Sanctifying Grace (Resurrection) (3 page)

He was more than ready, the tip of him slick with his own excitement
, and I was desperate to feel him inside. Fingers were nice but they were no substitute for the real thing, so I pushed him away slightly, hitched the skirt and petticoat further up around my waist, turned around and bent over the back of an overstuffed sofa.

Roman needed no further invitation. I spread my legs wide for him and he guided the questing tip into the slickness between my thighs, plung
ing deeply with one deft stroke. I cried out at the suddenness of it; he filled me completely and brutally, and once more I was on the cusp between pain and pleasure.

Pleasure won out
, as he gripped my hips, pulling me deeper with each hard thrust. I stood on tiptoe, fearing he would tear me apart, the back of the sofa digging into my stomach and making it difficult to breathe. A stinging slap across my buttocks brought me to a screaming, sobbing climax and, as soon as he felt my release, Roman let himself go, pouring his seed into me in a series of swift deep thrusts. He yelled my name as he came, then collapsed over my bent back.

‘Roman,’ I wheezed. ‘You need to get off me. I can’t breathe.’

He lifted his weight immediately and slithered out of me. I could feel the satisfying wetness between my thighs but my smug smile turned into a shriek of protest as he casually slapped the other buttock.

I jerked upright and pulled my skirt down.

‘Hello, Grace,’ he said in a velvet voice. ‘That was the first course. Would you like to take it slower for the second?’

My backside was stinging and I was sure I must have a matching set of handprints, one on each cheek.

‘I don’t mind a little rough play, but you nearly took it a tad too far,’ I grumbled.

He was immediately contrite. ‘I am sorry if I misread the signals,’ he said, but I knew he was neither sorry nor misread anything. I had made it clear what I needed and he had provided exactly that, so why didn’t I feel fulfilled? Oh, I was sexually satisfied, but there was something definitely lacking in the emotional department.

‘You didn’t misread anything,’ I admitted. ‘You gave me exactly what I asked for.’

‘I did not give you pleasure?’

‘Of course you did. You know you did. Only –’ I broke off, unable to express exactly how I was feeling. ‘I thought there would be more love,’ I continued miserably.

‘Come.’ He held out his hand. ‘I will give you love, if that is what you want. I thought you wanted to mate, so…’

‘I did!’ I could hear the whine in my voice and I didn’t like it. ‘I feel a bit neglected, that’s all.’

‘I am sorry, Eryres. I
am
very glad to see you. It has been a long time and much has happened. You also nearly got yourself killed.’ He was still holding out a hand, so I took it. He drew me into him and held me in his arms. ‘Let me make love to you, with love,’ he urged and he led me upstairs.

The bed was another four poster; a canopied, curtained monster of a bed, all dark wood and engraving on the posts. But it was sumptuously made up, with a deep feather mattress, huge squashy pillows, Egyptian cotton sheets
, and several heavy quilted eiderdowns.

He kissed me and sat me down on the bed
, then turned away to quickly light a fire and some candles.

‘I have gas lights in this house
, but I prefer candles. I have used them all my life,’ he explained. And what a long life it was, I thought. I wondered what he would make of electricity and hoped I would be around long enough to find out.

He stood me up, removed my ruined blouse, undid the buttons on my skirt so that it puddled to the floor at my feet, then lifted the petticoat over my head. Lastly he took off my boots, and at every stage, on every newly revealed inch of naked skin, he planted a feather-light kiss. Then he pulled back the covers and gently pushed me down onto the bed. I slid between the sheets, my flesh goose-pimpling at their coolness, as I watched him undress, quickly and neatly. He joined me under the covers, drawing the curtains around us so we were cocooned from the outside world, sheltered within a nest of our own making, the light from the fire and the candles shimmering through the fine gossamer fabric.

He began with my lips, soft gentle kisses that promised more. When I tried to kiss him back, he whispered ‘Hush,’ and I laid my head back down onto the pillow and let him tease me.

Slowly, so slowly, his lips travelled down my throat, over my collar bone, licking and nibbling as they went, worshipping each part of me, my breasts, my achingly erect nipples, the valley between them, my stomach. He paused at my navel and his tongue probed that little depression, erotic
, yet tickling. His restless lips inched ever closer to the sweet spot hidden within its folds. He used his tongue to seek it out and my hips jerked off the bed with intense pleasure as his cool lips met my hot nether ones.

He lapped and licked until I was clawing the sheets. I could hardly keep still as the excitement grew and grew until I exploded with the joy of it, a shuddering hurricane of an orgasm.

He held me firm as I thrashed, and as the aftershocks subsided, he crawled up the bed and kissed me. I could taste myself on him. When his fingers found the centre of me once more, I clung to him, sensitive and aching, yet wanting more.

He brought me to the edge again, all the while his lips never leaving mine
, unless it was to lick my neck or nibble my ear. Once or twice, he dipped his head to suck an engorged nipple into his mouth, but he always came back to my lips.

I came around his fingers
, as they dipped into me again and again, and only when I thought I could take no more did he slide inside me, cold yet hot, steel and velvet, slow and insistent.

He raised himself up on his hands, rearing above me, gazing into my eyes, watching the desire he could see there. I returned his stare as I came once more, shattering into a thousand pieces, drowning in the darkness of his pupils. And still he wasn't finished.

Careful not to slip out, he turned me so I was on top and he held me there as he thrust from below. His hair spread out across the pillow, black as an oil slick, and I fell forward burying my face in the silky strands, my folds rubbing on the base of his shaft as he thrust in and out, in and out.

Oh dear God! I was going to come again and the force of it jerked me upright. He could feel how deeply he penetrated me, impaled on the length of him. My muscles contracted around him and he ground his teeth with the effort of not coming
, too.

For a while, after that last climax, he held me, unmoving
, as he struggled for control. And when he turned me over so I was lying on my stomach, I understood. He wanted to show me the contrast between the animal mating of earlier and what he what he was going to do to me now.

He slithered back down the bed and with immense gentleness, mindful of my increased sensitivity, he raised my buttocks and licked me from nub to puckered little bottom. I nearly levitated. I didn’t think I was capable of anymore
; I didn’t think he could wrest another ounce of sexual pleasure out of me this evening.

How wrong I was.

He kept licking until he could feel my slack muscles respond, tightening with pre-release tension, then he lowered me back to the bed, parted my soft flesh, and slipped deep into me, slowly, oh so slowly. Most of the length of his body was on top of mine, his chest and stomach caressing my back and buttocks. It was a new and exciting feeling to have him rub against the skin of my back and bottom as he made love to me, his pace slow and measured, sliding deeply into me and almost pulling all the way out.

That oh-so-sensitive part of me was pressed into the sheet with each downward stroke and
, to my amazement, I realised I was going to climax again.

He held me tight against him once more as the orgasm rocked me to my core and then
, with one final deep thrust, he came, too, and it was my turn to feel him shudder and contract as wave upon wave of pleasure surged through him.

He withdrew from me and for a while I knew no more.

I was exhausted, physically, mentally and emotionally. My limbs had wooden weights attached to them, so heavy and languid were they, and my eyelids refused to open. I was aware of Roman lying on his side and I was tucked into him; he had one arm draped over me and his face was in my hair.

I snuggled down, content and replete, and we lay quietly together for a while sharing our news. I played down my deteriorating health – there was nothing to be gained by dwelling on it and nothing could be done about it. Besides, when I was with Roman
, I was strong and well and healthy, and that is what I wanted to concentrate on.

Roman’s news was far more interesting than mine. He had only recently returned from America and was full of excitement for the country. He had also brought a few souvenirs back with him: an impressive gun collection being one of them.

I was curious as to why such an efficient natural killer wanted to play with guns and when I asked him his answer surprised me.

‘Guns can kill vampires,’ he explained. ‘The bigger calibre ones
, though vampires are not easily killed. For one, we have to be caught, and for another we have to be incapacitated. If any human gets close enough to one of us, we can destroy them as easily as a cat kills a mouse.’

I turned in his arms so I was facing him. His expression, as was often the case, told me nothing.

He continued. ‘There is something in the old wives tales of vampires being killed by a stake through the heart. It would need to be a very grievous wound that would totally decimate and devastate the heart, for it to be fatal,’ he explained, running the fingers of one hand up and down my arm, raising goose-bumps where he touched. ‘A dagger thrust would not cause sufficient damage, and although the vampire would suffer some weakness it would not be sufficient to prevent him from killing whosoever wielded the knife. Even a sword to the heart would not slow a vampire down enough to render him incapable of retaliation. Then, of course, there is also the simple fact that a human has to get close enough to a vampire…’ he trailed off, a quirky smile on his lips. Perhaps he was remembering times when humans who wished him ill had tried to get close to him. I wrinkled my nose; it was something I didn’t want to contemplate too deeply. I had seen for myself what he was capable of.

‘Now,’ he said, ‘guns are an entirely different matter. When they were first used some two hundred years ago
, I did not pay them much heed. They were too unreliable and slow, and any manner of things could go wrong with them. They may have been effective against humans, but against vampires? Hah!’ He barked out a derisive laugh. ‘Even now, we are capable of ‘dodging the bullet’ as they say. And a simple bullet will not kill us.’

‘But what has all this got to do with wooden stakes?’ I asked, confused.

‘A stake through the heart will pulverise it,’ Roman said, his hand now caressing my neck absently. ‘It is traditionally wooden because an iron or steel one of sufficient girth would be too heavy and unwieldy for a human to easily use.’

‘So
, that’s where the wooden stake theory comes from,’ I pondered.

‘It has always been known, but since Bram Stoker published his novel, all the tales, whether they be true or not, have risen to the surface like oil in a water barrel. Luckily for my kind, humans still think wooden stakes are their only effective weapon. I do not intend to wait around until someone thinks to experiment with guns.’

‘But you just said a bullet won’t kill you.’

‘A normal bullet will not, but a dum-dum will. These bullets expand on impact and can tear a heart to pieces. Vampires’ hearts included.’ Roman’s hand ceased its stroking and he was quiet for a few seconds. ‘If I am to fight something
, then I need to know everything I can about my enemy,’ he said, finally.

‘Are humans your enemy now?’ I asked, not sure if I wanted to hear the answer.

‘No,’ he sighed, ‘you are still food, but your claws have gotten bigger.’ He propped himself up on one arm and looked down at me gravely. ‘Guns and explosives are not some of mankind’s better inventions,’ he declared.

An image of a mushroom cloud flashed across my mind and I shuddered at what I knew was going to happen.

‘It will get worse,’ I promised him and then, of course, I had to explain.

‘You are intent on destroying yourselves and everything on this earth. Your kind will not be content until you have obliterated each other.’ His voice was sad. ‘But there is so much that is exciting about you
; you have capabilities way beyond those of a vampire. Look at what has been invented so far: a box for capturing images, machines that can fly, machines that can enable man to live under the waves, electricity… Then there’s cinema and the automobile and Einstein – I must not forget the discoveries that Einstein has made.’

‘Don’t tell me you’ve met him?’

‘No, I have not, although I wish to.’ He paused and I couldn’t help but admire his naked beauty. He was all fired up about the theory of relativity, but the only thing I was fired up over was him! After what he had just done to me I was surprised if I could walk again, let alone contemplate a repeat performance, but contemplate I did.