Read Online By My Side ... (A Valentine's Day Story) by Christine Blackthorn - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Christine Blackthorn
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lifted
from her. And as she had felt when she had come to him, when she
had made the first free decision about her own future, she felt as
if she could breathe, unencumbered for the first time in her life.
His smile grew deeper, the harsh lines of his face softening.
"That's it, little one. Let it
take you. Give in, just let it go."
Elena wanted to ask what he
meant, wanted to protest out of sheer principle, but her budding
words were stroked away by the caress of his thumb spreading the
taste of his skin over her lips. Back and forth, the movement
mesmerising and soft. A moan fell from her mouth before she could
censor it, before she even knew it was there, waiting in her to
break free. Arousal, an emotion she had rarely felt in her life,
swirled through her veins. The strong fingers holding her chin
trembled, his chuckle a sensation on her skin.
"I will draw every sound
possible from you, moans, and cries, and screams. I will mark your
skin so that my possession is visible to all. You will writhe and
fight under me and then, when you think you have given me all, you
will beg for more."
Reschkar's voice wrapped around
her in a licentious cadence of heat and arousal. His thumb's caress
was replaced by the touch of his lips as he teased her mouth with
the same rhythm his fingers had established. Back and forth, never
pressing in, his mouth sliding over her skin with sinful patience.
It drew her, a magnetic pull of pure sensation. Without conscious
thought she angled her head and tried to follow his lips, to catch
that tantalising taste she had become familiar with over the last
few days. She could not, his fingers holding her chin, holding her
in place for his own delectation. Her very inability to deepen the
kiss, to either withdraw or demand more, shot a spike of heat
through her. Teeth nipped her lower lip, a gentle reprimand
reminding her of her lack of power, of control.
It was ironic, but it was that
inability to move towards him which made her strain against his
hold. It was a compulsion, previously hidden, a need to test the
hold. There was no give in the hand holding her face at just the
angle he wanted, the tips of his claws threatening to break skin.
Why were his claws out anyway? Would he hold her even if she
managed to draw blood against that sharp edge? She pushed a little
further, strained a little more. He growled.
"If you, for just one moment,
think I will allow you to harm yourself against me, you are
thoroughly mistaken. Heed this rule, for there are no excuses: if
you hurt yourself intentionally and out of pure spite, I will not
only put you over my knees and spank you until you cannot sit for
days, but I will also think of the most effective way to make sure
you never, ever, consider that action again. Is that clear?"
Violence threatened in the
gravel of his voice, leaving her in no doubt he meant each word he
said. For a moment she felt the fear in her heart, the shot of
adrenalin in her muscles -- and doubted her sanity in all
seriousness. Because what she wanted to do most, was push.
He saw it in her eyes and the
smile he gave her was full of challenge and anticipation.
"Try it -- just try it. I dare
you."
She wanted to, oh God, how she
wanted to! He was close enough for his taste to be renewed against
her lips with each breath. The taste was tempting, the need to
reach for the salty spice, essence of which covered her skin,
almost overwhelming. She yearned to lean into it, to meet that
challenge -- but in the last moment her courage deserted her. He
saw the moment she withdrew, decided not to meet the challenge of
his words and his smile told her of his regret.
"Too bad, little one. I would
have enjoyed it." His lips stroked over hers again, too quick to
sate that strange need in her. "More importantly: you would have
enjoyed it too."
Was that a threat? Why did he
make her want something she should not want? Why did she hear it as
a promise instead? And why did the next sentence not make
from her. And as she had felt when she had come to him, when she
had made the first free decision about her own future, she felt as
if she could breathe, unencumbered for the first time in her life.
His smile grew deeper, the harsh lines of his face softening.
"That's it, little one. Let it
take you. Give in, just let it go."
Elena wanted to ask what he
meant, wanted to protest out of sheer principle, but her budding
words were stroked away by the caress of his thumb spreading the
taste of his skin over her lips. Back and forth, the movement
mesmerising and soft. A moan fell from her mouth before she could
censor it, before she even knew it was there, waiting in her to
break free. Arousal, an emotion she had rarely felt in her life,
swirled through her veins. The strong fingers holding her chin
trembled, his chuckle a sensation on her skin.
"I will draw every sound
possible from you, moans, and cries, and screams. I will mark your
skin so that my possession is visible to all. You will writhe and
fight under me and then, when you think you have given me all, you
will beg for more."
Reschkar's voice wrapped around
her in a licentious cadence of heat and arousal. His thumb's caress
was replaced by the touch of his lips as he teased her mouth with
the same rhythm his fingers had established. Back and forth, never
pressing in, his mouth sliding over her skin with sinful patience.
It drew her, a magnetic pull of pure sensation. Without conscious
thought she angled her head and tried to follow his lips, to catch
that tantalising taste she had become familiar with over the last
few days. She could not, his fingers holding her chin, holding her
in place for his own delectation. Her very inability to deepen the
kiss, to either withdraw or demand more, shot a spike of heat
through her. Teeth nipped her lower lip, a gentle reprimand
reminding her of her lack of power, of control.
It was ironic, but it was that
inability to move towards him which made her strain against his
hold. It was a compulsion, previously hidden, a need to test the
hold. There was no give in the hand holding her face at just the
angle he wanted, the tips of his claws threatening to break skin.
Why were his claws out anyway? Would he hold her even if she
managed to draw blood against that sharp edge? She pushed a little
further, strained a little more. He growled.
"If you, for just one moment,
think I will allow you to harm yourself against me, you are
thoroughly mistaken. Heed this rule, for there are no excuses: if
you hurt yourself intentionally and out of pure spite, I will not
only put you over my knees and spank you until you cannot sit for
days, but I will also think of the most effective way to make sure
you never, ever, consider that action again. Is that clear?"
Violence threatened in the
gravel of his voice, leaving her in no doubt he meant each word he
said. For a moment she felt the fear in her heart, the shot of
adrenalin in her muscles -- and doubted her sanity in all
seriousness. Because what she wanted to do most, was push.
He saw it in her eyes and the
smile he gave her was full of challenge and anticipation.
"Try it -- just try it. I dare
you."
She wanted to, oh God, how she
wanted to! He was close enough for his taste to be renewed against
her lips with each breath. The taste was tempting, the need to
reach for the salty spice, essence of which covered her skin,
almost overwhelming. She yearned to lean into it, to meet that
challenge -- but in the last moment her courage deserted her. He
saw the moment she withdrew, decided not to meet the challenge of
his words and his smile told her of his regret.
"Too bad, little one. I would
have enjoyed it." His lips stroked over hers again, too quick to
sate that strange need in her. "More importantly: you would have
enjoyed it too."
Was that a threat? Why did he
make her want something she should not want? Why did she hear it as
a promise instead? And why did the next sentence not make
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