Page 90 of The Reveal
This wildfire with no beginning and no end. This shattering that only goes on and on and on. Of all the things he’s said to me, all the games he’s played since we met, I take this as truth.
He never expected to feel the things he does when he’s with me.
This makes me feel bold. I step back but grip his wrists as I go and then tug him with me, away from the window and deeper into the room. He lets me do it. He lets me move him across his own floor and then push him back down on his own bed.
Then I stand there before him, stripped naked, bathed by his hands, made new.
I have the strangest thought. That this is a kind of baptism. That there is something holy in his gaze, something sacred in the space between us.
I shouldn’t let this happen. I open my mouth to slap it back, the growing intensity between us, but I don’t.
The words sit there on my tongue, unspoken.
Worse, I let them.
Instead of defusing this, I move toward him. I put my knee on the mattress and crawl up his body to press my mouth to the place where a pulse would be if he lived, there at the base of his neck. I suck a little on the spot I find, the place where my own pulse thunders, until he makes a sound like breath.
But it’s onlylikebreath.
He pulls me over him and settles me on his lap. We stay like that for another eternity or two, me sprawled over him so I can rock myself gently against the thick shaft of his cock and drive myself quietly—or maybe not so quietly—over the edge.
Still, I know, with a kind of dawning awareness that feels like a revelation, that we are no longer playing games. That the games we’ve been playing all this time, little as they may have done their job, are over now.
That all of this is new territory.
I’ve dared him to fuck me more times than I can count. He’s responded by making certain that the things we do get us both off, but me significantly more than him.
These have all been power games. I understood this the whole time and still presented myself before him every night.
I was beginning to think that playing such games was no more and no less than what vampiresdo. That they don’t have it in them to simplyhave sex.
Now I’m beginning to understand, by the way he holds me, that I’ve been wrong about that, too.
I feel as if I’m hovering on the edge of another understanding. Something glimmering. Something made up of white-hot heat and that stark emotion I don’t want to read all over his face.
It isn’t that this is without power. His stern hands are all over my body. The way he moves me up and down against the thick shaft of his cock—always so close and yet not quite there—is hypnotic. Only hotter.
Especially when, with the rain outside and a different storm within, he lifts me higher than before. And then lowers me, shifting the angle so he can notch the thick head of his cock in the entrance to my pussy at last.
I must make a noise, because he freezes. Or maybe time simply slows like that.
There’s nothing between us now. There’s nothing holding us apart. It’s like he’s daring me to understand what’s happening, on all the levels it’s happening. As if he’s daring me to acknowledge what this is.
What I think to myself is that I will never be the same.
Yet right at this moment, arched up above him with his hands tight around my hips, I don’twantto be the same.
I want this.
I wanthim, no matter how dangerous this is.
I want this new thing we’re becoming more than I want any of the things I’ve lost. Even though I suspect that later, I will find that shameful.
Right now, I understand that I’m poised on the verge of yet another brand-new life.
And he’s a vampire, through and through. He’s cold, immortal, and he will wait forever for me to beg him. Toinvite him.
To sign myself up for my own ice-cold immolation.
