Chapter 16 Maeve #2
I leaned into his touch, the movement instinctive, and he brought his other hand to cup my other cheek before meeting my eyes.
Whatever he saw there made him brave. He leaned forward, but he moved so slowly that my heart hammered wildly in my chest as anticipation thrummed through my veins and my lips parted.
When his mouth finally touched mine, I sucked in a breath.
It was like touching a live wire, the shock of our connection hot and fast. He wrapped his arms around me, and I pressed against him, trying to eliminate the space between us.
I’d expected to be nervous, but I wasn’t.
Where before, I’d struggled to coordinate my breathing when I’d been kissed, this was easy. Natural.
“Mmm.” The noise of pleasure slipped from me, and Francois answered me by touching his tongue against my lower lip. I grinned as I replied in kind, deepening our kiss until our tongues tangled together and our breathing grew heavy.
The towel slipped from my head and Francois tangled his fingers into my hair, bunching it into his fist as he angled my head to kiss me again, harder and with a desperation that I’d never known but eagerly met. His lips were soft against mine but there was no doubt he meant every movement he made.
His other hand pressed against the small of my back and his lips left mine as he nibbled along my jaw before dropping his mouth to my neck. Then he paused, and I waited, holding my breath. Surely he wouldn’t…? I didn’t know what he’d do, though.
I didn’t know if I would stop him, either.
“Mon ange…” There was so much pain in his words.
His touch trailed over my breasts and my towel dropped away, leaving me naked against him.
He bent lower and sucked my right nipple into his mouth.
I closed my eyes and buried my hands in his hair, partly steadying myself, partly keeping him in that exact position.
Fire ran through me, lighting each of my nerve endings, and I throbbed with need for him.
“Mon ange,” he said again, and his eyes burned red as he looked up at me. “We can’t.” His voice was hoarse. “Not now. We shouldn’t. It should be...” He glanced at the bed. “You need to know it’s special.”
I didn’t want to know. I only wanted Francois.
I wanted his touch. I might burn alive if he didn’t touch me. I whimpered as he skimmed a hand up the outside of my thigh.
“We need to wait.” But he drew his touch ever closer to where I wanted to feel it most.
“Please.” I’d never even asked before, and now I was dangerously close to begging. “Please touch me.”
He paused, his fingers curled against my skin. “Are you sure? My control…”
“I trust you.” I placed a palm against his cheek and met his eyes. “I trust you not to hurt me.” I guided his mouth back to mine and sank back into our kiss, barely even feeling it as he guided me to the bed.
I lay down, my legs already parted, the invitation unspoken but obvious, and he swallowed loudly. “You test me, mon ange.”
For a moment, guilt played with my thoughts, but I pushed it away. My desire was more important. Francois was more important.
“Please, Frankie.” I whispered the name I was pretty sure only I called him, and he reacted right away, the tip of one of his fingers resting lightly against my clit.
I gasped at the sensation of the light touch then gasped again as he rolled it one way then the other, gathering moisture from my greedy body.
“I must only touch you,” he whispered as he moved against the bed, as though seeking more himself.
“Okay.” I agreed with him, but it wasn’t enough. I worked my hand between us to cup the bulge in his pants.
He bucked against me as my hand closed over him. “Not me.”
“Why not?” I drew his zipper down, my sudden need to feel him in my hand urgent and not one to be ignored.
He covered my hand with his, directing my touch, despite his protests to the contrary. He wanted this. I worked the button of his pants until it came loose, distracted as he claimed my mouth in a kiss again.
He groaned when I wrapped my fingers around him and smoothed the precum already at the tip of his cock over the skin there, and he started to move slowly, setting a rhythm that I met as he continued to tease my clit.
Those were the light touches that drove me crazy.
It was as though he could read my mind or he’d seen me during my most private moments.
His touches remained soft and consistent and I surrendered myself to him completely, moving my hand up and down his shaft, reveling in how hard I made him. My body ached to be filled by him, but even as I considered that, he thrust harder into my hand, seeking something.
The pressure against me grew, and my muscles began to tighten as though I was reacting to his increase in excitement as much as the feelings he ignited in me. My breathing grew more rapid until I could barely catch my breath.
Then I stopped breathing entirely and hung in the moment as my body released, my muscles pulsing. Francois panted against my hair, before he thrust forward one last time and warmth filled my palm and coated my wrist.
I turned my face toward him, and he pressed his lips to mine, an urgent kiss giving way to a lazy one before he chuckled.
“I didn’t expect…”
I shook my head. “Neither did I.” I ran my fingers lightly up his still-hard cock and he shuddered. “Later?” The excitement and expectation in my tone surprised me, but one experience with this man would never be enough.
He nodded and pressed a quick kiss to my forehead. “Later,” he agreed. Then he scrunched his nose. “But right now we’re supposed to be joining the others for a meal, and I need to get you cleaned up again.”
My stomach rumbled, spoiling any protest I’d been about to make about leaving the room, and I rolled awkwardly from the bed. “I’ll just hop back in the shower for a quick wash.”
Two minutes later, and fresh from working the space age shower again, I rejoined Francois in the bedroom.
He was standing by the bed. “I brought you some clothes.” His cheeks colored as he spoke and he gestured toward the pile of clothes that had been neat when I first saw it but was now mostly rumpled.
I blurted out a laugh. “Yes, I know.” I wandered closer and looked at some of the items before finally selecting a dress. The fit didn’t really matter if it was just a simple pattern. I pulled it on and Francois looked at me.
“Stay by my side,” he murmured. “I don’t know if there are any unmated males here, and you are—” He paused and took a long, deep breath. “You are very enticing. I can still smell your arousal.”
I squeaked as he took my hand and whisked me from the bedroom. “Wait. What? You can smell my arousal? And you’re taking me to a room where other vampires will also be able to smell my arousal?” This suddenly seemed like a very bad idea indeed.
I didn’t care how hungry I was. My state of arousal was still very much my own business. But I followed him back to the communal area anyway, and I drew in an appreciative breath of air saturated with tomatoes, herbs, and garlic.
A group of vampires sat around a table, a plate in front of each of them, and a huge, steaming bowl of spaghetti graced the middle.
I paused. There was something wrong with this picture.
“Are you coming?” Francois gently tugged my hand.
“Yeah.” I lowered my voice, although that was pointless, given vampire hearing. Still, I had the illusion of discretion. “But I didn’t think you guys ate.”
He laughed. “We can, but we don’t need to. We’re all here right now for your benefit, though. I’m sure you don’t really want to sit alone? And apparently Nicolas’s chef is happy. It’s rare that he gets to cook.”
I shrugged. So, vampires were weird. And they could eat. I made a mental note of that as one of the lengths they obviously went to so they fit in.
As I approached the table, Ciara came racing through the door, dragging a male vampire behind her. Her eyes were back to their usual shade of blue, but she looked at the table like she’d never seen food before.
“Spaghetti!” she yelled. “I’m starving.” She looked at me.
“My wolf still likes to eat.” Then she glanced at the man following her so closely he could have been in her pocket.
“Oh, and this is my mate, Jason. But first, food!” She sat in one of the chairs and dragged the bowl of spaghetti toward herself.
“You might want to get in quickly, Maeve,” Jason said. “Ciara can eat.”
With a roll of her eyes, Ciara relinquished the bowl, pushing it back in my direction. “Here you go. You take your turn first.”
“Thank you.” I hesitated before I gave in to the temptation of so much food, grabbing the tongs and piling my plate high. Then I helped myself to come of the artisan bread and a sprinkle of cheese.
Every other vampire at the table took only a small serving and they mostly pushed it around their plates or twirled single noodle strands around their forks for the duration of the meal, but the conversation that bounced back and forth across the table spoke of familiarity and family. For the first time in days, I relaxed.