Danse Macabre

"Yes," he said, "I feared I would end as London has ended, and I do not truly wish that."

"I don't think I'm up to binding anyone right now."

A look passed over his face that wasn't gentle, or hesitant. It was a very male look for a moment. "Then I can do as I wish with you."

I thought about arguing with die way he'd phrased it, but I just didn't have the energy for it. Too tired, and too drained. "Yes," I said, "you can."

He sat up, cradling me against the front of his body. He sat up, and half-carried me, until I was lying on the other end of die seat, and he was kneel­ing over me. His power danced over my body, and even that was energy, that was food. I watched his eyes drown in the blue depths of his own magic, until he stared down at me like one blind.

"Is this truly what m'lady wishes?"

I stared down the length of his body. So hard, so ready, almost hard enough that it must have hurt him a little. Too hard for too long is not al­ways a good feeling. With his body practically screaming with need, he asked, asked permission one more time.

"Requiem," I said, "I promise I will always think of you as a gentleman, but I've already said yes."

"It is good to be certain," he whispered.

"Whoever taught you this caution, it wasn't me." I stroked my hand not across his chest, but just above it, playing in the energy of his aura. So much

energy to play with. It made him close his eyes for a moment. "I promise,

Requiem, I'll still respect you in the morning."

That made him smile, and he said, "And you will always be m'lady." That made me laugh. Then he poured his power over my body, and the

laughter changed to other sounds.

50

HE HELD ON to the door to raise himself above me, so that only the long, hard length of him touched me at first. His own magic had made my body tight and wet, and more than ready, so that each thrust was exquisite pleas­ure. A pleasure so great it was almost painful that his movement was slow, and shallow. He'd found that spot inside me, and he meant to work it, but I could feel his body fighting his own rhythm, wanting something harder, faster, less controlled. I was torn between wanting him to never stop, and knowing that we needed to hurry. But every time I opened my mouth to tell him to hurry, to let me feed, he thrust inside me again, or moved his hips just a little, and the thought died before I could say it.

The ardeur was raised, but even the ardeur seemed weak. I'd had it spread to most of the people in a room before; now, with Nathaniel and Jason trapped in a car with us, it hadn't spread to them. They were untouched. I needed to feed, not just to be strong enough to help Jean-Claude tonight, but to make certain I didn't start to suck Damian's life away.

I watched Requiem's body glide in and out of mine. In the dimness of die car I couldn't see that he was wearing the condom that Nathaniel had given him. I was glad someone was thinking about safety, because all I was think­ing about was sex and food. Trouble was, they were the same thing right now. I curled my legs back, rose up so I could see him sliding in and out of me. The sight of him inside me for the first time, finally, bowed my spine back, closed my eyes, drew small sounds from me. That warm, delicious weight began to build inside me.

I found my words, and managed to say, "When I go, you go."

"I would soak your body in all the pleasure it could take," he said, voice full of the strain of all that control.

Jason said, "We don't have time to give Anita all the pleasure she can take, Requiem. Jean-Claude needs us."

Requiem nodded, but never changed his rhythm, that relendess gentle thrusting in and out, over and over that spot just inside my body.

"God, you're good," I whispered.

His hands convulsed on the car, so that it creaked under his strength. "If I get to go when you do, then I must let go of some of my control, or I will still be fighting my body."

"Can you keep doing this until I go?"

"Yes," he whispered it.

It built, and built, and built, and then came the stroke of his body inside me that spilled me over. It brought me screaming, digging nails into the leather of the seat. It bucked my body against his, and he thrust deep inside me, as hard and fast as he could. He brought me again with that deep thrust, a different kind of orgasm, before the first had finished. I raked nails down his sides, and screamed.

The pain didn't make him come again as it did sometimes for Nathaniel, or even Micah. He took it, but he was done, and the pain didn't change that.

He drew himself out of me, and even that was a wondrous sensation that made me writhe on the seats. Someone touched my face and the ardeur jumped to him. I smelled wolf and knew it was Jason before I saw his face.

He swallowed hard, voice breathy. "You're feeling better."

I nodded.

"No offense, but we need you fed and all of us back inside, as soon as pos­sible."

"Yes," I said, and my voice was hoarse.

"If we double up, you feed faster, and we're done faster."

I frowned at him, part postorgasmic haze, part the rising ardeur, and part just me. "What?"

Nathaniel appeared over his shoulder, and touched my hand. The ardeur leaped to him, but it had taken touch for it to transfer. My powers were still weak. "I want you to go down on me while the ardeur rides you."

I began to have a clue. "And what will Jason be doing while I'm going down on you?"

"Fucking you," Nathaniel said.

Jason tried to look embarrassed, but never quite managed it. He finally gri

I shook my head. "I want you to fuck me."

He looked startled for a moment, then his eyes filled with that knowledge, that darkness, that is all male. That look that is almost predatory, but not when you want it, when you've asked for it, then it's something to tighten your body low and hard. I cried out just from the look on his face.

"Let's fuck," he said.

"Let's," I said.

51

I ENDED UP sitting, facing Nathaniel, him inside me. I wrapped my legs around his waist with him buried as deep inside me as he could go. It re­minded me of earlier with London, so intimate a lovemaking. But staring into Nathaniel's eyes from inches away, with his body inside mine, my hips riding him, it was more. London had had to hold my hair, force me to stare into his face. I wanted to stare into Nathaniel's face, wanted to watch his moods swim across his face. Wanted to watch him watch me.

Jason's hands slid down my back, cupped my buttocks. They'd decided to change places when Jason had mentioned that he'd never gone with me orally. Intercourse, yes, but not oral sex. Nathaniel had told him, "You have to feel her do this. She's amazing."

"I've had foreplay from her."

"That was when she was trying to be good, it's better when she's trying to be bad."

"Better than Raina?"

Nathaniel had nodded.

A look of almost pain had crossed Jason's face, and he'd said, "Can I change my order, please?"

So we'd changed the order.

Without a lot of foreplay I didn't normally go in this postion, but there'd been foreplay. Small G-spot orgasm always makes intercourse more fun. Big G-spot orgasm means you're done for the night, as in Stick a fork in me, honey, Fm done. Requiem had done just enough, and not too much, so that my body was tighter than normal, but still wet, still spasming with after­shocks. Every thrust of Nathaniel's body brought tiny spurts of pleasure, made me move my hips against his body, and drive him deeper inside me.