RemissionChapter Four
Rama turned wide troubled eyes on him. He stared back impassively. Priceless, this moment between them, her eyes filled with uncertainty and shame--the longing to surrender.
“I could tie you up for a month, let it grow.” His fingers whispered over her naked groin. “Would that make it easier for you?”
She moaned, closing her eyes and lifting her hips to his touch. “That isn’t what you really want,” she said.
Angelus continued to watch her, waiting for her response. She reached out to him, tried to guide his head down to her throat. He took her hands in his, gently ran his thumbs in soothing little circles on her palms.
“Please don’t do this!” Ramadevi hated herself for the words but some last crumb of self-preservation forced them out. Don’t take over my life, don’t make me your creature, don’t make me want you... His sex was ready, thick and hard for her burning body.
Rage surged through her, then, pure white-hot hatred for the man–for the corpse–imprisoning her with his flesh. Hatred for herself because she let him. Because she wanted...
She struck him with a tightly closed fist. Angelus watched as she began to wriggle and fight against his hold. Sharp, desperate little sounds as she writhed and fought against his steel-and-whalebone body. Panicked tears dropped from the corners of her eyes.
“I smell you, Rama, I know your blood.” His voice was deep and disgustingly calm. “I know what you really want–” A wealth of satisfaction enriched his tone.
She gave an inarticulate scream and brutally backhanded him–with all her strength.
Angelus’s head snapped to the side, rolling with the blow. Rama gasped and flinched in horror as she felt the jewels on her hand catch on his flesh, dragging the skin, gouging and cutting it.
I’ve hurt him she thought mournfully, sick in her heart. I injured his face. A sob broke from her throat.
“Shhh, it’s all right, don’t cry, darling.” He crooned, drawing her into a tender embrace. “Don’t be afraid, you didn’t hurt me.” He stroked her long hair to soothe her, lifted her chin with one finger.
He kissed her mouth, gently biting her tender lower lip. He bit harder and pleasure rushed through him as she moaned when he tore her lip with his teeth. He felt intensely gratified; the young woman’s moan was more than just pain.
One of his hands drifted to the back of her neck.
“Kiss me, precious,” he urged her and guided her to the wounded side of his face. “Help make it better.”
Ramadevi pressed her bloody mouth to a scrape on Angelus’s cheek. She felt a surge of warmth on his cool skin, heard a faint sizzling as her blood coated his skin. His ripped flesh began to heal, knitting and melting away into smooth perfection. She lavished more kisses on the smaller cuts, the gouges, the scratches that were already healing.
Angelus felt a strange prickling in his chest. He stroked her rounded bottom with real affection. Poor little goddess! he thought. Her power lay in growth, healing, love...nothing but weakness! He, on the other hand...
Ramadevi’s hand trailed past his waist. Shyly, she caressed his hardened shaft through the towel covering it. Hot lightning coursed through him. Her hand closed over him through the towel. The mixed sensations–Ramadevi’s hot and curious little fingers and the plushy warm velvet–jolted Angelus, made him burn inside.
He kissed her trembling lips. Licking her cut lower lip, Angelus closed his eyes as he savored the exquisite taste of her blood mixed with his.
Ramadevi untucked the corner of the towel, loosened the wrap until it fell away.
She gazed down at him, frankly shocked. She had seen naked men before but...A fine quivering ran through her. A knot of intense heat coiled in her lower belly and scalding wetness gathered in her soft core.
In Kama-Sutra, a lover was classed according to the size of his male parts. The hare, compact and lively, measured only six finger widths in length when fully roused. The bull, sturdy and strong, roused to eight finger widths in length. And the stallion, large and muscular, measured twelve finger widths.
Angelus was...more. Much much more.
She caressed him gently, feathering her fingers over his length, dipping lower to fondle the fleshy sac beneath him. His pubic hair was dark with a chestnut tint to it, coarse in texture on her sensitive fingertips.
“Rama.” Just the one word. Her name. His voice low, drowning in need.
Angelus gripped her firmly by her hips and plunged his fangs into her neck.
Rama sighed in longing relief and her fingers tightened on his shaft as she began a steady, rhythmic caress. She marveled at the feel of him even more than his size. The skin was soft and smooth like fine China silk over iron-hard thickness. She gripped him firmly as she learned to manipulate him in a constant movement.
She suppressed an ironic laughed as she recalled the name for this love-play. Simhakranta. “Seizing the lion.”
Angelus swallowed convulsively, savored the remarkable taste and heat filling his throat as white flames licked him deep inside, then fanned throughout his body as Ramadevi stroked him. He reached for her hand, helped to guide her until she caressed him in the way that pleased him most. He scored her flanks with his nails and wrung an erotic gasp from her. Ramadevi squeezed him harder, hugged him tightly with her free arm.
Accept my offering, beloved, accept my life...
Angelus’s eyes widened disbelievingly. She had not spoken aloud, but he had heard her. He bit harder, clamped tightly on her throat until she screamed. He could smell her tears of pain and they only roused him further.
My life pours out for you, beloved...
Her hot fingers gripped his penis like a vise, stroking him rapidly. Angelus growled behind his teeth, the sound vibrating into Ramadevi’s body. She trembled uncontrollably, her warm quivering flesh yet another stimulation for her vampire lover. The whimper deep in her throat was aphrodisiac to Angelus.
He was moving his hips, thrusting against her hand. Ramadevi groaned as his weight settled upon her, a delicious heaviness. Angelus sucked even harder on her throat until she bruised.
“No,” he whispered against her throat. “I don’t want your life, beloved.”
“Angelus!” she gasped.
He thrust harder and her grip tightened impossibly. Angelus growled and clung to her, lavished a deep wet kiss on her wounded throat. He came violently, throbbing, pulsing, splashing lukewarm fluid on her clutching fingers as she moaned soft encouragement to him.
Ramadevi sighed drowsily. Her free hand smoothed through Angelus’s rich dark hair, over his shoulder and arm. She did not release his manhood as it slowly relaxed in her hand, continued to softly touch him.
She rubbed his seed in her fingers curiously. She had never felt it before. She felt vaguely happy that she had done this for him. Given him blood willingly. It had pleased him.
“Not your life, Egypt, take it back.” He sounded very far away from her yet he was so close, raising her body, lifting her against him. One strong hand cupped the back of her head.
“No, Angelus.” His chest, pale and firm, thickly muscled, boasted a flowing streak of dark sparkling liquid. She tried to tell him, “I don’t want–“
“I want.”
The vampire sucked in breath and bit his lips as Rama’s warm lips touched his flesh. Her moist tongue caressed his skin, began to softly lap his blood mixed with hers. She moaned, her lips closing over his wound, and began to suck. Angelus’s moan echoed Ramadevi; he nuzzled her hair as she swallowed.
“More,” he ordered quietly. “Yes!” he hissed as she bit him, lapped him, drank him.
A cloudy mirage swept through Ramadevi’s mind...Angelus, his skin a lovely warm ivory colour (he is human still,) striding easily through a cobblestone street in a town. A small slender girl with dark pigtails in a green dress rushed excitedly towards him and he grinned, swept her up in his arms and tossed her in the air while she squealed with laughter...Later, perhaps the night that followed, Angelus on his knees in a filthy stinking alley, clinging to a vampire woman in her demonic face. Her hair was snow-white and piled very high upon her head and her skin was finely smooth alabaster. Angelus’s strong fingers clung to the ruffled bodice of her gown as he feasted at her bloody breast...just like she was doing...
Angelus gazed musingly as his woman’s body stiffened and she jerked and wriggled her way out from under him. She fell on the floor and scampered to her feet, faced him, backed away.
“You belong to me,” Angelus declared, satisfied. As he sat up on the sofa a bitter smile touched his lips. “My little Lion.”
“No!”
“You were quick to admit it in my library when I had you on my desk,” he reminded her laconically.
Angelus inhaled deeply, enjoying the scent of her body heat and feminine arousal. He grinned shamelessly as a tell-tale blush scorched her cheeks. He knew she recalled every degrading moment, every cruelly hard crack of his open hand on her bottom, his face gently nuzzling her breasts, the thick wetness between her thighs.
Nevertheless, she tossed her head and stood erect, found the strength to face him.
“Unless I want it as much as you, it will never be true!”
The firelight gleamed on her nudity, the shadow between her breasts, the perfect oval of her navel, her smooth groin. Angelus watched her chest rise and fall with each breath she took. Her thick mass of black waves and curls rippled behind her like a cloak.
Angelus rose from the sofa. Suddenly, not even a blur of movement, he stood before her. He lifted her up and carried her over to his large bed.
“No!” A despairing wail escaped her as Angelus lowered her onto the velvet coverlet and held her tightly, pressing hard kisses on her mouth.
His fingers whispered over her pouting cleft.“Not here!” she protested, shuddering as he stroked her secret lips.
“In the ways that really matter,” Angelus whispered on her mouth, “You already know you’re mine.” He smiled down into her dark tormented eyes.
“I–I want my room back.”
“No.” He kissed her again, a long sensuous pressure of his lips against hers.
His thumb feathered gently over her clitoris.
“You belong here with me,” he explained. “Where I can touch you,” he added when her hips lifted, pressed against his hand. “Where I can hold you at night.”
She answered him with a breathless cry. Angelus grinned as she grew dewy-wet for him, her slim thighs tensing and relaxing repeatedly.
“Your body already knows you belong here,” he advised her. “No, don’t close your eyes and turn your face away. I want to watch you feel it.”
His voice was deep and dark and warm, enveloping her resisting mind just as his sinful touch made her burn deep inside. Fever streaked her limbs, she made pitiful mewling cries.
“Look at me,” he commanded, voice oddly tender. She met his eyes and he smiled. “Your body is beautiful, sweetheart.”
Her body gleamed with perspiration and Angelus savored this new scent combined with her passion, her anxiety, and her fierce anger at her body’s weakness for his. A soft flush broke out on her lovely breasts and she sobbed in relief when Angelus gently stroked one erect nipple.
“Say my name,” Angelus ordered. “Tell me who does this to you, who makes you feel this.”
He was hard and aching for her all over again. Let me in, my Lion, let me inside you. Impulsively, he bent his head and kissed the inside of her left breast. Her heart quickened and rushed against his mouth. Angelus bit her, only the lightest scraping of his teeth on her velvety skin.
She came for him then, crying out wildly as a million exquisite sensations exploded in her body: heat, shock, thunder. She quivered and writhed as she cried helplessly from unimaginable pleasure. Angelus pinched her swollen clitoris, most gentle squeeze of fingers on sensitive flesh and she sobbed out loud, coming for him again, even harder than before, her body trembling violently.
Angelus rose over her, knelt between her thighs. His dark eyes burned her, devouring her flushed skin, her swollen aching nipples, her black opal eyes glazed with passion, her bruised tender mouth.
Ramadevi knew the moment had come. Angelus looked half-wild and he was rock-hard again. He looked larger than ever. She didn’t dare refuse him after what she had just let him do.
She bit her lip and braced her body, ready to let him use her.
Angelus gazed upon her in baffled disappointment. Compliant, but not willing. The wildly passionate woman turned reluctantly passive hostage.
Slowly, he lowered his hard-muscled frame down upon her body, gently kissed her bruised mouth. He was slow and thorough, molding her lips with firm pressure. His thickly erect sex lay on her hot slick mont.
It was all Angelus could do, hold himself back from her soaking-wet heat. His body longed to be buried deep inside her secret folds. He wanted those despairing eyes to flash fire and beg him for pleasure. He wanted to ride her body like a man, then mate with her like an animal.
Angelus reached for Ramadevi’s hand, clasped it to his sex.
“Please me,” he ordered thickly. “Like you did before.”
* * *
Later, sated, Angelus held her closely as Ramadevi drowsed in his arms. The fire was now fading embers and glowing ash in the grate. Ramadevi breathed evenly, peacefully. Angelus draped them in downy quilts and enjoyed the shape of her body fitting snugly against him.
She had wept a little, tears of stress and emotion. Angelus had stroked her body, long soothing passes of his hands over her satiny skin. Her thick hair had caressed his hands in return.
“My Lion.” He kissed her forehead softly. She drifted into sleep against his chest, legs tangled with his, her left hand loosely draped over his waist.
Angelus sighed deeply, content. Rama’s body was close. Her blood, the scent of her pleasure, her personal odor were all nearby. Soon, Angelus slept as well, his strong fingers twined in her silky hair.