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Giver of Light

Page 30

by Nicola Claire


  “Oh, you are being difficult,” he whispered and replaced his fingers with his tongue.

  Oh sweet Lord, how on Earth did I fight this?

  Chapter 30

  The Long Kiss Good-Bye

  And oh God, I could feel everything. His dark, silky hair splayed out over my naked thigh, his firm fingers digging in to my butt as he raised my rear up to meet him, the leather of the seat against my back, his mouth, his lips, his tongue and his teeth. It felt so damn good and sinful, the dimness in the car, barely any light, save from the occasional passing vehicle, making it feel like a dark little piece out of time. A very naughty, dark little piece out of time.

  Michel was determined to make me scream his name and was using every weapon in his arsenal. The speed and precision in which he ravished me; a small lick, then suck, then lick, then oh my god bite, then suck, then lick, was erotic beyond measure. It was driving me insane. The more I refused to scream out, the more intense it became and the more determined he was to make me.

  I promised myself I would seek revenge.

  But there was nothing I could do to stop the orgasm he so faithfully sought out in me. I bucked and shuddered beneath him, swallowed the cry of release, which made me pull back what should have been a mind blowing orgasm into merely a really, really good one, but despite denying him the scream, it was still out of this world and I loved it.

  I drifted down from that wonderful high, as he crawled up my body, laying butterfly light kisses across my stomach, up my ribs, over my breasts and into my neck.

  “You are so stubborn,” he murmured against me, nuzzling into my hair.

  Stubborn huh? We'll see.

  He had removed his jacket and tie before we got in the car, so some of the work was already done for me. I made short issue of his shirt, swiftly undoing the buttons and running my hands underneath, along the hard plane of his marble-like chest, receiving a satisfying groan from the back of his throat. He'd obviously been way more affected by my arousal and refusal to give in and scream his name, than he had been letting on.

  Lifting my head I licked around his dusky nipple, nipping and sucking it to a little peak, then offered the same attention to the rather neglected one across from it. Michel was either proving a point or simply unable to stop himself, because his vocals were a hell of a lot more audible than mine. He made very sure I knew he was enjoying it. I didn't mind in the slightest. I might have had an issue with drawing attention to myself, but I had no such problem with him screaming out my name, that was for sure.

  Before I even knew what was happening, he had flipped us and now he lay on the bottom against the leather seats and I was draped across the length of him. Manipulation at its best, but I took advantage of it, all the same.

  He helped me remove his shirt and after I had kissed my way down his body, I removed his trousers, boxers and shoes and socks. If I was going to be buck naked, he sure as hell was too. All of his clothes got tossed in the front seat, although I was certain he'd have no qualms reaching over and grabbing them when needed.

  After disposing of those, I returned my attention to his body, allowing myself a moment to take in the glorious sight of him. He had a slightly amused look on his face as he lay there watching me look down at him, as though this was exactly what he'd had in mind all along and I had fallen directly into his trap. Of course I had.

  Damn him.

  No going back now though. I could hardly ignore the excellent example of manhood in front of me, now could I? Lowering myself down between his legs, well out of sight of any stray headlight beam through the windows and began my revenge.

  Slow licks around the top of his hard, long erection and then light kisses down the length of it, to end up with his sac in my mouth and an immediate writhe of his body along with a wonderful gasp stolen from his mouth.

  I stopped and looked up at him, waiting for him to get himself back under control. His eyes were flashing amethyst and violet by the time he opened them again to look at me.

  Once I had his attention again, I repeated the action down the other side of his hard sex, receiving the same response and then a pause to watch the after effects.

  “You're teasing,” he managed, when his head came back up and his eyes latched on to mine.

  I shrugged and offered a slow smile, licking my lips and catching his look of desire before taking as much of him deep within my mouth as I could manage and getting a nice shout of surprise as he convulsed in pleasure beneath me. His hands came to my head, wrapping his fingers in my hair, encouraging me to continue. I slowly withdrew his length, allowing my teeth to scrape a little down the sides. His fingers fisted, tugging a bit at the strands of my hair, but I didn't care, I knew I had him completely at my mercy now.

  I alternated long and deep with short and quick, mixing them up, making it impossible for him to anticipate what I'd do next, what he'd feel next, unable to ride that wave anywhere he wanted it desperately to go. His breathing had become ragged, he hadn't released my hair and finally I think I had broken him, because he let out a moan and in words I barely heard said, “You're driving me crazy, ma douce, I have to be inside you.”

  I didn't subscribe to that thought, I wanted to see him writhe. So, I doubled my efforts, sucking and nibbling, stroking and fondling, receiving satisfying growls and groans from the back of his throat and the beginnings of slow rolls of his hips. His hand in my hair stayed glued to my head, the other caught in a fist at his side. He was enjoying it, I could tell, but I wanted to see how far he'd let me go.

  I was so busy concentrating on getting that final result, I had stopped paying attention to anything else, other than the hard length wrapped in my hand, beneath my tongue and in my mouth. I think I was getting as much pleasure as he was, because although he was still rolling his hips in a way that made me believe he wasn't even aware of what he was doing, I had started writhing above him. Rubbing myself against the length of his leg, grinding him into the seat beneath us.

  A low chuckle competed with his moans of pleasure and in a flash of preternatural speed, he had removed his hand from my hair and placed both hands on my hips, guiding me above him and pressing his hard tip against my sweet centre.

  "Hey!" I protested, wanting my lips around his sex again. Wanting to see him lose control.

  "I want to be inside you, ma douce. I want to watch you come as I spill myself deep within." With those soft, huskily spoken words he lowered me down so slowly onto the tip of him.

  He watched my reaction closely, waiting for me to respond. I shuddered above him, closed my eyes and bit my bottom lip, and then he pulled me firmly against his hips, sheathing himself completely inside me.

  He groaned, I gasped and we started moving. I couldn't help it. I'd gone from wanting to give him pleasure, wanting to see him lose himself because of my lips and tongue and touch. To wanting, needing, craving my own release and to hell with anything else. A small part of me felt selfish, but he only urged me on with murmured words of encouragement as I ground myself against him. Alternating between lifting up and off his body and then rocking, rubbing back and forward against his hard length.

  I lowered myself down to his chest, his arms wrapped protectively, lovingly around me as we rubbed up and down against each other, his hard length moving so sensually inside me, stretching me wonderfully in all the right directions, making my body beg for more.

  "Yes," he whispered, hot breath against my ear. "Oh God, yes. You are so sexy, ma douce. Let me bring you to orgasm, let me make you come."

  His words were like fuel to the fire, my body was burning with desire, a need so raw. I worked myself against him, allowed my body to hungrily seek that release and worshipped the man beneath me as he worshipped me.

  "Oh, ma douce." I could tell he was close too. Even though we moved together in a way that surely did more for me than it did him, he was still only just holding on to his own release. Waiting for me to find mine. Giving me the time I needed to crest that wave. Not allowing
himself to seek his own final pleasure until he had fully satisfied me.

  I knew in that instant that I loved this man beyond any shadow of doubt. And that he loved me. His arms wrapped so lovingly about my body. His breath feathering against my cheek in such sweet caresses. His closeness, his smell, his entire presence about me, making me feel so loved and wanted and safe.

  I came with a gasp and low moan. My body breaching that final, beautiful wave and floating back down the other side. He groaned loud against me, pumping himself deep inside, pulling me tightly against his chest and savouring the drawn out moment of his orgasm as though it was a miracle, something he treasured and letting me know that it was me who had given him this precious gift. This moment out of time.

  He cradled me against his body, letting the sweat on our skin meld between us. From somewhere he found a blanket and draped it over the top of me, wrapping us up in a warm cocoon. I lay my head down on his chest, just under his chin and listened to his heartbeat, took in the feel of his warm body moulded to mine and allowed the scent of him and our lovemaking to wash around me in the darkened space.

  After a few minutes, with his hand running through my hair and down my back, I managed to find my voice.

  “I still didn't scream out your name.”

  He started laughing and held me tight. “Give me a minute and I can remedy that, ma douce.”

  I bet he bloody well could too. I raised my head to look out the window to get my bearings. We'd only made it as far as Huntly, so there was still an hour before we hit Auckland.

  “There is still time, my little one and I intend to use every single second of it appropriately.”

  I gave up arguing and just snuggled in closer, wrapping my arm and leg over him. I had slid down between him and the back of the seat and felt totally safe and warm and protected.

  “How many vampires are going with you?” I asked, taking him by surprise at the change of subject. I don't think he'd wanted to talk about the coming trip to America, but I hadn't been able to stop thinking about it, despite the beautiful distraction he had just provided.

  He took a deep breath in and accepted the topic change gracefully. “I have fifty of my line, some already have gone on ahead, some are flying with me. Gregor, Enrique and Alessandra are providing a similar amount and Awan has also sent 30 of the Egyptians to meet us there. We have the numbers and the skills required, ma douce. It won't be exactly easy, it never is, but it is more than achievable. I have complete faith in the outcome.”

  I was relieved at the figures and even more relieved that Awan had joined the battle as well. The Egyptians were formidable warriors and now that it had been proven that Nosferatins were being held hostage and the Prophesy could be affected, he had finally made that commitment to us. A tenuous alliance, unlike what we had experienced with Egypt's former vampire Queen, Nafrini, but a welcome one all the same.

  “Where will you land?”

  “We are all arriving by smaller private jets, so have managed to secure an isolated landing strip near Denver. Some of those already in position are spreading out and providing intelligence for us. By the time we land, we will have a very good idea of what we face and where he wants us to battle.”

  “He'll be expecting you and have a location already in mind, won't he?” I couldn't help feeling they were walking into a trap, but what could we do? Jonathan held all the cards, not to mention all of the Nosferatins too.

  “Yes, we will only find what he wants us to find, but we are not inexperienced in this type of warfare, ma belle, all of us have fought calls to arm before.”

  “But not fought Jonathan.”

  “No. Not Jonathan.” His hands started roaming over my body again, his face nuzzling into my hair. I knew he was trying to distract me, to make me think of something much more pleasant than the risks ahead, the possible deaths that might occur, the loss of so many.

  He'd have to work harder.

  He laughed out loud at that thought. “I can work harder, ma douce,” he murmured, shifting position so he was looking down at me, still to the side, but allowing me more room to lie on my back. There's a surprisingly large amount of space in a Land Rover Discovery 4's back seat.

  This time he took it even slower, so very, very slow. As though he was discovering my body for the very first time. Or maybe, the very last.

  “Shush. Don't think that,” he whispered against my lips, then kissed me, so carefully, so perfectly, so softly.

  His hands painted beautiful pictures on my body, his fingers trailing patterns across my skin, his lips lighting a path in their wake. It was wonderful, sublime, splendid and I never wanted it to end.

  By the time we joined body to body, in a slow languid movement, his whispered words of you are mine floating away into the ether, the world had stopped moving around us, nothing mattered but here and now, him and me, this moment, this sensation, this union of two bodies and hearts and souls. I loved this man with every single part of me, the realisation of how deeply ingrained that was in my soul making tears slowly seep out from my eyes and trail down my cheeks, to be swiftly caught by Michel's lips and tongue and hot, hot breath.

  I knew what I wanted to do then, I knew it with a certainty that rocked me to my core. I even let my Light build within me, shaped it, moulded it, held with such care. I let him see my intention, but I held it back at the last second, conscious still, despite the moment, of how very much I wanted him to have more than just me to come home to, more than just survival to consider, but the promise of something he had wanted so fiercely for so very long. My mark. My Sigillum.

  “Come back to me and it is yours,” I whispered against his cheek, then let the Light wash around us, wrapping him in my love and promise and showering us in my desire and passion and need.

  He started murmuring words in French, too fast, too hurried for me to translate, too emotional to stop his accent from seeping through. I didn't care, I didn't need to know the exact words or phrases he uttered against me, I felt what he meant through his touch and care and movements. I felt what he meant through the glorious wave of heat he took us up and finally, after such attention and restraint and beautiful, beautiful emotion, over, in a burst of complete and resounding bliss, wrenching a gasp from my lips and a softly whispered, but extremely uneven, “Michel!”

  We lay still for several minutes, neither of us able to pull away from the embrace, from the moment. His body still lying so carefully over mine, between my legs, inside me. Our breathing in time with each other, our heartbeats synchronised, our souls truly as one.

  Finally, Michel whispered against my neck, in a very masculine sounding voice, full of amusement, happiness and vindication.

  “Now that is a tone I can accept.”

  I smiled, thinking how very typical, he hadn't needed a shout or a scream. He hadn't even needed the titillating thought that others may hear me, he just needed me to let go, to give in to the moment, to express in some fashion, what he does to me. The effect he has on my body, heart and mind.

  It really wasn't that difficult to give him, was it?

  “Je t'aime, ma douce. Je t'aime si tres, tres beaucoup.”

  I swallowed past the lump in my throat and whispered back, “I love you too.”

  We stayed wrapped in each others arms, just kissing and cuddling for the remainder of the trip. When the lights of the city began to invade our little sanctuary Michel reluctantly retrieved our clothes from the front of the vehicle and we dressed; silently, slowly, a little sadly. Neither of us wanted this time together to end.

  But it had to. And as the bright lights of Auckland International Airport streamed in through the windows of our car, reality hit and my stomach flipped and my hands started wringing in my lap. Michel reached over silently and took hold of them in his, softly rubbing the back of them, but unable to voice what he was thinking or feeling, just like me.

  The car pulled up in front of his private jet and the hangar it was usually tucked up in, the fuel tr
uck rumbling away and the pilots doing their pre-flight external checks. Michel's guard got out of the car and stood by the door, but didn't open it, just stood there taking in the scene before him, watching for threats and no doubt communicating with the rest of Michel's line already on board and standing out around the brightly lit area. I noticed my BMW off to the side - so Erika had made it, although I couldn't see her anywhere to wish her well or goodbye.

  “I must go, ma douce,” Michel said softly, lifting my hand to his lips for a lingering kiss. “You do not have to wait for the plane to leave, I can walk you to your car and you can just drive away, if it is easier.”

  It would have been, I think. Still painful, but easier than watching him board that bloody machine and see the doors slam shut, so tightly, so finally and watch that sleek jet taxi out on the runway and then lift off into the sky, defying gravity and all reason. It would have been a hell of a lot easier, but I couldn't. I couldn't be the one to leave.

  I shook my head and managed a small smile.

  His lips twisted. “My brave, brave girl.”

  The door opened, no doubt from a telepathic command from Michel to Dennis and he led the way out into the night. His vamps becoming immediately alert, some of them gliding on to the plane, some remaining scattered about for his protection. Marcus and Matthias flashing over to the Land Rover, I was guessing they would be following me home.

  I looked a little rumpled, I was sure of it, but Michel just looked like Michel. He reached in and grabbed his jacket and tie from the rear of the car, slipping his arms in the sleeves and hanging the tie around his neck. His shirt not completely buttoned up, some of his glorious cream coloured chest peeking out at the top. He looked well sated and relaxed and extremely sexy.

  As much as I was determined to stay and watch him leave, there was no way in hell I could walk him to those stairs. He knew, so just pulled me into one last embrace, one last long, deep kiss and then spun and left without another word. What else was there to say?

 

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