Wilder, J. C. - Shadow Dweller 2

by Retribution(lit)

  With her breasts bared to his touch, he slid one arm underneath her buttocks, lifting her higher. His mouth unerringly found one pointed nipple as it grazed his chin. Greedily he attached to it, suckling hard on the pearled tip. She cried out as the new sensation raced through her, pooling at the apex of her thighs. She arched against him as if to drag him closer or throw him off her body, she didn't know which. He responded by pulling her tighter against him, grinding his erection against her. The erotic rocking motion set off a chain reaction. A high keening cry broke from her lips as the tension spiraled tighter, coiling low in her belly. As his left hand plucked at the erect peak of her breast, ecstasy flooded through her.

  She clutched at Mac's broad shoulders as she convulsed against him, cries escaping her lips as the miracle washed over her in rolling waves. Her breath raged in her lungs and her head fell to his shoulder as residual tremors seized her. She clung limply to the man who held her so gently cradled against his chest.

  "That was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen," Mac murmured against her damp shoulder.

  Jennifer roused herself to chuckle. "I don't see how you can see anything in here."

  "I see everything," he replied in a solemn voice.

  Jennifer forced her head from his shoulder and looked into the blur that was his face. The face she loved so dearly. In the darkness his eyes glowed with an inner light, a wisdom she couldn't begin to fathom. She wanted to be close to that light, that wisdom, and most of all, the man. She wanted to climb into his skin and remain there, safe and surrounded by his soul.

  Her throat constricted. "Make love with me," she whispered.

  "With pleasure," Mac pushed off from the door and headed for the steps. She was bemused when he didn't climb them. Instead, he sat her on the edge of the first landing, bringing her gaze even with his. The light from the lamp above illuminated his beloved face.

  "What about the bedroom?" she asked.

  "Too far away, we'll never make it. " He branded the damp skin of her throat with a hot, open-mouthed kiss.

  Jennifer purred as she felt the muscles ripple beneath his skin. That she could make this big strong man lose control was a very heady thought, indeed. She wanted to sing with the sheer power of it. She stroked his back; muscles contracted beneath her touch as her hands caressed him.

  He shoved her skirt up and she wiggled, lifting herself to shift it up around her waist. The cool air tingled on her exposed skin and the gleaming wood of the landing was chilly against her backside.

  "Where are your drawers?" He rasped.

  "I didn't wear any."

  A low growl erupted from Mac as he seized her by the back of the knees. She delighted in his strong grasp. He pulled her thighs apart, pushing himself between them once again.

  Her head fell back and a low moan escaped her as his zipper brushed against the core of her desire. Abruptly his hands left her and she swayed dizzily. She braced herself by placing her hand on the landing to keep from falling backward.

  She watched him in the pale lamplight as he fumbled with his jeans. Smiling, she halted his movements by sliding her hands over his erection, cupping him. His hands fell away and she watched his eyes dilate with lust. The feeling of power leapt within her as she squeezed gently, eliciting a moan from him. He gave an involuntary thrust against her palm.

  "If you keep doing that, this will be over really quick," he groaned.

  Jennifer laughed, a soft throaty chuckle. "And the problem with that is..."

  His gaze claimed hers. "I want to be inside you when I come."

  Her mouth went dry. With that erotic image in her mind, desire blossomed, leaving her breathless. She wanted that more than anything else in the world. She wanted this man buried deep inside her. She wanted to cradle him with her body, her soul, and she wanted it now.

  With hands that shook, she finally managed to unzip his jeans and his engorged flesh sprang free. He really was magnificent. And so big. She had no idea the male anatomy could be this big. She slid her hand around his steely length and the air hissed from his lungs. Would it fit? Gently she stroked him from the engorged head to the root, marveling over his size and the feel of him in her hands. Would it hurt? The silk- over-steel feel of him transfixed her as she stroked. A bead of fluid escaped from the blunt tip.

  "I think you'd better stop now," he hissed through gritted teeth.

  She grinned, reluctant to relinquish her new toy. "And I was just having fun." With one last stroke she slid her hands up his hard belly, encircling his nipples with her fingertips. She lightly pinched one and he jerked beneath her touch.

  "I'll show you fun," he growled.

  He shifted, pressing the blunt tip of his erection against her damp folds. "I want to come inside you, now," he growled. Sliding his hand between her thighs, he caressed the damp flesh with long slow strokes until she writhed in his arms. He slipped a finger into her honeyed flesh, sinking into her. Jennifer shuddered at his touch, instinctively drawing her knees up to take him deeper. Desire threatened to engulf her. She shifted her hips tentatively, wanting more but not quite knowing what to do.

  "That's my girl," he encouraged. "Just like that." Tenderly he explored her damp flesh, coaxing and teasing, preparing her for his entry.

  A moan escaped her as his thumb brushed the sensitive nub at the top of her sex. She wound her arms around his neck, drawing him closer to her as the world tilted wildly beneath his knowledgeable hands. His slow strokes grew more rhythmic and her hips rocked in response, her inner muscles subtly clasping his finger as she answered his mating call.

  Suddenly impatient, Mac removed his fingers and replaced it with the broad head of his erection. Jennifer tensed as he began to enter her. Her entire being focused on the growing pressure between her thighs as he pushed deeper. A twinge of pain had her trying to shift away from the tension. He laced an arm around her waist, holding her in place. His hands gently stroked her damp skin.

  "Sssh, ma hirt," he whispered against her throat. "You can take me. Just relax a bit, jo." As he spoke he rocked his hips, slow tentative movements, sliding in mere millimeters with each shift.

  She moaned, straining in his arms. She arched against him, trying to accept his invasion easier. He slipped a hand between her thighs. Finding that sensitive nub, he gently stroked it in a tight figure eight pattern. Soft moans wrenched from her as he dazzled her flesh and her hips moved in response. With each movement he slid in a little further until she felt she would burst.

  Jennifer clung to him, plastered against him like moss on a tree, afraid to move. He was so huge she felt she might tear at any second. Surely no more would fit inside her. He slid his hands down the outside of her thighs. Catching her beneath each knee, he drew her legs up higher. The tiny shift in position allowed him to bury himself up to the root. Her breath caught in her throat as his erection brushed that sensitive nub, sending chills over her body.

  Looking deep into those mysterious eyes, she saw tenderness glimmering in their depth. Something inside of her relaxed and broke free; rapture blossomed in her soul. She smiled, tightening her thighs around his waist, trusting him not to hurt her. He shifted positions again, moving against her. A soft cry was wrung from her. Gripping her waist, he began to thrust.

  Fire rippled through her body and pooled between her legs. She closed her eyes, concentrating on the sensations that rocketed through her blood. Strong hands held her steady as he hammered into her, each thrust taking her higher than the last. Her nails dug into his shoulders as he forced her body into taking a second orgasm.

  She screamed with the force of her release, her body arching against his. He continued to move, slow rippling movements of his hips that prolonged her ecstasy. It flowed through her again and again, rolling over her in slow waves. She never wanted this feeling to end. Slowly she drifted back to earth, clinging damply to Mac.

  "Good?"

  "Yes..."

  She'd barely caught her breath when he began thrusting in e
arnest. Within seconds another cry was wrenched from her lips as a harsh groan exploded from him. With his head thrown back and his face contorted, she held him tightly as he came deep within her.

  It was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen.

  Someone was petting her.

  Jennifer frowned. Skilled hands stroked down her side, cupped her hipbone then began the leisurely journey upward. A purr escaped her lips as that magical hand paused to massage her shoulder. Warm lips touched her arm.

  "Time to wake up, sleepyhead," Mac's voice sounded in her ear.

  She opened her eyes to see her lover standing over her with a tray in one hand. "What is it with you and waking me up?" She grumbled, fumbling for the sheet to cover her nudity.

  "I don't want you to spend your whole life sleeping," he grinned.

  Her heart gave a little twist at the sight of his smile. She glanced away, "It isn't like I don't have all of eternity..."

  "Exactly. You have all the time in the world to sleep." He set the tray on the bed. "But for now we have to talk."

  Jennifer scooted away from him, clutching the sheet over her bare breasts as he climbed onto the bed. She eyed his unbuttoned blue jeans. "I need something to wear." The last thing she wanted to do now was talk! The events of the last few days had left her feeling too raw, exposed. Topped with their spectacular lovemaking, she wasn't sure she could form a coherent sentence at this point. She needed time, distance to pull herself together.

  "You look perfect just the way you are," Mac grinned at her, reaching for a croissant. "If you insist, please avail yourself of any of the clothing in the closet."

  Jennifer glared at him as he lavishly buttered the croissant then added a dash of cinnamon. Eyeing the expanse of polished wood floor between the bed and the closet, a devilish idea came to her. Waiting until Mac filled his mouth with the pastry, she defiantly threw back the sheet. Rising from the bed, she sauntered over to the closet, aware of the complete stillness of the man behind her. Feigning a yawn, she stretched sinuously, arching her body before reaching for the door handle.

  "That will get you tossed back into bed," Mac growled.

  She grinned to herself. "As if you could stop eating long enough. Besides, I thought you wanted to talk," she shot back. She selected a white silk dress shirt. She slid it over her shoulders and turned back toward the bed. He watched her with hot eyes, and a ribbon of desire unfurled low in her belly.

  "I do."

  His gaze scorched her skin as she buttoned the shirt, pausing to ensure each button was secure before moving to the next one. By the time she finished dressing, Mac's croissant was crushed in his hand.

  "Well then." She added a slight twist to her walk as she meandered across the room. "Maybe I can change your mind?" She climbed onto the bed on her hands and knees, delighting in the way Mac watched her every move. She crawled between him and the tray, causing the crockery to rattle, and insinuated herself on his lap. His burgeoning erection poked her in the hip. "I certainly think I can," she purred, squirming against his heat.

  Looping her arms around his neck, she pulled his head down for a kiss. Just before his lips touched hers, he said, "We still need to talk."

  Jennifer hesitated. She really didn't want to talk but it seemed important to him. She released him, and started to climb off his lap but he restrained her, holding her in place against him.

  "You can stay right here."

  She snuggled against him as her heart gave another silly flop. "You may feed me," she commanded.

  "Oh, really," Mac chuckled. He dropped his mangled croissant on the tray and selected another. He liberally spread it with lemon curd, just the way she liked it. "Your wish is my command."

  She grinned and took a bite of the offered pastry. "What do you want to talk about?" she mumbled around her mouthful.

  "Mikhail."

  She stilled, swallowing loudly. "Why do you want to speak of him?"

  "I don't want to speak of him at all, Jennifer. But we need to speak of him. You need to speak of what happened and I need to know."

  She didn't miss the pain in his voice as he spoke. Wearily she closed her eyes and leaned into his warmth. So much lost time. So many lives had been shattered by Mikhail's treachery. Did she have the strength to tell him her story?

  "I was so lost when I first met Mikhail," her voice was low. The beating of Mac's heart was reassuring against her ear. "I was twenty-four years old. My mother had been sick for many years, bedridden. She said I was such a comfort to her and she begged my father to not marry me off until she was gone. My father was the Viscount Lynnford, a lowly second son but heir to the Whitehall Estate in southern England. My father's grandmother left everything to him. She took pity on him I guess."

  She felt Mac nod. "You're royalty," he stated. "Lady Lilith?"

  She shook her head. "My name wasn't Lilith then. It was Margaret. After I finally escaped Mikhail I changed it to Lilith."

  He began stroking her hair, the movement calming. "You don't look like a Margaret."

  Jennifer chuckled, "I never felt like a Margaret, not even when I was one. I was always the odd child, I guess. My two sisters were married off to wealthy husbands and my brother married the daughter of a Duke. I think he got her pregnant, actually. It was a real shotgun wedding, as it were. My father was depending upon his children's marriages to elevate his status in life. All of the marriages were good matches, for him at least."

  "When my mother died, my father almost immediately betrothed me to Marshall Whiting, Duke of Waverly. He'd two prior wives and a passel of rather unpleasant children. I felt like I was being sold into another form of bondage. My mother's illness had kept me by her sickbed for almost eight years and now when I had a chance to spread my wings a bit, he sold me to the highest bidder."

  Jennifer heard the bitterness that laced her words. Even after 300 years the betrayal of her father was a hard pill to swallow. "Whiting was a cruel man. He took a whip to his youngest son for spilling ink on a rug. He almost killed him. His wives had died under somewhat suspicious circumstances. One committed suicide while the other died from a supposed carriage accident. Several of the Whiting servants claimed he threw her down the steps then took elaborate measures to cover up his crime. Regardless of what happened, I knew I couldn't marry him."

  Mac's arms tightened around her but he said nothing.

  "I was in the habit of going riding at dusk. Silly and dangerous I know, but I did it anyway. Shortly after the betrothal I slipped out for my usual ride. My father, fearing I would do something to circumvent the betrothal, hired a guard to watch over me. He was a large man but somewhat stupid. It was easy to lose him as he was rather enamoured of the port. I loved to ride at night. All I would do is ride the lane between Whitehall and my neighbor's home of Charlbourough Hall. It was about 4 miles, I would imagine. It was then I met Mikhail."

  Mac tensed, the stroking stopped.

  "He wasn't like he is now. He was charming. Dashing really, and he said everything I wanted to hear. After we had met a few times in secret. I decided, foolishly enough, I was in love with him. I know now he was toying with me. I was so lost and desperately looking for a way out. I would have done anything to escape." Jennifer sighed. "I was a stupid and naïve little cow and he recognized that. He offered to run away and marry me and I took him up on it." She stopped, remembering the terror she'd felt at leaving the only home that she'd ever known and the relief at knowing she had thwarted her father's plans.

  The stroking resumed, startling her from her thoughts.

  "Things went awry rather quickly. Back then Mikhail didn't have the ability to walk around in the daytime. Instead of taking me to Gretna Green, he took me to his home in Ireland. It was there that I began to figure out that he wasn't human. Even when I confronted him he wasn't angry. He offered me immortality. I think he fooled himself into thinking he loved me too. Or maybe he really did love me as much as Mikhail could love anyone. I think he truly wanted to spend his
life with me."

  Jennifer shook her head sadly. "I called him a monster and told him I would never submit to him. I told him I would kill myself first. He locked me up in a tower of the house." She laughed. "Just like a bad fairy tale. The poor princess locked in the tower, awaiting rescue from a prince that would never come. He left me there for almost a year. He would come to me every week or so and try and badger me into accepting him. I refused."

  Her voice wobbled. "I was so tired, so tired. I just wanted it to end. I wanted some peace and I didn't care how I got it. He came to me one night. When he entered the chamber he left the door open to taunt me with freedom close enough I could taste it. I could leave if I would submit to him. He wanted me to come to him of my own free will. I can't tell you how many times I almost gave into him. That night I was so desperate. When he came in I maneuvered him away from the door. When he was distracted I just ran. I tried to throw myself down the steps of the tower. I prayed it would kill me."

  Mac paused in his movement; tears sprang to her eyes as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. For the first time in three hundred years, she wanted to sob her heart out for the lost woman she'd been. Instead, she ruthlessly marshaled her wayward emotions under iron control. Her one legacy from her father, other than her dark hair, was her iron will.

  When she had her emotions under control, she spoke again, marveling at the cool tone of her voice. "I had no idea vampires could move in the blink of an eye and I never stood a chance. He stopped me from throwing myself down the stairs. He railed at me for hours on end and all I could do was weep at his feet like a broken child." Loathing crept into her voice.

  "He left me that night. I was so empty. I lay down on the bed and prayed to die. I refused all food and water. Mikhail knew I was going to end it one way or another. He finally ran out of patience. After a few days without water I was fading fast. I was dying and he knew it. He was in such a rage. I have never seen him so angry. That was the night he made me immortal."