I didn't chastise him for ignoring my instructions. I wanted to feel him touch me so badly, I almost screamed at him to hold tight. His fingers laced in my hair and he began rocking his erection slowly, lovingly, back and forward, entering my mouth as far as I let him and then pulling out again, only to repeat it with more and more fervent need.
You are mine. I sent the thought at him and increased my speed and licks and nibbles. He choked on a groan and met me with ever more ardent thrusts, rocking into my mouth, but still keeping himself in check, not too much, just right. Just what I wanted. And as I felt him stiffen for release, I heard his thoughts too, strong, demanding, no room for argument. And you are mine, Lucinda. He pulled out as he came, determined not to force me to swallow, but the sight of him spraying from the top of his straining erection, enough to make me gasp and feel heat pool at my core. I so wanted that inside me.
He languidly watched me lick my lips, his breathing rapid, his chest rising and falling in quick succession. I felt the heated, lust-filled flush that graced my cheeks and lifted my eyes to his. There was such desire there, but also love. He still loved me. I knew it now. Right this second he showed me all of him. He loved me so much, but there was something still there. Something that kept a little of him apart from me. Something I needed to shatter before I had him completely back in my arms.
“We're not finished,” I said a little huskily.
“Oh, I was hoping you would say that.” And then he pulled me to my feet and whispered against my neck, right above his new mark, “My turn.” And bit.
His fangs sliding in like they were never meant to be anywhere else but on my skin, in my flesh, opening up my blood vessels. His first pull of my life giving blood sent a shock of heat through me, every drain after followed with desire, need, hunger, lust, longing, possession, claiming every inch of my soul from the inside out. A low growl-come-purr started in the back of his throat and he pushed me back against the bed, gently lowering me to the covers, his hard naked body encasing mine.
Mine, I heard him demand of me. Say it, you are mine. It felt so familiar, as though the claiming was back, as though his vampire needed confirmation again, despite everything I had given him, it still doubted, it still needed that reassurance. But, if there is one thing I have learnt in my few years of association with vampires, you never give an inch.
Make it worth my while, I sent the thought back to him and then followed it up with a blast of my Light, wrapping around his formidable shields, nudging at the brick and metal that held them tight in his mind and silently finding a crack, a small gap, one I was sure he had left intentionally for me and thrusting my Light inside. His Sanguis Vitam responded to the claim I was about to make and started wrapping itself around my Light, pulling me closer inside him, drowning me in his power, his strength, his conviction that I was his and no one else's. So, I did the same, I ramped up my Light and sent the message home. He was mine and he was not ever going to ignore it again. So help him, he was going to acknowledge he was mine and never put me through that hell of being cast aside again.
I felt him chuckle against me. Damn him, he could drink from me, flood me with any number of base desires, negotiate a truce and still laugh at my demands. But, he was the first to answer the claim. I am yours as you are mine. It was a concession, he had admitted he was mine, but I couldn't help feeling his repetition of his claim on me held more than just words. I pushed that thought aside, this was what I had wanted, wasn't it? I was tempted to not give in, but my Light was wrapped in his Sanguis Vitam and we had simply gone too far down this path to stop. My thoughts spilled out without restraint, I am yours Michel and you know it.
My Light exploded inside us in response to our claims, his Sanguis Vitam washing over us, intertwining with the Light and then we went spiralling out of control in a wave of heat and desire and floated back down the other side. Spent, sated and completely in tune with each other.
I groaned a minute later, as Michel held me in his arms, running my fingers over the new mark at my neck, above his old one, the one with my Light enhanced iridescent display encasing it, but now, no doubt, more noticeable.
“Do you think we will ever stop sharing Sigillum?” I asked, still a little breathlessly.
Michel kissed his marks and whispered, just as out of breath as me. “I told you once, ma douce, that I will continue to do it until I get your attention, make you realise there is no escape. There is no escape, you know. You are mine.” Another kiss to his new marks.
I pushed against him, flipping him onto his back. Normally, I wouldn't have been able to budge him, but I have a tendency to recover from my Light faster than him. He was still at my mercy. His eyes flashed indigo and violet at that thought, so I followed it up with: and don't you forget it! He laughed, relaxed, so normal, so my Michel. I blinked away tears and ignored his soft fingers tracing my wet cheeks.
“Where's my mark?” I demanded, trying to lighten the moment.
He raised himself up on his elbows to look at his body. I couldn't see any thing different on his chest, or neck or face, just my original dancing dragon. Maybe I hadn't marked him at all? Determined to find it, I rolled him over onto his stomach and just stared. Then started to laugh. The more I looked at it, the more the laughter came bubbling up. I just couldn't stop it.
“What?” Michel demanded, trying to look over his shoulder at his back. “What have you done, ma douce?”
“I think you'll need to see it in a mirror.” I rolled off him and settled myself into the cushions on his bed, a wide grin spreading across my face at the reaction my Sigillum was no doubt about to get.
Michel fluidly stood up from the bed and strode into the dressing room, I rolled onto my side and watched him through the door. He turned his back to the mirror and looked over his shoulder and then stilled.
“You marked my arse?” he asked incredulously. “A hand print, Lucinda, on my butt cheek.”
I shrugged. “I was thinking of spanking you at the time. You have been naughty,” I offered as explanation.
Michel continued to stare over his shoulder at the beautiful bright tattoo imprint of my hand on his right butt cheek, interlaced with geometric designs and ribbons of colour. It was gorgeous, but then my Sigillum usually are, but this one spoke volumes. I had marked him out of punishment, not merely possession. To a vampire, this was big. I swallowed past my suddenly dry throat and waited for him to strike.
“I guess I deserved that,” he said quietly, then flashed magenta at me with the flick of his gaze. “But be warned, wife, payback can be a bitch.” And then he pounced.
Nuzzling his face between my breasts beside his dancing dragon necklace, his hands found the skin on my bare back and began tracing delicate patterns across the flesh, sending tingles down my spine. His teeth grabbed the edge of the dress, at the cowl neckline and pulled the material away, to reveal a naked breast, which he then started lavishing with licks and nibbles and sucks on my nipple, eliciting a low moan from me and an arch of my back. My hands instinctively went through his hair, discarding the clip and loosening the long, glorious, dark shiny strands. I grabbed a fist full and wrapped my fingers deep within, relishing the sensations he was laying over my body.
He moved a free hand down my side, slowly savouring the curve of my hip, the length of my thigh, until he found the bottom of the dress, then reaching up inside, he began the delicate journey back up my leg until he reached the top of my thigh and wrapped a hand across my pelvic bone to hold on to my hip.
He stilled, for a moment, then traced his fingers around the front of me and said, rather hoarsely, “Ah merde! You're not wearing any underwear.”
I stifled a chortle at Michel's obvious near loss of control and felt rather pleased at my last minute decision to lose all underwear on the plane.
“Oh good God, Lucinda.” Michel's lips found mine in a crushing kiss, his tongue darting inside in hunger. “What do you do to me?”
Payback is a bitch, didn't you
say? I received a low growl at that thought. Hey! How come you're hearing my thoughts, I whispered in my mind as a test.
“I have no idea, but I am so thankful for it,” he replied between sucking on my bottom lip and slipping a tongue back down my throat.
Then his hands pushed the dress up on either side of my hips, his own hips spreading my legs wide and then without further preparation, he thrust gently deep inside me, both of us crying out at the sensations that movement caused. He stilled, sheathed deep inside my core and waited for us both to catch our breath and get accustomed to the feel of him so deep, so hard, filling me up and then slowly he began to withdraw, right to the tip, then sinking back in again to the hilt in a sensual roll of his hips.
Oh dear God, but I had missed this.
“Never again,” he whispered against me. “You are mine, ma douce. You belong with me.”
The thought came unbidden to my mind, I couldn't stop it, as delightful and all-consuming as this moment was, I had been hurt by Michel and my mind was not capable of forgetting that as quickly as my heart. Then why did you leave me?
He moaned in pain against my throat, but continued his movements inside me, his kissing of the sensitive skin at the base of my neck and didn't answer in my head or otherwise. I cursed myself for showing weakness, but longed for an explanation anyway. It wasn't forthcoming. Instead he put all of his energy into making me forget any coherent thought at all and pushed me to the very edge of sanity, teasing, enticing, sending delicious sensations throughout my body and then denying me release again and again and again.
Eventually he let us roll over, so he was beneath me and I was straddled on top. He reached up and pulled the dress over my head, tossing it to the side of the room and then took all of me in with a heated gaze.
“I need to see you, ma douce,” he husked, leaning forward and wrapping his tongue around a bare nipple, placing an arm around the curve of my back and pulling me tight against his chest.
His other hand found my free breast and began fondling and tweaking the neglected nipple there too, his hips rolling beneath me as I rose up and off his erection and then slammed back down, sheathing him in one, only to repeat the motion all over again. He pulled away from my breast and flashed magenta eyes at me and growled in a low and long sound.
“You are incredible,” he whispered, keeping eye contact with me as I rocked up and down on his hard sex. “Utterly incredible.” Then he stilled as my pace quickened, a short, sharp intake of breath, his eyes forced closed as he gave himself over completely to the sensations rocking through to his very core.
Still holding me tightly against his chest, he let my breasts run up and down his skin, sending shockwaves through the tips of my nipples and a groan escaping his lips. He let me take control, to be in charge of this moment. He let me set the pace, despite the fact that I could tell every muscle in his body was tensing to take command. To roll me over on to my back and pound me into oblivion. Or maybe, force me to my knees and take me from behind, as the dominant, not holding back any of the strength I could feel trapped beneath his skin. I played the pictures over and over in my mind of him taking me every which way he could, proving his dominion over my body, taking charge.
I felt when the images tipped the balance of his hard won control. I knew the moment he couldn't contain himself any longer. I wanted him to lose it, I wanted him to give himself over to the base desire to possess me, make me his. It wasn't enough that he had marked me and let me mark him. I wanted all of him tonight, including his hard won and fought for control. It was all mine.
He screamed in frustration and thrust me off him in such a hard and fast movement I thought he might just be throwing me away again, but then he flipped me over onto my stomach and crushed his heavy and hard weight against my back.
“You are mine,” he growled in a barely controlled voice against the skin at the back of my neck. “God damn it, Lucinda, you push me to the very limit and I still want more from you.”
He lifted my hips off the bed with one hand, pushing me forward firmly, but somehow still gently, on my back with his other and nudged my legs apart with his knees. He growled at the sight of me waiting, swollen wet folds, weeping in anticipation and then guided himself inside. Slowly, with way more control than I had expected at this point, so I rocked my hips against him and received a blood curdling growl in response and a fist in my hair holding me still.
“Do you want to know how much of a vampyre I really am, wife?” he asked in a strangely guttural voice.
I shuddered beneath his hard grip and deliciously slow thrust of his sex inside me.
“Well, answer me?” he demanded with a hard thrust from behind.
I swallowed past the natural and instinctive fear his actions and power were making me feel. This was what I wanted, wasn't it? For him to lose control, enough to know that it was OK with me, to be whatever he needed to be. I wanted him to know this. There was never going to be a reason for him to run away again.
“Yes,” I answered, defiantly.
He growled, which became a bit more of a groan as he sped up his movements, his thighs slapping my rear, his hard length reaching the very tip of me, making me stretch and then he leaned forward and picked me up off the bed, wrapping an arm around my waist, his hand coming up to latch on to my breast, almost painfully tight, never stopping his pounding inside me and then his fangs took hold of my shoulder in a firm and definitely possessive grip. This was not a normal fastening for a vampire, no large blood vessels here to feed from, this was more a dominant control move. Holding me still while he took what he wanted. But he hadn't broken skin, in fact, although undoubtedly a possessive pose, it was also laced with tenderness. The fact he hadn't let his fangs draw blood was in complete contrast to the moment. It was hard and fast and he didn't hold back at all. The grip at my shoulder keeping me completely at his mercy. I couldn't get away, I couldn't shift, I was held completely still by his arm around my midriff and his teeth on my shoulder, his other hand coming up and lacing my hair in his fingers, holding my head back, so my neck was exposed. But, he couldn't bite me there, his teeth were too busy holding me captive, the move however was designed to make me feel exposed, vulnerable. To make me trust, despite the sensations the position provoked.
I wasn't scared. I wasn't frightened. Despite his hold on me, despite the urgency he rocked inside me with. Despite my neck, a part of a vampire's body considered to be their most vulnerable, being bared, I did not feel threatened. I did trust him. Implicitly. This was Michel, my Michel, but never as I had seen him before. But I wanted him to know that was OK. Still, this was not something he had ever shown me and I wondered just what it actually meant.
I heard him say in my head, I am vampyre and you are mine. I briefly wondered why he had never shown me this side of himself before, why I wouldn't have known vampires could hold someone they loved in such a way. It was pure dominance, pure control, but threaded with such care. I would have expected the dominant behaviour if I had been an enemy, someone to punish, but I didn't get that feeling from him right now. Not with the tenderness and control he was showing with his fangs. This wasn't a punishment. This was too sexual, too possessive. It wasn't for discipline, but something else.
For my vampyre mate, he answered my unasked question in my head.
But I'm not a vampire, I responded before I could stop myself.
To me you are and more, he replied as he thrust one last time deep inside me and I felt his hot release fill me up. He groaned and his teeth unlatched from my shoulder, and then he slumped us both forward on the bed.
Crap, but if that didn't just turn me the hell on.
Chapter 7
Trust
We lay tangled in each other's bodies for a good few minutes, neither of us able to talk. Michel because he was completely sated and me because I was slightly in shock. I had wanted him to give me everything of himself and that included without a doubt, the vampire inside him. He had done just that, lo
sing control and taking me in a way he had never done before. It was basic and animalistic and went right through to the centre of my soul. It called to me in a way I would not have thought possible. I wanted all of him and now I would never let go.
He started chuckling beside me, having it seems, heard my thoughts. OK, so I wanted him to be able to read my mind again once we had lost that ability too, but I didn't have to like it when he did. He just laughed harder and pulled me close, kissing me softly on the forehead.
“Give me a moment, ma douce and I shall show you another side of me if you would like.” This time he threw some images my way in the form of him taking me slowly, gently, with only my satisfaction and release in mind. I squirmed against him as a heat washed through my body.
He held me tightly and continued to play the images through my mind, laboriously showing me where he would touch me, how it would feel, how long he would take and what I would experience with every lick, suck, nibble and thrust. Before I even released what was happening my back arched off the bed, my legs scissored as his fingers found my wet core assisting the images, intensifying the moment and as a hot and urgent orgasm rolled through me, causing me to cry out in surprise and cling to his body as it racked me again and again. His images still playing in my head, showing me his own release at the exact same time as I came from the mental onslaught of his desire and the urgent thrust of his fingers inside me.
Oh bloody hell, I was so lost to this man. Damn him.
“I love you too, ma douce,” he said quietly, as he settled me into the crook of his arm, my head against his chest. Then he added, before I had a chance to think a thought in response, “I am so sorry.”
The silence hung between us like a brick wall. It could so easily have been left standing there, blocking the bridge we had just rebuilt. But I was done ignoring things, letting things slide, he was mine and I would never let him forget it again. I smashed the wall down and hugged him close, kissing the curve of his neck by his Adam's apple. He growled in appreciation and started stroking my side.
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