Page 32 of The Royal Street Witch
I bring my mouth back to his and now kissing is dangerous but hotter, the pointy teeth grazing my lips, and one word comes out of his mouth, quick and intense.
“Bed,” and aventurines are going to be the death of me and I grab his hand, pulling him up the stairs, Mercury scrambling under our feet.
Bursting through my bedroom door, our flesh burning, I feel it immediately. A wave of electricity, pulsating throughout the room. Air moves through my fingertips and I wonder if he can feel it too, but he says nothing, just peels off his jacket and eyes the bed, his fangs digging into his bottom lip and I think it could very well pop.
“Careful,” I warn. “The curse.” My blood and his fangs are a deadly combination, but he doesn’t look the slightest bit concerned.
“Take your clothes off,” he growls in my ear, gently pushing me. I fall backward on the bed, looking up as he pulls his shirt off and unbuttons his pants. And now it’s a dance. Quick, quick, slow. Quick—I pull down his pants. Quick—I rip off my tank top. Slow—I lie back, undoing one button at a time of my high-waist jeans, and he watches, his eyes famished. Bastian might be fun and games in the outside world, but right now, in this bedroom, he’s commanding and in control.
And I fucking love it.
A deep sigh escapes my lips and there’s a rattling on my wall, picture frames teetering as if they may come crashing down. It doesn’t stop us. Standing in front of me, with a heaving chest and a desire I can almost touch, he leaves me careless about anything else but the man before me. He’s sculpted in his black boxer briefs, hard lines and edges, bulks of muscle that aren’t too big nor small.
His hands slide up my jeans, grabbing the waistband and pulling them off. Bastian is hard and radiant and there’s no time for foreplay—there’s only wanting. A wanting that consumes me, caged over rules we didn’t create. And now all I want is him inside of me and I can’t wait another minute.
“You ready?” he asks and runs a finger over the outside of my panties before ripping them down. He knows, by my face, by the way I’ve opened my legs wider. “Yeah, you’re ready.”
“I am,” I whisper, but he shakes his head and leans on top of me. “I want to see all of you.” He kisses down my neck, warm and wet, and then flops next to me, placing an arm behind his head. Eyes locking with mine, “Get on,” is all he has to say. My hands pull down his boxers and I straddle him, his words igniting a fire inside me so hot I could burst right now before he’s even inside me. But before I slide him in, he reaches up and grabs my chin. His mouth curls up, as if victory is his.
And it’s a tender moment that feels rushed, but rushed in a necessary way. We aren’t holding back, we are yearning for each other. Just a taste, that’s all this is. A taste so we can go our separate ways, and the bed vibrates under us. Magic is in the room and I’m not summoning it, it desires to be here and so I let it, and I honestly don’t think I could stop it if I wanted to.
His fingers slide up my stomach until they reach my shoulders, pulling down the straps of my bra, freeing my breasts. “Fuck,” he whispers at the sight while his cool hands slide down to my hips, urging himself inside of me and I give in, filling myself up with all of him, and I feel like I’m coming home. Like this is where I’m supposed to be and why do I want to cry? Why does this all feel so perfect and foreign at the same time? The air between us so thick, a chemistry pulling us together.
Those hands slide up to my breasts as I rock on top of him while his thumbs graze my nipples, and he says, “I’ve been waiting for this view.” He thrusts up and I seize, and his fingers touch me, the intensity making my legs quiver. Our hands clasp and I say his name, and the elements pulse around us. Earth. Air. Fire. Water.
There’s something building, building beyond ecstasy, and I cry out. Every petal, every spell and candle vibrate as though they have their own electrical current, desires of their own.
I lean down, kissing his neck, his ear.
“What’s happening?” Bastian whispers, fangs scraping my neck as he moves inside me.
“Power,” I say, and as if we are in a fairy tale, the spells on my desk rise to dance through the air around us, the candles ignite, their lazy flames casting the room with a golden glow. Petals I keep in bowls on my nightstand swirl over our heads and I pull up, my hair becoming weightless, twirling around my face as the pleasure builds and builds.
Bastian sits us up and we rock together, tongues twisting, pressure building. “Do you feel that?” he whispers. “Holy shit.” His eyes dance around the room, awed by the magic that has a mind of its own. “Sorceress,” he says before he kisses me again, fingers stroking me, and it’s the last straw as we both erupt. All of it—every petal, spell, every love poem and gris-gris bag—rises with our moans, and as we catch our breath, it all comes crashing to the floor.
I’m shaking in his lap and his head falls to my shoulder. I want to pull him closer so this won’t end, this spell won’t break, but his breathing only becomes more labored and his entire body tenses, the muscles freezing, his legs squeezing beneath me.
“Wha—” But once our eyes meet, I still.
“I have to go,” he pants, fangs brushing against his bottom lip, eyes aglow in an animalistic way. He needs to feed. He needs blood and he can’t have mine. Lifting me off him and sliding me onto the bed, struggling to restrain himself, and something inside me sinks, absolutely plummets. Vampires want blood after sex. It was a rumor, but now I can see it’s more than that, and he can never have my blood, not a single drop.
Grabbing the sheet, I pull it up to cover me and whisper, “Go.” Deflated and conflicted beyond words, I release him and he jumps up, sliding his underwear and jeans on—a torn yet hungry look on his face. Once he grabs his shirt and shoes, he hovers over me, lips nearing mine, but clenches his eyes and kisses my forehead as if he’s lifting a thousand pounds.
He utters something like “Be back,” in a gruff, low voice and then bolts out the door.
There’s a silence that cuts after what just transpired, and I don’t know if I’m still high from being with him or heartbroken that he needs to run out and drink blood from someone that isn’t me. The jealousy filling my gut aggravates me. I don’t have any claim on him and this only highlights yet another hurdle in whateverthisis. That was a taste and all I want is more.
I AWAKEN EARLY, FLASHBACKS OFthe night causing my skin to flush. It’s still dark outside but there’s breathing beside me and there he is. So still, as if he were carved by an angel’s hand, only his chest rising so slightly. A vampire that owned me in the night, that I willfully gave myself to…and then he left. Should I regret it? Crossing the line that’s been forbidden to even consider?
I run my hand over my eyes, a weight of sadness overcoming me, because even though I don’t regret it, I know it has to end. What a fucking shame something so powerful could never be.
My fingers yearn to follow the lines of his bare chest, to run along his nose, to kiss his lips. Instead, I rise because last night was the last time we touch like that, and it’s a heartbreaking revelation.
Spells are scattered about the floor, rose petals crunching under my feet, the evidence of what supernatural beings can invoke.
Needing fresh air, I make sure the shades are secure then pull on a robe. It’s twilight, and I usually relish this time between night and day, so I make a cup of coffee to cry my sorrows over and sit on my terrace that overlooks the courtyard, the courtyard I first drank with Bastian, first saw his soul when I went back in time with him.
I wiggle my fingers through the thick air, the brick wall I once had Bastian captive against in my line of vision. The urge to text Chantal envelopes me. You won’t believe this, but I fucked the highly fuckable vampire.But I can’t text her, I can’t tell anyone because this is forbidden and the anvil that’s sitting on my chest only reminds me of that. I can never tell anyone ever, and his fingers laced through mine can only ever be a memory, not a dream for the future.
