Passion Follows Pain: Passion Series, #3

By J. A Melville

Note from the Author: Please be aware that this book may be a trigger for some.

 

Book 3 of the Passion Series

Abuse…The only thing Arissa Petros has ever known,

At the age of 19, with the help of a friend, she flees her abuser.

For the first time in her life, she feels free.

She now lives in a totally different state and working her first real job.

While walking her employer's dog, she meets HIM…Lucian Andreas.

He lives across the street. He is dark and mysterious.

He frightens her. He might hurt her.

After all, men have only ever brought her pain.

 

Lucian Andreas is drawn to the timid woman who lives across the street,

He wants her.

The only problem is, no amount of charm seems to work on her.

This never happened.

Humans were naturally drawn to vampires.

So what made this one different?

He was going to have to earn her trust.

Which eventually became a race to save her life. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: J. A Melville
• Release date: Jun 5, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386783213

Book preview

Chapter One

Arissa

You’re free. I whispered, the words spoken so softly, my lips barely moving, so no one around me would notice. Maybe think I’d said something to them or perhaps even think I was crazy. I didn’t want to draw attention. I wasn’t crazy, but I was free and terrified. Suddenly inexplicably nearly rigid with fear.

I’d just landed in a new state, in a city where I knew no one, but that was the way I wanted it. A fresh start. A new identity almost. Anonymous but free. Free from the clutches of a man who terrified me. Who beat me. Abused me. And scared me more than anyone in my entire life had ever scared me.

I guess at 19 years of age, one could argue I hadn’t experienced that much of life yet. My knowledge of pain, whips, belts, boots, vacuum cleaner hoses, hair pulling, kicking, and punching, were all life experiences I wish I hadn’t endured. Not to mention being forced repeatedly to do unspeakable sexual things to a man who should have been protecting me. To also have him do things to me that were so horrifying most people would find it abhorrent to think that a child had suffered that for years. All that was enough to make me feel much older than my 19 years.

I was finally free of my father. Free from his clutches, but would I ever be free of the pain, the trauma, the emotional toll his treatment had taken on me?

My father. My own father. My tormentor. My abuser. The man I should have been able to trust more than any other man in my life. He was no protector. All he protected was himself. For 19 years he’d virtually kept me a prisoner of our home. Never free to see friends, go anywhere, get a job, nothing. I wasn’t allowed to own a car, have a boyfriend, not that I really wanted one anyway but everything I did, everything I wore, the very clothes on my back, everything was decided by my father.

I didn’t have brothers or sisters to turn to and my mother had passed away when I was 6 years old. It was shortly after her death that my father’s reign of terror began.

My body although young at just 19 bore the evidence of years of abuse. The scars hidden beneath clothing because Father, he’d insisted I call him that had been careful to make sure the instruments of torture he used on me would leave no scarring. Well, nothing that was visible to anyone else, anyway. No, the damage lay under my clothes where no one could see, and given I’d never had a boyfriend and seriously didn’t want one, no one was ever likely to see the damage that marred my fragile body, concealed from potentially curious eyes by my clothing.

My skin was pale, too pale but that was from lack of sun. I wasn’t allowed outside much, so my skin rarely had an opportunity to become sun kissed, not even slightly. I was too thin from inadequate feeding from my father plus he insisted I stay thin, he liked me skinny. Fat women were repugnant to him, and he’d made it perfectly clear that I would be beaten if I ever gained weight. The fact that he carried excess weight, and his stomach was typical of a person who enjoyed copious quantities of beer obviously didn’t factor in his reasoning.

When that flabby, sweating body lay on me and he forced his thing in me, or his instrument of pain as I referred to it, sometimes partially flaccid from the amount of alcohol in his system, he would get frustrated and beat me, often until I was bleeding. Slapping me, punching me, and whipping me with various weapons were an obvious turn on for him and he would get hard as he hit me until I was bruised and swollen. Then I would have to put up with him on top of me again, as he rutted with the god awful grunts and snorts like an animal until he would find his release and sometimes fall asleep still lying on top of me.

I shuddered as the memories rolled through my mind like an endless reel of film, and it was only when I heard the soft voice in my ear from an elderly woman, asking me if I was alright, that I finally snapped out of my thoughts with a start. I shot her a quick smile before following the other passengers across the tarmac to the airport terminal ready to begin my life in a new state. I had a job waiting for me; a job that had been lined up for me by a friend of mine, one of my friends from high school who had stayed in touch. One of the very few friends my father had allowed me to have.

I didn’t have many qualifications, ok I had no qualifications, but I could clean a house and since I’d been forced to look after my father for years, I could take care of someone, so my job was as a live in housekeeper to an elderly woman who had taken a fall and broken her leg. She had no immediate family, or none that could either help or who even cared enough to help it seemed. So, she needed someone to assist her around the home, prepare meals and generally take care of her until she was better and that was to be my job.

I waited patiently for my bag to come through on the carousel and once I’d picked it up, I followed the other people making their way from the airport to waiting taxis and for some, relatives or friends picking them up. I had no one, no one knew I was here other than Debbie who had arranged all this for me, the job, the flight, everything to help get me away from my father. She had taken a huge risk for me. If he found out who had helped me, and he would know I couldn’t have organised to get away from him without help, I worried about how difficult he could make life for my best friend.

I still didn’t know entirely how she’d done it all for me, but she would probably never understand how eternally grateful I was. Of course, I was terrified, terrified of being out in the world alone, terrified that I would have no idea what I was doing and fail, terrified that the lady who was employing me would hate me and fire me, leaving me not only homeless but with no finances either. I had some money, the $500 that Debbie had given me, but that wasn’t going to last forever of course. My greatest fear was that somehow my father would find out where I was and come for me. I shivered just thinking about how angry he must be right now. His rage was awful and something I’d spent my entire life trying not to stir up in him, because it never ended well for me. He would beat me until I was covered in bruises, eyes sometimes nearly swollen shut and then he would rape me, forcing himself on me in every way possible.

He would use and abuse my entire body, making me do horrible things to him. If I tried to refuse or I didn’t do things as he wanted and expected of me, I would be punished. That frequently involved nearly being choked; his pudgy fingers wrapped around my neck as he squeezed me so hard, I thought my eyes would pop from my head.

Once I was dazed from blood loss to the brain, he would use my mouth to bring himself pleasure or if he was really angry with me, he’d beat me until I was nearly unconscious.

God I had to be careful. I couldn’t go back, I couldn’t see him again. He must never know where I was. I didn’t want him hurting me anymore. He’d done as much damage as he could to me. I was scarred both physically and mentally. Internally he’d damaged me from getting me pregnant one too many times and causing an abortion with his own barbaric methods. I knew he’d hurt me in ways I would never recover from. The last abortion he’d given me, I’d been in horrible pain and so sick. That must have been the time that left me so damaged I would never be able to be a mother.

I was in two minds about that. Sad that I would never have a child I could love, but given I didn’t intend having sex, a child was out of the question anyway. I wanted nothing to do with men. Maybe they weren’t all like my father, I didn’t know, but they would want to stick their thing in me sooner or later and I hated that. It hurt. It was horrible, painful, and disgusting. All that grunting, sweating, and thrusting. Then the feel of their warm seed inside me, leaving me sticky and smelling when I couldn’t shower sometimes for a couple of days. No, all that was something I had no desire to ever willingly allow a man to do to me.

When I stepped out of Hobart Airport, the mid afternoon sun hit me in the eyes, temporarily blinding me. I blinked against the harsh light and made my way over to where a line-up of taxis waited.

Once the driver had placed my bags in the boot, I gave him the address and settled back in my seat to look at the scenery as we headed towards not only my first job, but my first address free of the control and torture of my father’s clutches.

I liked the look of Hobart from what I could see from my seat in the back of the taxi. We were leaving the city behind now, heading towards what appeared to be a more affluent part of town, past some big club by the water which roused my curiosity, but a place I knew, I was never likely to frequent.

Finally, the driver turned into a quiet street, high on a hill and pulled the taxi into a concrete driveway leading down to an attractive brick home. When I climbed out of the car, stretching briefly, my eyes scouting around to see my surroundings, I found my gaze settling on a house across the road. It was huge, sprawling, intimidating looking and if I was honest with myself, almost scary looking. If the door had opened and Herman Munster had walked out, I doubt I would have been surprised. I wondered who lived in such a big, slightly scary looking house that I felt sure would not look out of place in the middle of a horror movie. It appeared that no one was home, all closed up, curtains drawn but there was a car in the driveway a big old Rolls Royce by the looks of things, so whoever owned the house must have had money. I could see a few more cars parked in a massive carport next to the house, so the owners were obviously very wealthy, or a lot of people lived in it.

Still, it was not my concern at all, and I turned my back on the house that appeared to lord it over the others in the street from its vantage point on the hill, and made my way to the front door of the house that marked the beginning of a new life for me.

I knocked on the door, nerves taking flight in the pit of my stomach, like the frantic flutter of butterfly wings, as I waited to see what my employer was going to be like. Debbie had told me that Mrs Appleby was very nice and sounded like a sweet old lady but a voice over the phone compared with the reality of being face to face with someone inside their home was a different thing altogether.

I heard a voice call out to ‘hold on’ and that she was ‘coming’ and faintly from inside I could hear the clatter of what had to be her crutches on a tiled floor.

When the door finally opened, I looked nervously into the eyes of my employer or that was my intention, but my gaze missed the mark and I ended up only seeing the top of her head, before dropping my gaze to the tiny frail looking woman standing before me. She was propped up and looking extremely uncomfortable, quite obviously finding the crutches challenging. She raised a hand to wave me in and wobbled alarmingly to the point where I dropped my bags and jumped forward, slipping my arms around her to stop her falling.

Oh, bless you child. She gasped, her voice lilting and warm, flowing over me, relaxing me, making me smile. I hope you’re Arissa Petros because this is going to be a trifle embarrassing if you’re not? She chuckled, an almost musical sound to me and my heart warmed even more for this woman.

I am and you must be Daisy Appleby. My friend Debbie explained how you were after someone to help care for you and your home, prepare meals, and do the housekeeping in exchange for board? I can’t tell you how thankful I am for this opportunity to work for you Mrs Appleby. I gave her a tentative smile.

The older woman straightened, getting herself propped up on her crutches again. Come in dear. Grab your bags and let’s try that again. Follow me, I’ll show you your room. She started off down the hallway and I hastily grabbed my bags, and followed her into the house.

Mrs Appleby I wanted to thank you for giving me this job when I have no references besides years of caring for my father. I started to say but my employer stopped suddenly and turned towards me, moving carefully on her crutches.

Please dear, for starters, call me Daisy. You make me feel really old when you call me Mrs Appleby and your friend was very persuasive. She made it abundantly clear to me how important this opportunity was to you. You know of course that it is only a temporary position and once this plaster is off my leg, I will be able to look after myself again?

I gave her a shy smile, liking this woman more and more every moment. I didn’t trust easily, I was normally wary of anyone I met, although my father had kept me shut away from most social interaction, but something about Daisy made feel more relaxed, safe almost. She was kind and gentle. I didn’t need to spend long with her to know that. I could see it in her eyes. I was very good at reading a person by the look in their eyes. I’d had years of experience with my father. I would always look closely at his face to read his expression so I’d have time to prepare, to brace myself to deal with whatever mood I could see behind those mean eyes of his.

Daisy’s eyes were warm and kind, they sparkled with good humour and just that earliest clouding of what would probably later develop into cataracts.

Here we are. She stopped by a doorway, indicating that I should go in before her. When I stepped into the room, I gasped, my eyes widening. The room was beautiful, so pretty, unlike anything I’d ever seen before. A double bed dominated the room, adorned in a thick frilled quilt in creams and baby blue colours. The bed was piled high with pillows and cushions and looked so pretty I worried about sleeping in it and messing it all up. The carpet was a thick cream pile that was soft under my feet. The walls were painted a rich buttercup yellow and were covered with paintings of landscapes, flowers and even one painting that looked like the city of Hobart from my limited knowledge of it. There was a comfortable looking recliner chair, a small round table and chair by the floor to ceiling window. A large flat screen TV was mounted on the wall on one side of the room, with chest of drawers below it. Two doors led off the room; one I could see was the bathroom, a small but well-appointed en-suite, the other a walk in robe.

This is all for me? I asked, my tone filled with both wonder.

Daisy didn’t answer me, so I turned my head to her and found her watching me, a strange look on her face as she studied my expression. I felt myself blush and dropped my eyes from hers, suddenly self-conscious of my behaviour.

Of course, child, this is your room, do you like it?

It’s beautiful. I’ve never seen anything like it. I reluctantly turned away from the room and met her eyes again. I can’t thank you enough for giving me this chance to work for you and to stay in such a beautiful room. I...I’ve never seen anything like it before. I knew I was repeating myself, but I simply felt so overwhelmed by the sheer beauty of everything the room had to offer.

I find that hard to believe child. You would have had some pretty room for a little girl when you were younger, surely? I could hear the question in her tone.

I...my...my mother died when I was six and my father raised me from then but well...he...my father...he...he wasn’t so worried about pretty girl rooms...you know? I gnawed on my bottom lip while my thoughts drifted back to my bedroom at home. A narrow single bed with inadequate bedding on it. Sheets that were rarely changed, only if my father agreed to give me fresh linen for it. A narrow window with a grill, that was there to keep me in and a bathroom which consisted of only a toilet and wash basin. There was no shower, I had to ask to use that, and I’d only been given permission once or twice a week. The rest of the time, I’d made do with the wash basin. There was one cupboard in the room for my clothes, but I didn’t have much anyway so that hadn’t mattered. The floor was lino, old, hard, and cracking, the walls painted a dull sort of grey colour.

As I looked around the room that I would have while I looked after Daisy, I felt tears threatening at the back of my eyes. I didn’t cry, I’d trained myself not to cry. Crying was a weakness, a loss of control, and I had learned years ago that no tears, no emotion, equalled no fun for my abuser. I blinked rapidly to stop the tears from falling as I walked slowly around the room, my fingers trailing gently over everything, the bed, the table, the chest of drawers. It was unlike anything I could have imagined from its warmth, the sunlight streaming in through the huge window to the thick carpet, the paintings, a bathroom with a shower for me and a TV, this, this was heaven.

I don’t know what to say Daisy, it’s so beautiful, thank you, thank you. I smiled at her, my lips trembling, and I bit into the bottom one to hide the tremor. Now, what would you like me to do for you first? Do you have a schedule for me to follow? Please, I need you to give me instructions, a roster, whatever you have so I do everything exactly as you wish.

She gave me an odd look before smiling warmly at me. You just unpack your bags my dear and then when you’re ready you come out to the kitchen, and we’ll go through a bit of a routine but don’t go getting yourself all worked up about this, it’s not written in concrete, there’s no exchanging of blood as part of a pact or anything like that. I just want someone to assist me not be my slave and to be honest the company will be nice too, although I imagine a pretty young thing like yourself, you’ll be wanting to get out on weekend nights and go clubbing? Like the young ones do?

I barely contained the shudder of revulsion that rippled through my body. God, I could think of nothing worse. There would be men there. Crowds of people jammed together. It sounded like a nightmare. Not something I’d willingly go and do.

No, I don’t go to clubs, in fact I’ve never been to one before in my life.

She snorted at me in surprise. You’re serious girl? Never? Have your friends, boyfriends never taken you to a club to dance at all?

My...my...dad was very strict, and he didn’t like me to go out much. That was putting it mildly I thought to myself. He never let me go anywhere. I didn’t have a lot of friends and I’ve never had a boyfriend. My father didn’t like me having anything to do with boys. My mind drifted to the only man I’d had in my life, my father.

I dropped my eyes and as a result I never saw the frown that crossed Daisy’s face or the more searching look she gave me.

Oh dear, so you had a very sheltered upbringing then? Well, I’m not complaining. From a selfish point of view, if you’re home instead of out partying, then I’m going to appreciate the company.

She propped her crutches firmly under her arms and hobbled to the door. I’ll leave you to unpack and when you’re ready, you come and see me, and we’ll go through the things I need you to help me with. She smiled at me before leaving the room, leaving me to stand in my beautiful room, hugging myself with the first real feeling of happiness I’d felt in more time than I could remember.

When my bags were all unpacked and I’d taken the time to wash my face and brush my hair until it lay smoothly over my shoulders, I hesitantly left the room and made my way through the house in search of Daisy.

I found her sitting on a recliner lounge chair, her plastered leg on the foot rest, sound asleep. I stared at her for a moment unsure what to do but reluctant to wake her. I looked around the room, noticing the beautiful paintings hanging on the wall, similar to the ones in the room I was staying in. She obviously liked paintings.

The room was beautiful too, the colours warm and the décor welcoming from the moss green lounge to the decorative things hanging around the room and the beautiful solid timber furniture.

I turned and made my way to the kitchen gasping when I saw all it had to offer. It wasn’t huge, but definitely bigger than anything I was used to with its black granite bench tops, timber cupboards and stainless steel fridge, stove, and dishwasher. Still, looking at the dishes in the sink and surrounds, the remains of burned food stuck to the stove top, I could clearly see that Daisy had been struggling.

I started rinsing off the dishes and opened the dishwasher staring at it in confusion. I’d never used one but surely it couldn’t be that difficult? I loaded up everything that was lying around and hunted around in the cupboards until I found a box of things called power balls which announced boldly on the side of the box that they were going to stun and amaze me with the brilliant clean and shine they’d put on my dishes. Following the diagram on the box, I managed to work my way through what I needed to do with it and when another search of the cupboards revealed the instructions for the dishwasher, I quickly worked out what buttons I needed to push and turned it on.

With a smile of satisfaction at my achievement, I turned my attention to cleaning down the benches, washing the baked on food off the stove top and when the kitchen gleamed to my satisfaction, I looked over at Daisy to see if she was stirring.

She was still sound asleep, and I hesitated, again unsure what to do with myself now. A glance at the clock revealed it was just gone 4pm so it wouldn’t be much longer before dinner time, well, dinner time at the time I was used to having to have it prepared by. I had no idea what time Daisy would want dinner.

I opened the fridge to see if there was anything there waiting to be cooked, but there was nothing. I rummaged around and found some ham, tomatoes and eggs, Daisy sure had plenty of eggs. I would wait until she woke and see if she would like an omelette for her dinner.

A scratching noise at the back of the house drew my attention, and I headed towards the long floor to ceiling windows at one end of an area off the living room, which looked like a family room or rumpus room I guess. There were sliding glass doors that led out to the backyard and I followed the sound until with a cry of delight, I found the source of the noise, a little dog scratching at the door to get inside.

When he saw me he gave a high pitched bark, but despite the noise, his tail was wagging so hard, his whole body swung from side to side. I opened the door, reaching down to pat him and after a tentative sniff of my fingers, he rushed forward, bouncing around me excitedly. I patted his wriggling little black and tan body, as he licked me wherever he could make contact with my skin, and I laughed at his antics. He was so cute. I’d never been able to have a pet, my father wouldn’t allow it so to see that Daisy had a dog was just the icing on the cake for me. This job was going to be everything I needed. Not only did it give me somewhere to live, but I had an employer who was really nice and kind. She had a beautiful home and had given me a room unlike anything I could ever have imagined. Then to top it all off, she had a cute little dog who appeared to think I was as great as I thought he was.

For the first time in as long as I could remember, I felt myself relaxing, the tension easing in my shoulders. Maybe, just maybe I would be safe here. I could stay hidden from my father and hope that he would never find me. I would need to be careful, and I hoped that he never found out that Debbie had had a major hand in helping me or her life would become hell.

I smiled down at the little dog and lifted him into my arms, cradling him close to me as he licked my face.

I heard a chuckle behind me and turned to see Daisy watching us. Well, I see you’ve met Milo. She said, giving me that warm smile of hers.

Chapter Two

Lucian

Fuck I’m so damn bored. Lucian sighed as he threw himself down on the lounge, his eyes shifting to Damien who too was looking about as enthusiastic as he was over their evening so far.

Oh, for fuck sakes, take yourselves out to a club or something and stop with the childish bleating you two. Francesca grumbled at them. I’m sure you’ll find one or two women eager to share their bodies and their blood with you and if they aren’t, just bend their minds until they’re happy to share.

What is wrong with my children this evening. They all turned as Fabian, their sire stepped into the room, his little witch by his side, the glow of recent sexual gratification still showing in her eyes.

Lucian rose to his feet, nodding to Fabian and Sirene as he left the room. The truth was he wasn’t just bored, he was frustrated. A beautiful young woman was staying in the house over the road with their old neighbour. The old lady had broken her leg apparently and it appeared that the young girl was there to help her around the house.

The first night he’d seen her, he had instantly become hard, his cock straining against the black jeans he wore, and he knew he wouldn’t be satisfied until he bedded her.

Each night for the last week he’d gone out waiting for a glimpse of her as she seemed to pick the evenings to take the old lady’s dog for a walk. Lucian so badly wanted to go up to her, but something about her held him back. There was a fragility, a nervousness, an almost timid demeanour about her, and although ‘me see, me take’ was his usual method of dealing with things, for the first time he found himself reluctant to force his presence on her and certainly at this stage he didn’t want to try, and mind control her.

No, for now he would just suffer the agony of wanting her, desperate to go to her but determined to restrain himself from doing just that. If it meant a serious case of blue balls while he waited for the right opportunity to approach her he would settle for blue balls. Well, the prospect of blue balls certainly didn’t excite him and the ache he’d carried for a few days already in his dick and balls told him he wasn’t too far off a pretty decent case of it anyway.

Impatient with his thoughts, frustrated with his family but most of all, frustrated with the need he had for the waif across the road, he stormed out of the house and almost skidded to a halt when at that exact same moment, she stepped out of the old lady’s house with that tiny, oversized rat they called a dog on a lead by her feet.

He ducked into the shadows and watched her bend to pat the rat, hearing the soft tones of her almost musical voice as she spoke to it before straightening and walking up the driveway towards the road.

She paused at the top for a moment and almost appeared to look straight at him, but he knew she’d never be able to see him in the dim lighting. Finally, she turned and started to walk down the road the little dog trotting happily along by her side and Lucian almost envied the dog for being able to be that close to her.

He waited until she’d disappeared around the corner before heading down the street himself determined that tonight he was going to speak to her.

Using the other houses to conceal his presence, he rushed down the street until he was well ahead of her and crossed to her side of the road before settling down to a more sedate pace as he tried to give the illusion that he just happened to be out walking too.

Her reaction when she first saw him took him by surprise. She froze momentarily before appearing to almost shrink before his eyes. Her eyes widened and he could see the fear in them, he could smell her fear. The rat at her feet decided it didn’t like the look of him and began to yap, in some annoying high pitched bark. He glared at it which was enough to silence the damned thing for now, and again he raised his eyes to the timid woman before him.

Are you alright? He asked her but she didn’t answer him, she just stood, frozen.  Fuck she was literally rigid with fear? What the hell was wrong with her?

He stepped closer and stopped when she seemed to shrink back from him even more. Her reaction wasn’t something he was familiar with, and it took him by surprise. Women generally fell all over themselves to be with him, just one of the perks of being vampire. This girl’s reaction was not quite what he’d expected. Ok, he could see from observing her over the week that she was shy, nervous, not exactly a social butterfly, but one look from him and the girl was nearly catatonic.

Slowly he approached her again until he was right in front of her, and could see the tremors running through her body. He reached out and hooked a finger under her chin, raising her face to his and his stomach clenched painfully when he saw what he could only describe as sheer terror in her eyes. God, what amazing eyes she had. They were big and round and startlingly blue. A beautiful shade of baby blue. Blue as the sky on a brilliant summer’s day, they were stunning.

What’s your name? He asked her softly and he saw her swallow, watching the movement of her throat and the pulse in her neck leaping wildly. Why was she so scared? Please, I won’t hurt you. I simply want to know your name. I’ve seen you coming out to walk this dog each evening. My name is Lucian Andreas, I live across the road from where you are staying. You’re living with Mrs Appleby aren’t you?

He waited, watching her to see if anything he was saying was reaching her. Finally, finally her eyes shifted marginally until they almost met his, almost. A..Arissa. My name is Arissa. She said so softly, it was a mere whisper and her lips, those luscious full lips of hers barely moved as that beautiful name passed by them. She had such perfect lips, plump and with that naturally pouty look that made him long to lean forward and kiss her.

Arissa. He tried the name out for himself, before releasing her chin. He desperately wanted to spend more time with her, simply staring at her, but he suspected he’d just about tested her limit of endurance so far, so he stepped back.

This was so unlike him to walk away but there was something about her that tugged at him on an emotional level unlike anything he’d ever experienced. Of course, he still wanted her, the hard ridge of his cock straining against the fabric of his jeans proved that.

Fortunately, the dark hid his body’s reaction to her since he felt certain she would have been screaming rape if she’d seen he was hard for her. Well, scream or pass out cold at his feet. Either reaction was possible.

Good bye Arissa. He said softly and stepped back from her, but then a powerful desire struck, a need to taste her, so strong, he couldn’t ignore it. Softly he called her name, watching as her eyes met his and before she could look away, he locked on her, bending her mind to his control. When he saw her expression go blank, almost serene, he stepped up to her again, bending forward until his lips touched hers. God they were so soft, and he wanted more. He kissed her, teasing, nibbling at her, tracing his tongue along her full bottom lip that drove him crazy, before slipping inside to taste the sweetness of her mouth.

He groaned softly, his hands shifting to her hips where he pulled her into him, curving her body against his. She was so thin, so fragile, like the finest bone china and he worried that he might accidentally snap her in two.

For a few moments he indulged his fantasies, savouring the feel of her soft warm body against his, his cock pressing insistently into her stomach, and he even allowed himself to grind into her before reluctantly releasing her again.

It would be so easy