Summary: Bella receives a birthday gift from her best friend, Angela: a spa day at her favorite spa. She goes in, not expecting anything but a relaxing day filled with pampering. But this is the say he chose to make his move. All he wants is to touch her, to bring her pleasure, but he gives her much more than just pleasure. he gives her eternity. Sweet, fluffy.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of Stephenie Meyer. The original plot is the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Warnings: explicit description of sex.
Grab a clean pair of underwear, lock the door, turn off your cell, and get ready for some smut!
It was getting colder again, and I could already smell the rain in the air. It was the middle of October, and my birthday was coming up. I wasn’t going to have a huge celebration, but I was definitely planning on spoiling myself rotten for once. Angela, my best and only friend in the world, had insisted that I should since I didn’t allow her to throw a party for me.
Being the bookworm that I was, I had graduated early from high school and had sped through college, finishing my degree—English Literature with a minor in Creative Writing—by the time I turned nineteen. I never really had any close friends due to the academic load, and I never minded that. I was too shy around people, and half the time, my mind was working out scenarios in my mind, making following a mundane conversation impossible for me.
I was very fortunate to come across Angela Weber during my first year in college. Her father was the owner of one of Seattle’s biggest publishing houses, and she was working on her master’s degree so that she could take over the company. We hadn’t shared any classes, so there had not been a reason for us to be close, but everything changed when we had—literally—bumped into each other in the library. We had both apologized and gathered our things, but as luck would have it, Angela had accidentally taken one of my stories with her amongst her own papers.
A week later, she approached me with an offer I just couldn’t refuse. I was so shocked that she liked the story I had written—a short story that lasted around fifteen pages—that I nearly missed the fact that she had mentioned the words “publish” and “pay”.
It had taken two hours of sitting in a café near campus before I fully understood what she was offering. Dazed, I made my way back to my dorm room, throwing myself into writing as soon as I passed the door. I had promised Angela to show her my previous work, but the idea that was born in my mind in the time I had spent sitting in that café after she was gone was just too enticing.
I nearly failed my classes that semester, but three months after our first meeting, I had the first draft ready. It was nearly 400 pages long and unedited, but it was better than anything I had ever written until that point. I had six more books planned—one of them already outlined into chapters—and with great trepidation, I gave Angela my draft and my outline.
I hadn’t heard from her for two weeks. I tried not to let it get to me, but when the third week rolled on, I knew that it was silly of me to wait any longer. I had been walking down the same street that I was walking in at the moment, deflated, when I saw the elegant sign of the beauty salon with a slogan that just caught me: “Because you’re worth it…”
I hadn’t see the name of the place, just the slogan, but I found myself walking into the beautiful shop. It was designed in warm, wooden, almost earthy tones, the walls white without being clinical. I had been a broke college student, so I could barely afford a manicure in a place like that, but I was so down that I thought I had deserved a treat. I was worth it.
Not three minutes after my nails had been painted, my cell phone rang. Angela’s name popped on the screen. Preparing myself for disappointment, I answered the call. I had begun smiling after her first sentence and, to my utmost embarrassment, had progressed to screaming like a schoolgirl after her third sentence. She wanted to publish my story. The wanted me. Her father’s company would pay me to write.
Today, two years after that event, I was making more money a month than my father did in a year as the Chief of Police in the small town of Forks. He was retired now, but he never left the small town and still volunteered to help with the neighborhood watch.
These days, I could afford, and often did, more than the manicure in the “Blossom Spa”, as I had come to learn was the name of the place I had walked into on that day. They had several masseuses on staff, and I came to know them all well. Once a month, I would spoil myself with a relaxing massage. Angela found it odd that I, having no interest in fashion or clothes, loved going to the spa so much, but she just didn’t understand. It wasn’t the final result that I cared about; it was the one hour a month in which no one would bother me, no one would call to say I was needed. It was the wonderful feeling of being completely unhinged and relaxed.
I always wrote my best chapters on the weekends after those monthly sessions.
This week, however, I wasn’t the one who made the reservations. Angela had insisted that if she was not allowed to give me a birthday present—I couldn’t allow her that, not after all that she had done for me—then my monthly treat was on her. It was a compromise I was willing to make, especially knowing that I would be able to pay her back with the chapters I wrote afterward.
I walked into the salon, greeting the receptionist by name as I usually did, and was immediately taken to my Angela-ordered treat.
It started with a warm bubble bath filled with aromatic oils and liquid soup that smelled like the forest after the rain. When I was clean, I wrapped myself in the soft cream robe and moved on to the manicure and pedicure. I chose a neutral pink color for my hands and a clear coat for my toes, and enjoyed the soft background music. The woman working on me didn’t need me to talk, which was a very good thing, considering my thoughts were already miles and miles away. I was already thinking about the next chapters in my book, my mind filled with the supernatural elements that I loved writing about so much.
When my nails were dried, I was led to a small room with a massage bed taking most of the space. There was a small screen for me to disrobe behind and get under the warm blanket on the massage bed. I was already relaxed from my bath and the pampering so far, so I almost missed the soft knock on the door.
“Come in,” I called.
My face was already placed in the right position on the bed, and I didn’t bother looking at the masseuse. My thoughts were once again drifting to a world of elves and magic. In the background, I heard the masseuse moving around and the sounds of waterfalls and singing birds fill the air, and I knew that he or she must have put the music on.
I was thinking about a particular battle scene when I felt the first touch on my back. The blanket that was covering me was pulled down to my waist, and soft, warm hands began massaging scented oil into my skin. I hummed in satisfaction and let my mind drift.
My body was being thoroughly kneaded and stretched. The most wonderful scent filled my nose. I had no name for it, but it reminded me of meadows filled with wildflowers and of hidden waterfalls. I always loved nature. Living in the rainy town of Forks, under the constant cover of clouds and with acres upon acres of natural forest, I would have been very miserable if I hadn’t.
I was perfectly relaxed and so thoroughly enjoying myself that I knew I would have been purring loudly if I were a member of the feline family.
I watched her countless times as she came to this place. I envied the men and women who touched her body, heard her humming in pleasure. I hated that their hands moved up and down her body in ways I wished mine would. I had waited, albeit not patiently, for the day that I could take the place of those people whom I had envied so. There was so much to think about, so much to prepare, and I was growing restless with each passing month as I watched, disgusted with myself for stalking her like that but unable to stop.
Today was the day.
It was easy enough to arrange for the switch. Money went a long way when it came to persuading people to look the other away. The rest of the technicalities were also fairly simple to address. It was the nervousness that washed over me as I heard her soft call to come in that caused my breath to hitch and my body to freeze for a moment.
I opened the door and stepped to my own little piece of heaven. She was lying face down on the massage bed in the middle of the slightly dim room. Her shoulders were bare, and the blanket that was covering her back and the curve of her behind was almost offensive to me. I wanted to see her whole body naked before me. I wanted to kiss every patch of skin.
Taking a deep breath, I locked the door behind me and prepared to settle for simply touching her, knowing that I would be the one bringing her pleasure this time around.
I inserted the CD I had brought with me in the player hidden in the corner of the room. The room was immediately filled with the recordings I had made in the week before—waterfalls on the way up to Mt. Rainer, birds chirping, the wind blowing in the meadow just five miles north of my home. The music was both for her benefit and my own. It would allow her to relax, and it would keep everyone outside the room from hearing the wonderful sounds that I knew she would make.
I arranged the oils I was going to use on the small shelf next to the stereo. They were as scentless as possible. I didn’t want anything that might overpower the natural scent of her. I poured a bit of oil into my palms and warmed my hands so that they wouldn’t feel cold to her warm skin. The room itself was warm—thanks to the central heating system of the spa—but lying motionless on the bed would cause her body temperature to slightly drop. That would make her feel cold, and I didn’t want to cause her any discomfort.
Once my hands were warm and slick from the oil, I pulled the blanket down to her waist, feasting on the beautiful sight of her bare back revealed to me. I bit back a moan when my hands first made contact with her skin. She was so warm, so soft…
I gently pressed on her shoulders, engulfing them with my fingers and pulling back to her back. Moving my hands in a circular motion, I progressed from her shoulders to her waist, gently pressing down on each side of her back. She was breathing slowly and evenly, and I matched my breathing to hers. I could feel her starting to relax beneath my touch. I smiled. It was an amazing feeling, touching her, knowing that I was bringing her comfort.
Her thoughts slowly filtered in through the music. They were very quiet, murmured whispers. I had never before been able to hear her. In my century of life, I had never come across a creature—human or one of my kind—whose thoughts I couldn’t hear. Until I came upon her, that is. Her mind was closed off to me at all times, and it nearly drove me mad.
It was the most amazing surprise to finally be able to hear her. Even though they were not complete thoughts, they were enough. As I worked on her back, I could see images of a lush green forest, images of a beautiful meadow filled with sunlight and wild flowers, and sometimes I would catch a sentence to accompany the image—a thought that had filtered through whatever shield she had on her mind.
I slowly worked my way up her back again, moving to her right shoulder, and from there, to her arm. I knew that she was an author, so when I heard words like “elf” and “magic,” I was not surprised. I had read her first novel, and just like her agent, Angela Weber, I had been captivated by it. She was not known worldwide just yet, but I knew that she would be. Her words on paper had captivated me almost as much as her silent mind and beautiful brown eyes had.
I moved on to her left side, leaving one hand always in contact with her body. I couldn’t let her go.
She sighed when I worked on her left arm, and her thoughts whispered, “So soft…so gentle.”
I smiled. It was amazing how much it meant to me, knowing that she enjoyed my touch as much as I enjoyed hers.
When my palm touched hers, we both gasped. It was like a jolt of pure delight swept over my body. I could hear a similar reaction in her thoughts. I couldn’t hear the words any longer, but I could get the general tone of enjoyment.
I moved to her legs after that, not wanting her to tense up any more than she had already did. I wanted to gain access to her mind again, and I realized that she had to be completely relaxed to allow me in. This time, unlike her arms, I worked from the outside in. I started with her feet. They were so small when I held them in my palms but so distinctively female. I almost hummed myself when I felt her relax and her whispered thoughts flooded me again. The background music change to the sound of rain falling, and after a few moments, the soft piano melody began to play.
I had written this piece when I was watching her one evening. She had been sitting in front of her computer, typing. Her expression was so focused, her eyes so animated with hidden secrets. When she had finished for the night and went about preparing for sleep, the melody was already forming in my mind. As I listened to the sound of running water and to the sounds of her heartbeat, the melody was perfected in my mind. I had recorded it on a rainy day that was absolutely perfect.
Now, as I was working the tension from her calves, I could hear that she loved the melody and the accompanying rain.
I closed my eyes, and I focused on her, slowing the movements of my hands over her thighs, I listened to her thoughts. They were getting clearer to me.
Mmm…I love this melody. It is so perfect with the drops of rain in the background.
I saw her picturing a room in a wooden cabin with large windows. Rain was falling on the glass, and she was leaning against a black polished surface. As her thoughts evolved, I could see that the surface was a piano.
I could see hands touching her in her thoughts, and I listened, almost mesmerized, as the tone to the scene changed. Her thoughts turned less peaceful and more longing. She began picturing hands touching her. It took me a moment to realize that she was thinking about my hands, which were currently working on her lower back, touching her.
I moved my palms slightly outward, caressing her waist in what was only semi-legitimate caress of a massage. She hummed in approval when I slowly moved upwards to her ribs. In her minds, I could see that she was picturing herself in the same warm room, facing the same rainy window, but this time, the tone was more lustful. She was picturing my hands moving higher than they were at that moment, cupping her breasts. I heard her moaning very quietly, and the sound went straight to my loins.
If her little fantasy had made me lust after her, that little moan had turned what was already a growing arousal into a raging hard on. I almost moaned myself at the pictures she was imagining.
I pulled away the blanket that was covering her and started working on her behind. It wasn’t part of the massage she had usually ordered—clients that had paid for a full body massage remained in their undergarments. However, she didn’t know that because this time the order had been placed by her friend.
The soft flesh of her rear was so supple that I wanted to lean in and give it a gentle bite. Not hard, not one that would cause her pain, oh no. Pain was the last thing I wanted her to feel. I wanted to tease her as much as she was teasing me, albeit unbeknownst to her.
No longer capable of keeping the pretense of a professional massage, I began caressing her body with reverence. Her skin was warm, and the constant contact with her had warmed my hands so that they were no longer cold. I was free to touch her, and I did.
From the top of her shoulders and onto her neck, I caressed her. She was humming again, slightly moaning at the pleasant sensation. Each sound was going straight to my groin. I leaned over her head, inhaling the scent of her hair and breathing over the skin of the back of her neck.
She shivered slightly, but her thoughts were approving.
I registered that the shiver was both due to the chillness of my breath as well as the pleasure my touch had brought her. I didn’t want her to be cold, so I reached with my hand and raised the temperature on the thermometer.
I leaned forward above her head, sliding my hands down her back, my thumbs pressing gently on either side of her spine. I brought my hands back, and when I moved them down again, I spread my hands wider, caressing the sides of her body, my fingers gently—almost unintentionally—grazing the sides of her breasts.
The most wonderful scent began filling the room. It was intoxicating. More alluring then her blood, her arousal began permeating the air, and I felt myself beginning to softly purr. I wanted to rub myself on her. I wanted to cover her with my own scent and relish in her scent on my body.
I grew bolder as I continued to massage her, lightly grazing the sides of her breasts, kneading her ass and slightly pulling it upwards. I could smell her getting more and more aroused, and the fantasy that was playing in her mind was driving me crazy.
She was still stifling her moans, and while I could hear them just fine, I wanted her to let herself enjoy what I was doing to her. She was a little embarrassed that she was so turned on, and she was trying to convince herself that my touches were innocent, when they were the furthest thing from innocent as was possible.
I wasn’t going to have none of that. Gently, I moved down to her thighs, spreading them just a little farther apart. I wrapped my hands around her right leg and proceeded to massage her from her foot all the way up to her ass, gently dipping my hands to her inner thigh but not touching her core. She was breathing heavily when I moved on to her left leg, repeating the process in slow, measure movements. I wanted her to be so overcome with desire that she forgot everything but my touch.
She whimpered audibly the next time I made a pass between her thighs.
God, just a little closer, I heard her beg in her mind. The mental image that followed nearly brought me to my knees. As it were, it did make me moan under my breath. It was loud enough for her to hear, but she was too preoccupied with her fantasy to actually do so.
My hands continued to massage her thighs as I drowned myself in her fantasy. It was still raining, and there was now a fire crackling in the fireplace. She was leaning on a pile of pillows, her legs spread, her head throw back, gloriously naked and enjoying herself as someone—he was nothing more than an impression—was sliding his fingers in and out of her, teasingly licking her and lapping at her juices.
Seeing this from her perspective was so arousing that it was almost painful. Almost without my permission, my fingers began traveling up her thighs, making circles around the cheeks of her ass, slowly closing in. I wanted to give her what she wished for. I wanted to be the man she was now picturing taking her from behind, plunging himself into her warmth as she moaned and mewled in pleasure.
Yes, oh, God. Please.
I was powerless to resist. I raised one hand to the apex of her thighs and gently made a pass over the very damp curls of her sex.
I was beyond coherent thought when his hands—those amazingly talented hands—made a pass between my legs. I had never felt so aroused in my life. I’d been too socially awkward during my high school years to have a boyfriend, and in college, I simply didn’t have time to date. I did experiment by myself, but nothing had ever felt this good.
My fantasy of this faceless man was no longer under my control. It dissolved when reality turned to be so much better than anything I could have imagined.
I wanted him. I wanted his hands, his mouth, his body…everything.
“Turn around and close your eyes,” he whispered next to my ear.
I shivered. I didn’t have time to think if this was a smart thing to do. I didn’t have time to feel embarrassed. It was the first time I had heard his voice, and it was as smooth as the touch of his hands. It was absolutely enticing, and I obeyed.
His hands were slightly colder than my skin, and when he touched me—an innocent touch on my knee—I bit down on my lips and moaned as quietly as I could muster. I didn’t want anyone hearing me, but I couldn’t hold in all these emotions.
He gently pulled me down the bed, bringing my legs over his shoulders. He kneeled, and a moment later, I felt those wonderful fingers of his spread me for him in slow passes. It was a play on my fantasy, and I didn’t hold in the cry of pleasure when I felt his mouth—slightly chilly—touch my most sensitive spot. I felt myself arch, and my hands grabbed his head, holding on to the silk strands of his hair as he began licking and lapping and driving me completely beyond reasonable thought.
I trembled and moaned under his ministrations. No one, ever, did that to me. I had been kissed before, and after graduation even got past first base to actually have a guy feel my breasts under my shirt in the back of a car. It was awkward and not half as good as this man’s massage. Now, I was beyond uncharted territory, but it felt so good that I didn’t care.
The rough texture of his tongue was so amazingly arousing. He used his fingered to let his tongue plunge slightly inside me, and I was ready to scream. I was on the verge of something, but I didn’t know what; it never felt this good.
“Oh, God, yes…This feels, oh, so amazing.” I didn’t mean to say it out loud, but the words fell out of my mouth before I could stop them. “Yes…please.”
I didn’t know what I was begging for, but I was out of breath, and I needed it. It was scary and good all at the same time.
God, whatever it is, I need it right the hell NOW.
And then I felt his finger slide inside me, and everything exploded. I heard myself yell, but I was beyond caring as wave after wave of the most carnal pleasure imaginable washed over me.
What the hell was that?
It was a fleeting thought, lasting no longer then a second in the jumbled mess that was absolute delight. I could have sworn that I had just had a heart attack, only it felt too good to be bad. My heart was beating so loudly that I heard it in my ears as though it was a drum, but before I was able to set my breathing straight, the man slid a second finger inside me and did something that threw me into the same vortex as before.
I was being pulled down again, but this time I knew that there was the best kind of pleasure waiting for me on the other side.
I knew I was chanting something along the lines of, “Yes, oh God, please, yes,” and I thought I had heard him chuckle. That was not important. My mind had no room to think about anything beyond that wonderful sensation that was once again building inside me.
It was so much quicker this time. He was doing something so good with his mouth and his fingers; I knew his hands were talented when he was giving me a massage, but this was a thousand times more powerful. I cried out again when I was hit with that pleasure, but there was no fear in me.
I felt tears forming in my eyes and flowing down my cheeks. I heard myself laugh in delight as I slowly hovered down from the clouds. I slumped down on the bed, catching my breath and smiling like a fool.
Oh. My. God. Best birthday present ever. The thought was so sudden that I laughed harder at it. Happy birthday to me.
I don’t know how long I was in my own little bubble of blissful happiness, but when my heart finally stopped trying to jump out of my chest and my lungs were once again full of air, I found myself unwilling to open my eyes.
He was still caressing me, but this time it was in relaxing caresses. I sighed happily. I never wanted to move again.
It seemed like he had other ideas, though. As soon as my breathing even out, and I felt myself almost drifting to sleep, he began kissing the inside of my thigh. His kisses were so light that at first they tickled me, but I found myself moaning when his hands moved upward and cupped both of my breasts. His mouth was going from one thigh to the other, teasing me, while his hands worked on kneading my breasts just as thoroughly as he had done to the rest of my body.
I didn’t know that I could go from complete satisfaction to complete starvation so quickly. My hands covered his out of their own accord, and while it did make me blush, it felt too good. His hands and my hands, intertwined over my soft flesh.
I moved my hands over his wrists and down to his arms, feeling as much of him as I could reach. He was muscular and yet slightly cold to the touch. I thought about opening my eyes to look at him, but then he gently pinched my nipples between his fingers and his mouth was suddenly on me again.
“Oh, my…” My voice cracked in the middle of the sentence and the rest of it was lost amongst these wonderful new—yet already familiar—sensations.
I felt almost guilty that I was the only one to enjoy myself. I wanted him to feel the same pleasure as I did, and a part of me wanted to know how it would feel to have more of him. What would his chest feel like when it was naked under my fingers? How wide were his shoulders? Was he tall?
I wanted to see him, to touch him. I wanted to kiss him and find out if he was just as talented with his mouth on my upper lips as he was on the nether ones. I felt the heat rise in my cheeks at the thought. I had never contemplated such thoughts. Truth be told, I never had a reason to.
I opened my mouth to speak, to plead with him to allow me to look at him, but found my mouth preoccupied. His kiss was everything I had ever imagined a kiss should be. It was soft but deep, almost loving. My hands were in his hair once again, and I hummed in delight when I felt his chest—his bare chest—against my body.
I was suddenly being moved. His arms wrapped around me, holding me close to him, and I was lifted from the bed and brought down on the blanket that had previously been used to cover me. The floor was carpeted and the blanket was thick enough so that it would feel comfortable, and a part of my mind—a very small part—was able to register that in between his kisses.
I was much more focused on his mouth and his tongue. He was devouring my mouth, yet he was gentle about it. It was as though he was set on giving me as much pleasure as he possibly could, with every single part of his body.
I didn’t even notice that he was cradled between my legs until he bucked his hips slightly, and I felt the evidence of his own arousal press into me. For the first time since he had touched me, I allowed myself free reign over his body. He kept kissing me like a starving man who found an oasis after many days in the hot desert, his mouth leaving mine only to catch a breath and to kiss my neck. I used my hands to study his broad shoulders, the hard plains of his back, and although it made me blush, I even grabbed his firm ass in my hands as he rocked into me. He was all muscle, and I was certain that he was a very strong man, but the gentleness he had shown me so far was proof that he wouldn’t use that strength to hurt me.
His mouth on my neck was very distracting, and soon I was anxious to get him to the same state of undress that I was in. I was thankful for the cotton pants he was wearing; jeans would have been much harder to push off of his hips using my feet.
“So soft,” he murmured, his breath tickling my neck. “So delicate.”
I whimpered and pressed myself upward. My nipples brushed against his chest, which was much colder than I had expected him to be, and I moaned when the caress made my stomach tighten in anticipation. I was suddenly curious as to how his mouth would feel on my breasts. He was amazing when he went down on me, and he was an amazing kisser. I had no doubt that it would be just as pleasurable.
“I want…” I hesitated. I felt myself blushing and bit my lip.
“Anything,” he breathed.
And as if reading my mind, his lips traveled down my neck to my collarbone and to my chest. His body moving slightly lower, I was able to push his pants further away, and this time he didn’t stop me. He shook away his pants and began licking a path to my right nipple, flicking it gently. I couldn’t hold my eyes closed any longer. I had to see him. I opened my eyes to see his lips close around my nipple and the sight was almost as erotic as the feeling itself.
He was beautiful. His eyes, dark ambers looking straight into me, his hair, disheveled by my hands, was an odd mix of browns and reds, and his lips…those amazingly talented lips were wrapped around my nipple, and he was sucking it. Every motion of his mouth had a direct connection to the coil tightening in the pits of my stomach.
I couldn’t take my eyes away from him, and it appeared as though he was of the same mind. As he moved from one nipple to the other, his eyes never left mine, and I saw him smirk in what was possibly the sexiest expression I had ever seen in my life.
She was absolutely beautiful in her passion. I was feeling mighty proud of myself after giving her so much pleasure, and the raw passion I saw written all over her face when she opened her eyes to see me holding her nipple between my lips was the most satisfying of them all.
I had seen this done hundreds of times, in the minds of hundreds of humans and vampires alike, but I could never have imagined what it would be like to bring pleasure to someone like her. Someone I cared deeply about. Someone I now feared I would never be able to let go of.
She was mine. I was certain of that fact, just as I was certain that I was hers.
I found that I could read her more easily when I was looking into her eyes. Her thoughts were a bit clearer, and I heard the desire she did not dare speak. Even after everything I had done to her, she was still shy about asking things. I heard her tone of embarrassment and her curiosity when I brought her to her release, but I thought she would have understood that I would do anything to please her.
Now that I was as bare as her, it was harder to resist taking her. I wanted to prolong her pleasure, but felt my own needs rising to the surface. Her bucking her hips into mine, causing me to graze her sex every time, were almost overwhelming.
Leaning on my elbow, I let go of her nipples and looked into her eyes, my hand cupping her cheek. I wanted to be inside her. I wanted to feel that warmth that I had felt with my fingers and mouth before. I moved slightly higher, positioning myself just right so that all it would take was a small nudge and I would be inside her.
She suddenly broke into a brilliant smile, and I heard her thoughts echoing in my head. I never thought I’d feel this way, never thought I’d see anyone look at me with so much emotion.
I leaned closer to her lips and she met me half way, and I knew that she wanted this as much as I did. I took her mouth at the same time as I pressed myself into her. She cried against my lips, but it wasn’t in pleasure this time; it was in pain. Stunned, I froze.
Had I been too rash? Had I lost control over my own strength? Had I misjudged my movements?
I pulled away from her lips, not daring to move beyond that, and saw a tear escape her eyes, which were shut tightly.
“I’m so-sorry,” I mumbled. “I didn’t mean to…I didn’t…Are you…?”
I tried listening to her thoughts, but they were closed before me; she had her walls up again. I waited, desperate for her to open her eyes, to know what had happened. I was nearly out of my mind with worry, but I was too afraid to make another movement that might hurt her more.
She blushed, and I grew even more confused. Her hips moved against me, causing me to slide gently back and forth inside her tight warmth. I moaned; the sensation was just too good, and then she did it again.
It was only when I smelled it that I realized what had happened and felt like the worst kind of idiot. At any other occasion, her blood, especially freshly spilled, would have been irresistible to me. Right now, however, I couldn’t even bring myself to think about anything other than turning the pain into pleasure for her.
Encouraged by her movements, I began making slow, careful movements inside her, allowing her to adjust to the intrusion of my body while trying to keep my mind off of my instincts, which were screaming at me to move faster, plunge into her harder.
I wanted to push my own satisfaction to the side, but she wouldn’t let me. Her eyes locked with mine again, and her movements grew bolder. She was answering every thrust of my body with an upward buck of her hips. Soon, I could barely think straight anymore. The last trace of sanity I had was focused on keeping my strength at bay as my own pleasure took over me, and I shuddered in release.
She held me, her small, weak arms and legs wrapped around my body as I found my pleasure in her heat. This was better than the sweetest blood I had ever tasted. I knew that the only thing that could ever be better would be to taste her blood straight from the vein, and that was something that I could never bring myself to do. It was impossible for me to hurt her in that way.
I hummed and felt myself purring quietly as the haze of passion began to clear from my mind. I slid out of her body, biting back a groan at the separation, but I saw her wince and knew I needed to give her time to adjust.
“Don’t move,” I whispered to her.
She nodded, her brows slightly furrowing in confusion.
I stood up and walked to the shelf with the oils. Under the shelf was a small sink with a towel hanging next to it. I drenched the towel, squeezed the excess water out, and returned to my girl. She did not move; her eyes seemed to be watching my every movement. Her expression was peaceful, almost smug, and I felt myself smiling in return.
Kneeling beside her, I used the towel to gently wash the sweat and massage oil from her body. I followed my hands with my eyes and felt my arousal grow with each contact I made with her skin. When I finished with her torso, I gently parted her legs again and positioned myself between them. Deserting the towel, I began kissing her, licking the mixture of our fluids and the minute trace of her blood. It was as sweet as I had imagined it to be. When one thigh was clean, I moved to the other. I could smell her arousal building up again and could hear her heartbeat picking up once more.
“May I taste you?” I asked.
She had a small smile on her lips. “You didn’t ask the first time.”
I would have been worried had it not been for the amused tone and the fact that her smile never wavered. I wanted her to feel pleasure again, to make her forget the pain I had caused. Even if causing it was unavoidable, I wished to erase the memory of it from her mind.
It was as intense as it had been the first time I had tasted her. However, knowing the feeling of being inside her, I couldn’t stop the desire to feel it again. This should be about her pleasure, I reminded myself, but the little minx was having none of it. I had heard the direction of her thoughts even before she tried to pulling upwards.
“I need you,” she said, her tone husky and barely audible. “Please.”
Torn between wanting to give her what she wanted—what we both wanted—and not wanting to cause her pain, I tried to insert two fingers inside her. There was no trace of pain in her mind or in her expression, there was only pleasure. I began curling my fingers upward as I moved them in and out, but she stopped me.
“No.” She shook her head. “I need to feel you.”
There was no will left in me to object; we both wanted it, and she was not hurting anymore.
I expected him to slide upward when I saw his resolve melt and felt his fingers leave me, but he didn’t cover me with his body; instead, he lay down next to me and pulled me on top of him. I went willingly, curious and more than a little aroused. The initial pain was only there for a moment, and while there was slight discomfort afterward, now there was nothing but the tingling of anticipation.
“Take as much of me as you want,” he whispered.
I felt myself flush with heat, not from embarrassment but from desire. I lifted myself up on my knees, took him in my hand, and slowly sank down. My eyes closed as he filled me, inch after delicious inch. I was so wet, so prepared by him that I felt nothing but pleasure as I took him deep into my body.
His hands came to rest on my thighs, encouraging, and I opened my eyes to look at his face. His strong jaw was slightly clenched, and something told me that he was working very hard on keeping himself from rushing me. I didn’t really know what to do in the position that I was in, but knowing that his fingers had felt good inside me and that just before I felt him shudder above me, his thick length felt even better, I attempted to move my hips. The jolt of pleasure was so powerful and unexpected that I moaned and threw my head back. I repeated the motion, mimicking what seemed like the movements one would make when riding a horse, and felt his hands tighten slightly over my thighs.
It took great effort to open my eyes as I was moving on top of him. The friction in this position was in all the right spots, and I already felt the first shudders of pleasure begin. I wanted to see his eyes, his face. I wanted to know that what I was doing was every bit as amazing to him as it was amazing to me.
I found almost black eyes staring intensely at me. His expression was somewhere between pain and pleasure, and I felt pride for being able to bring him to this state. I understood how it felt—so good that it was almost painful.
Every moment brought him deeper inside me. I wanted more. I needed more. I was going faster and could no longer hold my eyes open. It was the most selfish moment—that second in which everything but the pleasure he was bringing me disappeared. I gasped when I felt him move to sit up and his mouth on my breast. He began suckling on my nipples, slightly harder that he did before, and suddenly, his fingers were between us, pressing the sensitive place just above where we were connected and I climaxed.
I felt him shudder as well, felt his twitch inside me, but that was in the background. The shocking pleasure traveling from my core, up my spine, and into every cell and nerve of my body was at the forefront. The pleasure was all-consuming, so much so that I didn’t feel him bite down on my neck until much later when I suddenly began to grow unnaturally cold.
I only realized what I had done after she had gone limp in my arms. I found myself kissing and licking her neck, just above the place where I had bitten her. I felt both horrified and proud at the same time. I did not mean for it to happen, but the instinctual part of me knew that it had to. She was mine. I would not let another touch her, ever again.
And now she would be mine forever.
She wasn’t screaming yet, but that part would come soon enough. I needed to get her out of here. I wrapped her body in the robe and laid her on the massage bed. Using my natural speed, I gathered her things from the shower room and returned to the room where she lay still.
Going for the window, I carried her to my car, and after placing her carefully in the backseat, sped away at full throttle.
I drove as quickly as I could, making it to my mountain cabin in less than two hours. It was much fancier than the one my girl had pictured in her mind, but I thought that she would like it nonetheless. I had learned enough about her to know that she preferred the simple over the grand, and I hoped that the peaceful beauty of the surrounding forest and the nearby lake would be enough to charm her.
As hours passed and she had yet to make a sound, I was growing worrisome. She should be in pain by now, thrashing and screaming, and yet, she was as still as stone, sans her heartbeat. I hated leaving her, but I knew that she would need clothes at the very least. Waking up would be confusing enough without being naked.
I decided to run to her apartment. It was nighttime and an unfamiliar car would draw too much attention. I entered through her window and quickly packed her belongings. Clothes, photos, her laptop, everything I could find went into two large bags. She really didn’t have that much, and furniture were a bit impractical to carry in the middle of the night, especially across state lines.
I was back by her side before the end of the first day of her change. I bathed and dressed her, and then laid her back on the bed again. It was the one piece of furniture that I had never thought I would need, but when I was decorating this cabin, it just seemed right to get one. I liked to lie on it as I read or listened to music. In some ways, it made me feel a little less of a wild beast.
As the second day approached and there was still no sound from my girl, I thought I was going to lose my mind worrying. Her mind had closed off the moment I had bit her, and there were no thoughts filtering in, even though I kept my hands in constant contact with her skin, so I was beyond thrilled when at the end of the second day, as I lay hugging her, I saw a glimpse of her mind. It was like watching a human dream, images so vivid and disjointed. I was almost hypnotized.
Was it possible that she was not feeling the pain at all, that she was sleeping peacefully in my arms?
I kept watching throughout the second day and into the third as her dreams began to make more sense. She was thinking about the hours we had spent making love in the spa, and from the tone of her thoughts, she was fond of the memory. I closed my eyes and completely immersed myself in her thoughts.
Some time into the third day, I heard a new sound from her. Her heart was still beating fairly quickly, but this new sound, although coming from her chest was not a heartbeat; it was a purr. I wrapped myself around her, burying my nose in the crook of her neck and began purring myself. I knew that it was not a conscious response, but the sound was the most beautiful sound to me in the whole world.
Soon, I was kissing her neck, nibbling gently on the permanent scar that was my mark. Her purrs were slowly growing louder, and so were mine. I knew that I shouldn’t be doing this, but I felt my body respond to her presence, regardless. It was stronger than it had been when she was human. The desire to claim her again was almost crippling, and her purrs did nothing to discourage me. When day three was drawing to a close, I knew that I should get up, give her space, but as soon as I made to move, her hands grabbed me, her eyes snapped open and she growled.
That was quite possibly the sexiest thing I had ever heard or seen since watching her come apart in my mouth.
Her purrs grew louder and mine echoed. I watched her eyes as she eyes me hungrily, and in a matter of a heartbeat—hers, since her heart still seemed to be beating—she was straddling me again.
Clothes were ripped off, both mine and hers, under the impatient hands of the both of us. I needed her, and she seemed to be in the same mind set. However, just as she was about to sink down on me, I rolled us over and held myself above her.
She would have to learn soon enough that she was not the dominant one. I was.
I thrust inside her much harder than I could have when she was human, and although she growled at me, it ended in a purr. As soon as I was sheathed inside her, she began rocking her hips and I let go of the reigns. I kissed her with all the desperation, fear, and love that I had felt for her, and both felt and heard the same emotions echo in her mind. I was moving faster, making deeper thrusts as she wrapped her legs around my waist.
“Mine.” I growled the word.
Her piercing crimson eyes shot open, and she growled back at me. “Mine.”
I needed her so much. She was the other half of my soul, and I knew that I could not exist without her. Hearing her agree, feeling the desperation with which we clung to each other, it was better than any gentle soothing anyone could have offered at that moment.
I kissed her on her mouth once more and then moved to her neck, allowing her access to mine. She attacked immediately, nibbling, licking, and kissing along my collarbone and up my neck. I sped up my thrusting, no longer able to keep an even pace, and felt myself getting close. I wanted her with me, wanted her to feel every bit of pleasure I could give her before I took my own.
Words were too hard to form, and coherent sentences were so far beyond me they might as well be a foreign language. I growled and purred in her ear, and then gently bit down on her neck. I felt her fluttering on the verge of an orgasm, her body pulsating around mine. I broke skin at the same time as she bit me, marking me as hers for all of eternity. There would be time to talk later, time to show her how to hunt down the animals to slake her thirst, time to tell her about the rest of my family and bring her to meet them. There would be time for that later, much, much later…because right now, there was nothing more important to me than to give pleasure to my mate and take pleasure in her.
Thank you for reading,
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Summary: There were many stories and rumors going around the small town regarding the old mansion deep in the forest. Some believed them wholeheartedly while others were skeptic, but no one could deny that if you were to walk in the forest on a dark night, you might not find the way back to your loved ones ever again.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of Stephenie Meyer. The original plot is the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Thank you to FranklynnR and MissRebecca for pre-reading this one-shot and to I.T.P for the beta.
Warnings: Language, violence, and sex.
There were many stories and rumors going around the small town regarding the old mansion deep in the forest. Some said that it had once belonged to a Baron who had killed his own wife after finding her in bed with the servant. The servant was said to have been able to escape the murderous rage of the cuckolded husband only to soon find his death at the hands of the Baron’s eldest son.
Another story told of a beautiful young maiden brought to the mansion to be married off to the Lord’s youngest child, a boy no more than sixteen years of age. However, the boy’s two older brothers, both married at the time, wanted to have the maiden for themselves and threw their younger brother into the garden well. The girl tried to run from the two men, but they caught up with her at the top room of the northern tower and had their way with her for hours while the help listened to the poor girl’s screams. When the men were finished and were getting dressed, the girl is said to have turned to the window and jumped to her death.
The town’s fool told an even scarier story, one that involved a beautiful demon luring young men away from their wives, and when those men crossed into the mansion’s lands, they were forever lost because the demon had taken their souls away. Only few had listened to the man, and even fewer believed that he had any grain of truth in his words.
There was no denying that at night, the mansion did look ominous. Even during the day, those who were brave enough to come upon it told that there was an eerie feeling about it.
Brave—or stupid—youth challenged each other to sneak into the forest and walk up to the northern tower where the girl had jumped or to the third floor bedroom on the eastern side where the husband had been cuckolded. Some even hoped to meet the mysterious and beautiful demon that the fool kept babbling about.
Centuries down the road, the stories evolved; new ones were spun and old ones were forgotten, but as modern times rolled in, the small town that had once thrived nearby was no longer, and the mansion was all but forgotten.
This set of circumstances was exactly what made the old mansion a perfect place for Isabella Swan to call home. She had thrived on the local folklore—and on the local folk—for decades. There were plenty of humans dumb enough to risk a visit into the scary mansion, and when the need rose and there wasn’t a human lurking in the mansion’s gardens, she would venture out into a tavern and charm a young, warm-blooded male or female to come with her, only to feast on them in a dark alley.
The humans were nothing more than walking blood-bags that occasionally provided a physical relief on another basic need. However, it was the occasional wayfarer of her own kind that kept her from being too lonely. Those who were amenable had also kept her from becoming too frustrated with the breakable human lovers she had taken to her bed before making a meal out of them. There even were occasions when the passer by thought to stake claim—on both her and the land, but they were proven wrong very quickly. Isabella had been trained by several excellent fighters. Her gift had rendered any mental attack completely useless and hindered many physical gifts as well.
As time passed, she grew bored with the world, only bothering to leave her mansion to feed. Rumors of her skill traveled quickly enough through the relatively small vampire community, and as rumors went, the stories had been colored and embellished each time they were told. Having never lost a fight—no one got close enough to even leave a bite mark on her body—Isabella was just itching for the next challenge, so when the rumors served to chase away the cowards and bring over those who had deemed themselves worthy, she was mighty pleased about it.
Some challengers ran as soon as they saw that they did not stand a chance while others stayed and fought until it was clear that they couldn’t win. She destroyed those altogether. One thing she had learned in her long years was to never leave a grudge-holding vampire alive for too long. She had made that mistake once, and the moron brought on five newborns to help him take her down.
That fight might have been a challenge for her had it not been for the rumors working both ways; the challenger was careless in the creation of his newborns, and when at last he decided to launch his assault, the surprise attack was not much of a surprise, and Isabella was well prepared. She didn’t need newborns of her own, oh no. All she needed was the maze of rooms that was the mansion. She left several bleeding humans for his newborns to find, and then plucked them one by one while they were too crazed with bloodlust to pose any threat.
The challenger’s head had then been placed on a spike in her front yard, a warning for others and an entertainment for Isabella.
The vampire was infamously known as the Major. The head of Maria’s newborn army, he was Ares, the God of War, one of the most feared vampires on earth. Even the Volturi, with their gifted guards and power hungry rulers, kept their distance from him.
He fed when he wanted, fucked who he wanted, and killed anyone who was foolish enough to try to stop him from doing either. He had his discipline and knew how to install it in those he led in countless battles for territory. He knew how and when to curb his appetite, and knew when it was smarter to appear weak and lure the enemy into a trap. He knew more ways of torture than all of his enemies combined—and he had plenty of those. In fact, those same enemies had often found themselves on the receiving end of said tortures, but they were usually reduced to dust long before the newly acquired knowledge could be put to use.
The newborns around him were either smart enough to fear and obey him, or they were submitted to the creative punishments by his hand. The Major had no qualms about using every means necessary to achieve his goals, and if a newborn was too thick to learn, he or she would have been quickly disposed of. It was survival of the fittest, and newborns were easily replaced.
The Captain, his second in command, and the Captain’s mate, the Lieutenant, were only second to the Major. They had both been sired by him and taught by him, and they were feared and respected almost as much as the Major was. Lately, however, the two had been worried about their sire. He had always been stoic and kept to himself, his face almost always empty of expression, but this was different. It took them a while before it became apparent that he was simply bored, and they quickly began making contingency plans. They both knew that they would follow the Major through hell and high water, so all they waited for was the sign.
The Major stood at the edge of their camp, distancing himself from the noise and the onslaught of emotions that were constantly running high in Maria’s army. He stared at the empty sky, seemingly bored out of his mind, but he was anything but bored. He was vigilant. He knew that he was about to be betrayed, had felt it for a while, and his patience was running thinner than a human’s skin.
Frankly, his departure was long past due. There was nothing left in the south to hold his interest. The other covens might try to pick on Maria’s turf every once in a while, but none of them were much of a threat, much of a challenge. Maria, he had felt, was coming to realize it, and the Major knew that she was just foolish enough to think that she could try to get rid of him and suffer no consequences.
The attack came two days later. Maria had gathered several of the strongest vampires in her army and tried to ambush the Major while he was on a mission, disposing of yet another uprising. The Captain and the Lieutenant were none too pleased with her cowardly attempt, and having been forewarned by the Major himself, had kept close to camp. When Maria left, headed toward the Major, they followed. When she attempted to launch her attack, they disposed of her newborns with ease, leaving the traitorous bitch for the Major himself to handle.
Although he could, the Major did not even bother playing with her. In quick, succinct movements, Maria was in pieces and burning along with the rest of her army. The few newborns that had been left behind scattered when they saw the Major return without the Mistress, and it took only a simple glance from the Major for the Captain and Lieutenant to follow through with the destruction of Maria’s army.
The trio traveled together for some time thereafter, but the two mates were eager to spend some time alone with each other, and the Major decided that it was time to part ways for a while. They would meet again; all three of them knew it. It was only a matter of time.
Jasper Whitlock had grown tired of the American’s, so after parting ways with his second in command and his mate, Jasper went up north. He crossed great deserts of snow, seeing and feeling the cold white for the first time in his life, but the vast forests and high mountains did not hold his attention for long.
Slowly, Jasper had begun to lose interest in the nomadic lifestyle. He didn’t miss the constant fighting for feeding ground; he had had enough of that in the past century or so, but this almost too peaceful existence was mind boggling.
At some point, Jasper considered going to Italy and staying with the Volturi for a while. The feeding wouldn’t have been much of a challenge, but the chance to at least spar with some of the best fighters on earth was appealing. It wasn’t until he overheard a French nomad speaking of a mysterious Lady of the Mansion that Jasper’s interest was suddenly sparked.
He made his way over by foot; running always seemed a more natural way for him to travel. As he approached the forest, he could smell her in the air and slowed down. He wanted her to know that he was coming, to prepare. There was no fun in beating an opponent that was caught off guard, and Jasper intended to have as much fun with this rival as was possible.
He crossed the forest at a slow pace, almost as slow as a human’s would have been. Upon coming to an iron fence, he noticed an interesting piece of decoration: the head of a vampire impaled on one of the spikes. He smirked. So that part of the story must be true then, he thought as he easily jumped over the spikes. It was clearly a warning sign, but Jasper was never one to listen to warnings.
She stood on the front porch, leaning on one of the pillars with an almost bored expression. Her dark hair was gathered into one long braid that ended somewhere around her thighs. Jasper took another step forward, tasting her emotions and admiring the smooth curves of her body. She was slim, and if it weren’t for her eyes and the natural aura around her that spoke of confidence, she could have been just another peasant’s daughter. He could taste no fear in her but plenty of anticipation. There were also suspicion and an underlining stream of boredom, one that he had recognized in himself. The last emotion he sensed was also familiar: lust. He found that it was not only the echo of her emotions that had swept through his body but his own lust as well.
“You’re trespassing,” she spoke calmly. “That’s rude.”
Jasper smirked. “I was never one to follow the rules.”
He’s a cocky one, Isabella thought as she examined the stranger standing before her. He wore simple clothes that were meant for travel. His dirty blond curls were slightly disheveled, which meant that he had run at least part of the way, and his eyes were shining with unhidden interest. He was the epitome of the wrong kind of guy, but she had always loved them bad and wrong.
“You don’t seem to heed to warnings, either,” she stated, giving the tiniest of nods toward the spiked fence. She knew that he must have seen the severed vampire’s head since he came from the correct direction. “Are you looking for trouble?”
The question was asked in an even tone, but Jasper could sense the anticipation and thrill hidden behind it. “Oh, I think I’ve found it.”
“I’d say that you have.” She disappeared from the entryway almost too quickly for him to see.
Jasper felt his inner beast roar with joy. This vampire would be a formidable rival, and he would most definitely enjoy taming her. He didn’t want to defeat her, oh no. He wanted to ravish her. It wasn’t the first time he had felt such a desire running through his body, and just like always, he knew that he would not rest until he fulfilled it.
Isabella raised her shield as soon as she was away from his line of sight. She retreated into the mansion where her dessert for the evening was waiting for her. The man that she had previously intended to ravish no longer seemed appetizing for her. However, that did not mean that he could not be of use to her. She listened as the stranger began searching the mansion for her, feeling him sometimes pricking at her shield, and smirked; she would be harder to trace than he had thought.
Holding her hand over the human’s mouth to keep him from screaming, she made a cut down his arm and moved from the basement to the towers, spreading the scent of freshly spilled blood in vampire speed. Once she was satisfied that the mansion smelled like blood everywhere, she drained what was left in the human’s veins and dropped the body into the garden well.
Jasper appeared in the back yard the moment she had dropped the body. He was both intrigued and slightly put off by the fact that he couldn’t track her emotions. As far as his gift was concerned, there was no vampire standing not ten feet away from him, just void space. She was smirking at him.
“The stories didn’t mention you to be a coward,” he remarked.
Isabella wasn’t shaken. “You shouldn’t believe everything you hear.”
He took a step forward. “True. Your gift for stealth wasn’t mentioned, either.”
Isabella shrugged, remaining in her position even as he took two more steps forward. The moonlight reflected from this stranger’s skin, showcasing his scars, and she knew that he wasn’t a novice like the rest of the nomads that had passed by. This one was a fighter.
“I wonder what else they had gotten wrong in the stories.” Jasper tried to sense her emotions again, reaching out with his gift, trying to find out what she was feeling.
He saw no fear cross her expression, and her eyes showed only determination. He was surprised to find her appealing, even beautiful. It had been a long time since he saw beauty in any creature.
“Americans.” Isabella sighed. “You’re all about the talk.” She snorted dismissively, never moving as he took another step toward her.
Jasper smiled coldly and launched himself forward.
Isabella wondered for a fraction of a second whether or not she should use her shield to repel him, but decided that she could really use a good work out, and the scarred warrior in front of her seemed like he could do just that.
She blocked as he advanced, sending a kick directed to his ribs immediately after deflecting a fist aimed at her shoulder. She ducked when he kicked high and jumped up as he tried to knock her off her stance.
Jasper noted that she was well trained, and a part of his mind admired the graceful manner with which she was moving. She had ducked away from his blows, but he was no rookie; she never landed a single hit on him.
Her simple white dress floated about her as they danced around each other, each trying to gain the upper hand and failing. His black shirt pulled out of his dark slacks, and a good swipe of her nails caused the material to tear in the middle, leaving him bare-chested.
Jasper might not have been able to feel the spike of lust that went through her, but he could see her pupils widen as she eyed his chest. It was not an expression of fear on her face; it was desire. He was amazed to find an answering lust that was building up in his body in response.
She licked her lips; it was an unconscious gesture, but it was enough to distract him, which allowed her the opening she needed. She grabbed his hand, wanting to throw him against the tree, but something happened that neither one of them expected, making them both jump back.
“What the fuck?” Jasper muttered under his breath, gaping at her.
Isabella was so shaken that she was beyond words for a few seconds.
They both felt the spark, the almost electrical current that ran through them at the moment their bodies made skin-to-skin contact. Jasper was definitely shocked, but he was also curious and slightly amused. He tried to taste her emotions and noticed that whatever shielding she had was not in effect, so he was able to learn that she was just as shocked as he was. However, her emotions were quickly swirling, and the shock soon gave way to anger.
Isabella glared at him. There was no way she was just going to give in. He would have to prove that he was worthy to be called hers, worthy of the privilege to call her his. Focusing again, she raised her shield back and attacked.
She caught him off guard, but Jasper was not called The God of War for being slow. He took the hit to his shoulder, but quickly repelled the following kick aimed for his gut. His lips curved up in a smile. He should have known that she would be a hell kitten. It wouldn’t have been fun otherwise.
Isabella took the fight to the treetops, knowing that her small figure and shield would act as an advantage. She noticed that he didn’t change his style; he was fighting her with just as much determination as before. One point in his favor, her inner voice noted.
Jasper followed up, and at first, she was gaining the advantage, getting the upper hand on him in several confrontations. However, as he made contact with her skin several more times, he noticed that he was beginning to get a better feeling of her position. She had been using her gift again, but the pull was stronger. He knew that she would be feeling him as well, and wondered which one of them would give in first. He had no intentions of losing. He was going to prove to the Lady of The Mansion that she was his Lady, and he had all the time in the world to prove it to her. He would not break her spirit—that would be counter-productive as he enjoyed her fierceness immensely—but he would show her that she was his kitten. He knew that she would still scratch and bite, but she would also purr, and he would make sure that she only purred for him from that point onward.
Isabella felt the pull grow stronger with each contact their bodies made, and her fury was quickly losing the battle to her passion. This blond stranger was proving himself a worthy opponent, and the lithe, smooth movements of his body were starting up a fire inside her body. Her will to fight was dwindling, gradually replaced by the desire to channel the energy to a much better use—in the bedroom.
“What’s your name, stranger?” she asked from between the trees.
Jasper sensed the change in her emotions, even with her gift still in effect, and felt an answering rise of desire in his loins. “Jasper Whitlock,” he replied. “What’s yours, Kitten?”
He heard her growl in return before she answered him, “Isabella.” So this is the famous Major, eh?
She had heard of him, of course—few in their world hadn’t—but that did not mean she was about to go easy on him.
He turned in the direction of her voice, and began closing in on her, anxious to act on these new emotions.
When Isabella sensed him getting closer, she turned and moved toward the city. The constant use of her gift—as well as the fact that she did not feed properly from the human before—had caused her thirst to rise. She ignored the part of her that whispered that she wouldn’t want to have her thirst get in the way of enjoying him and focused on choosing her meal.
Jasper was surprised to see her turn toward the humans, but when he felt the flare of thirst in her emotions, he decided that it was a smart move. He followed her from a small distance as she flitted through the dark allies. It didn’t take long for her to make her pick: a young male, visibly drunk, standing out in an alley behind what was clearly a noisy tavern. He waited, watching curiously as she did not even bother with idle conversation with the human before she sank her teeth into his neck. Jasper felt a tightening in his stomach and a flare of desire as he focused on the movements of her throat while she drank.
Isabella had just dropped the drained body into the dumpster when the door was opened and another human man walked into the alley.
“Now what’s a pretty lil’ thing like you doing all the way out here all alone?” he asked.
She turned to smile at him innocently and heard the disapproving growl coming from Jasper. “Maybe I’m waiting for you.”
The man walked toward her. “And what’cha gonna do now that you’ve found me?”
His breath hitched as soon as he was close enough to see the bright red eyes staring back at him from the angelic face, but it was too late for him to scream; Isabella had already placed her hand across his mouth to stifle the sound and had sank her teeth in his jugular. She moaned at the taste. This one wasn’t as drunk as the one before him, making his blood that much sweeter to her since it was untainted.
Jasper’s resolve broke at the sound of her moan, and he was by her side in a flash. Grabbing the man’s head, he bit him just inches from her, on the back of the human’s neck, and his eyes locked in a gaze with hers.
The simmering passion between them had grown into a full-blown inferno as they continued to drain the human trapped between them. Neither of them had ever shared a meal before; their instincts called for a possessive and aggressive response if anyone was dumb enough to come near them when they fed. As soon as the veins ran dry, Jasper quickly threw the human into the dumpster, his eyes never leaving hers. A drop of blood remained on her lips, and he growled at the erotic sight before slamming their mouths together. He wasn’t gentle; he was aggressive and dominating, and she bit down on his bottom lip, not allowing him to grow too confident.
She smiled when he growled at her in response, biting him again.
“You little minx.” He broke away from the kiss, licking the tender flesh of his lip.
She slipped away from his hold and jumped back into the forest, laughing as he growled again.
Even in his frustration, Jasper smiled. He knew where she was going, and he knew that she wasn’t truly running away from him. He assumed that, like him, she preferred to take this to a more secluded location where they could make as much noise as they desired. And we will most definitely be making a lot of noise.
He slowed down to an almost human pace, feeling her anticipation and wanting to lengthen it. He enjoyed inhaling her scent as he followed it into the mansion and up to the third room. He could once again taste her emotions as soon, and he smiled approvingly; her patience was growing thin, her desire simmering again, and her amusement was ever present in the background.
Isabella got to the mansion long before he did and used the time to take a quick shower and change. She grinned to herself as she picked out her outfit, imagining his response when he saw her. She stood with her back to her bedroom door and gazed outside her window as she waited for him to come. Her eyes trained on the lake located not too far from her backyard, senses alert to his arrival. She could feel the tugging in her chest grow stronger and knew he was closing in. She waited, still as only one of her kind could be, until he stood behind her. She smiled at the sound of his approval that was somewhere between a growl and a purr, but she didn’t turn to face him just yet.
Jasper felt himself harden the moment he saw what stood before him. She wore a sheer white robe that didn’t hide anything. Underneath it, he saw that her legs and thighs were clad in tight fitting white boots. Her ass, round and plump, was showcased in the tiniest pair of underwear possible. He wanted to sink his teeth into that ass. He wanted to bend her over, and take her from behind while she still wore the impossibly high-heeled boots. He took another step into the room, and stopped when she turned. Her front was even more amazing then the back. Her bra was made of two hands that seemed to be cupping her full breasts. His gaze dropped down the exposed skin of the stomach to her panties, and he saw the same motif from the bra played there; the fabric was in the shape of a hand cupping her sex. He wanted to replace the fabric with his own hands, to massage her full breasts and cup her sex.
Isabella saw his eyes darken as he took in her almost naked body. The white color of the lingerie was intentional. It was seductive yet innocent, made to taunt him. The boots added several inches to her height so that when he flashed to her side, he didn’t need to bend down much before he captured her mouth in a scorching, hungry kiss.
While her hands went to his golden locks, Jasper slid his palms to cup her ass beneath her useless robe. He devoured her mouth, demanding and claiming every inch of it. It was his turn to bite down on her bottom lip and smile at her hiss.
Isabella tore at his shirt, shredding the fabric and scratching his back with her nails as he pressed her body flush against him. She wanted him stark naked and soon.
Jasper hummed in approval when his bare chest made contact with her skin. Leaving her lips, he pulled down the hand-shaped fabric from her breasts, keeping her bra on. The visual of the fabric hands presenting her breasts for him to feast upon made him smile. He leaned down to her and sucked the hard nipple into his mouth, biting down hard enough to elicit a growl that was only half displeased from her.
Isabella closed her eyes and threw her head back as he massaged her breasts and bit down on her nipples. He never broke skin, but his bites were hard enough to be on that delicate line between pleasure and pain. Pressing his head closer to her with one hand, she arched her back, offering herself to him. At the same time, she used her other hand to tear away his pants. He was overdressed, and she would have none of that.
He let go of her nipple and grabbed her around her throat as soon as his pants lay in ruins on the floor. “I was kind of partial to those pants,” he said.
Keeping her gaze on him, she grabbed his straining cock. “And I am kind of partial to this.” She let go of him only long enough to tear away the small pair of boxer briefs.
He pressed harder on her neck in response, his hold almost painful. “I see that I will have to discipline you, Kitten.” The words were part growl and part moan as she began stroking him from base to tip, curling her fingers around the head of his cock.
“Really?” She quirked a brow, giving him a tight squeeze that was just on the pleasurable side of painful.
Jasper hissed but didn’t let go of her neck. He knew that his Kitten would need some training before she purred for him, and her hold on him, although tight, was very pleasurable. He used the hand that wasn’t wrapped around her neck to hike up her left leg around his waist and began kneading her thigh, teasing her as his hand came very close to touching her sex, but never quite reaching it.
Every time his fingers got closer to her aching core, Isabella had to bite down on her lip to hold back a whimper. He was torturing her, teasing her, but she wasn’t about to give up. She brought her right hand to her lips, licked it, and then wrapped the now-wet fingers around his shaft again while her other hand pulled his head in for a kiss.
Jasper leaned down willingly, capturing her mouth with his. He was trying to show dominance, but the quickening pumping of her fingers around his painfully hard cock was driving him close to insanity. He felt the knot in his stomach tighten and knew that he needed to stop her or he would lose control over his own body. Sucking her tongue into his mouth, he plunged two fingers inside her, projecting the lust and pleasure he was feeling toward her.
It didn’t take more than three hard thrusts of his fingers inside her, and one pass of his thumb on her sensitive clit for her to shatter in release, throwing her head back in a scream. Her fingers slowed their movements on his cock, and she dropped her head on his shoulder, her body still shivering with the aftershocks. He kept thrusting his fingers into her, not relenting, until she was shivering again in his arms, her scream muffled as her mouth latched onto his neck.
“That’s it, baby,” he encouraged as he felt her teeth breaking his skin, her tongue lapping at his venom. “Drink, my Kitten.”
Jasper nuzzled into her as she licked the bite mark on his neck, sealing it with her own venom. He smiled widely as he heard her purring quietly. He withdrew his fingers, earning a whimper of protest from her, and lifted her in his arms, cupping her ass.
She wrapped her long legs, which were still clad in the thigh-high boots, around his waist. Her arms went up to his neck, her fingers threading into his hair, as she continued to lick and nibble on his shoulder and neck. He smelled and tasted better than any blood she had ever tasted. Her senses were in overload, and she didn’t even think to protest as he removed her robe and placed her on her bed.
He took a moment’s respite to stare at the beauty before him; her hair was fanned across the sheets, the dark mahogany a striking contrast to the pale-cream color of the bedding; her expression was of absolute delight; her emotions were a very pleasant mixture of bliss, content, lust, and satisfaction. He caught the sight of their reflection in the large mirror on the other side of the bed, and an idea sparked in his mind.
Isabella only came to her senses when she was suddenly turned and grabbed by her waist. He was lifting her to stand on her knees on the bed, and she growled in protest. His hold on her tightened, her hands trapped under his, and he growled in warning. Raising one hand up her stomach to her chest, he lifted her up and let his other hand slide down to her sex again. He cupped her, sliding a finger between the wet folds, and teased her clit.
“Since you showed so little regard to my own clothes…” He tore at the fabric of her bra, removing the last piece of clothing from her body.
Their eyes locked in the mirror in front of them. Her body was on display, and his hands were strong and muscular in comparison to her tiny form. She grew impossibly more aroused at the sight of him pushing her legs further apart and sliding two fingers inside her. She watched, hypnotized, as he began massaging her breast and tugging at the nipple, pinching it between his fingers.
He moved his body so that his cock was placed just under her, and used his fingers to spread some of her wetness on himself.
Isabella couldn’t hold in the moan of pleasure at the feeling of his hardness against her. She wanted him; there was no denying it. Her moan turned into a groan when he used his fingers on her again.
“You want me to fuck you, Kitten?” He pulled his fingers out of her and let them rest on her clit, not moving them. “Do you want to feel my cock filling you to the brim?”
“Yes,” she growled. “Stop teasing and fuck me already!”
He laughed, and leaned into her to lick a sensitive spot where her neck met her shoulder. He sucked hard, grazing his teeth on her flesh. Aligning himself with her, he bent his knees lightly and thrust inside her in one hard motion.
Her mouth opened in a scream, but no sound came out. She had never felt so full in her life. He set up a hard rhythm, leaving her body almost completely, making her whimper in need, and then filling her to the brim.
He took her hands and placed them on her breasts, guiding them with his palms to massage and pinch her nipples. He knew how to give her just the right amount of pain mixed in with the pleasure.
“Do you like to feel my cock inside your pussy?” he whispered in her ear.
She growled, meeting his eyes in the mirror. “My pussy looks beautiful around you.”
It was Jasper’s turn to groan. His eyes immediately left hers and went to the sight of his cock disappearing inside her. He brought his hands down, spreading the folds of her glistening core, and began teasing the small bundle of nerves. His eyes were transfixed on the reflection. Both of them perfectly pale, both lightly glistening with her juices flowing in abundance. “I couldn’t agree more.”
The feeling of her inner muscles contracting with each thrust was better than anything he had ever felt before, and he knew that it wouldn’t take long now. He let go of his emotions, projecting everything she had made him feel back to her, and relished in the shivers that began running through her body.
“Yes. Harder!” she demanded, her back arched in an almost impossible angle. “Fuck…me.”
“Your word,” he slammed into her, “is my,” thrust, “command.”
“Yes. Yes. Yesss…You feel so-oh-good. Yes, right there…Fu—” Her voice broke as her world exploded into a thousand pieces.
Jasper grunted when she began to pulsate around him, tightening around his cock. He sank his teeth into her neck, marking her just she did to him before, and felt her spiraling into another climax. He felt himself shaking as her emotions combined with his own and her taste filled his mouth. He lapped at her venom while filling her with his seed, gently rocking inside her. He opened his eyes, his mouth still latched on to her neck, and watched them in the mirror.
A few moments later, when his movements had finally stilled, Isabella opened her eyes and found him staring at her in the mirror. She could see the new bite mark on her neck, the first scar to ever mar her skin since her transformation. He had placed it on top of the one her sire had given her, and she had to admit that she was mighty pleased about it. A part of her—probably the one that was still high on the sexual release—loved the fact that the only mark she would ever bare was his.
Days later, Isabella and Jasper found themselves in the top room of the east tower. It was the last room out of the seventy three rooms in the mansion that they had yet to christen. The room was designed in dark reds and blacks, and Jasper had had a delicious time licking Isabella from head to toe. Once he had had his fill of the ambrosia between her thighs, he lay on his back and re-discovered just how talented his Kitten’s mouth was.
Isabella had sucked him dry, purring and smirking at the satisfied expression on his face. She was very pleased with her ability to reduce her mate to nothing more than groans and growls. Crawling up on his body, she straddled him and rested her chin on his chest, her eyes glinting in amusement and delight.
Jasper felt a smile tug at his lips as the bliss of his orgasm began to fade. He had definitely found the perfect mate. She was fierce, beautiful, could kick any vampire’s ass, and she gave the best head ever.
“You, my dear, are the most dangerous creature on earth.” He threaded his fingers through her tousled hair and pulled her in for a kiss. “After me, of course.”
She gave him a nip on his shoulder for that one, and he laughed. They tumbled over the bed, play-fighting for several moments before their passion rose again, and their mouths found each other.
Satisfied in allowing her do the work, Jasper lay on his back as she sank down on his cock.
She loved feeling him inside her, filling her, reaching every single spot inside her to make her see stars. When on earth did I become such a sap?
Jasper watched her as she began riding him, but soon it was not enough. He pressed her down to him and captured one nipple between his lips. He timed the movements of his suckling to the rhythm of her hips as she slammed against his body.
Isabella threw her head back and pressed his face closer to her, encouraging him to take more of her flesh into his mouth. She moaned when he bit down on her breast, breaking the skin and leaving yet another mark on her. The tingling sensation of his venom mixing in with hers was incredibly erotic. Pressed down on him as she was, each thrust of her hips meant that not only was he pushed deep inside her, but also that her clitoris rubbed against his pubic bone, creating the best kind of friction. She felt herself growing closer to another orgasm when she felt his hand move around her ass and slide between the cheeks.
Jasper watched her face as well as her emotions as her orgasm began to build inside her. It was the perfect moment to introduce her to the pleasures to be had from her rear entrance. He would not take her there yet—that would come later—but he would start familiarizing her with it. He wasn’t surprised when she stiffened at first. He began sucking on her neck and thrusting upward, distracting her from the unfamiliar presence of his finger at her anus. She was wet enough to for him to be able to gather her own lubrication on his finger as he began to trace and gently press her puckered entrance.
His movements were almost hypnotizing. It was too much; his tongue on her neck, his cock in her pussy, and now, his finger was slowly slipping inside her ass in perfect sync with him entering her. She had never allowed any of her former lovers to even come close to her ass, never thought it was something she might enjoy, but as he added a second finger to her ass and sped up the thrusts of his hips, she was beyond thought.
He sensed her peak approaching. Her muscles began clasping on his fingers and cock; her emotions swirled in that wonderful mix of pleasure, lust, bliss, and euphoria.
“That’s it, Kitten,” he said, panting as he felt his own orgasm fast approaching.
“God, what are you doing to me,” she murmured, shaking her head as if to clear it from her daze. She couldn’t stop herself, didn’t want to. She began to move wildly, impaling herself on his cock and his fingers. “Yes, yes, yes,” she chanted, not sure if the words were only in her mind, or crossed her lips as well.
“Yes, Isabella.” He pressed her head against his neck. “Fuck, Kitten, you feel so good. I can’t wait to fuck your tight ass properly…”
The imagery he was creating in her mind was the final straw, and she came with a scream that was muffled as she bit down on his neck again.
Jasper roared his pleasure as soon as her teeth pierced his skin, plunging into her once, twice before shuddering inside her.
Several moments later, Isabella began to giggle. She was still slumped on top of him, though he was no longer inside her.
“What’s so funny, Kitten?” Jasper asked in a murmur, gently caressing her back. It wasn’t the first time he had been gentle with her. As much as he loved going rough with her, his mate deserved care and tenderness.
“Now I think I understand why humans say that great sex works up an appetite.” She raised her head to look at him. “I’m hungry!”
Jasper chuckled. “Take out?”
“Yes. I feel like Italian.”
Decades later, new stories began to spread through the surrounding towns, stories of a beautiful but deadly couple. The dark-haired Lady of the Mansion and her blond Reaper were said to have been seen ghosting in the mansion and surrounding forest. It was said that people who had wandered close enough to the metal gates of the ominous building were lost forever, their souls taken by the devil himself. In dark, stormy weather, nomads swore that they had heard the moaning and growling of an ancient beast coming from the mansion. They would cross their hearts and swear on their mother’s graves that they had seen the deadly beauty and her beau appear in the upper windows of the mansion, or gliding like two ethereal creatures across the vast grounds surrounding the mansion.
The stories were passed on from father to son. Some believed it wholeheartedly while others were skeptic, but no one could deny that if you were to walk in the forest on a dark night, you might not find the way back to your loved ones ever again, for the devil and his maiden were said to dwell in the darkness.
Please take a moment to leave a comment to let me know what you’ve thought of this story.
I’ve had a not-so-mild panic attack when I opened my inbox today. The emails came with only ten minutes apart. FFn has taken down two stories of mine. No warning, no reason, just off.
Shocked, more than a little hurt, and a lot of angry, I emailed them, demanding to know the reason.
Turns out one of the stories was removed due to an error. The second? It was removed because it contained a curse word in the summary. You know what? I accept that. It was my fault for missing it, and I will take the blame. Harsh? Yes, but I accept the rules of the game.
This is why I’ve decided to move here. I will keep posting on FFn, but I am not going to take another chance with the TOS. I know many authors there blatantly ignore the TOS, but I’ve definitely had my share of panic there.
So…welcome to my world. It’s going to be filled with smut, curse words, and very mature content. Stay at your own risk.