by Ranae Rose
For what seemed the hundredth time since Brendan’s reappearance, she was overcome by the sensation of being in a dream. Every night after his disappearance, she’d allowed a fantasy of their reunion to paint itself across the back of her eyelids as she lay in bed, and often it had merged into her dreams, teasing her throughout the night. And while it wasn’t happening exactly as she’d imagined, she was more than satisfied. The way his hair brushed her cheek, the way he squeezed his eyes shut when he pressed himself hard inside her and the sharp outrush of his breath that caused her own hair to stir…these were the things that brought the fantasy to life, reassuring her this was all in fact real. These rediscovered details made her gasp again and grip him even tighter. He moved faster and harder, as if her actions pleased him. She smiled. So, some things hadn’t changed. She reached down and cupped one of his buttocks in her hand, squeezing hard. He bucked above her, thrusting himself deeper inside with impressive force.
Carrie bit her lip—for a second, it had been almost painful, though whether that was because he moved with a year’s worth of longing or just because her body was no longer used to him, she wasn’t sure. Then her inner muscles tightened in a joyous spasm.
Above her, Brendan smiled. She caught the gleam of red on his long teeth and shuddered at the memory of them piercing her neck. He bowed his head as if he had read her thoughts and pressed his mouth against the wound he had created. He licked it, as if searching for any remaining traces of blood. The wound broke open, and a fresh trickle began. His tongue lapped against the bruise, and he thrust his hips with renewed vigour.
It was as if the taste of blood had sent him over the edge. He squeezed Carrie tightly in his arms, pressing his mouth hard against her neck in what might have been a kiss. Wild sensations radiated up from her core, creating a sudden starburst of pleasure, and she writhed beneath him. She gasped as the clenching in her channel became rhythmic. He poured himself into her and she contracted around him, her body gripping his cock fiercely and compulsively. Their bodies were in sync now, the shockwaves of her pleasure matching his deep strokes, causing her breathing to become ragged. Her climax came upon her quickly, and she hesitated for a brief moment before surrendering, gripping Brendan’s shoulders hard and releasing a cry she was sure would stir the dust in the rafters above.
Brendan pressed his mouth against hers—definitely a kiss this time—and her lips tingled as he moaned, sending tiny reverberations through them. It lasted for several moments and was surprisingly tender, though his mouth held a slight tang of lingering blood. His eyes remained closed, his dark lashes brushing his cheeks as he thrust faster and faster into her, pressing Carrie hard against the floorboards, causing her hips to twinge in protest at being treated so roughly against such an ill-suited surface. Just when she thought she could take it no more—that she might soon hear a soft snap signifying the breaking of some important body part—he cried out as his orgasm overtook him.
She quivered as he withdrew, tumbling off her. Her body cried out in a mingling of lingering arousal and dull aches. She wanted to jump up from the floor at once, ensuring it would not become the location of their second reunion, and at the same time, she wanted to throw herself at him and demand more.
“Carrie?” Brendan asked a few moments later, a hint of worry in his voice.
She opened her eyes, which she had squeezed shut, savouring the memory of his touch while worrying about how she might next feel it. Should she expect another tender kiss…or another bite?
“Yeah?”
“Are you all right?” He was leaning over her now, peering down at her as if searching for signs of injury.
“I think so.” She was a little sore, though she was reluctant to admit that to Brendan. She felt weakened in the wake of such a long-awaited release, but pleasantly so.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so rough with you. I couldn’t help it. After waiting so long and tasting your blood…”
Carrie shook her head. “It’s all right.” She did hurt a bit, but she didn’t—couldn’t—regret it.
Brendan took her by the shoulders and eased her into a sitting position. His eyes gleamed burgundy in the moonlight.
“What about you?” she asked. “Is something wrong? You look…well, you look upset.” She frowned as she spoke. She was still sifting through a landslide of her own emotions, but deep down, the one that stood out the most was happiness—shocked, incredulous happiness, but happiness nonetheless. Wouldn’t—shouldn’t—Brendan feel the same?
“Not upset,” he said, dragging a fingertip idly through the dust that was so thick on the floorboards. “Just…empty. I mean, that’s how I feel, and I don’t know why. I waited for this for so long, and I thought it would be different from the other times.”
Carrie stared at him in numb shock. How Brendan had spent the last year was still a mystery to her—one she’d always suspected would break her heart if she ever solved it—but hearing him talk about it so casually made her feel as if her breast had been pierced by a poison-tipped arrow. Its venom began to spread and course through her veins, a potent mixture of jealousy, anger and grief.
Brendan met her gaze with his strange, red-hued eyes. They held sadness, and the set of his mouth suggested what he said shamed him. He reached out tentatively towards Carrie and she jerked away from his touch. He sighed. “You think I’m disgusting.”
Tears stung Carrie’s eyes again. “Yes, I do,” she snapped. “Do you have any idea what the past year has been like for me? You left me—just left, without a word—and I’ve been alone ever since. And you were here, in the same city all along—sleeping around, apparently—while I sent out notes to all our family and friends explaining the wedding was cancelled!” Her chest was heaving by the time she finished and her tears streamed freely down her face, dripping onto her bare breasts. Her cheeks flamed, the blood that rushed through her veins fuelling her anger just as efficiently as it had fuelled her lust.
Brendan jerked back as if he’d been slapped. “Carrie, no! That’s not what I meant. I—I haven’t slept with anyone else!”
Carrie glared incredulously at him through tear-filled eyes. “The other times?”
“That’s not what I meant!” He reached out to take one of her hands and clung to it like a liegeman beseeching his mistress. “Some nights, though,” he said, dropping his gaze to the floor, “I fantasised about you, remembering your touch. Other nights, I dreamt of you. But when I woke—from daydreams or real dreams—I always felt so empty,” he finished in a subdued voice.
Carrie leant forward, drawing Brendan into a fierce embrace as tears slithered down her cheeks. “Every night for the past year I’ve lain in bed and wondered where you were,” she said. “I wondered if you were dead, and if you weren’t, who you were with. Why else would you have disappeared? I thought that if you were alive, there must be someone else.”
Brendan stroked her hair. “No,” he said, “never.”
Carrie relaxed, allowing herself to wilt in his arms. Brendan’s explanation was a two-edged sword, filling Carrie with blessed relief and creeping worry at the same time. Empty? “Then why…” she said, “why aren’t you as happy as I am?”
“I am, deep down.” He tangled his hand farther into her hair and pressed his lips against hers. The kiss was salty, filled with her tears. “This just doesn’t seem real, yet. I’m afraid you’re not actually here…like a dream.”
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About the Author
Ranae Rose lives on the US East Coast with her husband, child, horses and dog.
Romance is her genre of choice for both reading and writing, and she strives to write passionately.
Email: [email protected]
Ranae loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at http://www.total-e-bound.com.
Also by Ranae Rose
Eternity and a Year
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