Danse Macabre

54

HE PUT US both on our knees on the couch, me facing away from him. His hand wrapped in my hair, hard enough to hurt, drawing my neck back in a clean, straining angle. He pressed his body against the back of mine, used his hips to raise the short skirt so I could feel his body against my bare ass. He plunged his hand down the front of the corset, so he could grip my breast, tight and hard. It made me cry out. He plunged his body against mine, but without blood, he was still soft.

He whispered in my ear, "Your blood will make me a man, again. It will fill my body with life, so that I may fill your body with life."

There was something about what he'd said that should have bothered me, but I couldn't make the thought form. He'd rolled my mind in a blissful rush, and I couldn't make my thoughts march to logic. All the logic I had was in his hands, in the soft push of his body, the growing tension as he held me.

Something stabbed through that lustful calm. Damian reached out to me mth a silent scream. "Anita, damn it, feed!"

It made me slump in Asher's arms.

"What is wrong?"

"Let me feed with the first bite. Let me feed with your power."

"Damian is fading." He made it a statement.

"Yes." My voice was breathy, and not for any good reason.

"I will not fight your power, Anita. I will let you take me, then I will :ake you."

"Yes, but please hurry, please..."

He was too tall to stay pressed as he was, and bite me. He had to ease his )ody back enough to fold that six-feet-and-change frame over me. His hands ensed in my hair and on my breast. The sudden pain seemed to send me )ack into his gaze. My breath was short and eager, when he struck. There vas a moment of pain, then it was gone, washed away in the first orgasm.

Asher's bite was pleasure. It was his gift, his power, and that power tight-:ned my body, and exploded like a wave of warm pleasure across my skin. So

much pleasure, so much, and as long as he fed, it would be wave after warm, thrilling wave. It felt so good, so good, that it spilled out my mouth in long, ragged screams. Somewhere in all of it, the ardeur rose, and fed. It fed through his mouth, his teeth on me. It fed through his hands on my body. I poured the spill of it into Damian, felt him sit up so hard in the chair, that he almost fell off it. Nathaniel steadied him, and got a taste of that pleasur­able power.

I fought the energy, fought to send only food, and not the nearly over­whelming pleasure. To send only so much, and no more. It was like trying to meditate in the middle of sex; no wonder I wasn't better at it.

Asher drew back from my neck, breathing hard. "You took a great deal." He sounded shaky, and his bite didn't necessarily cause him pleasure, so that wasn't it.

"Sorry," I mumbled.

He let go of me, and I slumped forward onto all fours, head down. "God, Asher, God."

The couch moved as he shifted position, and the next thing I felt was his hands on my hips, pulling my skirt up. He pressed the tip of himself against me, and there was nothing soft about him now. He was hard, and ready, pushing against me.

"Do you still want me to pierce you twice?"

I should have said no. I'd missed so much of the evening. But I didn't want to say no. I wanted to say yes. I tried not to think about Asher much. One, it could cause mini-orgasms at odd moments. One of the side effects of his powers. Two, because I understood why people had been willing to trade everything away just for one more night of the pleasure that only Asher could bring. The rest of the metaphysical sex was great, but it was the affec­tion I had for the people involved that made me want to be with most of them. Emergency food being the exception. I loved Asher, but it wasn't love that made me want to be with him. If I had been less stubborn, I might have chased after him simply for the pleasure. I stayed away from him when I could, because no one could quite do what he could, and it scared me.

Which is why I said, "Just fuck me."

"You do not wish me to bring you pleasure with my bite again?"

"Yes, but... we don't have time."

"As you wish." He used his hands to position my hips, and he began to push his way inside me. I was wet, but tight; my body spasmed around him, as he fought to be inside me.

His voice came strained, "So tight tonight, so tight. Forcing me to fight for every inch. I love it."

I just nodded, not trusting my voice. I should have said no to the sex. We'd fed. Jean-Claude needed us to schmooze the crowd. But I didn't want to say no. I could have lied to myself and thought that Asher needed this, this time just the two of us, but that wasn't why I said yes. I said yes because I wanted him inside me. I said yes because I was fighting myself not to beg for another bite. I did want him to pierce me twice. I did want it. I did.

He had himself inside me, as close as his body would let him. He rested a moment with our bodies wedded to each other. He laid his body across my back, letting me support our weight for a moment. His skin was warmer now, alive with the blood he'd taken from me. His hair fell around me like a shining curtain.

"Bite me," I whispered it.

"What?"

"Bite me, while you fuck me, take me, take me as only you can take me." My voice stayed a whisper as if tiiat would make it all right. Make it less weak.

"As only I can take you?" He made a question of it.

"Yes," I said, "yes."

He wrapped his arms around me, forced me to hold all of our combined weight. He hugged me, hard and tight. "You do feel my power."

"Yes," I whispered.

"Are you afraid of it?"

"Yes."

"Afraid of how much you want me?"

"Yes!"

He whispered, "I like that." He raised himself off me, so that the only part of him touching was the part that was deep inside me, and the barest touch of thighs and hips.

He drew himself out slowly, so slowly.

"I'm still tight."

"Yes," he said, "yes, you are." He drew himself out of me, then used his knees to spread my legs wider. It made me lower my head to the couch, pressing my face to the leather. Asher entered me, shallow, just inside, inside over that sweet spot. He started slow and steady, pushing himself in and out, and always over that one spot. I kept expecting him to speed up or go deeper, but he kept that slow, shallow rhythm.

I started moving my hips to help, but he put his hands firmly on my hips, kept me from moving. It was strangely like all the ballroom dancing they'd made me learn for the party. A flexing of the man's hands, a squeeze in one

direction or the other, and you knew what he wanted, or thought you did. He wanted me not to move, to let him do the work.

He spread my legs even farther, forced my body at a higher angle. "Up, Anita, I want you up on all fours."

I did what he asked, but my knees were spread so far that my hips protested the angle. It didn't exactly hurt, but it might if we did it long enough. And through it all he kept up that gliding, gentle rhythm inside my body.

The orgasm began to build inside me. To build with each caress of his body just inside mine. Building, building, on the gentle touch of him inside me. Most of the time sex was about the ardeur. The ardeur wasn't gende. I fed and I fucked because I had to. I realized as Asher took me so carefully, so gently, that it had taught us all bad habits. I loved a good, hard fucking, more even than most women, but just because I could take it didn't mean that that was what I wanted, not always. This, this was perfect. This was what I had been missing in all the frantic sex. All the emergency feeding had made me forget that gentleness had its own pleasure.

I fought to stay where he wanted, and not to move, fought to keep my legs spread, fought to hold the pleasure. "I'm close."