Jolie Blonde (Vigilare Book 3) (26 page)

The longer they kiss and the more blood they exchange seems to have a formidable effect on their senses. Their hearts race, pounding in their chests, the pulse audible in their ears—steady and rhythmic like a drum. Their lungs filling with one another’s scent, so strong and intoxicating as if their bodies communicate on a cellular level. Their skin singes, surely nearing its boiling point.

Brianna releases her lips from his, a quiet cry escaping with the separation. She clenches her head in her hands, the feeling that it may explode from the internal pressure. “Lon, what’s happening?”

Her eyes open groggily to meet his of the same dazed reaction. Having experienced his fair share of heavy-lidded bouts with Mary Jane, the recreational plant is no match for this particular hazy effect.

“I don’t know, baby,” his voice exonerates in a most melodically smooth cadence. He wraps his arms around her waist, pulling her tighter to his frame, unable to tolerate the barren space between.

Their eyes beam back and forth from each other. Hers, much like the palms of their hands after being cut on the skull (and Dr. Godfrey’s microscope slide of their combined blood), sparkle emerald green, the flecks radiating from her irises like diamonds. With one look into hers, Lon knows that his do the same, only the fluorescent glow matches his eye color—an icy steel blue.

“It’s the blood,” she whispers, her palm touching against the raw flesh of her bottom lip. “Yours and mine. When they come together.” She squelches a vindicated smile, aware that although her theory was correct, this revelation is not exactly gloat-worthy.

“I don’t care what it is.” Lon ignores her reasoning, the look in his eyes as libidinous as the tone of his voice. “I want you. I need you. Right now, Brie.” He nestles her hips against his, signifying his
need
as he grows hard and erect through his towel.

Whatever is happening to them—him—chemically, is trumping logic and mental clarity. Tunnel vision, surely a side effect, overcomes him. The only thing he can see is her. The carnal urge to claim her body mounts itself quite painfully, his veins, his head, his body throbbing for release. The glow in her eyes and his begins to flicker as if short circuiting now that their blood is no longer fusing. Brianna can feel her heart rate and her breathing begin to decelerate back to normal.

“No,” she gasps, quickly reestablishing their union, her mouth hungrily claiming his, unwilling to back down from this experiment.

The compression of their lips exchanging deep, drawn out licks, sucks and nibbles does the trick. Fully drinking each other in, their blood continues to meld sending their senses to a celestial level.

“Ahhhh,” Lon growls out a most satisfying moan. “My God, you’re amazing. How do you feel better than the last time?” He questions, completely unable to comprehend how she could possibly feel any better, but she does. His every sense heightened and filled with a piece of her, to a magnitude he has never experienced.

“I feel it, too,” she purrs.

Her voice hits his ears like his favorite song. Nothing has ever sounded so good. Her hands trail his skin and he swears she’s touching him from the inside, the sensation begging of him to return the favor—get as deep inside her as he can. With the thought, he lets loose of his towel. The fabric falls to the floor and the way in which he aims to return the favor presents itself, flexing its virile, pulsating form against her lower abdomen.

Brianna inhales, filling her lungs with his scent as he towers above her. Licking her lips, she plans to find out if he tastes as good as he smells—like everything male—red-blooded, potent, protective. Relieving herself of his t-shirt, the only thing separating their flesh, she serves her selfish tongue allowing it and her mouth to explore the scorching skin of his neck. The sensation akin to the first time she ever tasted sugar, mouthwatering and completely addictive.

Their bare chests clash as their lungs attempt to keep up with the fervid pace of their hearts. Used to quenching circulating hormones in their bodies that produce seemingly uncontrollable desires, the urge they feel now cannot be manipulated, only served and satisfied.

Lon picks her up, her legs naturally encircling his waist, a flashing thought runs through his mind that she seems weightless. Turning her to the wall beside them, he sets her back firmly against it, pressing his front to hers. Again, the force with which he carries out these physical feats seems more powerful than usual.

“Ugh,” she sighs as her lungs take the brunt of her back’s contact with the wall.

“Did I hurt you?” He stills their momentum.

“No.” She smiles, her arms draped about his shoulders. “Just caught me by surprise, that’s all.”

“I don’t know what’s going on, but it feels like I have more power. In my body.” He eyes his own arms supporting her bottom and her thighs as if she weighs nothing. “I don’t want to hurt you.” His steel blues flicker having been departed from her mouth for too long, the effect of her blood dwindling.

She covers his mouth with hers, purposely stoking the flame until she can taste their blood meshing once again. “You’re not going to hurt me. I can feel it, too.” Her hands stroke his shoulders, firm and kneading. Trailing her fingernails down his sides, they sink into his skin leaving welts the entire way, to which they both are completely unconcerned as if it didn’t hurt at all. “It must be our blood. Maybe it makes us stronger. Or more tolerant.”

“Physically stronger, maybe.” Lon groans at the subtle rocking of her hips beneath his hands causing him to become painfully aware of how weak he feels mentally, his willpower nearly extinct. His engorged member tucked snugly around her bottom, every rock of her hips grazes it, causing its head to flex upward in search of its newfound most prized dwelling.

“I feel that, too,” she purrs with a chuckle, her confession that she is just as weak of the flesh as he.

“But I should take my time with you.” His words and actions at odds as he rubs the tip of himself against her core. “Ahhhh…God, Brie,” he growls against her kiss, unsure of which lips stir him the most, each set equally wet and parted in their pursuit to coax him inside.

“Please,” she laments, her hands firmly wound around the back of his hair and neck, holding his head fast and level with hers, her eyes beseeching of his to satiate the painful void. “Fill me up, Lon. Make me feel whole.”

Her ambrosial plea coupled with the slight tilt of her hips proffering up a most convenient ingress to her secret garden, all the provocation he needs or can stand.
Take it easy. Take it easy. Take it easy,
Lon reminds with his inner voice as he guides himself deeper. With each delectable inch, Brianna sucks in her breath, finally giving in to an appeased exhale once he is fully immersed.

Their eyes, opening and finding one another, radiate each respective fluorescent color—the energy between, similar to electricity, causes their bodies to shiver. Both enjoying the otherworldly experience, their lips seek one another’s, hungrily in search of the blood responsible in keeping the feeling afloat. With the indulgent contact and exchange, their senses accelerate once again to a fervid frenzy.

Lon’s rhythm nearly matching the cadence of their heartbeats, his hips make a provocative circular motion each time before thrusting deeply, fully inside her. Brianna matches his voracity. Using the wall behind her as leverage, she tilts her hips to ensure a most filling union, her legs at his back clenching tighter with every thrust. The heightened awareness of their senses unable to be fulfilled, it’s as if they have been starved with appetites that will never replenish.

“It’s like I can’t get far enough inside you.” He releases an agonized groan, one hand wound in the back of her hair, gripping it tightly, an illustration of the tension he feels within. His strokes slowing to purposeful thrusts capping off at the depths of her core. At the end of each drive, he stills himself briefly, reveling in the embrace of her taut, innermost kingdom, wishing he could stay forever.

“I know,” she moans, her voice so lascivious, she barely recognizes it as her own. “Think I could crawl inside your skin?” Her hand, its pressure matching his wound in her hair, grips his thick, muscular neck. Pulsating just underneath her thumb is his jugular vein, the thunderous rhythm calls her attention to it. The throbbing there analogous to the one between her thighs, she presses her lips to the spot, sucking it firmly against her tongue until the delicate capillaries beneath begin to break—a love bite.

“Marking your territory?” His beaming steel blues give a satisfied twinkle, happy to have been claimed.

“If you’ll let me,” she teases, pushing off the wall with her hands. Her strength surprising, they tumble backwards. Lon falls to the forgiving and supple mattress of his bed as Brianna comes down astraddle him, both attentive in preserving their fleshly union.

“What do you mean?” He pushes her cascading hair out of her face as she leans over him, his hands continuing down the sides of her neck until they find their perky bounty. Flexing his abs, his torso rises to meet hers, his tongue lapping circles around her already aroused nipples before sucking each one between his teeth, causing them to grow more alert.

“I…see…you,” she sucks in her breath between each word with the inciting stimulation. Lon relieves her, allowing her to finish her thought as his hands roam south caressing her thighs. “You carry the weight of the world.” Dipping her frame down closer to his, she places empathetic kisses upon his handsome face as she talks to him. “You’re so serious. You worry about everything. You. Me. That’s why you smoke. It’s the only time you’re free.”

“I feel pretty free right now,” his raspy, comatose voice releases, indulging in the motion of her hips and thighs. A stark contrast to his rhythm, hers is gentle, lingering, hypnotic.

“Uh-huh,” she agrees, the glazed-over look in his incandescent steel blues proof enough that he worries not about anything in this moment. “But you could feel like this all the time. If you’d just give in to it. To me. Trust me. If you dare,” she whispers the last sentiment against his lips before taking them in her own. Feeling her senses decelerating, she craves the high of the meshing of their blood.

“I want to, baby, I really do,” he laments, his mind still not quite prepared to believe that she could be his—that she wouldn’t leave, again.

“I’m not going anywhere, Lon.” Her face hovering above his, their fix delivers, all senses supercharged. Brianna struggles to move air at the sudden required pace, her chest clashing against his.

Lon’s eyes burn with the magnetism between his and hers in such close proximity, the symbiotic glow near blinding. “I love you so much it hurts, Brie.” He winces his eyes, as painful as the squeeze on his heart. He turns them over exchanging positions, the urge to dominate overwhelming.

“I know. I feel it, too,” she cries, her hands gripping and kneading at him, compulsion overpowering logic as she attempts to get close enough to him to quell the agony.

He growls with each contact, a mixture of pleasure and pain, her touch thrilling and powerful. He tries mindfully to soften his hands as they equally play upon her body, the adrenaline running through his veins surely responsible for any unwarranted aggression.

“Why does it hurt so bad?” She questions the tightness in her chest, the result of loving someone so deeply. An equally burning ache simmers in the pit of her womb, innocent to what it is exactly that needs to happen in order for it to go away. The anguish stronger tonight, under the influence of her and Lon’s blood hex, than it was last night.

“I’m sorry, Brie.” He agonizes over his failure to help her attain climax the night before (their first night together), not for lack of trying.

She writhes against him, pressing her body tighter to his, no longer content with their casual pace. “Take it away, Lon. The hurt. Make it stop. Please.”

He releases an arduous exhale, conflicted between so desperately wanting to replace her longing with sweet release and not knowing exactly how to get her there. He sits upright between her thighs to better give her what she wants in terms of pace—steady and strong. Looking down at their erotic nexus, he recalls a
tip
he read in the ‘give your woman an earth-shattering orgasm’ section of his men’s magazine. His thumb quickly coming to action, he finds that sweet, swollen button hidden just above the entry to her core. Watching her face for any reaction, his thumb makes a circular pattern while exerting a gentle pressure.

“Huh,” Brianna moans at a high-pitched whisper. The sensation—completely virgin—she cannot tell if it is liberating or debilitating, it feels so urgent and out of control. Her body tenses, her head pushing back into the pillow, her back arching, her eyes locked on Lon’s begging for direction.

“A little further, baby. We’re almost there,” he coaches, a hopeful fib. Having no idea if this
tip
is worthwhile, he has to believe it is as he nears his own summit knowing there will be no way to hold off while watching her like this—so willing, vulnerable, completely raw.

The bed beneath rocks, its headboard hitting off the wall with each thrust. Neither of them notices, the result of their meshed blood and carnal endorphins surging through one another’s veins powers their bodies beyond the natural realm. Brianna’s hands sink deeper into the sheets, knotting them up into balled fists, they tear under the pressure.

“Lon. I. Geezus,” she gasps, the intensity building, the fluorescent sparkle in her emerald greens flickering.

“My. God. Brie,” his short syllables release much like hers as he feels her warm, wet center contract and tighten even further around him effectively milking his seed from his body. “Ahhh. Uhhh. Brieee,” his groans elongate, his spent, trembling body collapsing atop hers.

She welcomes him to her frame, her arms and legs all encircling. “I love you. I love you. I love you.” The emotions overcome her as a wave of relaxing hormones hit her system. “It feels like utopia.” She giggles softly into the crevice between his neck and shoulder.