Eyes of Ice (Eyes of Ice Erotica Series) (13 page)

The calm words filtered through the red haze of pain, and around her torturous entirety of his thickness, Cecelia’s mental retort never made it to her lips.
Like this? Who would like this?
She only whimpered, and willed tears away from the edges of her eyes.

But when they were about to fall, Andrew began to work his way against her as he had labored against her
earlier, and Cecelia was startled by the tingle of excitement caused by the motion. It wasn’t the same as when he had been inside her before, it wasn’t the same was when his mouth or hands had caressed her, not yet. It still had sharp, smarting edges, but it was pleasure nonetheless.

Emerging from her agony and feeling the twinges of ecstasy again, Cecelia looked into Andrew’s face to see his eyes intent upon her own, his lips slightly parted. He raised a hand,
pressed it hard against her cheek, and forced a thumb between her lips. Wordlessly, Cecelia began to suck it as she had sucked his manhood, and then found herself moaning around it. As he increased the tempo of his thrusts, the pain and pleasure of the penetration increased, too, a combination that made her stomach churn with anticipatory queasiness.

“Tell me you want it harder,” Andrew said, drawing his thumb across her lips and grasping at the back of her neck possessively.

Do I?
Cecelia wondered to herself distantly. He was making her ache and burn all over already, and she felt a pang of fear at how much harder his lovemaking would become.

“Tell me you want it harder,” Andrew repeated, pressing all the way into her for emphasis. It worked. She cried out, feeling his tip pierce her behind her navel, sure she was tearing in two.
He has everything of me
, she realized.
He’s taken every part of me.
It thrilled her.

“I want you to fuck me harder,” she
moaned.

Without a word, Andrew pulled out of her. She screamed at that, too. It was as if a part of her had been ripped away. Andrew smiled
down at her, his raven hair tousled over his forehead and his shoulders heaving. For the briefest of moments, Cecelia lay before him on the bed, open and waiting, considering begging for him, any part of him, in a stupor of wanting.

“Get on your knees,” he ordered. Placing a hand on her hip, he flipped her over to make the job easier. Shaking somewhat, Cecelia positioned herself with her knees digging into the mattress and her hands clutching at the tangle of sheets, staring at the headboard, presenting her sex to him.

He ran his hands firmly down her shoulders, across her back, to cup her buttocks, even in that simple gesture letting her feel his strength and power. Cecelia couldn’t help wriggling with expectancy, and turned her head to look over her shoulder. Quick as a flash, he pushed it down – not cruelly, yet firmly again, and dropped his hand to grasp her shoulder. He pulled her back and pushed forward at once, jamming his manhood deep between her buttocks. After that entrance, he began to slam into her in earnest, punctuating each plunge with a harsh gasp and rocking Cecelia forward on the bedspread with the force of his movement.

“You’re taking all of me now,” he breathed as she fell to her elbows. Her answer was a drawn-out sob of ecstasy. She felt like she was being taken like an animal, brutally and wildly, and that feeling intensified with each of Andrew’s rough jerks inside her. It was totally different from his gentle lovemaking of before, and all at once Cecelia couldn’t take it any more.
She couldn’t stand the pleasure of his hips brushing against hers with each inward thrust, couldn’t tolerate the tortuous way he strained every fiber of her within, couldn’t stand the husky eroticism of his hot, untamed breaths at the back of her neck.

“Oh, oh God,” she cried, twisting against him and pushing her buttocks back against him. “Ah, Andrew, Andrew, Andrew ….”

The pressure over her body was choking her, she wanted the wave of pleasure to break, but Andrew kept pushing into her and she kept pushing her hips back as if they did not belong to her, and the sensation kept going on and on. She became dimly aware that he was crying out her name, too, and then felt him pull out of her and plunge into her excruciatingly ready womanhood.

Abruptly, her knees collapsed under his strength, and he was still pounding into her as she lay flat and writhing on the bed, taking all of her and repeating her name in her ear with a wild yearning: “Cecelia … fuck … Cecelia … I’m going to come … ”

“Please,” she cried, not even knowing what she was begging for. “Please, oh, Andrew, please ….”

It was as if he had been waiting for her permission, or maybe her pleading had pushed Andrew over his edge. He exploded inside her, calling her name in his release and wrapping his strong arms around her ribcage. She felt his seed pump into her in a final burst of strength from his manhood and she melted around him as their juices mingled, gasping in her own release.

They lay there for what might have been hours, Cecelia cradled against Andrew’s chest. Cecelia was exhausted, more sore and more fulfilled than she could ever remember being. At her back, Andrew’s body was cool even after such exertion, his breaths even and measured. Cecelia knew, from the way that Andrew lazily drew his familiar designs across her shoulder with his finger, that he may be as fulfilled as she, but he was nowhere near as tired.
He’s waiting for me to get it together
, Cecelia thought with a little regret. But she couldn’t help it. She felt as perfect in Andrew’s still arms as she had felt beneath his moving body.

“Are you awake?” she asked, this time prepared for the hoarseness of her voice. She knew what the answer would be, of course.

“Yes,” he responded quietly.

She turned to face him, wincing at the small effort. Everything below her waist felt wrung out somehow, spent.

“Are you all right?” he asked, concern flickering across his fine-boned features.

“Better
than all right,” she murmured, smiling. She lifted a hand and smoothed a curl of his dark hair behind his ear. With a grin, he mimicked the motion, tucking long strands of her hair behind her head. Doubt continued to shine in his indigo eyes.

“
You aren’t afraid?”

“Not any more than usual,” she replied wryly.

He ran his index finger from her forehead to the tip of her nose, and though the gesture was playful, she saw the furrow of seriousness to his brow.

“What?” she asked.

“Nothing,” he answered.

She glared and slapped his hand away. He grinned, and forced her wrist to the pillow as effortlessly as if he were turning the page of a book. As effortlessly as he had entered her at first not even an hour ago.

“That’s not fair,” she protested.

“All right,” he sighed, raising himself to an elbow to look down at her. “You’re just too good.”

“Too ….?” She sputtered, not sure if she’d heard him correctly.

“Too good,” he confirmed with a curt nod.

“Maybe … maybe you’re too good of a teacher,” she retorted.

That earned her a long, surprisingly soft kiss. Cecelia guessed that put an end to the silly conversation.

“I’ll walk you home,” he said, and did, kissing her briefly and gently at the door to her apartment building to leave her alone with soreness and a spinning head.

Seven

When she awoke, Cecelia had never been more thankful that it was a Saturday.
Time to work. Time to add more to my story.
Already fragments of knowledge tugged at her mind, revisions and edits to her previously written content jumbled throughout. Then she remembered her homework.
Next week, no more hooky,
she promised herself, and made herself set about laying out her outfit for the day instead of dashing to her desk.

Before long, her selections had been made: a
simple summer dress, leggings underneath, and high boots, since it was still only in the fifties outside.
Like it even matters
, she thought glumly, tugging a brush through her hair and turning away from the clothes,
I’ll always look ridiculous next to Alexandra.
She
was probably a supermodel or something before she was even a vampire.

“Do you want me to do your hair?” Mags asked tiredly from her bed. Cecelia jumped. Lost in her thoughts
and fantasies, she’d forgotten her roommate existed. Her own hair hilariously tousled, Mags had risen bleary-eyed and bewildered-looking.

“No, thanks. I think I’m going
to just braid it.” Cecelia said, stifling a laugh.

“I haven’t seen you in
days
,” Mags informed her, some spite in her voice. She sniffed in mock-jealousy. “Sex has changed you.”

Cecelia
did let herself laugh at that. Mags always knew how to make her laugh. And as wry and dry-witted as Andrew could be, his keen observations definitely didn’t inspire the same light-hearted feeling as Mags’ quirky humor.

“Shut up,” she giggled. “It has not.”

But that’s a lie
, she confessed to herself. So much about her had changed in the past week that she could barely envision the Cecelia of last Saturday. That girl seemed to exist forever ago, like some cousin that she had met and could only vaguely recall.

“Mhmm,” Mags said, in a tone of disbelief. While Cecelia braided her hair, Mags groaned and lay back down in bed. It was Saturday, after all, and Mags loved to sleep in until noon on Saturdays.

“But that’s where you’re going, though. To meet
Andrew
.” Mags teased from her prostrate position, emphasizing Andrew’s name with further humor and a roll of her eyes.

“No. Okay – well, yes,” Cecelia fumbled, embarrassed and self-conscious. “But it’s not like I’m obsessed or anything. He wants to see me! We’re going to lunch with his friends.”

“Mhmm,” Mags repeated.

Cecelia clutched her brush, and
swiveled to face her friend, troubled. “Can you keep a secret?”

Mags burst upwards again, an expression of pure joy crossing her face. She’d been waiting for years for Cecelia to be able to share “boy stories” with her, and no
w Cecelia had secrets to share on top of it all. She looked like Christmas had come early.

“Of
course
, you know I can,” she breathed in excitement.

“
I’m thinking of writing a story about it. I
am
writing a story about it, that’s what I’ve been trying to work on, and that’s one of the reasons I’ve been so distracted, only I don’t know how safe it will be for me to publish it,” she revealed hurriedly, her words tumbling over each other as she did so. “And I don’t think it’s material for our school paper, I think it’s – it’s so much bigger than that!”

Mags looked perplexed rather than pleased for her, bluntly stating: “I don’t get it. What’s there to write about?”

“Oh,” Cecelia said, and paused, panicking. She had forgotten, she’d been so tied up with her own thoughts and conflict – forgotten the most important thing, which was no one but her
really
knew about vampires. And to tell Mags now … it would sound like she was crazy without an entire news story to back her up. Thankfully, she had always been good at inventing stories, though this was a stretch for her.

“Um. There’s this … gang that
Andrew and his friends are involved in. Like, a clan, almost? And it’s very … intense, but no one knows about it. I mean, no one. It’s an enormous secret and they kill people and stuff if they find out. But they’re okay with me because they say I’m ‘brave’ or something, and Andrew said that they could trust me – or, at least, that I wouldn’t tell anybody.” Cecelia paused and waited for a flood of questions, though she was impressed with herself for having so easily circumvented the issue of vampires.

Mags’ mouth had dropped
open in surprise, and she appeared to be having a difficult time taking the information in. “Um,” she said. “Okay. That’s. Fuck, Cecelia, that’s intense. I don’t like this at all! Ceecee, you aren’t in danger, are you? That sound super dangerous! I don’t think it’s worth it if you’re in danger! And what does ‘intense’ mean?”

Cecelia felt a
sharp jolt of guilt and regret. Even though she was being lied to, Mags plainly cared deeply for Cecelia’s well-being.

“It’s fine,” Cecelia protested
, raising her hands soothingly and carrying on in what she hoped was a calming voice. “I promise. I’m with Andrew most of the time, and he really does like me, Mags, he would never let any of the others hurt me. Really, I promise.”

This
reassurance appeared to slightly reduce Mags’ hysteria, yet did not silence her. “He had better not! But what does ‘intense’ mean? Is this about drugs? You said it was a gang thing, that sounds like drugs.”

Again, Cecelia’s mind raced, but she was able to continue her three-quarters-true
invention with no real trouble. “Yeah. It’s this … new drug,” she said, thinking about blood and blood donors. “They’re – I mean, some of them – are very reliant on it. Not Andrew, much. And like I said, no one especially knows about it, no one really knows about the gang, even, so they must be intimidating government officials and stuff, and I think they have a lot of money but I don’t know where they’re getting it from.”