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Consequences	By : Sabriel0405 Category: Anita Blake > Het Views: 4737 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Anita Blake series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Chapter 10

We broke apart as though we had received an electric shock. Perhaps we had. I stared at Jean-Claude, licking my suddenly dry lips. Was he angry? His voice had been remarkably neutral but that only meant he was hiding what he really felt. He looked magnificent. Not that this was a surprise, but all the need I had been suppressing came to the fore. “Jean-Claude,” I said, but it came out as a whisper, barely audible except to that inhuman hearing. I couldn’t take my eyes from him.

He was dressed in all black, from the butter-soft leather boots and pants, the silk of his shirt and jacket, and the curls of his hair. The alabaster of his skin made the contrast so very stark. But his eyes provided all the color necessary. They were already a drowning blue and I wondered how long he had been watching. My breathing was audible and I knew I was staring like a deer in the headlights.

Asher took my hand and kissed it. “Go with your Master, ma cherie. There will be plenty of time later.” I wanted to argue with the terminology but I couldn’t. Not at this moment, not on any level. Jean-Claude must have realized how genuinely incapacitated I was because he took my hand from Asher’s and gently slid me off the bed. My knees didn’t hold.

Jean-Claude lifted me in his arms, his strength made it effortless. I wanted to fight against this too, but I was in his arms and I wanted to be there. There were no tough guys trying to kill us. It wasn’t necessary to posture. I wanted him desperately. I rested my head against his shoulder and began playing with the frills that spilled down his throat. The chuckle that came from the bed was highly masculine. “Je rêverai de vous,” Asher said. I will dream of you both, he said. I felt heat at my cheeks.

I know I didn’t pass out but I must have lost time because we were in Jean-Claude’s bedroom and I had no memory of how we got here. The sheets were the same midnight blue of his eyes. “You look lovely, ma petite,” he said. I didn’t believe him, not exactly, since I was still within the magic circle of his arms. But when he bent his head to kiss me, I didn’t care anymore. My arms, which had been loosely draped around his neck, pulled him tightly into me. I knew he tasted Asher on my lips and somehow that made it more exciting.

“I have missed you too much to go slow tonight, ma petite. Your body calls to mine. But if it is not safe…,” he trailed off.

I wasn’t particularly lucid, but I knew what he was asking. Because of the ardeur, I had had to ask Lillian. “It’s safe,” I told him. “Please love me, Jean-Claude, please,” I gasped.

“For eternity, ma petite,” Jean-Claude said as he lowered me to the floor. He made sure I could stand before he stepped away from me and stared. His hands came up and lightly caressed my breasts. I couldn’t stop the sharp, indrawn breath. It hadn’t hurt but I felt the pull, low and deep. “I will enjoy these tonight,” he said, his voice, always a touchable thing, caressed me from within. I could feel the pleasure build and we hadn’t even begun.

My mind stopped processing coherent thoughts. Jean-Claude continued to admire the outfit for a few moments before he began undressing me. I could tell it took all his control not to rip the dress from my body but instead he unzipped and unhooked and unwrapped like the expert he was. In no time, I was naked before him. Even in front of Jean-Claude, I had to fight the urge to cover myself. I didn’t see Jean-Clauderessress himself, but he was suddenly displayed in all his splendor. I swallowed hard.

He slid down my body. When he was on his knees, his hands at my waist, he took one nipple in his mouth and suckled gently, rolling it around, tugging with his lips. I threw my head back and exhaled sharply. He did the same to the other nipple. I whimpered. One of the hands that had been at my waist had moved between my legs. Two fingers slid into me and I had to grasp his shoulders. I co’t f’t form words. This wasn’t the need of the ardeur that left me so dazed. It felt like forever since I had been in Jean-Claude’s arms, since he had played my body. I swayed in his arms as he continued his manipulations.

After what felt like an eternity that left tears of need streaking down my cheeks, he lifted me again and placed me on the silk sheets. I didn’t remember him pulling down the bedcovers. I opened my arms to embrace him as he settled between my legs. He was iron hard against me. I arched against him, wanting, needing to feel him inside me. Instead, he moved himself against me, dampening himself on my desire. It wasn’t nearly enough. I kissed every part of him I could reach, his shoulders, his chest, his arms. I licked my way around the cross-shaped burn; my hands traced the whip marks on his back.

He finally brought his face down to mine for a kiss, but it was more like being devoured from the mouth down, both of us battling for victory. His tongue swept my mouth, touched mine and enticed. In my own haste, I nicked myself on his fangs. The blood made him gasp and pull away. “Non, ma petite, my control is not all it should be tonight,” he said. That voice caresse to to the bottom of my soles. It was like having a feather tickle me from the inside. I shuddered.

“Now, Jean-Claude, please now,” I begged and didn’t care. If we didn’t get this first explosion over with, I wouldn’t live through the night.

He parted my legs further and moved them higher up for maximum penetration. He looked at me there, lying open, exposed. Heat climbed through my body. “Mine,” he hissed. I knew what he was going to do an instant before he did it. In one swift motion he drove himself into me to the hilt. I screamed as my back bowed. The orgasm burst over me like a rain cloud exploding. I clung to Jean-Claude who had only just begun the dance. I expected to hear masculine chuckles of satisfaction, but the look in Jean-Claude’s eyes, even through the drowning, pupilless, blue, was of a man straining for control.

He continued to slam into me, driving me into the bed and causing pulsating sensation every time he connected. I held him as close as I could as I rose to meet his thrusts. Jean-Claude didn’t have to be careful the way Micah did or Richard. He didn’t have to worry about bruising me or tearing me. But he was rarely this unmindful of my mostly human status. I could feel him deep inside me, hot, hard. I could feel my own wetness, my own desire, lubricating him with every pounding of his flesh into mine. “Look into my eyes, ma petite,” he whispered, his voice unusually hoarse. I was suddenly afraid, remembering other times when we did this, other times when I lost myself in that endless midnight. But I couldn’t deny him. The The marks flared open between us, all the love, the passion, almost touchable, tasteable. He had believed that my absence meant he was losing me, that I was withdrawing from him, distancing myself, making a choice. The pain had been unbearable. It was like losing Julianna all over again only worse, because I was his and I was ripping his heart out. He loved me with all his heart, something I kept refusing to believe, but was now so clear. I had never wanted anything so much as to reassure him that I really was his.

I finally found my voice. “Je t’aime, Jean-Claude. I love you,” I screamed as he drove hard and fast. His hands were busy tugging at my nipples, kneading my breasts. I felt the frissons of need curling around my pleasure center. I moaned and tried to remember to breath. I suddenly realized that the dreams, though tactile, lacked both taste and scent. I had had the memory of Jean-Claude’s cologne and the taste of his skin in those dreams but the real thing was so much more. His scent was rich and fresh, his skin so soft again my tongue and teeth. I wanted to mark him, brand him mine forever. My nails raked down his back when he ground his hips against me.

Without warning he flipped us over. It was sharper from this angle. He loved to see me above him, pleasuring myself with his body. His spread his legs wide, doing the same to mine, making the penetration particularly deep. He pushed himself into me rhythmically. His eyes still held mine, but he was fast losing control. He pulled me to him to feast at my mouth and moved his hand between our bodies. His fingers knew just where to touch me. I burst into flame, flashes of heat burning me to the core. I clenched him tightly internally and felt orgasm crash over him. He convulsed under me and gasped my name. I could feel the spray of warmth deep inside. I collapsed against his chest, my own chest heaving with the effort to take in enough oxygen. Aftershocks rippled through me.

He flipped us over again. My arms were boneless around his neck. He kissed my cheeks, my neck, my collarbone, the hollow at my throat. I didn’t think I had arousal left in me, but my body responded to his touch as though I were still starving. The chuckle he gave held that masculine satisfaction I had expected earlier. I couldn’t find it in myself to protest, mostly because that would have required speaking and once again my voice had deserted me. He must have realized because he whispered, “Sleep, ma petite. The night is young. I will be here when you wake.” He was still buried deep within me when I succumbed to the darkness.

I was curled against Jean-Claude when I awoke. He still retained the warm of his evening’s blood donor. Which reminded me. “Why didn’t you feed off Jason tonight?”

Jean-Claude looked at me blankly. I could understand that. It was just like me to ruin the moment. But I couldn’t let it go. “Tonight. You didn’t call for Jason. He thinks you’re angry with him for getting me pregnant.” My hands started combing through his silken curls. It was as though they had a mind of their own. My nap had energized me. I wanted him again. I couldn’t make up for the past month but I could make this a night to remember.

Jean-Claude shook his head. “I am not angry with him. I thought to give him some time to come to terms with all that has happened. If he attempted to resist me, even involuntarily, though I can roll him easily, the experience would not be pleasant.”

“Oh,” I said, rather inanely. Jean-Claude’s hands had been stroking me and I had already lost my concentration.

“I promised you something new tonight, ma petite. Are you still willing?” His voice slid down my body like satin. I fought my impulse to arch into it.

“No blood,” I whispered, though I was already a little nervous. The dreams had been exciting but a little frightening. Not just because of the intensity of the pleasure but because there were things I had never done. Things that, in my sheltered midwestern upbringing, had not been discussed much less experienced.

“Of course not,” he said and rolled me onto my stomach. From the nightstand he took a flask that I hadn’t noticed earlier. He spilled some of the contents into his hands and rubbed them together. I tensed thinking that I knew what he was about to do. “Relax, ma petite,” he said and caressed my shoulders. His hands had warmed the oil and the scent of jasmine wafted around the room. Jean-Claude had wonderful hands and he knew how to use them. I wasn’t so much aroused as I was relaxed.

When he moved to my buttocks and even the cleft between, I was still in that comfortable haze that a good massage induces. But when he touched that last unclaimed entrance every muscle in my body reacted. “Jean-Claude?” My voice came out squeakier than I would have liked.

“I will not hurt you, ma petite. I only seek to prepare you. But if you do not want this…” His voice trailed off. It would be my decision like everything else. I forced myself to relax. He continued down my body, massaging my thighs, my calves, my feet.

“Mmm,” I whispered, not wanting him to stop.

He turned me over and poured more oil into his hands. He continued back up my legs, skirted my center and massaged my belly. I swear I began purring. He was gentle with my breasts, though he couldn’t resist a kiss on each of the tight nubs. I shivered. He played up and down my arms until I thought I might sink into the mattress. Only then did he move between my legs.

He gently parted me until he found what he was looking for. He lowered his mouth. I cried out at the sensation. His tongue, so hot, so fast. And his fingers, they were everywhere. I could feel the liquid evidence of my arousal all down my thighs. I moved them farther apart to give Jean-Claude better access. I arched into his talented mouth. He devoured me. He sucked on my center and my world spiraled out of control in ribbons of colored sensation, the noises coming from my mouth no longer human. I was incoherent with pleasure. When he dipped first one finger, then a second into my still virgin passage, I barely noticed. I felt him stretch me but it didn’t hurt. I felt strangely full. But I couldn’t think past the next orgasm.

I was so drenched in my own wetness that he had easy access to natural lubricant. His fingers moved back and forth within me, stretching me, preparing me to accept something much larger. I was having trouble breathing now, my body no longer my own. I was weightless, boneless, skinless. Nothing but spilling pleasure. And since the marks were open between us, he could feel what I was feeling, enhance it, control it. My hands raked his back, his chest, anywhere I could touch. I drew blood on his body and he arched into the pain. He moved up my body, taking my lips in a near punishing kiss. I could taste myself on his lips and it only aroused me further. His mouth was so distracting that I barely notiwhenwhen he moved his erection between the cleft of my buttocks. I felt the blunt head tease the entrance and move away.

He entered me traditionally and I was panting for more, my hips rising to meet his. I understood now how people died of pleasure. He thrust deep once or twice and withdrew. Returning once again to my anal ring. He began moving forward n. Tn. This time the pressure shocked me back into some semblance of awareness. My first instinct was to try to escape his body but he had me immobilized. He pushed forward and entered me. It didn’t feel good exactly, but it didn’t hurt either. There was pressure, an unexpected fullness. I didn’t fight it. I should have known Jean-Claude would be as much as expert in this as every other kind of seduction. His other hand moved into better-known territory and caressed me. He knew well that my pain/pleasure receptors were easily confused. The key was to hit that line.

“Relax, ma petite, let it happen,” he urged. My arousal perfumed the air, overpowering the jasmine oil. Jean-Claude was clearly impacted as well. He was still in control but through the marks, I knew he wanted to move faster, to thrust deeper. But he couldn’t, not there, not yet. He rocked forward and backward just enough so that sensation continued to ride my body but not hard enough for fear. He kissed everywhere he could reach, nuzzling at the undersides of my breasts, moving to my neck. I could feel the fangs pressing against the skin.

I knew how much he wanted my blood. I had been so close to giving in and now I couldn’t but as I experienced his desire, I almost said yes anyway. It wasn’t just blood lust. He wanted my blood because he wanted all of me. He wanted to wrap my body around himself like blanket. He wanted to bathe in my essence and know that I was his for eternity. He couldn’t have that last. Not yet. I wasn’t ready to give up the last bit of my humanity. I couldn’t give him my blood now either. I had given him my dreams and now he would have my body. I pushed against his thrust and tried to relax my sphincter muscles. I wrung a low groan from him and it made me want to do it again.

“Again,” I whispered. Instead of obeying me, he flipped us over. It was startled me, and my hands along with the rest of my weight, hit his chest hard. His own hands were clasped around my buttocks, making sure I didn’t impale myself unintentionally. It was odd from this angle. But it gave me more control now that he was partially inside me.

I pushed against his chest and began moving up and down. It took time to find a semblance of a rhythm and he wasn’t totally within me yet. I could not imagine experiencing what he and Asher had done first with Belle Morte and then with Julianna. Surely it wasn’t possible.

Once again, Jean-Claude’s hands were busy teasing my sensitive areas, making me forget what we were actually doing. Each rise and fall of my body drove him deeper into me. Pleasure began to build again, filling me up almost to the point of overflow. His fingers caressed me, wringing more wetness from my swollen flesh and I moved faster. My heart pounded visibly against my chest. He eased a finger inside me, pressing against the barrier that separated the two passages. Sensation shot out, blinding me, flooding me. I cried out and spasmed around him. It was an orgasm like nothing I had ever experienced. The pleasure so deep it bordered on pain, perhaps was pain. I didn’t remember falling into his arms.

When I regained conscious thought, I kissed him. He opened his mouth under mine and I knew he had been fearful of my reaction. I usually ran after something like this. But I couldn’t run anymore. I had nowhere to go or perhaps had nowhere else I wanted to be. He was still whispering French endearments when I drifted to sleep.
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Consequences