Page 12 of A Deal For a Kiss

He plays me like a well-used toy, stroking my nipples, plucking at them until I let out a whine. Then he kisses my earlobe.

“There is magic here,” he says, his voice husky and rough as if he’d spent hours thinking about me. “I can give you pleasure like you’ve never known.”

I keep my eyes closed, barely hearing him. Magic. This place is magic. And he’s a magician of pleasure.

He brings the pad of his thumb back to my nipple and teases it until it’s full and hard. I’m so desperate for sensation that I arch against him, rolling my hips as he strokes my clit.

I close my eyes and give in to it. Why does it have to be so good? Why does it have to take over every part of me? It makes me lightheaded. It almost makes me forget where I am and how I got here.

“Will you let me go?” I gasp.

He goes still, his fingers hovering over my clit. When I open my eyes, he’s looking into mine in the mirror, his eyes dark.

“You already know.” His tone isn’t as demanding as I anticipated, more sympathetic than anything. Before I can respond he kisses me, and it’s just like forgetting. Like silencing thoughts that feel like they don’t belong here anymore.

He moves his fingers again, sending pleasure through my core, and nudges his cock between my legs. He keeps playing with my clit as he sinks into me inch by inch. I spread my legs to give him more room, although something in me says I don’t need to. He’ll move me the way he wants.

I drop my dress so I can brace myself on the mirror. My body rocks with his hips, moving back and forth as he thrusts in and bottoms out and strokes again. My thighs tremble. Our reflection a sinful decadence that stares back at me every time I dare to open my eyes.

“Idon’t,” I manage to reply. It’s hard to get words out when all my body wants to concentrate on is him.

“You were mine in a previous life.” My gaze meets his in the reflection and my heart hammers.

Still buried in me, he reaches for a box behind the mirror. Old, wooden, and carved.

At first I pull back, uncertain, but he kisses my neck. “It’s for you,” he murmurs. With one hand caressing my body, his lips leave kisses in a trail down my neck while his other hand opens the box.

Inside is a small iron dish, two tall spindle candles, one black and one white twined together and bathed in what looks like herbs of jasmine and what smells like clove. A few small crystals, rose quartz, and the box is filled with rose petals that have long dried.

“You were mine in a previous life,” he repeats, “and I want you to remember.”

His eyes stay on mine in the mirror. Nothing in his expression says that he’s lying. He believes it’s true.

He looks at himself, then a spark is in his eyes that should be familiar. I should know where I’ve seen it before, but when I try to search my memory, there’s nothing there.

“I don’t remember that,” I say. “I don’t remember anything.”

Why do I wish I remembered?

“Light it with me,” he murmurs, and with both of his hands he stands the candles on the plate, placing the items around them, and lights a match. With the flame, he ignites the black candle and then hands me the match.

With my back to his chest and his cock still inside of me, I take the match and without thinking, I do it. I light the white candle and barely get to blow the match out before he devours me.

“I’ll help you remember.” His voice breaks as he thrusts in deep, pulling a gasp out of me as well. He fucks me like a savage, rough and raw. I cry out and my hands fall forward onto the mirror. The flames lick and burn to the right of the mirror.

His arm comes between my breasts, bracing me to him as he fucks me. Pulling pleasure from deep within me. We’re locked together in the mirror, my breath beginning to fog the glass as we come together. Pleasure ignites from deep in my core.

He doesn't stop and I can barely take any more. From the corner of my eyes, I barely get a glimpse of the candles as they light on fire, burning to nothing more than a pool of wax that covers the rocks and petals on the plate. The deed is done so quickly it cannot be taken back.

He drops his lips onto my shoulder and with a low grunt, spills the last of his release, his arms locking tight around me.

He pulls out slowly, like he doesn’t want to, then lets my dress fall back to the floor. It only takes a few seconds for him to put himself back together, straightening his clothes and tucking himself away. All the while I’m breathless and ravaged, barely able to sit upright.

CARLISLE

Idon’t want to tell her my name. For so many years I’ve dreamed of her remembering. If the spell cast doesn’t work… I begin to fear and then take it back. Doubt is the killer of magic.

It’s late when I enter the room and I can barely breathe. All is dark outside the window and the sconces are dimmed to a level that won’t disturb anyone who is asleep.

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