Page 50 of The Demon's Discovery
His hand traced gently down the side of my face and then he grinned. And it was like everything in my chest finally opened up, allowing me to breathe again, feel everything I was supposed to. He exhaled deeply, his eyes slipping closed, and for amoment, he became the mist. He was everywhere and nowhere; tendrils stroked their cool breath along my face, my arms. It was odd but also comforting, because I could tell it was him even if I couldn’t see his normal form.
The mist evaporated, and Vassago returned. He tightened his grip on me and stood, taking long gliding steps to the bed. With space between us, doubt about my lack of experience began to crowd in, but he was too fast for me to get very far down that road.
“I need your words again, Dragonfly,” he requested, hovering above me as I clumsily undid the buttons on his shirt.
“I want this,” I said firmly, hauling my own shirt up and over my head.
He inhaled sharply and crawled over me, fighting with one of his sleeves before resting a hand along the side of my face as he delved deep with another impossibly intoxicating kiss.
I unlashed my trousers and wriggled them down my hips. His long white hair dangled, tickling my bare shoulders as I used whatever I could reach to get the pants all the way down my legs. He broke the kiss and provided the final assist, sliding them off the rest of the way as he dropped to his knees at the edge of the bed. I found myself being slid toward the edge, his hands around my ankles. He placed each of my feet on either shoulder and leaned in.
Out of reflex, I shifted my legs together, but seeing him between them, a hungry look in his eyes made them relax again. “Greta?” He stilled, warm palms wrapped around my calves.
“Don’t stop,” I begged.
His eyebrow quirked up, as did his mouth. His control was slipping again, his fangs resting on his full lower lip, eyes ruby as they watched for my reaction. One of his hands gripped my thigh, his thumb leaving an erotic indentation in my flesh.
“Eyes on me, Little Dragonfly. Use your words. Tell me what you need.”
“You,” was all I could manage as he started to plant light kisses up the inside of my leg. “I think sometimes that all I’ve ever needed is you.”
“You shall have me then,” he said, the words deep and rumbly in his chest as he left gentle nips and kisses up and down my legs. “How could I deny you anything?” He paused only long enough to breathe over the place I ached most for his attentions but never indulged me. One forearm landed over my hips to hold me in place as I wiggled and bucked in protest. “Hold still, Greta. Be patient. Trust that I’ll take care of you.”
His corporeal form also remained this time as the tendrils swept up and down my legs, driving every nerve to the point of hypersensitization. Several came up as far as my arms, brushing along the sides of my breasts and over my ribs.
I had a hard time keeping still between the cool glide of the mist along my exposed skin and Vassago’s mouth coming closer and closer to where I needed it. My legs wanted to jerk, my fingers grasped at the sheets. I was perilously close to begging.
All at once, I got what I wanted.
Vassago’s tongue lashed the length of my opening as the mist restrained me. I hadn’t expected the smoke-like substance to have any kind of strength to it, but I was well and truly pinned by the tendrils at my wrists and across my middle. Tiny wisps reached up and out, some coming over to tease across my nipples, which were so tight they were painful, others drifted into my hair, pulling gently.
I gave in to a throaty moan as Vassago’s mouth wrapped around my clit and sucked, sensation rocketing through me. He was everywhere—fingers, mouth, mist. There was no beginning or ending to his form, and I felt him in every part of me.
Warm palms pressed against my thighs, forcing them wider as he buried his face further into me. He alternated between licking at the tight bundle of nerves and plunging his tongue inside me, all while the mist plucked and teased and drifted over my heated skin. When he added his fingers, I knew I was done for. I whimpered as he sank one of his long, graceful fingers into me, a low hum coming from his chest as he withdrew and added another. The mist clung to me, kept me from squirming out of his hold as he flicked the tip of his tongue at a pace that had me close to screaming from the intensity.
When he turned his head to the side and bit into my inner thigh, I said his name… or at least I thought I did. The dam of sensation burst, and I moaned out as my body began to spasm around his fingers. He licked where he’d bitten before returning his focus to the sensitive bundle of nerves and didn’t gentle his ministrations until I couldn’t stop twitching against the riot of sensation and screamed again.
“Look at me, Dragonfly.” He rose from between my thighs with glazed-over eyes, the tip of his tongue running along his bottom lip. “You’re one of the most delicious things I’ve ever tasted. Sweet like honey.” He put his fingers in his mouth and sucked, and I clenched my thighs together as my arousal gave another pulse.
The mist had lightened its grip after shifting me closer to the pillows. It was an odd feeling to be pulled along the sheets by something incorporeal. Vassago loosened his pants, pushing them indecently low. He was lean and tall, clearly built for activity very different from classroom work. I stared at the indentation in the muscles just below his hips as he stood at the end of the bed, looking right back at me. His hair was loose and wild around his face, the normally straight white locks curled up at the ends from the moisture his mist put off. It made him softer, though there was nothing at all soft about this man.
“Your words, Greta.”
I shivered at the demand, unused to this side of the demon and helplessly fixated on his impressive naked form. “I’m yours, I trust you,” I said. And I meant it.
His pants dropped to the floor before he prowled over me, the mist swirling in crisscrosses over the both of us. “As you wish, Little Dragonfly.” He put his mouth to mine and notched his impressive length at my entrance.
I had only a breath to tense before he was deep inside me with one smooth thrust, a pinch of pain bright but negligible as the pleasure rushed in behind it. His eyes widened and he froze, pulling away from the kiss. After a painfully long moment where he just breathed and scanned my face, he lowered himself to his forearms, bracketing my head with his hands.
“Greta.” There was a world of questions in that one word. I knew what he was asking, but I didn’t want everything I was feeling to be reduced to that. I couldn’t. “No other man has seen you? Feasted upon your flesh, had the honor of seeing you flush with passion? No man has seen you come well and truly apart under his touch?” He groaned. “No other man has been inside you, Dragonfly?”
“No.”
His eyes closed and his nostrils flared as he breathed in deep. “Fuck.” He dragged the word out but didn’t move at all. I couldn’t tell by his inflection how he meant the word, but shame was the first emotion to flood in. I knew that thirty was well past when most people had their first sexual experience, but I hadn’t lived like most people. For some reason, my impulse was to explain that I wasn’t wholly ignorant of romance.
“There was one boy who worked in the stables at the country manor... he and I kissed a few times, fooled around a little, but?—”
“Greta.” He sounded almost pained. “I do not want to hear about anyone else,” he said softly, shaking his head slowly. “It makes me feel very much like committing violence, and I don’t want to be that way just now.”
