Read Online Making Love To Death (One Night With Death) by Natalie Kristen - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Natalie Kristen
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like...someone
else, someone she had just met. She shook her head. No, it couldn't
be. It was just her feverish imagination playing tricks on her.
After meeting Damien Blake last night, her fraught brain had churned
up all manner of fantastical, erotic images. As she tossed and
turned in her bed, she kept seeing Death—but with Damien's
face, and naked body. She could see his toned shoulders and arms,
the muscles on his chest and stomach, his narrow waist and hips,
long, lean legs and a very aroused cock. Every hard line and angle
flashed clearly before her eyes, and she could see his brown eyes
darkening with desire as he gazed back at her. The blue ring around
his irises glowed as he came closer and closer to her. She could
almost touch him. She thought she could feel him caressing her face,
the curve of her neck and waist through her silky nightie. He seemed
to know her body well, intimately, like he had explored every inch of
her before. Emma's pulse and breathing had quickened as the image of
Damien Blake loomed large and clear behind her closed eyelids. She
drank in the sight of his perfect body, and felt the painful ache of
desire in her core. She wanted him, wanted this dark, handsome
stranger. But was he really a stranger? Why did his touch feel so
familiar?
Her sleep had become deeper but even more fitful as her
dreams grew more vivid throughout the night. In her dreams, she saw
herself writhing beneath a man. They were having sex on a large bed
covered with satin, crimson sheets. The man's head was bent over her
breast as he suckled her so he couldn't see his face. Just as he was
about to lift his face to her, a black hood descended and obscured
his features. He was suddenly dressed in the black cloak of Death.
But he wasn't Death.
He had salt-and-pepper hair, fair skin and his body
wasn't as hard and long. The black cloak flowed around him as he
stepped away from her. Flames began to dance behind him, and in the
middle of those flicking tongues of fire, she thought she saw a man
burning. He was standing up tall and straight as the fires consumed
him alive. When the man turned his face to her, Emma screamed.
She had awoken to the sound of her own screams just
before the first light of dawn. She was drenched in cold sweat and
she had to blink back the tears from her eyes. No, it couldn't be.
That was just a dream, a nightmare. Even if it had felt so horribly
real. So real she could smell his blood and burning flesh.
It had taken her a long while to finally fall asleep
again, and thankfully this time her sleep was dreamless. And then
Luc had come bouncing into her room and onto her bed.
Clumsily, Emma changed into a T-shirt and jeans, and
pulled her hair back into a ponytail. She stared at the dark shadows
under her eyes and splashed more icy water over her face. Wake up
and snap out of it. It was just a bad dream. Even Luc knew that
nightmares weren't real.
“ Mummy!”
“ Coming, honey!” she called out as
cheerfully as she could.
She huffed out a breath. It was all Damien Blake's
fault. He had rattled her to such a degree that her nerves were all
frazzled and her thoughts thoroughly scrambled. She should avoid him
at all cost.
The doorbell jangled.
“ I'll get it!” she shouted, bolting from her
bedroom. “What did I tell you? Don't open the door to
strangers,” she reminded Luc sternly, who had raced out of the
kitchen and was reaching for the door knob.
She opened the door and gasped. Speak of the devil.
“ Damien! Wh-what are you doing here?”
He grinned. He was in black jeans and a long sleeved
shirt with sleeves rolled up to the elbow. “I got an early
discharge.”
Emma narrowed her eyes at him. “No you didn't.”
He shrugged. “Well, money talks, money walks.”
His eyes lighted on Luc and he became completely still. Lowering
himself on one knee, he reached out and touched Luc's cheek lightly.
“ Hi,” Luc said shyly, and scooted behind
Emma's leg.
“ Hi,” Damien
else, someone she had just met. She shook her head. No, it couldn't
be. It was just her feverish imagination playing tricks on her.
After meeting Damien Blake last night, her fraught brain had churned
up all manner of fantastical, erotic images. As she tossed and
turned in her bed, she kept seeing Death—but with Damien's
face, and naked body. She could see his toned shoulders and arms,
the muscles on his chest and stomach, his narrow waist and hips,
long, lean legs and a very aroused cock. Every hard line and angle
flashed clearly before her eyes, and she could see his brown eyes
darkening with desire as he gazed back at her. The blue ring around
his irises glowed as he came closer and closer to her. She could
almost touch him. She thought she could feel him caressing her face,
the curve of her neck and waist through her silky nightie. He seemed
to know her body well, intimately, like he had explored every inch of
her before. Emma's pulse and breathing had quickened as the image of
Damien Blake loomed large and clear behind her closed eyelids. She
drank in the sight of his perfect body, and felt the painful ache of
desire in her core. She wanted him, wanted this dark, handsome
stranger. But was he really a stranger? Why did his touch feel so
familiar?
Her sleep had become deeper but even more fitful as her
dreams grew more vivid throughout the night. In her dreams, she saw
herself writhing beneath a man. They were having sex on a large bed
covered with satin, crimson sheets. The man's head was bent over her
breast as he suckled her so he couldn't see his face. Just as he was
about to lift his face to her, a black hood descended and obscured
his features. He was suddenly dressed in the black cloak of Death.
But he wasn't Death.
He had salt-and-pepper hair, fair skin and his body
wasn't as hard and long. The black cloak flowed around him as he
stepped away from her. Flames began to dance behind him, and in the
middle of those flicking tongues of fire, she thought she saw a man
burning. He was standing up tall and straight as the fires consumed
him alive. When the man turned his face to her, Emma screamed.
She had awoken to the sound of her own screams just
before the first light of dawn. She was drenched in cold sweat and
she had to blink back the tears from her eyes. No, it couldn't be.
That was just a dream, a nightmare. Even if it had felt so horribly
real. So real she could smell his blood and burning flesh.
It had taken her a long while to finally fall asleep
again, and thankfully this time her sleep was dreamless. And then
Luc had come bouncing into her room and onto her bed.
Clumsily, Emma changed into a T-shirt and jeans, and
pulled her hair back into a ponytail. She stared at the dark shadows
under her eyes and splashed more icy water over her face. Wake up
and snap out of it. It was just a bad dream. Even Luc knew that
nightmares weren't real.
“ Mummy!”
“ Coming, honey!” she called out as
cheerfully as she could.
She huffed out a breath. It was all Damien Blake's
fault. He had rattled her to such a degree that her nerves were all
frazzled and her thoughts thoroughly scrambled. She should avoid him
at all cost.
The doorbell jangled.
“ I'll get it!” she shouted, bolting from her
bedroom. “What did I tell you? Don't open the door to
strangers,” she reminded Luc sternly, who had raced out of the
kitchen and was reaching for the door knob.
She opened the door and gasped. Speak of the devil.
“ Damien! Wh-what are you doing here?”
He grinned. He was in black jeans and a long sleeved
shirt with sleeves rolled up to the elbow. “I got an early
discharge.”
Emma narrowed her eyes at him. “No you didn't.”
He shrugged. “Well, money talks, money walks.”
His eyes lighted on Luc and he became completely still. Lowering
himself on one knee, he reached out and touched Luc's cheek lightly.
“ Hi,” Luc said shyly, and scooted behind
Emma's leg.
“ Hi,” Damien
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