Eyes of Ice (Eyes of Ice Erotica Series) (22 page)

             
“Now your underwear,” Andrew ordered.

             
Wordlessly, Cecelia obeyed, stepping out of her lace panties and then unclasping the hooks of her bra. She slipped the straps over her shoulders and let it, too, fall to the floor. She now stood before him, still shaking slightly, completely naked and vulnerable to his searching eyes. As she looked at him, she felt her nipples harden with desire, felt herself aching for him, her longing subsuming some of her self-consciousness.
Will he take me like this?
She wondered, shifting her weight nervously.
Will he pin me to the floor, in front of the fire?

             
Just as she began to imagine the scenario, he rose and – with a rush of superhuman movement – stood before her, one hand over her shoulder to touch the brick of the mantle.

             
The buttons of his dress shirt snapped and scattered as he tore it away from his skin. His pants, shoes, underwear – all were gone from his body in seconds. They stood facing each other like statues carved from whitest marble, and for the first time Cecelia felt she saw all of his nakedness. From his broad shoulders to his chiseled chest, to his corded thighs and firmly planted feet, it was clear who was the more physically attractive statue.

             
His words interrupted her staring. “You’re beautiful,” he informed her softly, the light from the fire flickering across his body.

             
Cecelia looked down, feeling it would be churlish to deny that and impossible to agree. She wondered if he could see the blush on her cheeks in this dim light.

             
“It’s true,” he whispered, taking a step closer. “You should try fucking you sometime.”

             
Cecelia closed the distance and stood on her toes to kiss him. His hands clasped the small of her back, drawing her close and holding her tight against him. His member pressed firmly to her skin, undeniable.

             
Without a word, she removed his hands from her back and dropped to her knees. It had been so long since she tasted him, and she tingled all over when she heard him exhale in surprised pleasure. As steadily as she could manage, she took his entire length down her throat and let it stay there for one long moment. Looking up, she saw his eyes glazed in desire and disbelief. No longer able to resist her temptation, Andrew’s hips swiveled slightly toward her.

             
With quiet sucking sounds and gentle pulling, she treated his member like it was the most delicious thing she had ever tasted. Pretending there was some elixir she wished to draw out of him, she glided her mouth up and down him, the corners of her mouth stretched with his girth. Then she let her tongue swivel around the slippery surface, exalting in the strengthening taste that filled her mouth and Andrew’s louder gasps. His hands had fallen to her hair and twisted at the nape of her neck, and she could tell that he longed to be rough with her but wanted to stand by his promise of making love to her, of ostensibly following her lead and her arousals.

             
“Wait,” he said, his voice husky, to halt Cecelia’s worship of his manhood. “I want to taste you, too.”

             
Cecelia sat back on the floor, confused. “But I’m not done.”

             
“We can savor each other at the same time,” he told her, “Like this.”

             
He sat on the floor too, then lifted and smoothly maneuvered her to lay atop him once more. But this time their situations were very much the reverse of what Cecelia was used to. Her sex was so close to his face that she could feel his warm breath, and her mouth was alongside his glistening member once more.

             
“As you were,” he breathed.

             
She guided the length of him down her throat again, and jerked back as his lips touched her lower ones.

             
“Wh --?!”

             
“Don’t worry about me,” Andrew ordered. She couldn’t see him beneath her, and his hands gripped her ankles at either side of his head so she could not move. But she felt him. She felt his tongue slide up her slit and tease the small button that seemed the greatest source of her pleasure. She jerked again, but this time in pleasure, and did not protest.

             
Without a word she went back to bobbing her head up and down his member. As his licking increased, she attempted to match her rhythm to match his – but it was no good. His tongue was assaulting her so vigorously and mercilessly that she kept moaning with his manhood in her throat, and twice had to stop entirely. When his fingers entered her, it was all over. From what she could feel, his thumb was pressed against her anus, two of his fingers twisted within her other hole, and his tongue circled sinuously at the rest of her sex. A third finger stretched her, she thought, and then she was beyond thinking, her knees were digging painfully into the carpet, she was in an agony of pleasure.

             
“Fuck me … Oh … Ahh, Andrew … Andrew … I want you … to …
ooh … fuck me ….
” She gasped as her release swept over her. She felt soaked and sopping with wetness, and new that she was only momentarily satisfied.

             
“Fuck you how?” he inquired, his eyes glittering. He licked his lips.

             
“However you want,” she replied, driven beyond caring.

             
“I want to watch you scream while I fuck your ass,” he said, with only an instant’s consideration.

             
He got what he wanted.

             
He drove into her ass as hard as he had the first time, and Cecelia thought that it was just as painful. She screamed with every inch of him, until she ran out of air to scream with. Then moans alternated with screams as she was torn – torn between the pain and the pleasure and the pleasure from the pain.

             
When he finally entered her womanhood, he slid easily to her core. She had been dripping and ready for him for what felt like years, yet his girth and length still stretched her tight. As if he remembered his promise belatedly to make love to her, he revised his methods after a few quick thrusts that had driven her into the carpet. He eased in and out slowly, bringing her to the cusp of coming with long, deep kisses and soft touches.

             
“No,” he whispered, as she clawed at his back, begging for her burning climax. “You’re not done yet, are you?”

             
Sapphire depths caught her eyes and it was as if her pleasure hit a barrier.

             
“Wait,” he murmured. She felt him throb inside her, and cried out with the restraint of her orgasm. It
hurt
and yet stretched on and on in the most wondrous sensation through her raw womanhood….

             
She couldn’t look away from his eyes, his black-sapphire eyes, and the sensation of her restrained climax was misery, it was ecstasy, and she couldn’t scream, could hardly gasp for air, could only gasp his name over and over and jerk her hips against his manhood. The need for release overpowered her actions, so she worked against him feverishly and slavishly to try and reach the apex that would save and destroy her. Her breath became ragged and her muscles burned then went numb. She was pinned to reality only by the power of those eyes –

             
“Now,” Andrew said, and the wall fell away as if it had never existed. He held her in place as she writhed into the carpet.

             
“Don’t stop,” she heard herself beg, gazing into Andrew’s eyes and twisting her hips into him, taking all of him that she could.

             
The eyes widened, then narrowed, and a quiet sound between a growl and a whimper emerged from his throat. Between his lips, Cecelia saw the gleaming white points of his teeth, and she impulsively drew him in for a kiss. When their mouths met, she ran her tongue along those sharp points. They
were
sharp. Andrew moaned and stiffened against her, his eyes turning black.

             
“Do it,” she whispered, drawing back and arching her neck. She was as exposed to him as she had ever been.

             
His teeth slid her as easily as a hot knife, his lips burning against the delicate flesh of her neck. A dull pain sprang up, and she felt something warm bubble up at the penetration. She imagined his gleaming teeth sinking into her pale skin. The growl-whimper came again, and she felt his member harden and thrust deeper inside her – with her hand on the side of his face, she could feel his jaw lock and flex.

             
Is my blood running into him, now?
She wondered. She got her answer when, his teeth still buried in her neck, he began to deliver thrust after pounding thrust into her spent womanhood, using her sex with a rough and wild abandon. She came again, weak and helpless and whispering his name into his dark hair. He finally stabbed into her with a force that she was sure shattered her pelvis. He arched his back as he did so, drawing her up with him to look into her eyes. They were standing, or at least Andrew was – his hands were on her hips, holding her speared on his member while he stood before the fire, climaxing at her center.

             
Cecelia’s blood, which had so recently been on fire, went icy cold. Scarlet color was at the corner of Andrew’s mouth and smeared across his chin, and his eyes were an inky black. A hunger overwhelmed his face.

             
With a roar of fury, Andrew slipped out of her and dropped her to the carpet, his shoulders raised and teeth bared. His teeth were rimmed with red, Cecelia observed distantly, and became aware of a sharp pang in her neck. She crouched on the carpet, exhausted and exhilarated at the same time.

             
Andrew said something, advancing on her as if in a dream.

             
“What?” Cecelia managed, heart pounding. Something trickled down her collarbone.

             
Then the word filtered through her.
Run.

             
“Run,” Andrew repeated.

             
In a flash of dizzying and terrifying insight, Cecelia scrambled backward, away from him. He drew closer, moving heavily as if drunk, that hungry expression still spread across his features. His eyes locked on hers and told the complete truth.

             
Run before I kill you.

             
Cecelia dashed to the elevator, her heart in her throat, somehow managing to throw on her dress as she went. The open zipper scraped the small of her back as she rushed out into the deserted hallway. Terrified, she pressed the button for the elevator again and again, her blood thudding so loudly in her ears that she could hear nothing else. At last the doors to the elevator slid open, but, to her bewilderment, there was someone standing there, blocking her entrance.

             
Devon was looking at her, wide-eyed, taking in the scene of her – standing there in barefooted fright, clutching her dress to her shoulders, her hair tangled, and blood running down her neck, clotting over the expensive sapphires and staining the bodice of her white dress. It was one long second of observation. Then he snapped into action, grabbing her wrists and yanked her into the elevator after him. His lips moved, he appeared to say “Get in,” but Cecelia couldn’t hear him over her blood pumping and the adrenaline swimming through her veins.

             
Cecelia watched, back pressed against the far side of the elevator, as Devon turned back to the doors, placed his hands on either side, and forced them shut by pure brute force. He pressed the button for the lobby and turned on her, his brows knit together and a feral look in his half-shaded eyes. Cecelia’s heart stopped.

             
His gaze kept jerking from her bloody neck to her face, to her barely clothed form, as the elevator moved downwards at a horribly slow pace, and his eyes were filled with hunger.

             
“Devon,” Cecelia said, in a voice that despite her efforts sounded less than calm and reasonable. “Don’t ….”

             
But he was moving toward her, and bridged the distance between them in a single step.

             
His hands were at her waist, his thumbs digging into her hipbones with terrifying intensity, and when he spoke, his forehead nearly touching hers, his voice shook with controlled emotion:

             
“
I’ve always wanted you.
”

             
“What?” Cecelia gasped, sure she was seconds from death. She tried to shrink down the wall, away from him, but he imprisoned her there firmly, so that she could only turn her face to the side, her cheek touching the cold elevator wall.

             
“Look at me!” he roared, and, terrified, Cecelia turned her head back to see his eyes completely shaded. “I said, I have always wanted you. Don’t play stupid, Cecelia!”