23. First Time for Everything
ELOISE
This is a first for me. Sure, I’ve been married. I’m not a virgin. But Tony was my only sexual partner and my experience with him was limited. He never performed oral sex on me. He said he didn’t like it, although he was happy to be on the receiving end.
Damien’s mouth is heaven.
I tip my head back as he laps up my center, licking me from one end to the other in a way that is almost too erotic for me to process. I’m torn between telling him again he doesn’t have to do this and screaming for him to never stop. In the end, I’m too wound up to do anything but make deep guttural noises of pleasure as he circles and tugs at my clit with his tongue and teeth while he penetrates me with his fingers.
The ache at my core morphs into an insistent throb, the telltale quiver of a building orgasm in my thighs. The base of my spine tingles with it. Tension builds, climbing higher, bigger. I can’t control myself. I grab his head and grind myself against his mouth.
The vibration of his answering purr sends me over the edge.
No orgasm has ever been like this for me. Blinded by it, I arch my back as my inner walls clench around his fingers. But he doesn’t let up. Shadows curl around him, brushing along my thighs like cool fingers, sinking into my navel, and coiling around my breasts. They tease my nipples to taut peaks. More shadows coast along my belly and then into me, filling me. I’ve never felt anything like it. While his hands massage my inner thighs and his tongue and teeth tease me higher and higher, his shadows thrust into me, cover me, a thousand snowflake kisses drawing my blood to my skin. My thighs shudder, the pressure building again, more intense than before. One more lick and another orgasm rips through me, this one sending me into the stratosphere.
“Damien,” I say breathlessly. He doesn’t stop. One orgasm feeds into the next until I have to bite my arm to keep from screaming. I lose count of how many roll through me. He only pulls back when my muscles give out from pure exhaustion, and I collapse, loose and panting on the green velvet.
His lips brush my inner thigh, right over my femoral artery. Oh, the blood. I expect he’s going to strike. He must be hungry after everything that’s happened tonight. I position myself for him, but the bite never comes. He sits back on his heels, watching me with a strange expression somewhere between vulnerability and reverence. Where did that come from? Nothing I could do could hurt Damien. He is more powerful than me in every way.
Not knowing what to say, I shoot him a genuine, somewhat bashful smile. Leaning forward, I gently run my fingers along his hairline and then behind his ear before cupping his chin. Then I kiss him, my heart swelling with gratitude and something more. Once again, Damien has made me feel wanted. Worthy. Valuable. I drink it in like water on parched earth. I open my mouth to tell him what it means to me, but abruptly, he draws back and presses my knees together. He tugs my dress back into place.
All at once, he looks like he’s in pain. “I must go,” he says around elongated fangs.
“Wait, but don’t you want—” I don’t get a chance to finish my sentence. Before I can offer him my blood, the lights flicker as he breaks into an inky cloud, those smoky horns and barbed tail making an appearance. He blends into the room’s shadows and disappears.
I sit for a moment in the empty room, wondering if I’ve done something wrong to make him leave. Snatching my thong off the floor, I pull it on again, my muscles loose and exhausted from the best oral sex of my life.
With a sigh, I turn off the lights, grab my purse and jacket off the chair, and head to my room. Somewhere between undressing, showering, and crawling under the covers, I make my peace with what happened. It might’ve meant nothing to Damien. It might never happen again. But I’m glad it did. My last thought before I sleep is that I feel lucky. Not lucky that it’s probably over —or will be once I free Damien from the candle’s bond —but lucky that it happened. I experienced multiple orgasms at the hands of a monster lover, and I don’t feel an ounce of shame over it. I slip into dreams with a smile on my face.
“You were out late againlast night.” Grams staggers into the kitchen, leaning heavily on her cane. I pop up from the place I’ve been nursing my coffee and help her into her chair.
“You should call for me next time. I don’t want you to fall.” She looks exceptionally feeble today, like an unexpected breeze could take her out. She hasn’t even bothered with her turban. The wispy strands of what is left of her white hair are on full display.
Drawing a deep breath, she shakes her head and shrugs. “Eloise, when are you going to come to terms with the idea that preserving this body of mine is not the end goal? If I fall, I fall. Either I can do something or I can’t. If I can’t, I’ll ask for help. If I can, I’m going to do it because it might be my last hurrah. Today, I wanted to walk myself to the kitchen. Clearly I was strong enough because I’m here in one piece.”
I open my mouth. Close it again. Open it again. I don’t know how to respond to that. She’s an adult after all. If she doesn’t want my help, I won’t force it on her. “Would you like some toast?”
“Just tea, thank you.”
I move to the counter and fill the electric kettle.
“Did you see that man again last night? The same one as before?” She waggles her eyebrows at me.
I pick a yellow leaf off of the spider plant hanging next to the sink and say a silent prayer that she didn’t hear anything untoward. “I hope we didn’t wake you.”
“No.” She laughs. “I didn’t hear a thing, but the dark bags under your eyes don’t match the sunny glow of your complexion. You look like a woman in love.”
I scoff and wave a dismissive hand. “I’m not even divorced yet, Grams. Why would I want another man when I can’t deal with the one I’m still married to on paper?”
“Aww, marriages are like pancakes. First one sometimes turns out bad.”
“Grams!”
“I’m just saying you and Tony were never right for each other. No matter what the paperwork says, I cast no judgment if you have feelings for another man.”
“Well, thank you, but it’s nothing serious. I’m just having fun and enjoying how he makes me feel.”
Grams grins. “And how is that? How does he make you feel?”
I only have to think on it for a second. “He makes me feel like I matter, like maybe I’m more powerful than I think I am. He makes me feel...” I search for the right word. “Seen. Seen and enough.”
With a thump of her cane on the floor, Grams beams. “That is how a man is supposed to make a woman feel.”
I pop two pieces of toast into the toaster, ignoring a tiny red flag that goes up in my brain. Damien is not technically a man. “It’s been a long time since anyone made me feel that way. Tony sure didn’t.” I point at my chest, turning to face her. “I know that in the end, I’m responsible for my own self-esteem. I can’t rely on any man to build me up day after day. But this… person makes me realize that maybe the problem is not the lack of building up but the constant tearing down.”
Grams nods. “Wise beyond your years, Eloise. My cancer may be here to stay, but I’m happy you can remove yours with this divorce.”
My heart swells with love for this woman and the unconditional love and support she has always doled out. “Thanks, Grams.” The kettle clicks itself off and I pour the boiling water into a cup, adding her favorite tea bag. After buttering the toast I know she didn’t ask for, I slide it and the tea in front of her and sit down with mine and the rest of my coffee.
“I saw Howard last night,” she says softly, ignoring the toast but reaching for her tea. “He was outside my window with the fairies again. He’s getting closer.”
As much as I want to dismiss this fairy thing Grams keeps talking about as a dream or a hallucination, I now understand that shades, vampires, and witches are real, along with other dimensions. Why not fairies? “What do they look like, the fairies?”
“Small and bright. From my room, I see round lights bobbing among the trees, but I know what they are. Your great-grandpa wrote about them in his journals. It’s why he decided to settle in Echo Mills way back when.”
She’s told me this story before, but I egg her on anyway. “Great-grandpa settled here when it was still a milling town, right?”
“He most certainly did. If you go to the old mill, you can find his initials carved in the tree growing on the property. H.H. Henry Harcourt. I was as close to him as my own father, you know. Dad died young, but Henry was with us into his old age. Howard’s father was always good to me, just as Howard was. But Henry harbored a zest for the occult. He traveled the world photographing the strange and unusual. Boxes of pictures in the attic chronicle his escapades. His beloved Caroline, your great-grandmother, was the first to be buried in the family cemetery. Henry wanted her to rest where the fairies played. Told me there was magic on this land and all we had to do was tap into it.
“All the séances he held here and the conversations he had with the beyond aside though, it was Henry’s belief that with magic in the land and love in these walls, his descendants would be truly blessed. And we have been. Love, magic, and family, that’s the secret.”
Behind her, the faded picture of Henry Harcourt takes on new meaning to me. I picture him coming here as a young man, settling in a place with no infrastructure aside from the mill, and building this house with his two hands, all because he felt something magical standing on these cliffs overlooking the Rappahannock River. My great-grandfather believed in something, and for over a century, my family has loved and protected it.
“When I’m gone, you will be the last living Harcourt, Eloise. I know young people don’t stay in one place anymore, but this will be yours someday. You’ll be tempted to sell it. I hope you’ll consider staying.”
“I’ll never sell,” I say with certainty. “My children are going to play on this land, and I’m going to be buried in that cemetery right beside you and my parents.”
A smile warms her otherwise pale face. “I guess there is magic here.”
The phone rings, and I furrow my brow. Who could be calling the landline? A chill runs through me at the timing, as if the ghost of my dead great-grandfather might be on the line. I lift the handset from its cradle and wrap my finger in the obscenely long coiled cord. “Hello?”
“Eloise? Ed Singer here. Can you sub today? Mrs. Adams had to go home sick.”
I block the receiver and whisper to Grams, “The nurse is coming today, right?”
“Yes.”
“Will you be okay if I work a shift?”
“Of course. Nurse or no nurse, I’ll be fine.” She nods.
I remove my hand. “Ed? I’d love to come in. I can be there in fifteen. See you soon.”
We say our goodbyes and I hang up. Bouncing twice on my toes, I clap my hands together. “I have a job again.”
“Go get ‘em tiger.” She laughs.
I speed off toward my room to get ready. Maybe this place is magic because I finally feel like my luck is turning around.