Page 37 of Eternal Craving

I returned her kiss, tasting her sweetness, her soft lips pressing against mine, my tongue finding hers. With my hands on either side of her face, I held her there, firmly captured,feeling an explosion of passion as my hardness increased. Instinctively, I slipped my hand beneath her chemise and stroked her inner thigh, and then pulled away, trying to resist my erotic urges.

It was impossible for me to stay here with her without taking advantage of the situation.

As though controlled by a force outside my will, my hand was drawn by some mystical charm between her parted thighs, caressing her softness, rubbing her delicate folds and flicking that nub slowly; bewitched by her mesmerizing reaction.

She arched her back and sighed, her hands covering her face.

Within me was the desire to protect her, even from myself. At the same time, I couldn’t deny her. Gently, I probed the forbidden, stroking her there, taking my time, running my fingers along her wetness.

I pulled her chemise up and over her head. “Hands behind your back.”

My need to control her in this way surprised me, and despite questioning my motives for dominating her, demanding her compliance intensified my excitement.

She crossed one arm behind the other.

I gazed at her beauty, beholden by her perfect olive skin, her flawless complexion. Ringlets cascaded over her shoulders and over her large breasts, her nipples pert and dark. I gazed down at her small spray of dark hair. Drawn to it, I nuzzled in, her soft scent, her perfect taste sending wave after wave of anticipation through me, stealing my breath. Kissing, licking, and responding to her, I was enraptured by the sensation of my tongue pushing deeper. The heavier she breathed, the more my tongue worked her, artfully circling, pleasuring her. I responded to her gasps that begged me to continue, as did the quiver of her thighs. Aroused by her perfume and dazzled by her taste, I ascended even closer to euphoria.

I grasped her small waist and pulled her astride me.

Her affection for me gave me the confidence to find mine, to look inside that once scary place and touch the serene. Feeling the purest devotion, I cherished her.

With a gentle thrust, the small indicator of her innocence snapped, and I realized that she’d given me more than just her trust, and silently I pledged to protect her.

Annabelle’s hand rested on her breast. I eased her hand away, my fingers taking the place of hers. I lay still, allowing her a moment to adjust, then she made slow deliberate motions, a sensual rhythm that carried me away. Her expression reflected her vulnerability coupled with joy. Her long lashes fluttered, her rosebud lips pouting.

To think I’d left her to find her own way from the Morans to my house, risking her getting lost, and even worse – the thought of Felipe finding her and stealing her away.

We tumbled over and over, until we slid off the end of the bed, laughing all the way. I rolled on top of her and continued to direct our pace. My mouth found her nipple again, sucking and flicking until she sighed. Her nails scratched my back as she rose to the height of pleasure. She was lost, gone from me, possessed, shaking her head, whipping her dark locks from side to side. We both came together, shuddering against each other.

In Annabelle’s arms, I felt safe and knew that she did in mine. A foreign emotion seized me completely and I knew it could only be love.

All the hard edges in me softened. The walls I’d built, stone by stone, year after aching year, crumbled without protest beneath the quiet warmth of her presence. That constant ache, the one I’d mistaken for part of who I was, slowly dissolved, leaving in its place a stillness I’d never known. The bitterness I’d carried, the quiet anger toward the world, simply vanished, as though it had only ever been waiting for a reason to let go.

She was that reason – an unexpected gift, something divine in its timing and impossible in its beauty. It felt as though the world had slipped a rare jewel into my hands, something precious and impossibly right, and all I could do was marvel that she had somehow found her way to me.

Chapter Sixteen

I left Annabelle sleeping in my bed.

Feeling blissful, I tried to suppress my ridiculous grin while checking this evening’s arrangements. The table had been set with luxurious settings, our finest plates. The chef prepared lamb, accompanied by flavored vegetables, tasty pastries, and a wine selection from our best vintages. I instructed the waiters that Salvador’s glass must remain topped up.

Pacing, I replayed my plan.

Within hours, the countess was sitting next to me, on my right. Salvador, who sat to my left, held his hand over the rim of his glass, gesturing to the waiter he’d had enough. I reached over and filled his glass myself.

The evening flowed smoothly, as did the Bordeaux. Countess Miranda charmed us with tales of her late husband’s business endeavors. The count had been a successful merchant, traveling to London on several occasions. She’d accompanied him on many of his trips abroad. Salvador and I were intrigued when Miranda recounted reports on life in merry old England. We roared with laughter when told how infrequently the English bathed.

We were enthralled by her morbid tales. Apparently, London’s undertakers frequently dug up caskets for lack of room and often found scratches on the inside of the coffin lids. The undead had tried to claw their way out. Some of those who’d been laid to rest had not actually been dead, not at their burial anyway.

Salvador howled at my expression. Apparently, my mouth had been gaping.

“Remind me never to step foot on that godforsaken island,” I said, laughing.

“Oh, but they also have the most wonderful artists,” Miranda said to me.

“Still not convinced.” I cringed at the thought of falling down drunk and finding myself buried alive.

A discreet waiter served us dessert.