Read Online Bloodchild by Andrew Neiderman - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Andrew Neiderman
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her nipples stiffen. She had fed him only a short time ago, yet she felt this great need to bring his mouth to her breast.
The urge to do so was so overwhelming that it made her head spin. She held him away from her and looked into his face. Was it what he wanted? He wasn't crying; he seemed content. Perhaps she would make him sick by feeding him so much. But there was such a heat and a tingle in her bosom now, undulating within her breasts. She closed her eyes. It felt like a man was gently caressing her and then running the tips of his fingers down the outline of the veins that were close to the surface of each breast.
Funny, but when she thought of a man doing this, she didn't think of Harlan. The man in her imagination was dark-haired and dark-skinned. He was a shadow, the personification of masculinity, rather than any one person from her past or in her memory.
She brought the baby close to her again, and he made a sound in her ear. It wasn't a cry, exactly. It was more like the sound of sucking. It sent a tingle down her spine. Nikos pressed his right hand against her cheek and then wiggled as though to free himself of her embrace and work himself down her body. She was surprised at his strength and determination.
"Okay," she said. "Okay." She started to put him back into the crib, but he screamed and waved his arms at her. He wasn't trying to escape her embrace; he was trying to move himself closer to her bosom. She vaguely wondered if all babies this young had such firm control of their arms and legs.
"What's wrong with you? Don't you want to sleep at all, Nikos?" She lifted him back to her and he stopped crying.
"That's just the way to spoil him," Jillian said, and Dana spun around to confront her mother in the doorway of the baby's room.
"My God, Mother. You frightened me. Why did you sneak in here?" she asked sharply. How long had her mother been standing there, and how much had she seen? she wondered, filled with a guilt she didn't understand.
"I didn't sneak in here, Dana. You probably didn't hear me approaching because you were concentrating on the baby so much," she said. She stepped farther into the room and shook her head. "You can't pick him up every time he cries, Dana. He'll cry all the time, expecting you to. Let him cry himself to sleep, honey."
"He doesn't cry that much, Mother. He won't be spoiled."
"Oh, dear," Jillian said. "You've got to give yourself a break from it, Dana. Put the baby in the crib and come downstairs. You and I have hardly had a chance to talk," Jillian pleaded.
"In a while," Dana said. "I'll come down in a while. I promise."
Jillian shook her head and smiled.
"If your father was alive, he'd be roaring at you like a lion. If there was one thing he couldn't stand to see, it was parents doting on their children."
"I don't dote on him, Mother. I see to his needs. There's a big difference."
"Dana, listen to me—"
"I'll be down in a few minutes, Mother," Dana said more firmly. Jillian saw that she was glaring at her now. Her eyes were glowing with anger, the heat from their embers spreading quickly through her face, tightening her jaw, inflaming her skin. When her lips pulled back, her teeth flashed. Jillian thought she was becoming unrecognizable.
"All right," Jillian said, and left.
Dana waited until she heard her mother going down the stairs. Then she looked at Nikos. His eyes moved with every turn of her head. He was studying her to see what she would do with him; she felt sure of it.
"Poor baby," she said. "I won't leave you yet."
She carried him out of his room to hers and placed him on the bed. He stared up at her silently as she took off her robe. She was wearing a sheer white nightgown. Once again that wave of heat undulated through her bosom. She put her hands under her breasts and felt their fullness. When she opened her eyes, she saw how the baby continued to stare up at her.
She brought the straps of the nightgown over her shoulders and down her arms,
The urge to do so was so overwhelming that it made her head spin. She held him away from her and looked into his face. Was it what he wanted? He wasn't crying; he seemed content. Perhaps she would make him sick by feeding him so much. But there was such a heat and a tingle in her bosom now, undulating within her breasts. She closed her eyes. It felt like a man was gently caressing her and then running the tips of his fingers down the outline of the veins that were close to the surface of each breast.
Funny, but when she thought of a man doing this, she didn't think of Harlan. The man in her imagination was dark-haired and dark-skinned. He was a shadow, the personification of masculinity, rather than any one person from her past or in her memory.
She brought the baby close to her again, and he made a sound in her ear. It wasn't a cry, exactly. It was more like the sound of sucking. It sent a tingle down her spine. Nikos pressed his right hand against her cheek and then wiggled as though to free himself of her embrace and work himself down her body. She was surprised at his strength and determination.
"Okay," she said. "Okay." She started to put him back into the crib, but he screamed and waved his arms at her. He wasn't trying to escape her embrace; he was trying to move himself closer to her bosom. She vaguely wondered if all babies this young had such firm control of their arms and legs.
"What's wrong with you? Don't you want to sleep at all, Nikos?" She lifted him back to her and he stopped crying.
"That's just the way to spoil him," Jillian said, and Dana spun around to confront her mother in the doorway of the baby's room.
"My God, Mother. You frightened me. Why did you sneak in here?" she asked sharply. How long had her mother been standing there, and how much had she seen? she wondered, filled with a guilt she didn't understand.
"I didn't sneak in here, Dana. You probably didn't hear me approaching because you were concentrating on the baby so much," she said. She stepped farther into the room and shook her head. "You can't pick him up every time he cries, Dana. He'll cry all the time, expecting you to. Let him cry himself to sleep, honey."
"He doesn't cry that much, Mother. He won't be spoiled."
"Oh, dear," Jillian said. "You've got to give yourself a break from it, Dana. Put the baby in the crib and come downstairs. You and I have hardly had a chance to talk," Jillian pleaded.
"In a while," Dana said. "I'll come down in a while. I promise."
Jillian shook her head and smiled.
"If your father was alive, he'd be roaring at you like a lion. If there was one thing he couldn't stand to see, it was parents doting on their children."
"I don't dote on him, Mother. I see to his needs. There's a big difference."
"Dana, listen to me—"
"I'll be down in a few minutes, Mother," Dana said more firmly. Jillian saw that she was glaring at her now. Her eyes were glowing with anger, the heat from their embers spreading quickly through her face, tightening her jaw, inflaming her skin. When her lips pulled back, her teeth flashed. Jillian thought she was becoming unrecognizable.
"All right," Jillian said, and left.
Dana waited until she heard her mother going down the stairs. Then she looked at Nikos. His eyes moved with every turn of her head. He was studying her to see what she would do with him; she felt sure of it.
"Poor baby," she said. "I won't leave you yet."
She carried him out of his room to hers and placed him on the bed. He stared up at her silently as she took off her robe. She was wearing a sheer white nightgown. Once again that wave of heat undulated through her bosom. She put her hands under her breasts and felt their fullness. When she opened her eyes, she saw how the baby continued to stare up at her.
She brought the straps of the nightgown over her shoulders and down her arms,