"I'm sorry," he said uncertainly, feeling an unexpectedly soft unfurling inside him. It had been very easy to think of her as a hard, calculating woman bent on having-and controlling-any man in her path. But the expression in her face could only be described as heartbroken.
Her lips twisted wryly. "It's not for you to be sorry." Her gaze flickered away for an instant, and Chas began to ease back.
She looked at him and reached to tug him back closer to her. "Kiss me again."
He obliged, happily, despite the niggling worry in the back of his mind. He was beginning to realize that there were things about her that weren't obvious.
Her lips, so full and soft, covered his and drove all worries from his mind. He pulled her closer to delve deeper, tasting a bit of salt from her tears, and doing what he could to help her forget whatever it was that made her grieve.
Meanwhile, his free hand slid to the front of her chemise and found the little drawstring tie there. Loosening it, he slid his hand down the front of the gapping bodice as he trailed gentle kisses from her mouth along the slender curve of her jaw.
Her breathing changed when he found one of her br**sts, closing his fingers around it and cupping its weight in his palm. Her nipple jutted into his thumb and he settled there, gently massaging its very tip as she shivered and sighed, rolling her body closer to him.
His breeches were tight and his shirt clinging hot and too heavy, but he was loathe to release her and take them off. Instead he pulled the drawstring even looser and tugged her bodice open more, down over her shoulders, so that he could slip south and close his mouth around her. She was sweet and warm, tinged with salt and musk, and he drew her deep into his mouth, sliding his tongue around her sensitive nipple. Around and around, darting and sleekly teasing.
Narcise arched into his mouth and he felt her legs shifting along his, capturing one of his breeches-clad thighs between hers in a sensual slide. He sucked harder, rhythmically, and she sighed, shivering against him as he dragged her hips closer.
When he pulled away to tear off his shirt, sitting back on his haunches, he saw her eyes burning, glowing red and orange and the tips of her fangs showing beneath her upper lip. A shaft of desire stabbed him low in the gut at the thought of those sharp points sliding into his flesh, of the bursting release of simmering need. He had a flash of her gouging him, goring into his shoulder or neck or arm, greedy and sensual, just as she had to that poor servant boy, and he forced himself to look away, fighting the temptation. No.
God, no.
Disgust made his belly pitch and swing, desire and lust weakened him, and he nearly pushed her away when Narcise reached for his bare shoulders, closing her fingers around him. But instead, he went with her, his torso warm against her br**sts.
She pulled him back down onto the bed as he fought the memory of the night he'd spent at Rubey's, bitten and dragged on in a whorl of red lust. His body craved the release, his c**k full and ready, the feel of the blood flowing freely into her hot mouth, the pain and pleasure of her mouth, sensual and demanding.
When Narcise's hand found the buttons on the placket of his breeches, Chas felt his whole body stiffen in expectation and control. She slipped her hand down the loosened waistband and closed around his throbbing erection, using her thumb to tease its tip just as he had done to her swollen nipple.
Somehow, her chemise had slipped away, and next went his breeches, and they were flesh to flesh. His dark Gypsy skin, textured with hair, sleek with muscle, slid against her soft ivory curves. He felt her readiness, damp and warm, and turned his mind from the burning in her eyes as he parted her legs and pulled her on top of him.
She eased herself into place and his eyes fairly rolled back into his head as they fit together in a shaft of pure pleasure. Narcise shifted her hips, rocking a bit, and he felt himself gathering up into that coil of release...and then she leaned forward, her eyes glowing, her fangs exposed.
Chas's heart thumped madly, his neck throbbing, heat rushing through his body as she shifted over him, rocking, sliding, and then easing her hands up along his torso as she bent over him. His skin burned, his fingers dug into her arms, pulling her close even as he knew he should be pushing her away...but the lust had taken hold, and the red heat caught him, and all he could think about was her pressed against him, her br**sts against his chest, her face buried in his throat... He wanted that sharp, stinging pain.
No, he thought, but he wanted it nevertheless. As they strained and shifted against each other, his muscles bunching and his blood surging, her soft panting warm against his throat, he imagined the slide of her into his skin, imagined the burst of pleasure, the heat flowing into her mouth as he would burst inside her.
"Narcise," he gasped, the lust rising higher, tighter, the bed rocking and shifting beneath them. Bite me. Take me.
She shifted and for a moment, he thought she was about to pull away, but then her lips were warm and moist against his neck. Desire flared inside him...yes, yes...her tongue, slick and hot, traced the tendon, the side of his neck.
He moved faster, gathered her closer, tipped his head to the side, baring his throat and shoulder. Please.
Don't. No.
Please.
And then she shifted, and he felt her lips go wide against him and then the sharp stabs of pain, brief and hot, and then the burst of his blood surging free. Release.
He gave a low, agonized cry as waves of pleasure undulated through him. He exploded twice inside her, into her mouth, into the deepest part of her center as she heaved and shuddered against him, her face still buried in his neck.
Then...even as he filtered back from the edge of nowhere, the lust still vibrating inside him, Chas felt the competing rush of ugliness bubbling up. Sharp little pulses from the marks on his shoulder served as prickling reminders of his depravity, opening himself up to the pleasure of the Devil.
He closed his eyes and turned away.
Narcise slipped away from him, easing back to her side of the bed, exhausted and sated. She closed her eyes, still tasting Chas on her lips and tongue, still quivering with the last bit of pleasure.
Her body was warm and loose in a way that it hadn't been for so long. So very long. Their joining had been passionate, yet slow and tender, the desire coaxed from where she'd locked it deep inside her until it rushed out in a surge of completion.
It had been so long since she'd felt true pleasure...and yet, despite its truth, her joining with Chas left her with a hollow space deep inside. Confusion warred with satisfaction and when she felt him stirring next to her, Narcise welcomed the distraction and opened her eyes.
He'd shifted away, lying flat on his back, the back of his arm resting over his eyes. His chest-smooth slabs of muscle and dusky damp skin-still shifted with rough breathing. And a trickle of blood eased down along into the hollow of his throat.