Calling for a Miracle [The Order of Vampyres 2] (Siren Publishing Classic) (30 page)

He pressed his nose gently into the space above her shoulder and she felt him nuzzle a bit of her hair away from her neck. His breath was a strong and steady tattoo so close to her. Her belly pulled tight when he kissed her ear. No one had ever touched her ears. Chills ran down her spine and a fire began to burn somewhere inside of her as she felt him tug the lobe between his teeth.

She startled when his hand touched her belly. It was as if he knew what she was feeling. He pressed his hand upon her lower abdomen exactly where the fire had started to burn.

“Relax for me, sweet Larissa,” he whispered into her ear.

She whimpered, but tried to do as he asked. He nudged her jaw to the side and she understood. Tilting her cheek away from him and down to her shoulder, she allowed him better access to her throat. Perhaps he wanted to exchange blood and then begin the other parts of the bonding.

His lips gradually kissed down the column of her throat and she felt his fingers comb through the fine hair covering her sex, yet he did not force her legs open. She waited for him to take her blood, but he did not. He simply continued to lick and kiss her neck.

His fingers reached lower and tickled the valley between her thighs. When she was certain he would wedge her legs apart so that he could climb on top of her, he did not. Rather, his fingers traveled back up her belly toward her breasts. He rested his palm just below her breasts. The contact had her reflexively breathing in and holding her stomach tight.

“Breathe,
bellissima,
” he reminded and her breath left her in a whoosh that had her feeling somewhat dizzy. She was grateful she was lying down.

Her breasts felt full, uncomfortably so. She squeezed her eyes together more tightly and shifted her shoulders, trying to find some sort of relief. Larissa felt as if she were balancing on a thread and needed to adjust her grip someway, but did not know how to let go. She stopped focusing on her aching breasts when his mouth pressed over hers.

His touch was gentle at first, teasing her lips, barely touching her. Her mouth slightly opened and she tasted his warm, rich breath across her tongue. She fought the instinct to lick at his mouth. She must not overstep. His kiss slowly nudged her lips farther apart and her toes curled at the contact of his warm tongue. Once he began exploring her mouth, she reflexively shut her lips. She had never been kissed in such a way. He seemed to be reaching for a part of her being and would not cease his probing until she surrendered whatever he was searching for.

With each stroke of his tongue, the fire in her belly grew hotter. Unable to tolerate any more, unsure how she should receive such attention, a slight whine escaped her, and she turned away from him. The moment Larissa denied him she regretted it. She shook her head and apologized quietly. Turning back to him, she took a deep breath and attempted once again to submit.

He smiled against her lips. “Do you not like my kisses, Larissa?”

She wanted to open her eyes to better read his expression, but was still too frightened of what she might see. The scent of his arousal was quickly filling the room. She made a sound in the back of her throat, but he did not appear to think that a valid answer. He seemed to be waiting for her response before he would continue.

“That is not kissing, what you do,” Larissa admitted.

He chuckled and whispered against her lips, “A kiss is not defined in action, but by the reaction it causes. It is meant to heat the body from within. A kiss between lovers should be savored and tasted. Are you not curious about my taste, Larissa? I find yours intoxicating.”

She was shocked by his words. He was her bishop and speaking in such a manner was not Christian. She was torn. If she kissed him back, would he judge her later, accuse her of having loose morals? He continued to tempt her with his tongue. Her senses grew more and more overwhelmed. She found herself very much wondering about his tastes. Although she had kissed him once before, she had not done it in a thought-out way. She had simply meant to pillage him, the same way he had pillaged her. Now, however, she wanted to taste like he had said.

She grew restless beneath his toying mouth. He seemed to sense her struggle. His coaxing became more demanding and her mouth trembled as it began to move beneath his. He pulled her lip between his teeth and she felt as though he was pulling off a layer of her soul. How had he learned to kiss in such a manner?

“Kiss me back, Larissa. Take from me what you want.”

Shyly, her tongue pressed against his. His lips then sealed tightly to hers, the pressure causing her head to settle more firmly into the pillows. His tongue probed deeper and he groaned as if he were pleased when she moved her tongue further past his lips. The hand that had been resting over her ribs moved higher and sifted through her hair. The contact seemed to tie an invisible thread from her lips to her belly, with every lick of his tongue, the thread pulled tighter and tighter until she needed to arch into him so she might relieve the tugging sensation.

His grip in her hair was constricting, yet she did not find it uncomfortable. They kissed for a while longer, each movement causing her to feel a bit bolder. Her thighs began to rub together, causing her mind to imagine the crickets that came out on the farm at night. He was turning her into a cricket.

Suddenly she felt the presence of something warm and wet seep between her thighs. She stilled. When more moisture released there, she began to panic that he might notice. She pressed her thighs together and prayed whatever was happening to her down there would stop. Incredibly self-conscious, she tried to shift away from him.

“Larissa.”

She could not bring herself to answer him. He would expect her to explain what was happening and such humiliation would be unbearable.

“Larissa, look at me.”

She shook her head. She could not face him.

He pulled her face toward him and held her to him. His hard chest pressed firmly against her soft bosom. She felt as if she had run a mile, yet she had done nothing but lie beneath him. She was ruining everything. “I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?”

“I cannot do this. Please, just finish so that we may be done.”

He pulled her closer to him and held her tight. She heard his breath fill the space above her shoulder by her ear. “I will not simply be done with this. I do not intend to rush. Tell me what happened that you are suddenly shy again.”

“I can’t,” she croaked, fighting back a sob.

“Did I do something you did not like?”

“No.”

“Am I moving too fast?”

In her opinion he was moving too slow. Silus had never taken this long. She shook her head.

“I know it is uncomfortable for you to discuss such things, but I cannot make it better if you do not talk to me.”

She turned her head away in shame. “I am…” Tears choked her. In a hoarse whisper, she confessed, “I am wet.”

He stilled above her. He was surely repulsed. When he still did not say anything after several minutes, she turned and peeked at him through her lashes. When she saw him pressing his lips tightly together as if trying not to laugh at her, she scoffed and frantically began to push at his chest. “You…you are laughing at me!”

“No.” He sobered and gazed down at her. Apologetically he said, “I am not laughing at you,
bellissima.
I am laughing at my own inability to explain the laws of nature to you. I am sorry. Please do not think I am laughing at you.”

Her feelings were hurt. Her pride stung. Why were relations so humiliating? She pressed at his chest once more, but he only settled more of his weight over her, stilling her protests. He watched her, waiting for her to calm herself. When she relaxed he placed a chaste kiss upon her lips and quickly shifted his position. Before she understood what he was doing, he was over her, his long legs trapping her bare ones.

Her arms were bent to her chest and wedged between them. She felt his maleness pressing into her hip, yet he would not be able to enter her with their legs entwined the way they were.

“Your body’s reaction is natural, Larissa. Do you feel how the more I touch you, the harder my body becomes?” He pressed his hardness into her hip and she gasped. “That is the natural response of an aroused male. Females are different. Females are a soft place for our hardness. When I enter you, you must be prepared for me so that I do not hurt you. Your body knows this. Like a flower instinctively produces nectar to attract bees, a female’s body produces nectar as well.”

She had never heard of such a thing. She was about to argue as much when he suddenly said, “Let me show you.”

He sat back and she suddenly felt exposed. She covered her breasts self-consciously. He scooted down her body and her gaze caught on the bulge behind the snap of his pants. She gasped and quickly turned her head.

He laughed softly. “It’s okay. You may look at me.”

Slowly she turned back to face him. His body was so much larger than it appeared beneath his clothing. His arms were enormous, bulging with swells of muscle under smooth, tanned skin. The lower portions of his arms were covered with dark, wiry hair. The same dark hair formed a line down the center of his abdomen. Unlike her soft belly, his was rigid with muscle. His chest was wide and firm. Where her breast had small, pink peaks intended for nursing young, his chest had flat, dark buds. She wondered why a male would have such parts.

Her eyes traveled lower. His belly button was covered with wiry fuzz that disappeared beneath the waistband of his pants. When her gaze touched on the bulge there, she jerked her gaze away again.

“Have you ever seen a male, Larissa?”

“You forget I was married for a year, Bishop.”

“I forget nothing. Now answer my question. Have you ever seen a male, actually looked at him?”

Her cheeks burned. “No.”

“Would you like to?”

“No!” How could he ask such a thing?

“Fair enough,” he chuckled. Did he think she was some sort of deviant? “Now, as I was saying. A female is like a flower. She is pleasing to look at, her fragrance is enticing, and she is soft and delicate, and often coveted for her beauty. There is a theory that if you sing to a flower, it will bloom, but if you do not love it properly, it will wilt. When we make love, our bodies are singing to each other.”

He slowly pulled her arms away from her chest and pressed them out to her sides. “We will call these your buds.” He cupped her breasts and trailed his thumb over each pink tip, causing the skin there to pucker once more. He leaned down and pulled one pink bud between his lips. Heat from his mouth spread over the tip and her body arched. He leaned back. “Beautiful.”

She watched him silently as he leaned down and repeated the same attention to her other breast. He suckled her and her body tightened. The fire that had burned low in her belly came blazing back to life. He stared back at her with half-lidded eyes as he continued to pluck at her buds with his mouth. She yipped when he nipped at the sensitive tip and he smiled, showing her that he held her flesh tightly between his teeth.

She sucked in a breath and he released the tip then licked over the abused point. He sat back on his legs again and she waited. Her chest rose and fell as her breath came quickly. He had left her skin damp where his mouth had been and the cool air sent chills shivering up her arms.