Making Love To Death (One Night With Death) (2 page)

“
I'm not dying. I'm young and healthy, and I am
fine! Now go away!” she shouted.

“
Look at your pillow, Emma.”

With a sense of dread, Emma tore her gaze away from his
and glanced down at her pillow. Her hand flew to her mouth as she
backed away from the bloodied pillow. The floral pattern on her
pillowcase was completely covered by the spreading mess of deep
crimson. Her pillow was drenched in her own blood.

“
Your head injury...was fatal, Emma.”

“
No! It can't be...I can't be...no, no, no...”
Blindly, she scrambled away from the bloody pillow and stumbled out
of bed. The sheets tangled around her ankles and she crashed
headlong into the strong, steadying arms of Death.

“
Emma...” Death reached out to hold her
shaking shoulders and at his touch, Emma shattered into heaving,
wrenching sobs. All the fight seemed to have gone out of her, and
instead of recoiling or struggling, she simply slumped against his
solid chest and cried. She cried long and hard, and the tears that
she had kept pent up for so long flowed freely. She hadn't allowed
herself to grieve, to feel, to be weak, and it was cathartic and
liberating to just let everything out, and allow someone to hold her
instead of trying to be strong and tough all by herself.

She felt his hand stroking her hair and her cheek, as
she leaned against his bare, muscular chest. With a start, she
realized that underneath that black cloak, he was completely naked.
Like her.

They were pressed together, skin to skin, and the heat
and energy that was radiating from his powerful, manly frame was raw
and sensual, sending an electric charge coursing from the surface of
her skin to her very core.

When she tried to pull away, Death tightened his hold on
her and pressed her flush against him. Emma felt his rock hard
muscles against her palms, her breasts and felt his rigid length
pulsing against her. Lowering her eyes, she glanced at his erect
member pushing out from his cloak and gasped. It was huge,
glistening, proud and beautiful. Just like Death himself.

“
I...” she stuttered, blushing deeply and
backing away.

“
Would you like to touch it?” Death asked.
His tone was not mocking or leering, but gentle, tender even. “And
feel it?”
Inside you.
He didn't speak the last two
words aloud, but she heard the whisper echoing insistently,
infuriatingly, invitingly in her mind.

“
Why?” she blurted out, mortified but
inexplicably turned on. Here she was staring Death in the face, or
more accurately, at his cock, and she was growing unbearably wet
between her thighs. Shouldn't she be feeling more terror and less
lust at this moment? What the hell was wrong with her? And Hell was
no doubt where she would be heading if she kept this up.

“
Because—” Death stepped closer to
her and tilted her face up with a finger under her chin. She blinked
into the deep blue of his eyes and her knees suddenly grew weak. His
arm circled her waist and held her up, pulling her close to him.
“You, my love, should know pleasure, deep, dark, blissful
pleasure, before you die. The orgasm has been referred to as “the
little death”. It is an incredibly transcendental, existential
experience, a surrendering to someone else, something beyond
yourself. Like death, sex can bring you from one plane to another.
You must feel it to know it, my dear Emma,” he whispered.

“
I...I've never...” Emma rasped.

“
I know,” he drawled. “I know. It'd
be good. I promise.”

A promise from Death? Emma's eyes widened as every
instinct warned her against believing in a promise dipped in honey
and poison, but when Death bent his head and pressed his soft, warm
lips to hers, all rational thought flew right out of her spinning
head. All she was aware of was how good he felt and tasted. His
lips were soft and his tongue probed her mouth very gently and
slowly. He was a very skillful kisser, and as his kiss deepened,
Emma could feel the scorching heat of his kiss spear down her body
directly to the nub between her legs. An aching need like she had
never felt before throbbed between her thighs and her breasts pushed
against his broad chest as she ached her back to him. Without
thinking, her arms wrapped around his neck and pulled him lower to
her. Death murmured in her mouth and his lips trailed down her jaw
to the column of her throat. She shivered when he kissed and nibbled
at her neck and bare shoulders, his hands roving up and down her
back.

Holding her waist, he stood and looked deep into her
eyes. Emma's eyelids fluttered as his strong hands slowly moved up
the curve of her waist and cupped her breasts. His finger began to
stroke the swell of her breasts, moving closer and closer to the
aching peaks. Their eyes remained locked even as he began to thumb
Emma's nipples. Her eyes fluttered shut with pleasure as he
stimulated her nipples until they were hard and erect, pinching them
gently and rolling them between his finger and thumb.

“
Let me go,” she protested weakly.

“
I can't, Emma,” he growled. “And I
won't.”

Death reached up and unfastened the silver clasp at his
throat, and his cloak fell from his shoulders, revealing his lean,
long body in all its naked glory.

With a low, guttural sound in his throat, Death pressed
his hand into the small of her back so that she was forced to arch
her back and present her breasts to him. Swiftly, he lowered his
head and began to ravage her breasts with his mouth. He suckled her
hard, sucking, licking and nibbling at her nipples until Emma thought
she might go mad from the sheer pleasure his mouth was giving her.
She had never felt such desire, such pleasure, such need. She needed
more, and the need was throbbing insistently in her pussy.
Unconsciously, she parted her legs. But for what? To kick him? To
entreat him? Even as her mind screamed at her to fight him, her body
continued to betray her. Her juices were trickling down her thighs,
filling the room with a seductive, heady scent.

As she whimpered and thrashed feebly, Death carried her
to her bed and laid her on her back. Pushing her thighs wider apart,
he lowered his mouth to her clit and laved it with his long tongue.
With a cry, Emma raised her head to see him looking straight into her
eyes as he continued tasting her. His golden hair gleamed in the
fading moonlight as his head bobbed slowly between her legs. He
licked every inch of her pussy lips and kissed them like he was
kissing her mouth. When his tongue swirled relentlessly around her
pulsing clitoris, she couldn't hold back the tension and the
flickering pleasure that was teasing and torturing her to the brink
of insanity. Sparks of intense, toe-curling pleasure shot through
her clenching, shuddering body. She cried out in confusion and
ecstasy as she blinked the tears from her eyes.

Even as she was panting hard trying to catch her breath
and clear her mind, she felt Death planting kisses along the insides
of her calves and thighs, and slowly up her belly and chest.
Nestling down beside her, he rolled her on top of him and gripped the
pert round globes of her buttocks. She let out a shriek when his
hands suddenly gripped her waist to drag her up the length of his
hard body. She could feel her nipples rubbing against his toned
belly, across his erect nipples and chest as he pulled her up to him.
With a sudden jerk, she landed on top of him, her lips landing on
his with a smack. He kissed her hungrily, his nails raking down her
back and into the crack of her butt. He pushed her legs apart so
that she was straddling him. Without warning, he pushed her up by
the shoulders and lifted her slightly. He lowered her slowly, and
Emma gasped as she felt his cock entering her from below.

He raised his hips and pushed into her, filling her
pussy with his large cock. Emma gasped, feeling her virgin walls
stretch to accommodate his whole length and girth. The pain quickly
became pleasure as he began to slide smoothly in and out of her. His
strong arms were still holding her above him, and when he finally set
her down, she placed the flat of her palms against his chest to brace
herself. She stared into his devilishly handsome face and bit her
lip. This was Death. She should be fighting him, not fucking him.
With a wordless cry, she tried to claw at his bare chest, but he
gripped her waist and began to buck with increasing pressure and
intensity. Against her will, Emma found her body responding, and she
began to grind against him, following his rhythm. The pleasure was
beginning to build, and she had to close her eyes to try to reign in
her rampaging desire.

Death watched her with a gleam in his eye. As she was
about to orgasm, he reared up and flipped her onto her back. Pinning
her beneath his hot body, he drove his cock hard into her. His rock
hard body rubbed against her pulsating, highly sensitized clit as his
cock thrust deep into her. He grabbed her breasts in his hands and
squeezed them together, leaning in to suck and lick both her nipples
at once. Emma's head turned and thrashed in helpless ecstasy and
protest, her long brown hair fanned out around her. “No,
please,” Emma gasped, cresting closer and closer to the point
of no return. “Please...” She no longer knew what she
was pleading for. Was she begging him to let her go or to never ever
stop touching her?

But he seemed to know exactly what she wanted. She
wanted him. Her body latched on to him and pulled him to her in a
consuming embrace. They were joined, inextricably entwined. As her
tight, wet walls clenched around him, he let out a strangled sound
and drove faster and deeper into her, his grip tightening on her
nipples. The pain and the pleasure combined to drive her over the
edge and with a final thrust, she exploded, her walls rippling and
squeezing in climax. She screamed at the mind-blowing orgasm and
felt his hot seed spurt deep into her body. His cock was still
buried in her, as he kept moving, and kept shooting into her. His
jaw was tightly clenched as a tortured sound escaped. His blue eyes
were wide and she saw them darken from blue to pitch black above her.

When he finally withdrew from her, he tried to gather
her into his arms and hold her, but she pushed him away. She was
trembling violently but she refused to let him touch her. What had
she done? She had just given herself over without a fight. Why?
Why had she surrendered to Death so immediately, so thoughtlessly,
so...passionately?

Wiping away her tears roughly with the back of her hand,
Emma scrambled up and clutched the blanket to her naked body.
“You're a jerk,” she spat hoarsely, hating the tremor in
her voice. “Do you do that to all the dying girls? As a
favor? Let them die with a smile on their face and your name on
their lips?”

Death was standing at her window, his back to her. She
could see the silver moonlight ripple on the toned muscles of his
shoulders and back. He was indeed impressive and impossibly
handsome, but Emma forced her eyes up from his body to the back of
his head. Who knew that Death was a blond, blue-eyed walking wet
dream? Emma hurled the thought out of her mind and concentrated on
hating him.

“
So now that you've taken my virginity, you can
smugly take my soul too,” she snapped. “What a harvest
for the grim reaper, eh?” Emma bit her lip, wondering where
those catty, spiteful words were coming from. She had never felt
such intense desire and pleasure, and she was both confused and
frightened at her own wild, uninhibited response to his touch. Her
body had been set alight by Death, and now she was burning up inside,
wanting and craving more, more of his touch, more of him. Her anger
was a mask, an armor and shield for her vulnerable, tender feelings
which he had just exposed. He had opened her up, opened her wide and
felt her and touched her deep inside.

Now I am being not just stupid, but crazy! Fancy
that, Emma Davis deflowered by Death and dying as a horny, raving,
hallucinating lunatic!

Emma glared down her warm, breathing body, still
throbbing and thrumming from his touch. “Am I dead...or am I
dead?” Her question came out in a whisper. Could the dead
feel such passion and desire, such shattering pleasure and ecstasy?
Why hadn't she allowed herself to feel such intense emotions and
experience such beautiful, heartbreaking intimacy when she was alive?
Why hadn't she wanted to share herself with anybody, to make love to
anyone, to love someone? Why did it have to be Death to give her her
first, and probably her last, orgasm? With an indescribable sadness,
she stood up, letting the blanket fall from her hands.

“
Take me then,” she said, squaring her
shoulders. “Do your job, and let's get this over with.”
She tried to keep her voice strong and steady, but still she couldn't
mask the small quaver in her voice. She was too young to die,
but...no one could escape Death, right? Be brave, Emma.

“
It is over,” he replied in a strained
voice.

When she didn't respond, he turned round to face her.
Behind the tormented expression on his face, she saw a myriad of
conflicting emotions churning in his dark, downcast eyes. Remorse,
anguish, relief, sorrow, joy and an excruciatingly tender emotion she
couldn't quite read.

“
I told you that death can be pleasurable, like an
orgasm, and an orgasm can be like death, intoxicating and
inescapable. I have seduced and taken many humans, and made their
journey beautiful and pleasurable. But life and death cannot meet in
the same body. It is either one or the other. If there is life,
death cannot claim the body. And no, I have not done this to all the
girls. You...” His lips tightened to quash the quiver in his
voice. There was anger and hurt seething in his last sentence.