at her awe. I've never wanted to kiss someone more in my life, and that innocent hand is burning lava right to the tip of me.
“How people fit in there?”
“They don't. It's like watching a play but it's been recorded as data. So you can watch it like... erm... a dream.”
She looks at me with wide eyes, delight and joy evident, sitting forward, “They are dreaming? You watch dreams? Movie is dream?”
You are so damn cute!
“No, someone wrote this story, and they are paid to act it out while a movie producer captures them on film. Not that we use film any longer but that's how it came about.”
She slumps in obvious disappointment, resting her knees on my legs with hers folded under her, “No dream? Then what point?”
“It's entertainment. Instead of reading the book you can just sit down for two hours and get the whole story with special effects.”
“Nada prefer real dream, real life.”
That's because you've never known crime, or work. You live in the mountains where the bank doesn't own your car and your house, and the system doesn't own your children.
I refuse to shatter her naivete, shrugging helplessly.
She looks back at the popcorn, “What that ees?”
“Food. Popcorn.”
“Ees... is … good for you?” she asks.
Laughing at her correcting herself, I shake my head, stretching to hook the edge of the bowl to pull it closer, “It's not bad for you but it's not exactly a power food either.”
“Then why eat?”
And here I thought I was the one giving an education. This lady is putting me on the straight and narrow. “To nibble, just because we like to nibble.”
“Nibble?” Frowning in concentration until she remembers the meaning of nibble, she breaks into a breathtaking smile, “I like nibble on nuts.”
How serendipitous because I have two that relish a long hot nibble.
Clamping down on my ecstatic smile I look at her with mock seriousness, “What must I feed you? You don't even like chocolate.”
She bursts out laughing, a sultry giggle, “Aisyx, Nada not need food. We goddess, we need only peace to be happy.”
Well you're fresh out of luck then because peace is in short supply down where the mortals live.
Her hand comes up, stroking down my face, pushing my jaw length hair away so she can examine my eyes, “What it is? I make worry?”
“No, you didn't make me worried, I just know that peace is rare.”
Shaking her head she holds her hands out theatrically, “Peace right here. Nada happy.”
Unable to resist temptation any longer I fold my arms around her, hugging her so close our noses touch, “When Nada's happy, Aisyx is happy.”
“You happy?” she whispers, her lips moving over mine when she speaks.
Nodding, again I don't trust my voice for speech right now.
“Ees okay. Edab warn us what waits with mate. Ees okay, Nada not worry. Nada curious.”
But what if I hurt you? You're the size of a normal woman and I'm the brute with mutant genes.
Her eyelids narrow, the stare she's giving me is literally simmering. “Aisyx, you forget Nada see inside head. Ees okay, Nada not break. She goddess, you demi-god, match made... how say they? Um...” Biting her lip, frowning so hard she looks like a five year old drawing inside the lines...
I kiss her nose. “Heaven. A match made in heaven is the saying.”
She laughs, relaxing heavily on me, absently running fingernails over my chest, turning me inside out. “Not understand your heaven. Edab try explain but make no logic. We not need heaven to know we immortal and live always. Love is here...” She waves her hand through the air, “Is natural.”
She nods insistently as if trying to convince me.
Shutting her up I nip her lip between mine, savoring the sensation with my tongue.
She bursts out laughing, in my face!
“Tickle!”
Have a heart lady.
Getting serious I slide my hand under the jumper, finding the cloistered swell, carefully running my thumb over her nipple.
Her smile dissolves, her eyes widen, and a harsh gasp blasts into my eyes. Inhaling sharply she gazes into me as if afraid to move... or speak.
Finding courage in the silence I maneuver, forcing her to recline across the other side of the couch, leaning between her legs while tugging up the obstruction, dropping my mouth onto the rigid peak, caressing it with the tip of my tongue, kneading my lips around it.
“Ooooh!”
Releasing it, holding my hand on the full C cup... mmm maybe even a D, I give it a testing squeeze, trying to gauge her cup size, I move to the other one, pretty darn pleased with myself when her fingers worm into my hair and she pulls me closer, writhing her hips into mine, making cooing noises.
Glancing up, I realize my eyes are shining with vampyric power unleashed by the lusty side of my nature. Her eyes are closed, her body arching into me, euphoria such a simple burden when it's new and uncomplicated.
Smirking, I trace petal soft nips down her stomach, loving the way her hip bones hollow out with perfect thumb-holds, lifting her hips experimentally I slip my tongue to the delicacy trustingly splayed wide to me.
I feel like a cad, a bastard ravaging holy treasure, raiding the tomb of a forgotten queen, but the taste of her is so unique I don't care, need overrides caution.
Ragged female breathing serrates the still air in harmony to sizzles from the fire, one log whistling out steam inside the furnace while I surrender to plundering the body that tastes like desert night and mountain stream. Fresh, invigorating, warm, lethargic, a vacation in a body's cup with a hint of tropical juices.
Back to thumbing her nipples, licking up across sun bleached blond fluff, I swear my jeans are about to split from the desire coursing insanity into me.
Nails tug my hair, fingers hooking, and I pull up with her insistent touch, “Mmm?”
/> “My turn. Also want taste. Nada taste Aisyx.”
Oh no! I don't think that's a good idea. I won't last three seconds.
She tilts her head, her innocence a total paradox in someone so ripely mature, succulent and sexy. I ache to sample every part of her, I want to savor this before going there. “Wait your turn, Nada. Your big strong mate has his turn first.”
“Oh...”
She gives me a confounded stare but submits to my worldliness. It makes me feel like a shithead, but she has no clue how much self-control it's taking to be a gentleman right now.
The fire dances light over her hair and face, morphing irises into dark mysterious delight, and I decide to take the plunge and to hell with consequences.
Willing away our clothing, the heat of flesh on flesh frissons my control. Edging higher, pressing up, chastity swells in clitoral caresses, lubrication changing the bachelor pad scent of my home into a lusty aroma of two bodies primed and ready for carnal feasting.
God forgive me.
Lowering my face to hers I give her the kiss of a man off to the gallows, rummaging inside and over the delicate palate and silken tongue of the vesna, adoring the friction of feminine curves filling every crevice between my muscles in velveteen snug.
Terrified, so tense, I fondle the soft temptation with two fingers, rubbing and circling, dropping my head to simultaneously lick her nipple back onto my tongue.
Her shaky breath is so exaggerated I'm almost coming undone, so close, her heat drizzling hot over the tip of my hard-on. Good fucking godness.
Wriggling, she ends up sliding over my head, her shocked inhalation splitting my sanity clear in two.
Shaking, braced on arms either side of her, I dare to lift my tortured gaze to her face, beholding her cheeks with two bright spots highlighting them in flushed pink, her eyes so bright, her expression a mixture of horror and delight.
Careful, killing myself in sexual suicide, I slowly slip into her vivid heat, the sensation phenomenal, too much... quivering, unnatural sweat beading my spine, the wait, the celibate life of a bachelor borne for too long, the well of hot temptation is simply my undoing. It's so hot and smooth, and moist, all around me, muscles reacting to my invasion in endless spasms, which fracture my control because it's too fucking intense, clamping ecstasy right into my balls and up my spine. Paralyzed with nirvana, the fragile control I had disintegrates.
