Chapter 11 Sawyer
Sawyer
I just dry humped a vampire.
Splashing water on my face, it’s impossible to ignore what’s so obviously there: the wide eyes, slightly puffy lips, and red cheeks.
The flush down my neck and all over my breasts.
My breasts which look like they’ve been literally mauled between the red lines and bite marks.
My nipples are a dark colour, having been tugged on so blissfully much.
Covering them isn’t without hesitation; the longing to go out there and finish what we began claws at me.
This morning was bad enough, when reminding myself of the fact I just met Lucian prevented me from asking him to kiss me. Keeping my distance all day was harder than I expected. The more time we spent together, the more I wanted him—and the more I questioned what the point of avoiding him even was.
Then, when seeing what he did for me, I couldn’t help but act on that very desire and leapt into his arms without another thought.
Taking it further wasn’t in the plans, but he wanted me as much as I wanted him.
His solid cock between my thighs told me so—along with the way he took the kiss to new heights.
My skin warms as I brush my hand along the places of my neck he’s touched. Nothing will go back to normal after this. How will I ever be able to leave the cabin and return home, knowing Lucian is somewhere on Earth?
One thing at a time. First: I need to leave this bathroom and face him.
What if he tries again? Do I want him to try again?
I think I may. It’s probably idiotic and fatalistic given what he is, but putting all that aside doesn’t change the fact that my desire for my would-be murderer is half the reason I pulled away.
Rinsing my hands one more time and using the moisture to dampen and cool my cheeks, I return to the main room, finding Lucian crouched beside the fireplace, stoking the newly formed flames. Beside him is a white mug he gestures to when hearing the door crack.
I take a seat on the floor beside the mug of hot chocolate and blow on the liquid. “You made this?” A vampire making hot chocolate doesn’t exactly reassure me it’ll be chocolatey enough—and it might even be watered down—but he tried, so I will too.
After a couple blows over the steaming liquid while he finishes the fire and settles on the other side of me, I manage a small sip, still scalding my lip in the process. But the drink is actually the ideal blend, and impatient for the flavour, I force a larger gulp.
“How do you know the correct ratio?”
He shrugs. “Read the instructions, then added one more scoop.”
“It’s perfect.” Everything about this is.
Bringing my legs up closer, I alternate between sipping, watching the small fire, and watching him. He stays a short distance away, observing the flames too. Every so often, his brows dip, like he’s thinking about something, but the expression never lingers.
“Do you have any good Christmas memories from your childhood?”
He blinks, looking up at me, then frowns as his eyes slide towards the tree.
“Vague ones of my father cutting down a tree to bring inside, and Mother baking cookies. My sisters would play outside, and then by the fire to warm up. Otherwise…no, not really. Memories are starting to fade, replaced by newer ones.”
Oh. I’d never considered that after living for so long, memories wouldn’t be as strong as they once were—but it makes sense. He’s seen and done so much in two centuries, the less important and earlier events are bound to fade eventually.
Which means this day that means so much to me will eventually be a faded memory from his past. He’ll stop remembering the pathetic, half-dead girl he once saved from a winter car accident, spent a few days with her, and then went on his way.
Lucian slides closer and tips my head up with a finger beneath my chin. “Your mood changed. What’s wrong?”
It’s surreal how he catches everything almost immediately. I’m not used to having someone so attuned to my emotions. Hell, attuned to anything at all. “One day, this will be a forgotten memory to you, whereas it’s become one of my best.” If not the best.
His hand grows heavy around my neck as he jerks me towards him. “Sawyer, I don’t plan on ever letting this memory fade. I’ll never forget you because you won’t be going anywhere.”
It’s a sweet sentiment I do nothing but smile at, hiding my own ache behind a mask of happiness. To conceal it, I drop my face but turn my body into his, leaning against his arm as I continue sipping my drink.
He can say whatever, but at some point, I’ll become a person from his past. There’s probably been numerous women over the years that he’s been around and moved on from.
We didn’t talk much about his history yesterday, but he’s basically said as much—that he’s spent lifetimes wandering, never settling for more than a couple years at a time, because a vampire’s life is a lonely one.
Mine is too, but for more restrictive reasons. Mine’s the definition of mortality, of being human, and I’m not sure which option is better.
“Fire is one of the limited ways a vampire can be killed,” he comments.
By telling me this, he’s handing me a weapon—thus trusting I won’t turn around and use it on him. Which is why, while my mind wanders over what limited is truly defined by in terms of vampiric deaths, I simply say, “Yet you made the fire. You could have mentioned it; I’d have done it.”
“Fire burns mortals, too. I’d rather me than you.”
A burn wouldn’t cause my immediate death. At least, not a burn sustained by working a fireplace. His sentiment is sweet, however.
“You say the strangest and most intense things sometimes.”
He hums, dropping cool lips onto my forehead. “It’s been a strange week.”
We stay like that for a long time as I finish my drink, and then just be—exactly what I envisioned when booking the trip. Easily an hour passes in which neither of us talk, but we don’t need to.
Eventually, he pulls me down onto his lap and strokes fingers through my hair until I doze off, only waking when he lowers me into bed and slides in beside me.
In the final minutes as I readjust and get warmed by the comforter, his low tone fills the room. “To think, silly mortal, you believe you’ll be rid of me. Like you haven’t already given yourself over, heart and soul.”
Waking up is a repeat of yesterday, with Lucian draped around me and his touch resting possessively on my lower stomach. I stretch without shifting, keeping myself tucked tightly against him while sense and rationality lose to the rockslide of desire.
“We’ve reached Christmas day.” While exciting, it feels like my insides are frosting over. There’s only one more day left of my trip after today; I booked the place until the twenty-seventh, when I’ll begin my journey home.
He hums against my shoulder. “Christmas afternoon, if you want to be really specific.”
“My schedule is flipping into yours. Returning to my old one will be hard.”
I’m yanked beneath his body, his weight pressing me into the bed. It erases any thought that doesn’t have to do with him. “So don’t leave.”
At first, I laugh, but his grave expression tapers my amusement into an awkward chuckle. “What…like never? Lucian, I can’t not go back. For one, this isn’t even my house. Two, I have jobs.” Multiple.
“You hate your jobs. Besides, arguing about this is pointless, since I’ll win.”
Who the fuck does this vampire think he is?
I’m about to tell him that too when his hands meld with mine and bring them up beside my head, pinning them to the pillow and effectively distracting me from everything else.
This trip has proved how all my survival instincts are essentially non-existent, so why wouldn’t his touch distract me from the serious conversation?
“It’s Christmas. You’re supposed to get everything you want today. Let’s not talk about this.”
“I’ve already gotten everything. I got my drink in front of the fireplace, a moment’s peace, and a Christmas tree. The rest is bonus. Oh, and minus that walk, but maybe it’s warmer today.”
“It’s warmer,” he confirms with an odd amount confidence. “I’d really rather you stay inside where it’s safe. Where bears don’t roam.”
“Bears are in hibernation.”
He grins wickedly and drops his head into the space by my neck.
“Wolves, then. It’d be a shame if they got to bite before I did.
” Playfully, he drags his human-like teeth along my shoulder, catching on my shirt.
With a quirk jerk, he rips it. “Better,” he whispers into my skin before his mouth creates magic along my chest again.
“Your skin was so exquisite last night—”
It was coloured from his mouth.
“—but it’s back to normal now, and we can’t have that. I want my marks on you. I like you marked as mine.”
I think I want them too.
He clamps his teeth around my nipple over the shirt as he shuffles down the bed. My legs fall to the side to make room for him. He reaches the waistband of my pants before meeting my eyes, his black flashing to red.
“Unless you tell me no, I’ll be tasting my holiday treat now.”
All the previous reasons I pushed him away last night and yesterday morning melt into the utter need that instantly consumes me.
Desire and arousal stronger than every element beyond these four walls eviscerate me.
Out of some misplaced sense of righteousness—and perhaps a bit of disbelief—I haven’t let myself have him, but none of that matters any longer.
It seems too unimportant compared to what could be.
“Merry Christmas, Lucian.”
His eyes darken into a molten pool with my consent. He releases my hands to divest me of my clothing, tossing it all to the side of the bed until I’m naked. His hands, cool to the touch, stroke my thighs, parting them farther.
He makes a noise that’s entirely male and one hundred percent unearthly before inhaling deeply.
Black flashes to red, and fangs slide from his upper gums, making his grin devilish.
If being with him is considered a sin by religious standards, then it’s a good fucking thing I long ago decided religion isn’t for me.
Let me be a sinner, so long as he’s the altar.
His nose slides up and down my thighs, exploring but not touching. Sparks of electricity and irritation arch through my back until I’m fisting the sheets on either side of me, demanding with my body that he give me what I crave.
When he doesn’t, I revert to begging, precisely as he said I’d one day do. “Touch me. Stop teasing.”
“You tease me every minute of the day, Sawyer. Everything you say, everything you do—your blood’s fucking aroma taunts me. Believe me, my actions are much kinder than yours.”
His tongue flicks out, sliding in the space at the very top of my thigh. My insides clench as I twist in his hold, trying to reach his mouth. Immortal strength pins my hips to the bed, his chuckle a backdrop to my whimper.
“Lucian.”
The flat of his tongue presses down on my clit once before slipping inside my core. Hands cuff my wrists in place, so as my legs come down to rest over his shoulder, I’m trapped at his mercy. My head thumps against the pillow as I let out a low, contented cry.
He slides his tongue back to my clit again. He laps slowly, flicking and sliding, and then faster, until my insides wind tightly. A few more licks, it’ll unwind and…
His tongue slides back inside me. The change of pressure and intensity retightens the rope, forcing me to begin all over again. Legs locked around his neck, I force him into place, using the momentum to chase the orgasm. My strength is easily overtaken by his when he returns to my clit.
“You’re a fucking asshole.”
He chuckles and licks faster. As much as I attempt to hold it in, to not let him bring me to the edge again only to tease me, the rope is too loose. Too far gone. Another flick of his tongue unravels the rope and drops it off the cliff. Wave after wave consumes me as I come, screaming his name.
When finished, Lucian crawls up my body to slant his mouth over mine, all tongues and teeth and needy whimpers while disregarding the fact that my lungs can barely keep up.
“You taste like everything I’ve ever dreamed of.”
He massages my arms and down my sides, slips between my thighs again, and rubs my legs with a low noise.
Two fingers swipe over my pussy, and then he pushes them inside until I whimper, arching into him.
He pulls them out and does it again, until I’m practically rolling on top of him to reach what my body pleads for.
“You have to stop teasing me.”
“Never.”
He finishes the movement, though, by pulling me overtop him, situating me up on his chest so my legs are spread wide, lewdly to his viewing. From below, he sinks two fingers inside me, twisting and curling until my thighs shake.
“Beautiful,” he croons. “So much better. Play with your breasts for me.”
So far gone, I don’t have time to feel embarrassed by his command. My hands alternate between squeezing my breasts and plucking my nipples while the room fills with the symphony of my moans, his growls, and the increasingly wet noises from between my legs.
I’m not in control anymore—though was I ever? My hips rock without control until my next orgasm hits. His fingers pound into me almost painfully, dragging it out for as long as my weak human body can manage. After my insides go through every level of tenseness possible, I slump forward.
“Catch your breath because I’m far from done with you.”
“Two wasn’t enough?”
Hunger consumes his expression as he cups my thighs and drags me over his face. “Not even fucking close.”