On a moan, she reared upward again, and his fingers went deeper. She groaned, eyes wide and unfocused on his before she squeezed them shut and shuddered. She pushed into his hand sobbing and climaxing instantly as she poured her silky essence over his fingers.
He had never been with a woman so responsive. She made him feel like a god. He had to be inside of her, now. He couldn’t, wouldn’t wait another second.
He yanked himself free of his jeans, his erection so large it scraped along the zipper in his haste. He cursed.
The head of him was at her entrance when he felt her hands at his shoulders.
“Vlad, wait.”
His jaw hardened with the effort it took to simply stay motionless for a moment.
He looked into her witch’s eyes.
“I…I’m not protected. Do you, can you?”
He was stunned. How could he have forgotten something he had never, ever, in his many years as a sexually active man, once neglected? Slowly he came back to himself. He could feel his face flush.
He reached into the nightstand and found a condom.
Sabrina extended her hand toward his pulsing cock. “If you want…I can try to…let me,” she offered. “Nyet,” he ordered, all but pushing her hand away.
He took a breath. “That won’t be necessary.”
Breathing deep, trying to maintain a semblance of control, he slid the protection on in one practiced
motion and looked down to see Sabrina: pale skin rosy from their lovemaking, her eyes as luminous as the moon outside. Unable to resist, he ran his thumb along her bottom lip and then each reddened nipple in turn.
Her eyes closed on a keening sigh.
She lay before him like a banquet, tight in the grip of her own need.
“Where were we?” he murmured.
His fingers skidded down the smoothness of her belly to her navel and then into her slick entrance. There was no way he could wait any longer. He parted her knees and positioned himself in one efficient motion.
“Now.”
He nudged into her snug welcome, feeling her heat. Sabrina’s legs opened further to clasp around his waist. He pushed deeper and she buried a harsh cry into his neck. Something about her voice had him checking his motion. He looked down into her face. “I’ve hurt you?”
“Mmmm, no,” she responded quickly, biting her lip. Her face reddened, and then she looked straight into his eyes as she urged him on and in with the tight clasp of her legs.
Vlad had to save the puzzle of that for later when his brain could comprehend more than the driving demand of his body. He pulled out slightly, trying for a measured rhythm but it was no good. He wanted to savor. But that would have to be next time. Sabrina’s little panting breaths, the feel of her breasts crushed against his chest, all served to power him forward and as his pace quickened, he heard her voice gasp into his neck, “More, more,” until they both came in an exhilarating rush.
They slept. He startled awake shivering, pulled on his jeans, then put a match to the logs arranged in the fireplace. Two days in with no heat and the house held a pervasive chill. But there was a hearth in every room save the bathrooms. He couldn’t believe that he’d lacked the self-restraint to see to the fire before making love to Sabrina. No, he hadn’t seen to their comfort with a fire, and even more surprising to him, he hadn’t remembered protection until she’d reminded him. Both were uncharacteristic lapses on his part.
She lay on her side under the duvet with only the translucent skin of her temple and the tangle of her hair visible on the pillow.
He’d already memorized that pale perfect body, the pouting globes of her breasts, the long legs. His body tightened back into readiness. He knew that her unpainted lips, and unpolished fingernails and toes were a breath of fresh air to him. Already he knew how she buried her face in his neck to soften the cries and gasps of her passion. He knew the rough scratch of his unshaven jaw had marked her pale flesh from her throat to her thighs with pink wheals that he’d soothed away with his tongue. He knew that the color of the soft curls between her thighs exactly matched the cascading dark copper strands on the pillow.
A rush of something like possessiveness filled his gut and he shook his head. He didn’t do possessive. He turned away to stare into the fire. He would let her sleep. For a short while.