Blood Song: Refrain (Blood Song Series Book 2)

by Charli B. Rose

  The pause between each word grew incrementally as the kisses got longer, stealing my heart with his words and my breath with his kisses. His lips lingered on mine as the word me dissolved in the heat simmering between us. What had started as a sweet, but vehement declaration had morphed into a barely constrained passion. Fingers that cradled my cheeks so gently, slipped backward to tangle in and grip my hair. The slight sting against my scalp sent a thrill racing through my body. My mouth parted on a gasp, which he took full advantage of, rushing inside with his tongue to plunder. All reasonable thought fled my brain with one swipe along my teeth as our tongues tangled.

  He finally pulled back, dark stormy eyes meeting mine. His thumb brushed across my swollen pout.

  “Sorry it took so long. I drank a couple bottles of blood. I’m hoping they’ll have my thirst sufficiently satiated for us to try this. And just in case—” He reached to his back pocket and pulled out an unopened bottle. “—if I start to get thirsty, I’ll sip on this,” he said, tossing the bottle onto the bed.

  Sinking onto the bed next to me, he drew me into his embrace. “Have you changed your mind?” he whispered against the top of my head.

  I swallowed the lump in my throat. “No.”

  “It would be OK if you had.” He sounded almost hopeful.

  “I haven’t. I promise.”

  “Then why are you nervous?”

  “I’m not nervous,” I protested. I was shaking like a leaf on the inside, but he didn’t have to know that.

  “Celesta, I can hear your heart stuttering and your blood racing. I smell the fear on you. Just tell me. Are you afraid I’m going to hurt you?”

  I frowned. “What? No,” I said emphatically. “I’m . . . I’m nervous because I’ve never done that before. I’m afraid I’ll do it wrong.”

  “We’re not having sex,” he said with confusion in his voice.

  “I know that. Sex isn’t the only thing I haven’t done before . . .” I admitted.

  “Huh?” my well-spoken Adonis said.

  “I haven’t ever touched . . . you know . . . before. Never even seen one really.”

  “A cock?”

  “Yes,” I hissed, blushing from my roots to my toes.

  Thankfully, he didn’t laugh at me like I expected him to. Instead, sheer awe moved across his face like the sun rising over the horizon.

  “How did someone as innocent and pure as you stumble into the path of someone as tainted as me?” he whispered, rubbing the very tips of his fingers along my cheekbone.

  “Destiny,” I whispered. “Beautiful destiny.”

  An argument formed on his lips, but I leaned forward and swallowed it with my kiss before he could give life to it.

  My fingers eagerly dove beneath the soft cotton of his shirt. When he didn’t stop me or pull away, I ran my hands up over his abdomen, following his peaks and valleys. His mouth shifted from mine to my neck then my collarbone. I gripped the hem of his shirt and started tugging upward, needing to rid him of the offending fabric. His steady hands helped my shaky ones, and soon his torso was bare.

  Without thought, I leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the skin covering his heart. Fingers threaded through my hair, gently tugging my face back to his. After a quick kiss, he scooted us to the edge of the bed. “Stand up,” he ordered gruffly.

  I hastened to comply. With one long finger, he followed the flowing hemline of my shirt, touching the bare flesh of my midriff.

  “I really like this shirt,” he murmured as he lowered his head and moved his mouth along the neckline, parallel to his finger on my abdomen.

  “Me too,” I moaned, throwing my head back, baring more skin to him.

  “I’d like it better on the floor,” he said, gripping the bottom and lifting it over my head.

  Instinctively, I crossed my arms over my chest. It wasn’t that I didn’t want him to see me. I just felt so vulnerable with all the need and desire and nerves flooding my system. Toven didn’t tug my arms down like I expected him to. Instead, he tucked me into his embrace, crossed arms and all. My head rested against his bare chest. Soothing fingers traced up and down my spine. Before long, my arms unwound and wrapped around his waist. I tucked my fingers into the waistband of his jeans and peered up at him through my lashes.

  “Sorry,” I whispered.

  “Don’t be. This isn’t a race. It goes at the pace you’re comfortable with, even if the pace is at a standstill or moving backward. OK?”

  “I don’t want to stop. I want to keep going,” I said confidently, my hands moving around to his front, fumbling with the button on his jeans.

  His hands stilled mine. “Ladies first.”

  Eager to please, I popped open the button on my jeans and quickly shimmied out of them. He drew in a sharp breath as his gaze roved over me, now clad only in a lavender-colored satin bra and matching undies. Gently, he brushed one finger against my hip, outlining the small heart branding my skin.

  Fighting the urge to hide myself, I clasped my hands together behind my back. When his eyes met mine again, they were filled with unbridled hunger, boosting my confidence enough to unfasten my bra. With a slight shrug of my shoulders, it slipped down my arms to the floor.

  A rumble erupted from Toven. His fingers curled into fists. “Bed. Now,” he ordered.

  I scampered onto the mattress, kneeling in the center. Instead of following me, he strode over to the wooden cabinet on the wall opposite the bed. With a slight press, the wooden panels slid back, revealing a flat screen TV. He grabbed the remote and stalked over to the bed. Toven propped pillows up against the headboard. Then he settled against their fluffy softness.

  He beckoned me with one finger. When I crawled over to him, he positioned me between his spread legs, my back to his front.

  “Ready to watch yourself come on the screen?” he whispered in my ear.

  I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded. As I waited for the erotic encounter to replay in high definition, I pressed my sweaty palms against the denim covering his thighs. His arms wrapped around my midsection, instantly calming some of my nerves while setting off a flurry of butterflies in my belly. As if he felt them beating beneath his touch, he flattened one of his palms across my abdomen. His other hand pressed against my pounding heart. Soft lips moved down to the juncture of my neck and shoulder.

  When piano music filled the room, my gaze flickered to the TV. There, in the middle of the screen, I was perched motionless on top of the piano as Toven played the happy pop tune. The camera only showed Toven from behind, but the ripple of his back muscles beneath his shirt as he played mesmerized me. His fingers began to trace patterns on my skin as the song shifted and changed, as if he was drawing the music notes on my skin. Moving across my collarbone, up to my shoulder, swooping down the curved underside of my breast, circling my nipples in shrinking rings until they tapped and plucked at the aching peaks.

  The medley of songs he played shouldn’t have sounded so perfect mashed together. But coupled with his breathy conversation on the screen and my answering moans and whimpers, the mixture of music was perfect. When the music paused because the Toven on the screen was too consumed with kissing me, Toven on the bed turned my face toward him so he could kiss me in present time. Fingers slid down to the waistband of my panties. Coinciding with the rip on screen, he gripped my underwear and ripped the fabric apart.

  “You keep destroying my panties,” I panted.

  He nipped my earlobe. “I can afford to buy you more.”

  I moaned in harmony with the me on screen as his fingers dipped down to trace the seam between my legs, winding me up quickly. After a few swipes, his hand retreated and began caressing the sensitive skin of my inner thighs. I tried to get a grip on anything, but the denim was too tight on his legs for me to get a grip on it.

  “Please,” I panted. “What are you waiting for?” I asked in time with the song on the screen.

  “Patience, my shining star. You know it’ll be worth it,” h
e whispered in my ear.

  He kept stroking, rubbing my damp, heated flesh, making those butterflies in my belly swoop and soar as my need climbed higher and higher. Time slowed to the pace of his touch against me. Every few seconds brought him closer to where I yearned for him.

  As the music shifted to Toven’s original composition, he finally brought his fingers to my aching clit. His touch was tender at first then increased in intensity. I threw my head back against his chest and closed my eyes. Shamelessly, I ground my slit against his hand.

  “Open your eyes,” he commanded in my ear, slowing his ministrations until I complied. “Watch yourself fall apart.”

  I stared at the screen and watched as an orgasm wracked my body atop the piano, my moans mingling with the beautiful music Toven created as he feasted on my bliss.

  “You’re so beautiful overcome by pleasure. A true inspiration. Show me again, baby,” he murmured against my ear.

  Two fingers thrust inside me as he strummed my clit with his thumb. With his other hand, he tweaked one nipple. His mouth sucked hard against the sensitive flesh behind my ear.

  It was sensation overload, and the combination tipped me over the edge into a freefall of pleasure. As I writhed against him, the bulge in his pants became more pronounced against my butt. His movements slowed to barely-there touches as I stopped trembling in his arms.

  Turning my head, I captured his lips with mine, sucking his lower lip into my mouth, tracing it with my tongue before deepening the kiss. His kiss made me bold. Spinning in his arms, I kneeled between his spread legs, my chest against his. The friction of skin on skin was delicious.

  I wanted to touch him, to give him back some of the pleasure he’d given me. As he plundered my mouth, I ran my hand across his thigh to his crotch. I lightly rubbed the denim over his shaft. His arms tightened around me, and he moaned in my mouth. But he didn’t stop me.

  Beneath my hand he twitched. I wanted to see him. Needed to see him.

  Though part of me wanted to keep my lips melded to his, I eased back. I gazed into his eyes. So much emotion swam in them. I wished for time to decipher them all, but there were more pressing issues at hand. His longing needed to be satisfied. And his soul needed to know that he could allow this intimacy between us without me coming to harm.

  With both hands I fumbled with the button and zipper of his jeans. His hands covered mine.

  “Let me,” he whispered, easing my fingers out of the way.

  I scooted back and watched anxiously as he unfastened his jeans. He lifted his pelvis off the mattress and slid the denim down his muscular legs. The cotton of his boxers quickly followed, leaving him bare to my sight. He was magnificent. His cock stood tall now that it was free from its fabric trappings.

  Hesitantly, I reached one trembling finger out to it. I stopped just shy of touching him, unsure if it was OK. I peeked up at him shyly.

  He smiled reassuringly at me and said, “It’s OK. You can touch me. I mean, if you still want to.”

  The vulnerability on his face made me push beyond my fear. I moved that last inch and ran the tip of my finger down his length. His breath hissed out as he watched me. I was fascinated by the contradiction. My expectation was that it would feel hard since it felt rigid pressed against me through his clothes. And it was rigid. But it was also soft and smooth like satin, except where the veins raised the surface of his skin. Using my index finger, I traced the path of one vein.

  Another breath whooshed from his lips, and the muscles in his abdomen flexed.

  “Am I doing it wrong?” I asked.

  “No,” he rasped out and flopped back onto the pillows.

  I ran my fingertip all over each side, around the flared edge at the top, through the coarse hair at the base, back up to the slit in the top. A clear drop of fluid beaded up on the head. Without thought, I leaned down and swiped it with my tongue. The drop was so small it didn’t really have much taste to it. Maybe a tad salty like the ocean.

  A low groan erupted from his throat. I glanced up at him. He was propped up on his elbows, peering at me through hooded eyes. Experimentally, I licked the length of him from root to tip. Another rumble came from Toven. His hand fisted the sheet tighter by my side.

  I peeked back up at him. The look on his face made me feel powerful in a way I never had before. I ran my fingers over him lightly again. He collapsed back onto his pillow as I continued to explore him.

  The large vein throbbed beneath my touch. Tentatively, I licked it. Before I lost my nerve, I took his hard length into my mouth and moved up and down a few times. My eyes watered, and I gagged when I tried to go to the base of him.

  As I tried to stifle my cough, I wrapped my fingers around him and began to stroke. I wasn’t sure what speed or pressure I should use, so I tried it all.

  “Ficken,” he growled as he rended the pillow clutched in his hands, sending feathers flying around us.

  15

  Toven

  She’d reduced me to cursing in German and ripping apart pillows. The pleasure she was innocently delivering was almost too much to take.

  “Are you sure I’m not doing it wrong?” she asked softly, vulnerability written all over her face.

  “I’m positive. It just . . . feels so good. I didn’t mean to scare you,” I panted.

  With a trembling hand, I plucked a feather from her soft tresses.

  “C-can you show me how you like it?” she asked timidly. “I mean, I don’t know what pressure or speed to use or anything. I’m sure some things feel better than others. Some of it might even hurt. I don’t want to hurt you,” she rambled.

  Her eyes met mine. They were filled with so much longing and need along with a hint of uncertainty. I was finding it harder and harder to refuse her anything.

  Her small hand still gripped my cock loosely. Drawing in a deep breath, I wrapped my fingers around myself over top of hers. With a slight increase in pressure from my hand, she squeezed me more tightly.

  “Is that too tight?” she whispered.

  “It’s perfect. Feel how it throbs against your palm and the blood races in the vein?” I rasped out.

  She nodded.

  “That’s how you know I like that.”

  “And how fast should I stroke?” she asked, chewing on her lower lip as she waited for me to show her.

  “Speed can vary, depending on how much you want to tease and torture.” I began to stroke our joined hands slowly up and down my aching shaft.

  “And if I wanted to please you rather than tease you?”

  Unable to speak, I decided to just show her. I increased the tempo of our hands, caressing from root to tip then back again. My hips began to thrust upward, driving my cock into her tight fist at a frenzied rate. Her heart thundered in my ears. And the scent of her arousal turned me on impossibly more. I was dying to touch her. Mark her. Take her.

  Moving quickly, I shifted so that she was lying on the bed beneath me. Thanks to my supernatural speed, our hands still clutched my dick.

  “Whoa,” she breathed out when she became fully aware of our change in position.

  “It’s OK. You’re safe. I’m not out of control. I just wanted to be able to kiss you and touch you when I come,” I explained, running my fingers gently through her hair.

  She blushed at my words. I loved it.

  Her essence on my fingers and taste on my tongue would throw me over the orgasmic cliff. Plus, it would get her out of her head some so she could gain confidence in her ability to bring me to my knees. Shy, timid Celesta was stunning. But confident, brave Celesta was sexy as ficken.

  “Think you can handle jacking me off while I touch you?” I wanted her blush to deepen from my dirty words. Blood rushing beneath the surface of her skin was such a turn on. My cock throbbed in her hand.

  She nodded and writhed beneath me when my fingers brushed against her. The scent of her arousal hung heavy in the air, mingling with the sweet smell of strawberries.

  To prove she cou
ld handle it, she started stroking me again, using a speed and pressure that would send me careening into oblivion quickly. Her meekness was gone. She was no longer worried about doing it wrong. The focus was where it should be, our mutual pleasure. Now, I needed to get her caught up to me before I erupted.

  I tweaked one nipple between my fingers, causing her to arch her back. The mewl that spilled from her lips shot straight to my cock. My fingers zipped down her sweaty flesh to the apex of her thighs. When I dipped my index finger inside, it was met with a slippery wetness.

  A flash of heat flared at the base of my spine. It radiated outward, singeing cells as it traveled across my skin. My balls drew up tightly against my body, ready to spill their contents onto her flawless abdomen. I forced my mind away from my own pleasure enough to circle her clit with the speed and pressure I’d already learned she loved, moving from moderato to allegro. Her once sporadic moans and whimpers had turned into one never-ending song of pleasure. As she reached the edge, I pressed two fingers into her heat while continuing to flirt with her clit. Her muscles fluttered around my fingers.

  Her eyes locked onto mine as she climbed the mountain. I was hiking up it with her.

  Up. Up. Up to the top. Teetering on the precipice. I clutched tightly to my control, longing to stretch the moment out as long as possible. Maybe forever.

  Her hand caressing my dick faltered in its pace, but she continued to stroke.

  In an attempt to prolong my pleasure and pain, my mind counted measures of notes from Liszt’s Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2. But the fast, complicated fingering made my heart race faster. And when my fingers began to move in time with the melody in my head, Celesta’s accompanying moan as she clenched around my fingers caused blood to rush to my pulsing shaft. It wasn’t working. I couldn’t hold back any longer.

  With a growl, my orgasm erupted, spilling onto her skin and creating a sticky, opaque puddle which expanded with each pass of her skin over mine. Awe filled her eyes as she sat up to watch. Her hand continued to move, milking impossibly more out of me. With each tug, more of me became hers. Though my essence marked her skin, it was Celesta who was claiming me. My heart, my soul.