Chapter 25 Francois #2
My cock stiffened further at the challenge in her words.
How far could I push her? “What?” My voice came out low and gravelly with desire.
“Push my cock deep inside you while I sink my fangs into your neck? Make you come until you can’t remember what your name is?
Make you scream my name like it’s the only sound you can make? ”
Her breathing grew more rapid. “I want all of that, and I want it to be my choice. I want my last days as a human to be all mine, no matter what decisions have already been made for me.”
I didn’t ask her any more questions. Instead, I rolled her gently onto her back and kissed her again. When her soft lips parted beneath mine, I touched my tongue against hers and deepened the kiss.
She wrapped her arms around my neck and kept me pressed close to her as I explored her mouth. My cock responded to her soft moans, and I could taste the scent of her desire.
I reached for one of her breasts, cupping it before I stroked my thumb over the nipple. Her body responded to me immediately, her nipple hardening under my touch.
I lapped over it with my tongue before drawing it into my mouth, and she arched toward me, her hands in my hair.
My cock rested against her thigh, and I moved a little, allowing myself to experience just enough friction to tease me.
“Francois.” She whispered my name, and I grinned.
I’d told her it would be the only word she’d remember.
“Oui, mon ange?” I nuzzled against her other breast before taking that nipple into my mouth, and Maeve parted her thighs, shifting how she lay beneath me.
It was an obvious invitation. One I wasn’t about to turn down. But that didn’t mean I had to move fast.
Our first mating should be a true seduction. She needed to have no doubt it was me she wanted or that it was my cock inside her body. I wanted to fill her mind as much as her body.
This moment was all about us.
I started to move down the bed, but her hand tightened, tugging my hair and turning the pinpricks of pain at my scalp into pleasure.
“No.” The word was abrupt. Harsh, even.
“Non?” But her pussy… “Just a taste.”
“No,” she repeated. “Inside me, please.”
I hesitated. She had said please—and so very nicely. “What do you want, Maeve?” I spoke so softly, so quietly it was almost a purr.
“Your cock.”
It jerked at the mere mention and I stifled a groan. Such beautiful words from her lips.
“Where?” I didn’t have an iron grip on my control. This was a very dangerous game.
“Deep inside me.”
I kissed her again, trying to chase away the visuals of my lips on her neck, trying to prolong these moments.
She drew away. “I’m so wet for you.” The innocence in her eyes was gone, replaced by the look of a wanton temptress and she moved invitingly, writhing beneath me.
She pressed her hand between us and her fingers wrapped around my cock, stroking up the shaft, balls to tip, in one long movement. I held still to try to control the shudder she induced.
She stroked me again. “So hard,” she whispered. “And I really am so very wet.” This time the faux-innocence was spoiled by the way her top teeth pressed against her bottom lip.
I groaned. “But I wanted…” I wanted to touch her, to please her.
“Please.”
“You say that so well.” I kissed her again, my cock swelling with anticipation at all the promise the kiss held.
It was unrestrained and uncivilized, undignified and a little wild. Manners didn’t exist as our lips and tongues met. She devoured me almost in the way I wanted to devour her, and the passion she displayed stoked mine higher.
When she wrapped her arms over my back, her fingertips pushing against my skin, I moved my body over hers and nudged at her entrance, seeking my way in.
She gasped and I stopped.
“No. Don’t stop.” When she pressed against my back this time, her nails pricked at my skin, and I took that as encouragement, pressing forward before drawing back as I encouraged her body to stretch to accommodate me.
Every part of me wanted to ram myself home and claim her, but there was time for that kind of fucking. This was a special moment in so many ways, and I intended to preserve that.
Maeve was my mate. All mine.
I set a steady rhythm, pushing in and drawing back, teasing her by keeping things slow, and she sighed beneath me every time I filled her. Her eyes were closed and I looked down at her, taking in every detail of her beautiful face.
Her eyes sprang open and she smiled shyly. “Hello.”
I pushed forward again and her lips parted. Then she tilted her neck, the movement clearly inviting and enticing, and I sucked in a quick breath.
Her pulse beat rapidly in her neck, fluttering as though it didn’t already have my attention, and I groaned.
“I’m yours, Francois.”
I wanted to bite her so very badly. It had been a constant need—a gnawing ache—since the first moment I’d seen her. I lowered my head slowly, delaying the pleasure of piercing her milky skin with my fangs.
Excitement thundered in my veins as the instinct to claim her rose above all else.
It no longer mattered that someone had bitten her before me.
She was truly mine. She was offering herself to me.
I plunged my hand into her hair, the underside of my forearm resting against her cheek, to hold her head steady.
Precision and control were still important. Perhaps especially important.
I rested my fangs on the surface of her skin for the barest of moments, her scent filling my nose. Then I sliced through, and it was like penetrating her with my cock all over again.
Euphoria bubbled inside me but I reined it in. I wanted to be present and not lose myself entirely to the moment.
But the first draw nearly finished me. Her blood was the sweetest I’d ever tasted, and warmth coated my tongue as flavor exploded in my mouth.
I sucked again and swallowed, timing each with thrusting in and out of her body.
A sharp pain in my arm distracted me, and my orgasm approached even faster at the realization Maeve had bitten me.
True acceptance.
As I released inside her, she tightened around me in a steady pulsing, the strength of her body gripping me in waves.
After a few more teasing thrusts, I lowered myself next to her and gathered her back into my arms.
“Are you okay?” The thought I might have hurt her chilled me.
She stretched, the movement almost feline, although she never left my arms. “Everything’s perfect now,” she murmured as her eyes fluttered closed.
I stroked strands of her hair from her cheek. “Go to sleep, mon ange,” I whispered. “I’m right here.”