Chapter 7His low, groaning growl rumbled against her throbbing, swollen sex, and she was completely incapable of stopping the continuous, bird-like coos which issued from her own throat. She was embarrassed by their uncontrolled, needy sound, but his own moans seemed to increase in response to them as he kissed her reverently, soothingly, at the center of her womanhood. Finally she found her voice, but the only sound that would emerge was his name, throaty and low. She couldn't seem to stop herself, repeating it over and over again with a shivery, ecstatic bliss; "Vincent... Vincent..."
The words finally penetrated the foggy haze of his mind, and with a massive effort he focused his thoughts upon them, letting them draw him from the depths of his immersion into that other, more primal nature. The separation was not complete even then. How could it be when he lay as he did, between her legs, the scent and taste of her upon him in such a way that they could never be forgotten, never be erased? But there was separation enough to startle and dismay him as he recalled his so-recent demands that some barriers must not be breached. If he could allow - even initiate - this extreme intimacy between them, now, so soon after that discussion, then what barriers could possibly be left? Could a final consolation be denied by him, after all they had shared now? Was that even remotely possible when his body, still hard and aching with arousal, cried out for hers with a desperate, urgent insistence that strummed through his very blood? Her scent still engulfed him and he was having trouble thinking, his tongue licking along his bottom lip to draw in her taste once more. He shook his head and tried to focus his vision, until finally the tender flesh of her sex resolved itself just inches before him.
He gasped in astonishment, staring with stunned awe at her beauty. Even in the aftermath of her orgasm, she was swollen and throbbing still, the outer folds of her labia engorged and flushed with hot blood. The inner lips were pale in contrast, and almost translucent in their delicacy. Normally they would hide the secret treasure beyond, but they peeked open now, with her legs held wide by his firm hands. There, and everywhere else in that sensitive area, including the inner curves of her pale thighs, she was coated with a glistening sheen. Hungrily tracing the slick path of honeyed dew drew his eyes to her left leg, and to his hand upon it. When he saw how he held her, hands and nails gripping the tender, vulnerable skin of her belly and thigh, he gasped with dismay, releasing her immediately.
She groaned at the absence of his hands, still lazing in that other world and unaware of the growing coherency of his scrutiny. Her legs remained sprawled apart, despite the removal of his hands, and his gaze was drawn back to the center, where he noticed for the first time that the delicate inner lips pulsed slightly, as though the shuddering vibrations he'd felt from her during her climax had not completely ceased. The sight of that drew him with hungry fascination, and he reached his hand forward hypnotically, needing to touch her there, wondering if the convulsions inside could still be felt, and how they would feel surrounding him during that explosive time of release. He shuddered at the thought of that, and when his gaze cleared once more, he saw one finger lightly stroking along the quivering inner lips, the pad and nail just grazing between them and into the slick warmth waiting beyond.
He couldn't contain a cry of shocked horror upon encountering that sight, pulling his hand away quickly. That sound was enough to finally draw her from the blissful haze surrounding her, and she reached down to rub her hands against his massive shoulders, now tight with tension."What is it, Vincent?" she asked, alarmed by the abrupt shift she felt over their bond.
He shook his head, and she bit her lip to stop the moan of pleasure she felt from the brushing sweep of his hair across her lower belly and thighs. She knew he had been holding his breath when he released it with a fierce rush of sound, a groan of pain buried deep within it.
"Did I hurt you, Catherine?" he asked, staring up at her, his eyes bleak with fear.
She cupped his jaw, holding his gaze to hers. "You didn't hurt me, Vincent," she said, her voice suddenly tight with frustration, "not before, and not now. You must have felt what I did through the bond..."
"I felt..." He winced and gasped, as though in pain, his eyes squeezed tightly shut.
"Tell me, Vincent, please!" she implored, beginning to be frightened by his agitated response.
He leaned down to press his forehead against her belly, breathing hard. She could feel it through the silky curls at the apex of her thighs, the sensation making her tremble all over again, but she clamped down fiercely on their bond, desperate to have him finish this discussion once and for all, trying hard not to distract him with her body, though some part of her wanted to do exactly that, to hold him and love him until he was dizzy with erotic joy, until there was no argument left in him, his only thought that of loving her, of being loved by her. She wanted him to surrender that steely control and give in to the passion that so obviously existed between them. Not yet, a voice inside her whispered urgently, not yet...
"Please, Vincent, you can't possibly mean to tell me that you thought you felt pain from me."
In her voice he easily read incredulity and adamant denial both, and he swallowed hard, knowing that there had been no pain, but only a pleasure so intense that it sometimes bordered on that other emotion, hard and aching and desperate in its need. He knew those sensations, was feeling them even now, through his own aroused body. He held tight to his end of the bond, closing off any transfer, so caught up in his own despairing thoughts that he was unaware of her own efforts in this regard. He was desperate that she not feel that need from him, not now, when he was so close to the other, when even now he felt the stirrings of it throughout his body, felt the infusion of its power through the rushing blood and air as it made its way throughout him, to the extremity of his fingers and toes, then back again, pumping hard through his heart and head, and gathering irresistibly at the white-hot heat straining between his tautly muscled thighs. His pulsing muscles and thick erection surged strongly in response, and a groaning cry escaped him. He shook his head vigorously, as if to dislodge that other from his mind, shamed by his lack of control.
The logical part of him was sure he hadn't hurt her, but the other, more primal part had no thought but of lust and pleasure. The other part of him cried out even now to satisfy the hunger still aging throughout his body, to bury himself in the soft heat of her, to feel her holding him tight and warm and safe. The other asked no questions, but only demanded, and he winced again, trying to push him away, to assert the rational man instead. He bit down on his lip, and tasted the metallic tang of hot blood on his tongue, grateful for the momentary distraction the resultant pain provided. Hazy eyes blinked rapidly, then cleared and he moved off her body to stare down at her once more. With hands that shook, he lightly stroked over her belly, checking for any damage. He encountered numerous tiny red marks, not quite scratches, but definitely caused by his kneading fingers and nails. She groaned in response, and in that sound he heard both pleasure and despair.
"It's nothing, Vincent. I loved the feel of your hand there, of you holding me so possessively..." She sighed, reaching down to stroke over those red points, shivering in response. "It's nothing," she repeated again insistently, "they'll be gone in days, but while they're here, I'll touch them and remember how you touched me, how you loved me..."
Her words trailed off as her gaze grew unfocused and turned inward. He stared at her, unable to doubt that she meant what she said, yet unable to quite accept it, either. He tore his eyes away from her face and slid down several inches to inspect her left thigh, where his other hand had held her. Her position was still open and intensely vulnerable and his hands shook as he pushed her thigh upward even further, this time with the back of his hand, so that the tender inner flesh could more easily be seen in the dim candle-light of the chamber. He brushed over her silky skin, inspecting her by both touch and sight. There were red marks here as well.
This new touch reclaimed her focus, but she lay utterly still now, her hands clenched in the bedclothes, off to her sides, above him. Her spoken words were not reassurance enough, that was plain. He would need to see it for himself, and she steeled herself to be still and silent, hoping she could withstand his searching touch upon her without disgracing herself with lewd and lascivious thoughts of touches she would much rather feel from those strong hands, agile fingers and sharp nails. Not yet, she told herself once more, not yet...Finally satisfied that there was no injury greater than those small marks, his gaze slid slowly, hesitantly, along the inner curve of her thigh, upward until he encountered the delicate flesh of her sex once more. His heartbeat increased and a rushing grew in his ears as hot blood surged through the artery in his neck. The air he'd been breathing a moment before was suddenly insufficient, and his mouth dropped open to draw in fast, deep panting breaths as he tried desperately to stabilize his physical response to her. In the final analysis, he had to close his eyes to the mesmerizing sight of her for a few moments to focus on his own body, willing his heartbeat to ease and his breathing to calm. His strength of will was such that he was successful, though nothing could reduce the trembling tension of his muscles, nor minimize the surging state of full arousal straining between his legs. Conceding defeat in those two areas, he chose to ignore them instead.
When he opened his eyes once more, the entrancing sight of her womanhood almost undid him in an instant, but the preparations he'd made held firm and he began to scan her with his eyes, tracing the most tender, sensitive part of her with as much objectivity as possible, looking for any signs of injury or abuse. He couldn't forget - impossible to forget! - how he had feasted at this luscious flesh, moving over her with a frantic need, devouring her with lips, teeth and tongue until he knew every texture, every hollow and curve, the scent and taste of her as familiar as anything he had ever known in his life before, and more intensely compelling than he could have possibly imagined. He'd had many fantasies and dreams of making love to her in their years together, but somehow he had never imagined doing that, and even now could not conceive of how it had happened so easily, so effortlessly. But he remembered how her scent had engulfed him, and how within him had grown a need, one so urgent in its intensity that there was no thwarting or denying it. He'd had to take that scent and taste into himself, he'd had to.
He swallowed hard, and the trembling of his muscles increased until the shaking threatened to overwhelm him altogether, but at that sign of his growing loss of control, Catherine stroked soothing along his upper shoulders and back, murmuring soft words of love and trust, and hearing them, feeling her touch, he was able to gather his strength about him once more. He could see nothing to indicate he'd hurt her here, though a part of him wondered if it would be easy to notice such a thing, with the tender tissue so engorged and swollen from its recent pleasure, the flesh suffused in contrasting shades of pale pink to scarlet red. Finally he carefully brushed the back of one finger across her quivering lips, stroking everywhere, lightly, gently, then drawing his hand back to inspect it closely. He was coated with the silky liquid of her arousal, but it was translucent and clear, without a tinge of pink, much less red, and he sighed with relief. Still, satisfied with the results of that inspection, he didn't move away, but stayed where he was, frozen, staring hypnotically at the slick coating upon his hand, mesmerized by the sight and scent of her upon his own skin. Slowly, hesitantly, he leaned down and flicked his tongue against his finger, tasting her again with a soft moan of surrender.
That first hesitation was his last, and he proceeded to lick and suck greedily until he'd drank in every drop. When it was all gone, he groaned in dismay, dropping his head forward until it pressed to her belly once more. He rubbed his forehead back and forth upon her satiny skin with a groaning sigh, easing lower until he felt her silky curls beneath him, felt them tease against his fluttering eyelashes. He stayed there for several minutes, breathing in deeply, his mouth open, to take in the scent of her just below. How he wanted to taste her again, to love her with his mouth until she reached the ecstatic heights that had claimed her before, to feel her heavenly response to his intimate exploration of her. He couldn't decide if he had taken pleasure or given it in that extreme moment of need, and finally he gave up on that thought, accepting gratefully, though still in a somewhat shocked state of disbelief, that what had given him such extreme pleasure had only ensured the same for her. Was this the way it would always be? He had long ago learned that her pain was his, and now, though the flip side of the coin should have been obvious, he was amazed to find that the same was true of pleasure. Her pleasure was his own. And Catherine... Did Catherine share his pleasure? She had never been able to feel the bond to the same extend he did, only gaining momentary glimpses into it in the most extreme state of need, as during the cave-in with Father, but now...
Though he himself had been utterly lost in it, he could almost swear that she had been there, a full participant of their bond, feeling every bit of it with him, through that magical and unexplainable connection. Had she felt his pleasure? Could she feel the aching pain coursing through him now? He groaned loudly and jerked his head off her belly, staring up into her face. Her eyes met his, and the hazy pleasure there was instantly replaced with consternation and concern at the abrupt change in his demeanor.
"Vincent...?"
He didn't answer, letting go of his hold on the bond to open it wide. He probed deeply, strongly, searching her out, then gasped in dismay when he found no response on the other end. The bond was silent. The emotions shared, even now, were felt external to it, through the force of their physical bodies alone. It took a moment for him to think coherently, but once he did, he realized that it was Catherine now holding their bond closed. He stared at her in disbelief, and she blinked rapidly, reading his awareness of events instantly.
"Please, Vincent, let me explain..."
He couldn't think straight. The loss of that tie was disorienting in the extreme, even though he suspected it had been gone now for at least some length of time, measured in minutes if not longer.
"How long, Catherine?" he asked, knowing that she would understand.
"Just a few minutes, no more, since you woke up and were so worried about having hurt me," she replied, kneading the growing tension at the curve of his shoulders and neck.
"Why," he whispered, his voice tight with dismay and fear.
"Oh, Vincent, how can you ask that? You needed to find out for yourself that you hadn't hurt me, and I know how difficult that would be if I let you feel my emotions during that time. When you touch me..." She whimpered suddenly, shutting her eyes as the sensations shivered through her, then finally opening them again to meet his incredulous gaze. "Even when you touch me like that, to ensure my well-being..." Her words stuttered to a halt, then finally continued on, admitting what she had tried so hard to hide. "I feel so wanton, so shameless," she whispered, embarrassment and dismay coloring her words. "I didn't want you to know, to be disappointed in me."
He gasped at her response, appalled that she could think he would ever think less of her over anything, much less this. He slid up her body instantly, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close. "Never feel that, never! Your reactions to me, to my touch..." He paused for a moment, unsure of how to clarify the chaotic thoughts tumbling through his brain. "It seems so impossible to me, Catherine, that you should enjoy my touch, that you could actually want what I want. I'm the one..." He trailed off, unable to finish.
"The one? What, Vincent, tell me," she insisted, tightening her arms around him.
"I'm the shameless one, Catherine. If you knew of my thoughts, even as I touched you a few minutes before." He shook his head in dismay, unable to meet her eyes.
"What did you want to do, Vincent?" she asked, her voice low and compelling.
He shook his head harder, eyes down, and she cupped his chin in her hand and forced it upward. His own strength could have resisted that effort easily, but he felt her insistence and complied, opening his eyes to meet her own once more, trepidation and fear flooding through them to her, despite the absence of their bond.
"Please, Catherine, open the bond first," he pleaded.
The bond communicated their emotions before the words could come, and he needed that now, so that he could assess her response to his answer, so that he could prepare himself for any condemnation or disgust which might result. It happened so fast he felt faint with the sudden surge of emotion, unaware of his groaning response to that sudden influx. Her feelings rushed over him like a flooding tide, filling the dark corners and uncertainties, giving him the strength to go on.
"I want to touch you and never stop. I want to taste every inch of your body, to suckle at your breasts, to devour your most tender, delicate flesh." He gasped as the memory of her silky sex was once more before him, in his mind's eye. "You are like the most succulent, exotic fruit, Catherine, and I crave you like nothing else I could ever imagine. Your taste, your scent..." He groaned lowly, burying his face into the curve of her neck and shoulder. "I want to bury myself inside you," he whispered, "and feel you holding me safe and tight, feel your wet heat caressing me as I love you, over and over again." He groaned loudly, that picture overwhelming him. "I don't think I could stop, if you let me love you like that, Catherine. I'm afraid I wouldn't stop..."
Catherine's groan mingled with his own, his husky, breathy words bringing images and sensations to life. So sated with satisfaction a moment ago, she began to tingle with anticipation once more. She could imagine it all too well, his strong, heavily muscled body moving over her, dominating her, his thick erection possessing her completely, seeking out the most secret, hidden reaches of her feminine essence. She closed her eyes and moaned again, trying to imagine how it would feel to have him so deep within her, hot and hard and urgent, his powerful muscles flexing his loins to hers over and over and over...
Her cry of eager excitement escaped to fill the room, and her eyes flew open, a hot blush of embarrassment spreading over the already desire-flushed features of her face. He was no longer pressed to her chest, his face hidden, instead he was holding himself somewhat off of her, staring down at the open-invitation of her face, his eyes easily betraying stunned incredulity and a rampant need, along with the fearful hesitation which had never quite left him this night, no matter how intimate their touches had become.
She felt him against her. His muscles shook, and his erection was so hard she couldn't believe he hadn't given in to its demanding need long before now, but the answer to that was plain in his face; the trembling of his body spoke as much to the fear there, as to the urgent desire.
She whimpered then, suddenly unsure of how this night would end. Up until this point she had been positive that there could be no conclusion besides the obvious one, but now she wondered. Perhaps he meant for them to be satisfied with the release they could find in all these other ways, without risking the ultimate consummation they both so craved. She knew he was still afraid, afraid he'd hurt her with his size and strength, afraid her delicate flesh would be no match for the power and urgency of his own. Yes, she could read it in his eyes; he wasn't yet ready to allow that final intimacy between them, though his body belied that. The strength of his erection was amazing, once she allowed herself to dwell on it. He had already climaxed three times this day, those previous episodes appearing to have no detrimental impact on his ability to have a fourth, and perhaps even more. In fact she was fairly sure that if he didn't find release, and soon, he would shortly be in an extreme amount of pain. The thought of that made her moan again. Had she known the count was already at four, she would have been stunned.She had two choices before her, both appealing in the extreme. She could bring him the release he so obviously needed without broaching the final barrier that still filled him with such anxiety, or she could ease him onward, urging him toward the waiting relief of her welcoming body. She wasn't afraid. Though there was no doubt that he was quite a bit bigger than the average man - certainly every man she had ever known intimately - she had an unexplainable certainty that this was meant to be. She trusted their bond. It was impossible to imagine that it could exist without this being a possibility between them. But...
There was no denying the fear he still felt, fear for her safety paramount above all others. If something were to happen to her, it would destroy him, she knew that with utter certainty, and that would destroy her, destroy all chances they might have of sharing a life together. Was risking that acceptable, even for the blissful joy that awaited them both? No, it wasn't. She would never give up on that ultimate fulfillment of themselves and their bond, but there was time, and they had already come so far. Surely she could be patient just a while longer. And besides, the thought of that first option had more than sufficient appeal on its own merits. It made her mouth water...
She focused on his face once more, and found him still staring down at her, though now his brow was furrowed, as if he'd been trying to follow the course of her thoughts in the last few moments, as if he knew she had been reviewing all their options. That didn't surprise her at all - their bond was open wide between them now. But the ability to sense emotions was not the same as reading minds, and she was fairly confident that he could only speculate as to her thoughts. Not that she minded if he did know - he would certainly know soon enough, at any rate, with or without their bond.
"You're not ready," she whispered. It was a simple statement, spoken with no condemnation. She read the confirmation in his eyes, even mixed as it was with both guilt for denying her once again, and longing for what he could not allow himself to have. Though she knew it would be impossible to erase that first emotion, no matter how hard she tried, at least she could do her best to eliminate the second. She would accede to his wishes in the one, but in the other he was hers. She would not be denied of that, and nor would he, of that she was determined.
Vincent must have read that resolute look in her face, for his eyes widened and his breath caught with an audible gasp. He drew back a few inches from her, but this time she followed, sitting up smoothly so that he was forced to move more rapidly than he had planned. For a moment her breasts pressed against his chest once more. She knew he felt the softness and warmth of them, along with the contrasting rigidity of their peaks, by the abrupt flame of scarlet that surged over his face, and though they touched no where else, she felt the heat spread throughout her own body as well, as she imagined the jolting response he felt elsewhere, at the core of his masculinity. He moved with her then, sitting up as well so that a small distance was maintained between them.She felt so brazen, so wanton, desperately wanting to wrap her hand around him intimately, to keep it there, not simply as a means of arousal, but as a physical augmentation to their bond. He had been so good at controlling what she felt over the bond before now, but tonight she was sure that, deny the outcome though he might, he couldn't control his primal, physical response to her. But she didn't do that, instead pressing her hand to his chest, not allowing the distance he sought to impose, and his breath rasped out then caught again. He was in a quandary, she saw, trapped as he was between her body and the rocky wall at his back. The twenty-four hour candle behind the stained-glass inset behind him was the only one still lit in his chamber, and it illuminated a warm, amber glow about him, leaving him almost a shadow of form in its aura. A very big shadow. His chest heaved, and his muscles trembled - both were visibly apparent to her, even in that dim light. Below the quilts, though she couldn't see it or feel it, she could easily picture now in her mind how he must look, how he had looked when he'd let her touch him so intimately, just a few hours since. She licked her lips, her mouth suddenly dry, and increased the pressure of her hand upon him.
"Catherine, please..." he whispered, his eyes pleading with hers to understand.
"You're not ready," she repeated, assuring him that she had heard and understood. "Not yet, not for that..."
His lips trembled as he nodded his head.
"I understand, Vincent, and I promise it won't happen, not until you are ready, not until you agree to it completely."
But the pressure of her hand continued to increase, and he glanced down at it with confusion, before hesitantly meeting her gaze once more, his own filled with uncertainty. She could read that expression so easily; he wanted to believe her, but part of him was so close to physical and emotional upheaval, and knowing that, feeling that, he knew himself to be weak, vulnerable. She trembled as she realized that he considered himself to be at her mercy tonight, and a part of her wondered if he didn't hope, at least on some unconscious level, that she would ignore his request and take advantage of the situation, and of him. She could. The more analytical side of her even knew that it might be the very thing he needed, but no, not tonight. Tonight he had let them progress to an amazing extent, and there was a poignant joy in that, not to mention a tremendous amount of eager anticipation that felt all the sweeter for these incremental steps taken thus far. The end-point they led to was now clearly and tantalizingly in plain view.
"I promise," she repeated.
He stared into her eyes, and she saw the transition take place in an instant, saw the subtle reduction in the anxiety in his own eyes, saw his breath expel in a shuddering wave as he allowed some of the tension quiver through his muscles to dissipate and disappear. It wasn't all gone, not by a long shot - impossible for that to be, when he was as physically aroused as he was - but enough to tell her that he trusted her, even in this area, where he was extremely vulnerable.
"We've shared so much tonight, Vincent. You let me touch you, see you..." His eyes grew wide at her words, and she felt a quiver of taut pectoral muscles beneath her hand. "And you touched me. You gave me such pleasure."Her eyes closed in memory of those sensations, a sigh drifting out into the night. When they opened again, her eyes were languid and filled with love. "Did I give you pleasure, Vincent?" she whispered, holding his gaze with the yearning tenderness of her own.
He was still for a moment, incredulity clearly etched on his face and in his eyes, then finally nodded once more. He appeared speechless by the words she'd spoken, but finally he responded, his voice hoarse and low; "You know you did." He shook his head, overwhelmed by the memories, before continuing on, "So much..." The words trailed off in confusion, as if he found it impossible to articulate what he'd felt.
"Then let me do it again, Vincent, please," she urged him gently. "I don't want to leave you like this." Her eyes flickered down to the area of his lap and though he was shadowed by the candlelight behind him, she easily heard his gasp and knew that he was now blushing a bright shade of red. He shook his head, absolutely tongue-tied, but she could easily read his objections, and answered them as if they'd been spoken aloud. "I know it's not necessary, I know you don't expect it of me, that you don't want me to think you do expect such a thing. I don't. I know you could leave me now, go to the bathing chamber and take care of it yourself," She saw the anxious in-drawn breath and rapid blinking of his eyes, but attributed it to embarrassment over her discussing such a thing with him, not aware of how close to the truth she had come to the event which had transpired earlier this day, while she slept. "...but I don't want you to, Vincent," she continued, her pleading voice coming perilously close to, but never quite verging upon command. "I want to be the one who can do this for you, the one you trust enough to allow that close. Please, Vincent, tell me you'll let me do this for you, for us both." He expelled his held breath only to gasp in another, rigid with tension. "It's not as though I haven't touched you already, haven't seen you..." She stopped abruptly as that statement only seemed to increase his tension, then intuitively reversed her tack; "It would give me so much pleasure..." she whispered, trailing off with a sigh.
She was shameless...
So shameless to make this about her, rather than him, but she knew that that line of reasoning would go much further in influencing his decision than any other possibly could, and decided it was an acceptable course of action. She hadn't lied, after all; it would give her an extreme amount of pleasure, both in giving him his release, and in indulging her own sensual response to him while she did. She held her breath, praying that he wouldn't be able to resist that final bit of persuasion, and then released it with a whoosh of relief when he finally accede, the nod of his head so tentative that she almost missed it altogether.
This time, when she pressed firmly upon his broad chest, he let himself sink back to the mattress. She still felt tension in him, and some resistance, but he was struggling now to ignore both, and so, for the moment, she did as well. He was no longer in shadows, the candlelight now casting its golden glow over him as he lay supine on the bed. The covers were pooled loosely about his waist, but his fingers nervously held the edges, arms crossed in front of himself, below the ribs. Despite this, and though his upraised knee covered the inevitable response she knew was there, at least most of his chest was again bared to her avid gaze. She noticed that he was just as obsessed with the sudden view of her naked breasts, and smiled, leaning down to press a warm, soft, reassuring kiss on his trembling lips. She let her breasts linger against his steely strength for a moment, swaying back and forth gently while they kissed, so that her taut, sensitive nipples dragged across his chest, through the thick thatch of golden hair to the amber flesh below. One rigid tip brushed against a smaller, male nub, and he gasped into her mouth and arched up against her abruptly, shocked by the electrical sensation that contact inspired.
She took advantage of his surprised response to deepen the kiss, pressing her upper torso more fully to his and grasping his shoulders tight as she slipped her tongue into his mouth and sought out his own. With a strangled moan he met her, drinking thirstily, honeyed sweetness exchanged by the twining urgency of their tongues. He pulled her deeper into his mouth, but after a few minutes, she drew back, taking him with her, wanting him in her own hungry depths. He groaned and released her lips to capture her tongue between them, sucking at the retreating tip until she moaned incoherently. Finally he let it go, locked his lips to hers once more, and slid inside her mouth, where she wanted him to be. Her tongue stroked and caressed him, licking and dancing about his own until he couldn't hold back any longer, arching up to explore her moist, hot mouth with a frenzied lust. She opened to him completely, letting him touch her as he wished, until flickering lights appeared behind her eyelids. Her lungs desperately needed more oxygen, and sensing this, he released her mouth with a gasp, a rumbling groan erupting from his throat. His head thrashed on the pillow, and he flung his arms over his head to clenched the bedsheets near the top end of the mattress in tight fists. His biceps and triceps flexed in a massive display, and the exposed, tender flesh of his underarms drew her, so soft and vulnerable compared to the rest of his body, so muscled and aroused. She nuzzled into the curve of one arm, taking in the masculine scent of him. It was earthy and deep, an aphrodisiac of amazing proportion. Her body responded immediately, ratcheting up her arousal to the next level and leaving her trembling with desire.
Pulling back, she supported herself on hands pressed tight to his upper chest and looked down at him with awe. His chest swelled dramatically with each deep breath, the muscles flexing so powerfully he appeared to have grown at least one size, if not two. Beneath the heel of her right hand she felt the beat of his heart, swift and strong. It pounded out a fiery rhythm that sang through her own arteries and veins, drawing her passion along until it matched his own, flinging her headlong into the maelstrom of their bond. Immersed in it now, she eagerly sank deeper, feeling his primal nature emerge in a way she never had before. She saw it in the suddenly open position of his body as he lay before her, his arms no longer wrapped protectively about himself, the blankets lying loose and unsecured. His raised knee swung back and forth in a random pattern indicative of his chaotic emotions, and with each swing outward she could now clearly see the surging ridge of his thick erection beneath the covers.
She swallowed hard, licking her lips once more, and her hands tightened into his golden flesh, nails lightly kneading in an instinctive cadence which matched the beat she now felt through his body and her own. He groaned loudly, that sound confirming the pleasure she felt from him over their pulsing bond. Her own moan followed irresistible, but was soon muffled against the broad expanse of his chest as she leaned down to nip at the dark flesh of a pap as it protruded through the protective layer of soft hair coating him there. He cried out in surprised response, arching up to her hungry mouth, then falling back to the mattress once more, his cry trailing off to a guttural growl that vibrated through his chest and against her mouth, where she licked and sucked at the taut peak of his breast.
Her hands could no longer remain still, and both began to sweep over his torso, exploring and fondling everything in their path. She stroked along the sides of his chest, tracing ribs and muscles as she went, then reaching up to caress the warm recesses beneath each arm, only to slide further along the inside of both, where no hair grew. The contrast of flexing muscles and bare, sensitive skin excited her almost beyond thought. She knew he felt it, too, by the way he grasped her fingers tightly within his own when she finally reached his hands. He writhed beneath her slender body, and she felt strangely in control as she kissed her way across his chest to the other nipple, her arms stretched upward, hands in his, as though she held him down, forcing him to endure her tender ministrations. But there was no force here, unless it was the force of their love and desire, boiling up now to churn and blend, the mix a heady dish she knew she would crave for all the days of their life. Oh, how she wanted him!
With a low groan, she pulled her hands from his. There was a momentary, instinctive resistance in his grip, but it disappeared in an instant, and glancing up through heavy-lidded eyes and thick lashes, she saw that his hands were clenched in the bedclothes once more. She traced his arms downward, reversing her earlier path of discovery, caressing him with a surer touch than she had before. Her body moved down as well, kissing and licking each deep indentation and contracting muscles of his trembling torso. When she reached them, her thumbs swept over the tender, tiny buds of his breasts, and he shuddered beneath her, moaning softly. Finally one hand continued downward, passing her mouth where it laved kisses along one arching rib. A finger swirled around the down-covered navel, dipped within it for a tantalizing caress, then left, slipping lower, beneath the covers. She couldn't wait another moment, couldn't spare another second to trace the taut, tightly-knit muscles of his belly and loins, instead going immediately to his swelling erection. She wrapped her hand around the thick shaft, and he arched up, stroking through her tight fingers with a hissing groan.
"Catherine!" he cried.
His call was primal and low, hoarse and desperate, and she felt the muscles of her silken sheath contract with a strong, clenching grip while honeyed liquid, thick and hot, drenched her pulsing labia and thighs. She squeezed her legs together tight and moaned, wanting him there, needing him to fill that space. It cried out for him with a longing that was impossible to deny, and almost impossible to control. But she had promised him, and a hazy part of her brain reminded her of that now. Not yet... Not yet...
She had to taste him. Had to. He was so thick and hard, so hot and flushed with blood. She ached to have the taste and texture of him on her tongue, in her mouth..."Oh, Vincent," she groaned loudly, everything in her yearning toward him, to the only man who could ever complete her. One day soon he would make her whole, and she would fill that part of him that was empty, too. Together they would find a fulfillment neither could imagine alone. But for now she would take this, take the touch and taste and scent of him, and give it all back, the pleasure and hunger and need, until they were dizzy and aching with it, their pulsing bodies wracked with a joyful bliss that was almost painful in its intensity. They would take that pain, and only crave more, beg for more...
She cried out as her emotions escalated, the images of them together overwhelming her completely. Almost frantic with need, her hand left him to throw the covers back, baring both their bodies. He groaned loudly at that absence, but remained relatively still, with his hands nowhere upon her. When her hand returned he growled, arching up into her palm once more, the relief he found in her touch plainly evident. Her hand tightened upon him, grasping as much of his thick flesh as she could, then slid down to the base, to hold him tight. She slid her torso down the few remaining inches and pressed her cheek to the heated flesh of his shaft, then turned to press a reverent kiss along the pulsing vein. He gasped in stunned disbelief, his growl growing louder when she began to kiss her way upward, along that vein. Held tightly in her hand, his swelling erection surged abruptly and throbbed beneath her lips, the satiny skin held tight over a straining core of iron.
"Please, Catherine, oh please..." he moaned hoarsely.
She spared a glance upward to see his head thrown back in ecstasy as it thrashed side to side on the pillow, hands grasping and releasing the sheets above his head with a frantic, furious rhythm. It was impossible to tell if he wanted her to continue on or was warning her to stop. It didn't matter, though, for she had no intention of stopping. When her lips reached the broad rim of his crown, she stopped for a moment and licked just beneath it, on the underside of his shaft, loving the taste of him, there, in that oh-so-tender spot. He cried out in response, his hips writhing beneath her in a rhythm which was unmistakable. She let her tongue follow that motion, licking and kissing him up and down the straining length as he moved, then finally nipping lightly at the rim with her teeth. He gasped and froze, his muscles tensing so strongly she thought she'd gone too far.
Finally he collapsed back to the bed, his body trembling with a growing need that flooded them both through their bond. He muttered lowly, the words almost indistinguishable from the moans and growls filling his chest and throat. She loved the sounds he made, the low murmurs and thrashing motions that told her so clearly of the pleasure he gave him. It was her hands, her mouth, her body that brought him this joy, and she reveled in it, loved it with a passion that burned so bright she felt scorched with its heat. She drew back, her hand still holding him tight, needing to see him.
He was magnificent, his body long and taut with tensing, flexing muscles. The massive power there was impossible to miss. His skin was golden in the dim, warm light, and coated with a sensual covering that was and was not hair. It was thin to absent in some parts, and lushly thick in others, with myriad textures ranging from polished to raw silk, with color shadings from burnished copper to the pale amber of summer wheat. His flaxen mane was almost bronze now, darkened with sweat from the passion fever encompassing them both. He was magnificent, she thought again, unable to come up with an adjective that more perfectly defined him. Magnificent and absolutely irresistible. God, how she loved him!
She let her eyes drift down his body until they reached his center, where his thick erection strained outward and up, the vein throbbing with dark blood, its color and texture marbling the satiny smooth skin of his shaft. The head was broad and deep, its rim jutting out well beyond the stalk below. The crown above was smooth and round. She remembered how it had fit so perfectly in her palm, the softness of him, and the steely strength beneath...
She moaned helplessly as another wave of arousal coursed through her body, sending a drizzling rain of honeyed sweetness down. When she opened her eyes once more, she found him staring down at her, his eyes mere slits, the blue there so dark it was almost black. His mouth was open and he panted loudly, gasping in lungfuls of air in gulping draughts. She shivered as she realized how she must look to him in that position, his straining erection in the foreground, her hand wrapped around it, small by comparison, her face just beyond. Her cheeks felt hot and tight, passion drawing hard planes and angles there that told him of her need. Their eyes met, both heavy-lidded, with the barest hint of blue and green gazing out to meet in the space between. He drew in a gasping breath a moment before she moved, and she wondered if her action had been telegraphed through her face, their bond, or both.
No matter. She wanted to give him this gift, this giving of herself, and taking of him, until he knew what she did, that the giving and taking were indistinguishable from each other, both parts of the same whole. Her tongue peeked out to wet lips parched by arid heat. He saw it, and groaned, his erection surging in her hand. He held his breath now, and she knew he both craved and feared that touch upon him. She could clearly see the look of disbelief there, and knew that on one level he found it impossible that she would ever consider such a thing, while on another he yearned for just such a touch.The conflict was killing him, and she decided that enough was enough. With a soft groan she let her head fall back. Her hair tickled her back and his thighs where it trailed lower down, and her throat was arched and bare to his hungry gaze, her eyes slits of green gazing through dark, heavy lashes. When her tongue slipped out once more, he drew in a heavy breath, his erection swelling in her fingers yet again. She stayed there for a moment, a silent tableau of offering. Finally her hand moved, sliding slowly up his shaft until it reached to just beneath the head, her fist stopped by the jutting rim. She increased the pressure, urging him down until the broad head lay flat on her tongue as her hand slid down to about midway on his shaft. He gasped in shocked disbelief, and she watched his chest and arms flex in a massive display of arousal. Slowly she rubbed it back and forth upon the raspy surface of her tongue, watching every second of his stunned, incredulous response. Finally she curled her tongue beneath him, using the tip to press firmly against the underside of his head, drawing him inexorably inward.
"Catherine!" he cried. His head thrashed once to the left, then flew back to the center once more, his eyes pinned on the sight of her taking him into the velvet heat of her mouth.