Page 30 of Kept 3
“I want you, for you,” he growls, reaching for me and pushing me down once more, so I am lying on my back once again. “I want all of you,” he adds, rolling onto me.
“Get off me.”
Shaking his head, he grips my hands and pulls them above my head as he leans down to capture my lips once more, his mouth forcefully covering mine, his tongue probing to gain entry. I try to roll him off me, but he is strong, too strong. My hands are imprisoned, and my bucking and rolling only seem to inflame his intent. Recognising that struggling will not work, I lay still, fists clenched, eyes squeezed shut, refusing to give him even the satisfaction of feeling me struggle.
Sensing my passive resistance, he takes his lips from mine and trails them across my cheek, down my neck, and back up to my ear.
“You said you wouldn’t force me,” I hiss, “you said you were a gentleman.”
He pauses his kissing and looks deep into my eyes, sighing, and releasing my hands.
“Josephine, I have told you what I want. I offer myself to you now, all of me, is there no part you want?”
I meet his gaze steadily, it is like his eyes are gazing into my very soul, and his own this time show no sign of his arrogance, or control, only vulnerability. And this, this is more powerful and dangerous than any strength he could have shown.
Although my brain tells me to hold to my resolve, his closeness, his openness, his raw sexuality and attraction wars with my rational and logical side, and leaning up, I kiss him gently, opening my mouth to him, tasting him as I did in the dining hall, his exquisite scent filling my nostrils.
Groaning, he kisses me back, first gently, testing, but as I accept his tongue and allow my own to meet his, the kiss deepens in intensity and it is as though we are two different people, not the combatants we have been, but partners, lovers who have finally allowed their passion to melt their resolves and who no longer wish to waste any more time.
Reaching behind him, I pull off his shirt as he tears my dress open, buttons flying like popcorn, and slides his hands down my body, to my underwear. I gasp as he runs his hand over my sex, not removing my lacy, black knickers, but hooking them aside with one finger and rubbing me gently. Grinding against him I push his pants down eagerly and grasp his rigid member, guiding it towards where I want it, its heat and throbbing making me almost sob with need, a need so long denied. He presses closer, but not close enough, and I urge him on with my hips and my hands, wanting him on me, in me, now.
“Do you want me, Josephine?” he pants as he pulls my knickers further aside and rubs his long length up and down my entry, teasingly, tantalising every inch of me. “Do you want this part of me, at least?”
“Yes,” I whisper, “Now, Nicholas.”
“Say you will stay with me always,” he says, his eyes intense as I feel him position himself, teasingly, against my outer lips, “say it,” he murmurs, his mouth leaving a trail of kisses up the side of my neck to my ear, his teeth gently nipping my lobes, his body hovering over mine, resisting my hands on his buttocks, pulling him, kneading him. “I want you, Josephine, say you want me.”
“I want you.”
He eases forward slowly, just the tip of his body entering mine, as I groan and squirm in impatience.
“Nicholas, now.”
“I need you, Josephine,” he groans, pushing a little deeper, “I want to keep you.”
I open my eyes and look into his, so deep, so sincere, so full of desire.
“Nicholas,” I whisper, rocking my hips to pull him forward into me, forcefully, “take me now.”
“Say I can keep you,” he pants, his own self-control almost worn thin as I roll and wriggle and buck beneath him, but suddenly stop, my brain registering what he is asking of me.
“No.”
I see his eyes harden as, growling, he pulls away, pushes my arms and legs from him, and sits up.
“Nicholas, what the fuck?” I frown, my thoughts still scattered.
Sighing, he turns and straightens my underwear, his hand lingering on my wetness.
“You and I will share something wonderful, soon,” he sighs, standing naked, his magnificent body still erect and displaying all that was so nearly mine, “when you agree to be mine, fully, forever.”
“What?” my voice is shocked, barely a whisper.
But he is gone, the only evidence he was ever here, the scattered remains of my dress and buttons, his own clothes lying discarded on the floor near the bed, and my tattered self-respect.
“You will never, ever have me now, Lord Nicholas Montague – vampire,” I spit into the empty room through lips still swollen from his kisses, “never.”
9
