I want to be close to you
23
Parting my lips, I welcomed Riftan’s roaming tongue into my mouth. It grazed over my fangs, erotic in a way that sent shivers down my spine. Loving the sensation, I returned the favor, flicking the endless nerves of my tongue against his sharp incisors for the first time.
I’d never kissed another immortal, so I didn’t have any basis on what to expect when it came to the fangs. In all honesty, it hurt when I’d get too excited and bump my lips into his teeth, and that initial passionate collision had done just that. Fortunately, our kiss was deepening as I settled in with my knees over each side of Riftan, and there were no more jarring collisions to bump our fangs together.
As we slowed, the kiss remained insatiable, lacking the hectic movements, but not missing the desire that burned between us. Riftan’s lips were demanding, exigent, ravenous even. They gripped me in existential heat that blurred my mind. There was no more thinking—I was running off autopilot and bliss.
Wrapping my arms around his neck, I ran my hands through his hair. He nipped at my lips, and I grabbed a handful and bit him back. A guttural groan bubbled from him, lingering in the area where our lips entwined and pinching at my already very swollen heartstrings.
His hands drifted toward my skirt. Pushing under the fabric, they settled on the very cusp of my ass. I’d say he was being shy by stopping there, except that he didn’t have to go any farther to cup the entire mass of my cheeks in his copious hands. Completely void of any leftover inhibitions, I gently rocked my hips over his lap. He responded by grabbing me tighter, forcing my hips down to grind on him in a much more outrightly obscene motion.
The tighter he squeezed, the more of my backside his fingers encompassed. The tips of them tickled at the underside of the flimsy thong I was wearing. A little bit farther, and he could have slipped right under.
Be it purposeful or by accident, Riftan flicked one of his fingers out, grazing the threshold of my delicately covered core, and I practically jumped out of his hands. The sensation of him anywhere near the bundle of nerves between my legs, even as chaste as his brush had been, was almost enough to fling me into a random onset orgasm right then and there.
Like he loved that reaction, he did it again, all the while nipping at my lips, suckling on them in a vivacious attempt to swallow every bit of my heart and soul that didn’t already belong to him. He continued to tease a finger over my underwear, hardly having to move it as I gyrated over his lap, doing the motion for him. Against my movements, a rigid bump was pressing through his pants and growing past the point of disregardable.
While I was no stranger to the male anatomy, it was difficult not to salivate at the thought of his—much less his being so turned on by me. I may have drooled all over him if he wasn’t all over my lips the way he was.
It wasn’t the first time I’d witnessed him get a hard-on. He was a guy and random boners happened. But this was different; it wasn’t random, and it was most definitely persistent and poking me in the thigh, very close to my lady bits that were already screaming for him. I rode against the growing bulge hardly contained in his pants and let the animal instincts that idled in my DNA take over a little more.
His lips withdrew only long enough to utter a husky plea. “I want you so bad right now.”
I could tell—erections don’t lie—but that didn’t make the admission any less incredible.
His lips begged for reconnection, but it was my turn to pull away, thoughts shadowing my lust for a split moment.
He watched me, arching his brows over pleading eyes. He leaned in again, but I didn’t let him connect, making his jaw tic in frustration. I had to tell him though. I needed him to hear it from my lips. “Then have me. I’m yours and only yours.”
He growled, the noise gurgling from within like some wild animal, and we collided again.
I muttered his name through mouthfuls of his lips and his hands drifted over me, brushing past my hair and pulling at the strings that held up my dress. One of the straps toppled off my shoulder and he exchanged my lips for the vulnerable skin at my neck, suckling and tracing it down my shoulder.
With my cognizance unclouded enough by the exodus of his lips against mine, I had the presence of mind to pull at the buttons on his shirt. I kissed his ear until my hands could freely traverse his bare chest.
Riftan had the hottest chest known to mankind—or any kind. Maybe men were built differently in his time, or maybe it had something to do with being a knight when he was mortal. Either way, his body was amazing and an opportunity to truly appreciate it shouldn’t have gone unexploited. I could have traced every muscular line on his stomach, kissed the scars on his chest from before he’d been turned, and truly taken my time to appreciate his perfection, but I was greedy, and the more of him I got, the more of him I wanted.
Tracing his chest all the way down to his belt, I touched the fabric that strained to conceal his not so furtive arousal.
He groaned, “Leanne…”
“Riftan,” I replied, fiddling with his belt.
His trail of kisses stopped above my breast, where he sunk his teeth into my skin, halting while I toyed with his buckle. Not even his breath graced my flesh until I’d gotten the belt undone and moved on to his button.
“Wait, Leanne.” He extracted his teeth from me and grabbed at my feverish hands.
“No,” I murmured, swatting his hands away.
He pulled me in by the back of my neck, connecting our lips again, letting me taste what it felt like to evanesce into him. The incorporeal feeling had me reeling momentarily before I was fiddling with his pants all over again.
“Wait… Leanne,” he repeated in between our kisses.
My heart pounded with the familiar panic of his impending cessation. “Please, don’t you dare stop me,” I begged between panted breaths.
I was so used to him getting in the way. Almost as though his goal was to drive me completely mad, he insisted on keeping me on the verge of this unrelenting necessity for more of him.
“I’m sorry.” He replaced our positions in the blink of an eye, pinning me to the couch, my hands seized in his. One last numbing kiss was all I got before he pulled away, quietly interjecting, “This is a mistake. I shouldn’t have done any of that.”
With restraint, I didn’t let my jaw drop the way my heart did. “You said that you wanted it. How could it be a mistake?” When my words did little but push him further away, I begged, “Please don’t leave. Don’t do this to me. Don’t do what you always do. Don’t push us apart because we got too close. I want to be close to you. Please.”
What a degrading plea.
Riftan stared at the floor, shadows shielding me from his gaze. “I need some time alone. Please let me think about this on my own.”
My hand fell through the space he’d occupied, his form dissipating into a grey vapor cloud that parted from my intrusion.
Silence followed, his feet not even padding over the hardwood before our door slammed shut, the lock clicking into place with a heart wrenching click. The sloppily crafted plea he hadn’t waited to hear still hung on my parted lips, leaving me crumpled on our couch, half undressed and gawking into the emptiness.
The comedown was quick as reality set in—or more accurately, came crashing down. Feeling like I was prying at dream ridden eyes, I dreaded the idea of waking up. As acceptance of my awakening became unavoidable, I was left with the realization that I’d be sleeping alone in my old bed. If all my circling emotions weren’t enough, I’d have to deal with an empty bed—and my favorite pillow was locked in the bedroom with Riftan.
Racking my head against the back of the couch, I looked over at the girl slumped unconscious on the armrest. Her heart rate was faint, but her back still rose and fell with monotonous breaths.
Everything from the last five to ten minutes was a little hazy and frantic, but I could recall that neither Riftan nor I had taken enough to hurt the girl immediately.
Reaching over, I shook her awake. She shot up in the mannequin-esque way that mimicked her prior vacancy.
The wounds on her neck had dried up, but I could still smell the blood that’d crusted over her wounds and dripped down her chest. I eyed the source of her luring scent, contemplating finishing her off to satiate my hunger—even if that’s all that got satiated that night. Or, I could let her live and take her to my room—not for promiscuous reasons, but merely to warm my otherwise uninviting bed. Unfortunately, she wasn’t the one I wanted lying next to me, and she wouldn’t suffice as a replacement, either.
“Ugh, go home.” I thralled her and sent her away.
Then it was just me, alone in the deserted expanse of our living room. Eventually, I would have to muster the courage to get off the couch and make my way to the cold, solitary confines of my bed, but the idea was daunting. For some reason, it felt as though if I did, it was like admitting my own defeat.