Grace Page 6

  “You’ll beg for me to take your pussy. You’ll even beg for me to take you here.” He shifted behind her, parted her ass cheeks to slide his fingers down the crease. She flinched as he teased the puckered rose of her ass, her eyes opening in shock as her body clenched even harder at the thought. She’d never done that before, never even thought of it before. What the hell is wrong with me?

  He moved his hand away, fingers firm as he massaged her ass cheek. His breath was hot on her neck as he kissed the tender skin, nudging her head to one side to nibble at the sensitive spot under her ear. The one that always made her melt. Her eyes fluttered closed, her knees threatening to buckle, but he caught her.

  “Oh no, sweetheart, you stand there, exactly like that, until I tell you otherwise,” he said, a hard note in his voice. Soundlessly, she nodded. He lifted his hand from her wrists. She stayed stock still, her body trembling in anticipation.

  “Good girl.”

  His hands skimmed down her arms and slid around her body. Slowly, watching her in the mirror, he unclipped her bra. Her breasts sprang free. She wasn’t overly-endowed but she was curvy enough. His breath escaped his lungs in a sigh as he cupped her tits.

  Grace bit her lip, forcing her knees to lock despite the pleasure flooding through her body. Her breasts tightened in his hands, and a soft cry escaped her lips. Pleasure arched through her body as though an invisible line ran between her nipples and her aching pussy. A pussy she needed filled and the sooner the better. She shifted restlessly, grinding her ass back onto his erection in silent encouragement.

  In her distraction she moved her hands slightly and his voice was like a whip. “Stand still.”

  She thrust her ass back again, inviting his retaliation. Oh God, I hope he retaliates. She’d never wanted a man to fuck her more in her whole life.

  “That’s it; you asked for it.” He growled, kicking her feet farther apart and opening her legs wide. One hand smoothed down over her stomach, heading south toward her pussy. She bit her already mangled lower lip as he parted her folds, running a finger along her slick flesh.

  “You’re wet, Grace. You’re a bad girl, aren’t you? All this is getting you hot, isn’t it?” His voice was a dark temptation in her ear and he lifted his hand, running the wet tip along her lips. “See for yourself. Open your mouth, Grace.”

  She hesitated then parted her lips, accepting his fingertips and suckling them deeply. The earthy taste took her by surprise but it wasn’t unpleasant. She flicked her tongue over the end of his finger, teasing him. Turnabout was fair play.

  “Fuck. Grace, you’d tempt a saint,” he growled over the sound of rustling fabric behind her. She didn’t need to look in the mirror to know he was shedding his clothes as fast as he could.

  The touch of his lips at the back of her thigh, just above the lace stocking top, took her by surprise. He caressed her other leg, his fingers gentle as he stroked upward.

  “God, these are so sexy,” he murmured, kissing along the lace as his fingers crept higher. “Remind me to get you more.”

  Then his fingers reached their destination, sought out her clit and circled it. Trembling, she locked her knees as he teased her with little nibbling kisses along the stocking top, teased her clit with little circling strokes of his fingers. Her eyes rolled back in her head as the pleasure mounted again. Perhaps this time, finally, he would let her come. She needed to come. It had become more necessary than breathing.

  Then his fingers slid inside her again and Grace nearly blacked out.

  “Oh God…you’re a bad man. A very bad man.” She managed in a shaky voice as he scissored his fingers inside her. Her hands slid down the glass until they rested on the dresser top. She couldn’t think, couldn’t talk, all that mattered was his fingers in her body, sliding in and out as he fucked her with them. Moving them apart, twisting them inside her as he stretched her and prepared her body for his possession.

  His fingers slid from her and she moaned her frustration, but a moment later the blunt, swollen head of his cock replaced them. Desperate, she pushed back, her breath catching as the tip started to penetrate her body. Would it fit?

  “Oh, it’ll fit alright, sweetheart; you were made for this. Made to take cock. Made to be fucked good and hard,” he told her, pushing forward and forcing her to accept him. She gasped as her body stretched, hovering on the edge of pleasure and pain as he worked himself deeper into her pussy with tiny see-saw motions of his hips. Then he buried himself in her to the hilt, his hand on the back of her neck, holding and caressing her.

  “Breathe, Grace,” he murmured, his voice kind as he paused and waited for her body to adjust to him. He leaned over her, his larger body covering hers as his hand slid between her legs again. The instant he touched her clit she forgot all her discomfort as her denied climax built up again. He spread her juices over the tiny bud, circling and flicking it as he started to move. His hips set up a solid rhythm, and he fucked her hard as his fingers drove her over the edge.

  In the pit of her stomach, the familiar tightness wound tighter, curling in and around on itself, forming a hard knot of pleasure. She opened her thighs more and pressed back against him to rock against his fingers, needing more sensation. Just a little more, to tip her into the abyss.

  Then she was there, poised on the edge for a moment before sensation swept her away in a storm of white-hot pleasure. She cried out, thrusting her hips back as her body clamped around his, her internal muscles milking his cock as her climax took over.

  Jaron gritted his teeth, the feeling of her body around his more than heavenly. As soon as he’d slid inside her tight sheath, he felt as if he’d come home. He shuddered, gently stroking his hand down her back. Despite all his crude words, he wouldn’t hurt her for the world. The trust she’d placed in him had totally humbled him. As his own climax took him, he realised he’d do just about anything for her.

  Chapter Six

  Life was good. Grace could hardly believe her own luck. A knight in shining armor had rescued her from the pit of despair. Well, okay, maybe that was stretching the truth a bit. But she’d certainly been rescued by her own Prince Charming. She sighed and stretched in bed, reaching out for Jaron. But the bed next to her was empty, the cold sheets telling her he was long gone.

  Disappointment made her throat tight. She lay back on the expensive sheets and sighed; she’d missed him again. She never managed to wake up in time. He was always gone before sunrise, headed down to his lab in the basement before she could entice him to spend an extra half hour or maybe even the morning in bed with her.

  Rubbing at her face, she banished the sleep that still lingered. She had a long day ahead of her and thanks to someone keeping her up all night with his kisses and wickedly hot body she hadn’t gotten much sleep. Pulling herself up to a sitting position Grace took a moment to get herself oriented.

  She needed coffee and her medication, in that order. Honestly, she had no clue how Jaron did it. He kept her up half the night but then was gone before she awoke. She knew he’d spend all day locked down in the lab, but he’d be fresh as a daisy by the time evening came.

  Perhaps he caught a few winks down there during the day? He didn’t strike her as the napping kind but didn’t a lot of high-powered execs take power naps? Yeah, Grace did power naps, too. The eight-hours-a-night kind.

  The bedroom door opened and one of Jaron’s soft-footed staff came in carrying a breakfast tray.

  “Morning, Ma’am, how are you feeling this morning?” the girl asked in a chirpy, bright voice quite at odds with the tired look on her face and the bags under her eyes.

  Grace stretched, her arms raised over her head. “I feel fantastic, thank you. Helen isn’t it?”

  “Yes, Ma’am. Just coffee and toast again this morning?” The girl beamed, obviously pleased Grace remembered her name. It wasn’t a hardship. Grace had no idea where Jaron got his staff, but they had a polish that bespoke of good training and good breeding. Grace had remembered Helen’s
name because the girl was a delight, always eager to please.

  But Helen, like the rest of Jaron’s staff, was extremely tight-lipped and seemingly protective of her employer. Honorable, but a bit frustrating when one wished to learn more of one’s paramour’s past. All of Jaron’s employees seemed to think he walked on water. The butler had even gone as far as to refer to Jaron as ‘his lordship’. The title seemed a bit over-dramatic, and Grace had had to stifle a giggle. She wouldn’t have been surprised to see an Igor-like creature shuffling around in the corridors mumbling about serving the ‘master’.

  “Yes, please; just the coffee and toast.” Grace sat back in bed as Helen placed the tray on her lap. As expected, a coffee mug sat on the tray. She’d managed to convince the kitchen staff that a fancy, porcelain coffee cup just didn’t contain enough caffeine to render her human each day. That first morning, she’d had to ‘make do’ with the butler’s holiday-themed coffee mug, with its cheery, cavorting Santa’s. But by the next day, she’d been given her own—no doubt very expensive—white mug to match the rest of the crockery. Grace missed the Santa’s; they’d been cute.

  She drew a deep breath in, savouring the coffee’s rich aroma. Alongside the mug sat a small mountain of toast, half of which she already knew she wouldn’t eat. Grace wasn’t a morning person—coffee and one slice of burnt toast was her perfect breakfast. But alongside the toast was something else. Something she’d come to rely on. Something she couldn’t do without now. She reached out and picked up the small vial. Funny…to her, it still looked like blood.

  As she took the vial, Helen’s hands shook and the toast and mug slid toward the edge of the tray and Grace’s lap. Acting without thinking, Grace reached out, covering the maid’s hands and steadying the tray. A lapful of hot coffee was the last thing she wanted.

  “Oh my God! I’m so sorry, Ma’am,” Helen said. Using a towel she’d had draped over her arm, she quickly dabbed at the coffee that had spilled over Grace’s hands and the tray. “I don’t know what came over me; I’m not normally this clumsy!”

  “No worries hun, accidents happen.” Grace smiled, reassuring the younger woman.

  Helen continued to fuss, rearranging the tray and removing the coffee-sodden toast. As she leaned over, Grace noticed the dark mark on her neck.

  A love bite, no doubt. It looked nasty, though. Purple bruising spread up over her high-collared shirt.

  “Might want to get that looked at. Looks nasty.” Grace nodded toward the mark, wondering if she should have a quick word with Jaron. Perhaps Helen was having trouble with her boyfriend or something. Although they called them ‘love’ bites, surely no loving act had caused such a painful looking mark?

  ***

  She was starting the first part of the conversion. Slowly, so slowly he hadn’t seen it until now. But each day she was getting faster, stronger, and the scars on her legs were fading. Without his bite, though, the full conversion would take longer than her human lifespan.

  Jaron watched the scene by the bed from the corner of the room. He often lingered there, hidden in the half shadows, his body scattered to nothingness, watching Grace as she woke. He was fortunate she was an early riser. Once the sun started to rise in earnest, he would be forced back under the earth to the sleeping chamber in the house’s expansive cellars.

  He hadn’t used the chamber in years. As an elder vampire, he wasn’t crippled by the sun-paranoia of the newly converted that drove them beneath the earth to escape it. But with Grace staying over and sleeping in his bed, he needed an alternative resting place. She still thought he was human; the possibility that he wasn’t had never crossed her mind.

  So if she found him dead to the world, his heart and lungs shut down by the presence of the sun in the sky... Well, freak out would be an understatement. The last thing he wanted to do was land in the human medical system. Sure, a post mortem wasn’t going to kill him, but it was going to be damned uncomfortable and a hell of a shock for the coroner when his ‘patient’ woke up. Coroners weren’t known for their bedside manner, even under the best of circumstances.

  He watched as Helen left the room, her gaze flickering toward the corner where he was hiding. All the staff were sensitive to his presence. They weren’t just servants, they were all seneschals, his eyes and ears in the day, his protectors should the need arise. They were all drawn from families who knew what he was and had served him for generations. And when necessary, they provided him with sustenance.

  Like last night. He had taken blood from Helen, maybe a little too much if her lack of co-ordination this morning was an indication. He didn’t have time to hunt, not with Grace around. He didn’t want to waste any of the time he had with her. Human lives were so short.

  Pain flared through him. He loved her. Somewhere along the way he’d done the unthinkable and fallen in love with a human. A human he had no intention of converting. He’d damned himself enough already with Julia. He wasn’t going to repeat the mistake with Grace. Not when what he felt for her was a hundred times stronger than anything he’d felt for his wife.

  He watched her pour the contents of the vial into the coffee mug and lift it to her lips. A delicious shiver of pleasure shot through him as she drank. She closed her eyes in bliss, reacting to the taste of his blood. When he was still practising medicine he’d noted that some humans found the taste of vampire blood pleasant, even addictive. Those test subjects had always converted well.

  He shook himself, disappearing from the room and arrowing through the ether to reappear down in his sleeping chamber far below the earth. As soon as he reappeared he lashed out, his fists connecting with the heavy steel door, denting it in his rage.

  It was over.

  Tonight, as soon as the sun was down, he would have to leave. Before he lost control and pierced her skin with his teeth. Completed the process she’d already begun by taking her blood within him to create an unbreakable bond between them.

  One that would damn her forever.

  Chapter Seven

  Jaron didn’t leave. He couldn’t. As soon as he looked at her, saw the anticipation and happiness in her eyes about the evening ahead, he couldn’t bring himself to end their affair. Not yet; he would wait until the night ended and then he’d fade away with the dawn.

  Jaron smiled in reply to something Grace said as he settled her into her chair. Tonight, they were guests of the ballet, viewing a special performance of The Nutcracker. His hand trailed over her shoulder, which earned him a smile as he took his own seat.

  He watched her as the show started. Watching the interplay of emotions over her face, the concentration as she watched the dancers, the delight when one performed a move flawlessly. She had an astounding grasp and understanding of ballet. Jaron had followed the art almost since it had become an art and he had never met a performer with the sheer knowledge and ability Grace had. She had been well named, indeed.

  A battle warred within him. How could he even contemplate taking that talent away from the world? If he converted her—and he admitted that the temptation was hovering on the edges of his brain—then he would be. But that ‘what if’ tormented him by offering visions of a future where he could have it all. Grace’s presence in his life, her love for the rest of his days…or rather, his nights. If he converted her then she’d belong to the night, her talent hidden from the rest of the world. And he knew without thinking it would kill her; Grace was born to perform, born to be on the stage.

  Knowing he had to leave her at the end of the night, Jaron lifted his hand and stroked a finger down her delicate cheekbone. He didn’t care where they were, he just wanted one last time with her, something to imprint on his memory for the long years ahead.

  Grace felt the touch and cast him a brief smile. She started to turn her attention back to the stage, but the look in his eyes stopped her dead. She’d seen him hungry, passionate, filled with desire…but nothing pierced her heart as much as the look that he gave her now.

  Longing, bittersweet ne
ed and something else swirled in his mercurial eyes. She’d once thought they were cold but that was before she’d gotten to know him. They said the eyes are the windows to the soul. If they were, then there were things in Jaron’s soul no sane woman would go near. But that was the thing about Grace. She’d always been one to venture where angels feared to tread.

  His hand changed tack, sliding to the nape of her neck. His signature move as he leaned in to press a kiss to her lips. Unlike his other kisses, which tended toward the dominant—demanding kisses that she couldn’t help but respond to—this one was different. Almost as though he were requesting permission to carry on, asking whether she wanted this.

  The ballet forgotten, she turned in her seat, sliding her arms around his neck as she kissed him back. The kiss got hot quickly, and their tongues danced in an age-old rhythm that seemed as fresh as the new dawn. Without prompting, Grace climbed into his lap, straddling his hips as his hands shaped her waist. She giggled as her skirts bunched around her thighs.

  “Good thing it’s dark up here,” she whispered, her hands on his shoulders. She traced her fingers along the seam of his shirt, feeling the solid muscle underneath.

  His palm skimmed up her thigh, playing with the lace at the edge of her stocking. She’d taken to wearing thinner and thinner stockings as Jaron’s potions had achieved the impossible. The scars on her legs were lightening, fading more and more, the longer she took the medication. When she’d asked if it was normal, he’d just shrugged and said it was one of the possible side effects. It didn’t happen with everyone so she must be one of the lucky ones.

  She wriggled in his lap, feeling wanton as she kissed him. Hot, open-mouthed and passionate kisses. Kisses that reminded her of how long it had been since they’d last made love. Right at this moment, last night seemed a lifetime ago.