LA PETIT MORT
Another night alone, picking over the wreckage of my life, bitterness and self-pity tightening my throat, and stinging my eyes with tears. The glass of cheap, sweet wine in my hand was not bringing the numbing comfort it usually supplied, the dancing firelight, the TV droning away in the background also failing to provide any distraction.
I had money, and plenty of it, payment for services rendered, and my house is immaculate and once again my own. But I have no purpose, no job other than cleaning the empty rooms from top to bottom, no friends or lovers calling around to cheer me up, no cause to fight for or war to deal with. I'm lost and rudderless, alienated from everyone I care about through my own stupidity and refusal to see the truth amidst the lies, and I can no longer blame everyone except myself.
Choking back a sob I shake myself angrily and get up, taking my wine with me as I step out onto the porch into the crisp winter night. Chill mists swathe the garden, but the stars above the trees glitter cooly and remotely, a sickle moon hanging in the icy blackness of midnight. My eyes drop from the empty beauty of the void, the hollowness inside me turning into a sharp ache as I look towards the cemetery, straining my gaze to see a glimmer of light through the naked trees.
He is still there, aloof and alone himself in his damn palace of splendour. I wish he had never told me the full story of his past and his motives and when they changed from cold calculation to love, as then I would have my hatred to warm me, the fire of rage and betrayal filling me up instead of this horrible emptiness.
Instead I hated myself for longing for him, for flinching at every mention of his name, running from the sight of him on the news, so suave and assured, not to mention as handsome as the devil, knowing what I had enjoyed as well as endured since the night I met him, and the terrible loss of had told me it was better for him and me that we never saw each other again, and it had cut me deeper and crueler than the knife of his betrayal. After weeks of loneliness and a mind that would not stop dwelling on all that had happened I could finally admit it to myself.
A complete lack of pride and sheer desperation could maybe explain what happened next. I swigged the last few mouthfuls of wine for courage and straightened my slumped shoulders, stepping onto the dew-wet grass in bare feet, leaving the door open behind me. My steps were slow and leaden, a mixture of booze and common sense trying to stop me from what I was going to do, but I passed through the cemetery without turning back, ghostlike in my cotton nightgown, tears leaking down my cold cheeks.
The new security guards in the front garden let me pass without challenge, taking one look at my miserable face and stepping aside with a few significant glances at each other. I knew their King had told them not to admit me, but no man wants to tangle with a crying woman, do they?
Swallowing a bitter laugh and swiping at the tears I crossed the porch and let myself in through the double doors, the warmth and elegance of the old house wrapping around me like a blanket, giving me strength though I knew I would not be welcome.
I paused under the chandelier, the air was quiet and still, no staff bustling about, no Jessica slumped on the couch watching endless DVD's as she liked to do when bored, no one to stop me from turning the handle on the office door and slipping through like a shadow. Bill was there, his face closed and as distant as the stars. He had sensed me coming and thrown up his guard, only a glimmer of surprise and raw pain in his blue eyes as he looked up, a crease of concern on his brow, and then icy words.
'I told you I did not want to see you, Sookie,' he said, dragging his eyes away from the sight of me, teary and shaking with cold and emotion, my nightgown clinging to my body, my hair loose and wild. He fiddled with the cuffs on his dark purple shirt and swung his gaze back to the computer screen. 'I am busy, please leave now, but remember to take a coat from the closet before you go outside, you will catch cold walking around like that.'
He couldn't help being a gentleman, even when angry, his posture stiff and the muscle jumping in his jaw betraying his pain. A fresh sob wrenched at my throat at the calm dismissal, but I ignored it and moved forwards, hurting inside at the way he flinched back from me as I rounded the huge desk to where he sat, but utterly determined to do something, anything, to get a reaction and end this deadlock. Even if I had to beg, even if it killed me.
I fell on my knees in front of his chair, my face now burning. I despised myself at this moment, and cringed at the distaste and discomfort flaring in his eyes, but the words fell from my lips like hard rain, broken and rambling and pathetic but devastating enough to make him squirm. 'You have hurt me, and I have hurt you, now we're even...I'm so sorry, please forgive me. I can't stand living like this anymore, I need you, Bill, I was wrong. I need you so much...please.'
The flow of words stopped, the effort of getting them out making me feel so goddamn sick and weary, but he didn't reach out to touch me in reassurance, and his face did not soften, the graceful hands in his lap clenching into fists, a hissing breath of sheer effort leading to a blunt denial. 'I am also weary of this. I am weary of you,' he growled. 'Why do you insist on tormenting me, Sookie? Have I not paid enough for all I have done?'
I knew him, knew well enough that the nasty words were a front, his body told me the real story, coiled as taut as steel, braced against his desire to snap and give in, the cold, sculpted lines of his face and the thin slash of his lips contradicted by the agony in his expressive blue eyes. I raised myself upon my knees, crawling between his parted thighs, the returning warmth of my body coming into contact with his perfect stillness, lips and hands and soft breasts and swirling hair surrounding him, my tears falling on his face, my breathy voice pleading, my familiar scent and yielding flesh making him tremble.
'Please don't,' he rasped, rearing backwards in his chair. 'Don't tempt me like this, Sookie, you would not like the consequences. I am dangerous, have you forgotten?'
My arms went around his neck, I breathed in his musky scent with a shuddering gasp. 'No,' I whispered. 'I just don't care. I'm not afraid of you,' I lied. 'I think you're afraid of me.'
He moved like a striking snake, a utterly feral growl rising in his chest, arms like iron bars grasping me and lifting me up, but not to toss me away like doll, a smile of female triumph curling my lips as world disappeared into a blur of confusion. I heard a door slam behind us, the dim light of a sumptuous room revealing a huge bed, an out of control wildness swelling in me as my nightgown was ripped down the middle, chill hands mapping my curves, grasping, pinching, a dark head lowering to nuzzle between my breasts to take in my delicious smell then tilting upwards to show me his fangs, long and sharp and deadly.
Without really knowing why I got an arm free and slapped that beautiful, furious face, and his eyes dilated to blackness as if he was possessed. Oh shit, save me from my own madness.
'Bitch,' his hissed, and I couldn't blame him for it, but I got another weak slap in on his other cheek before being lifted again, spun aound to the bed, my naked body struggling and cursing as I was flung face down across his lap, my hair and arms trailing to the floor, an arm across the back of my thighs holding me down without effort. I was scared and exhilarated and burning hot, but didn't let him know any of it.
'Fucking let go of me!' I shrieked, hearing a dark chuckle in response, then ominous words.
'If you insist on acting like a naughty child, I will treat you as one,' he drawled. 'Do not fight me, or it will be the worse for you.'
I knew what was coming, but the pain still made me cry out in shock, the flat of his hand landing firmly across my ass, then another and another, a rain of blows, tightly controlled but vicious, hurting like hell. I obeyed and went completely limp in his grasp, but still could not help gritting my teeth and sobbing through my closed lips, eyes watering, the heavy weight of desire in my loins only growing with the pain and humiliation, not shrinking.
He could scent it easily, the bracing arm holding me in place relaxing, his hand sliding between my thighs to seek me out, his fingers finding liquid heat and plunging inside me roughly, his little moan of satisfaction blending with mine, then another slap across my flaming buttocks to remind me I was being punished. I panted and writhed like a complete slut, lifting my ass to receive his spanking as well as the sharp pleasure of the penetration, reeling as his thumb found my swollen clit and played it like a maestro, his other digits sliding up between my cheeks, smearing my juices around my tight hole and slipping inside, a new kind of shocking pain tugging at my insides, bringing me closer and closer to orgasm.
He could hear it in my racing heartbeat, the tension in the flesh around his searching fingers, the tightening of my breasts under his caress as he paused from beating me senseless. 'Do not come yet,' he rasped, and I whimpered in desperation, closing my mind to the urge to let go, for I wanted to feel him deep within me so badly, however long it took before he gave me permission. 'Your bottom is so red, it is quite beautiful,' he taunted me, and I swore back, wincing as another hard slap added to my agony, then sobbing as his fingers probed deeper in my ass, showing me I was nothing but a bad little girl that loved what he was doing to me.
A fist curled in my messy hair, raising me up to face him and settling my trembling thighs around his waist. My hands clawed at his shirt, fumbling with the buttons, I was no longer able to pretend defiance, I wanted to badly to see him naked again, that familiar lean, muscled body exposed to my touch, but the hand caressing my secret places slid free, catching my wrists and twisting them around my back.
'No,' he said firmly, holding me completely still like a pinned butterfly, open and vulnerable as his icy black eyes raked me from head to toe, then bored into mine, seeking my very soul and making me flinch. 'I may own your body this night, and all the other nights we once had, but even my blood in you cannot tell me whether I own your heart,' he whispered, a thread of sadness in the eleoquent words.
I tried to speak, but he smothered my clumsy words in a kiss, so rough and deep and gloriously possessive, lips and tongue and sharp, pricking fangs searching and devouring, such a kiss that it destroyed me, broke down all the crumbling walls I had left, far more devastating than the beating I had so richly deserved. I had never stopped loving him, but now all that love rose up to choke me, I had to have him inside me, I had to have him possess me utterly, drain me near to death, all the things I wanted to say in defense and attack forgotten in the need to feel him swimming through my veins.
A little of my blood fell on his tongue from my punctured lips, and he groaned and shuddered as he tasted it, suckling at the tiny wounds, then he freed me to allow me to take huge gulps of air, mouthing my breasts and then latching on to a nipple, licking it tenderly before sinking his fangs into the flesh, the sudden pain erased by the delicious pull of his mouth, rhythmic and slow, my hair yanked backwards to raise my breasts into his buried face.
I whimpered and wriggled within the prision of his lap, seeking his thick hardness through his pants, rubbing myself against it like a cat on heat, then I was moving again, flung on my knees across the bed, my blood dropping on the covers, my hips yanked upwards and my legs spread wide. I cried out when I felt his mouth on me, pulling at my folds, his tongue probing obscenely into my depths, making my juices flow onto his lips and chin, my body bucking shamelessly to get at the dizzying friction, his hands holding my cheeks open so he could reach every inch of my flesh, shocking me and thrilling me and making me squeal and curse.
As long as I lived I would never have a lover as skilled and bold, knowing exactly what I wanted even if I didn't know what that was. I screamed out I was going to come, and he growled his disapproval, pausing to nip at my inner thigh and slap me again, the pain drawing me back from the brink, and then he was there, rising up behind me, the clink of his belt and the small sound of his zipper making me sob in joy, my body bracing for the impact of his first solid thrust, so long missed.
It was impossible for me to hold back any longer, I came as soon a he filled me, clawing and biting at the covers to muffle my screams, but he felt it, of course he did, a husky groan torn from his chest as he felt the ripple of my body embrace his full length. He held himself still for a long, blissful moment, but then began to move within me, relentlessly rough, bottoming out with each thrust, rending my taut muscles and making my womb ache and my flesh flip between tensing up and going limp and bonelss in his grasp, his fingers digging so hard into my hips that I would have bruises later.
'You never do what you are told,' he gasped, but I ignored the taunt, completely lost in the pleasure and pain that was eating me alive. He was still holding himself at a distance, trying to maintain his control over the situation even as he fucked me, thrilling me and frustrating me in equal measure, but I wanted everything, the black and dangerous mastery over my body as well as his touch, his scent, his agonising love for me, selfish little bitch that I was.
I fought against the weight holding me down, arching myself up off the bed and flush with his chest, and he yielded to me with a growl, settling my bottom snug in his lap, his arms wrapping around me, bouncing me expertly on his cock so he still filled me to the brink, nosing my hair out of the way so he could mouth my neck, my hammering pulse and sweetness of my blood calling to him, his hands kneading and pinching my breasts, then trailing down to cup me between my splayed thighs, touching the place where we were joined so closely, hot and slick and throbbing, jumping at the dabbling of his fingertips.
I told him I loved him, I told him I never wanted this to stop, that I wanted him to fuck me forever, but everything ends. His fangs ripped into my throat and a white hot bolt of lightning coursed through my senses, stealing my breath, stealing my sight, making me mindless, a screaming, empty void of light, convulsing in his cruel embrace as he took me over, drinking in that light in greedy gulps until I felt myself fading, winking out like a dying star...
A huge shuddering breath of air filled my lungs, sending me bolting upright in the dark, my body tingling with raw energy but my mind befuddled and cloudy. I looked around wildly in the dimness of the room, looking for Bill, but I was still alone but for the flickering of the television, the empty wine glass by the couch, the brightening of the dawn through the lace curtains, and the knife of fresh misery sinking into my guts as I realised it had all been a dream. A dream not caused by blood, but by the truth.
Tears still leaked down my face, but I swiped them away, my jaw setting in stubborn determination. I now knew what I had to do to end this.
THE END