He Took Me in the Night

Chapter XXV: Released

"If a woman's heart is free a man can hope..." -Bram Stoker, Dracula

Chapter XXV: Released

Heat.

Need.

Desire.

He consumes me. All of me.

Drake kisses me deeply and hungrily, his arms wrapped around my waist as to keep me firmly against him. His warm, wet lips move in perfect harmony with mine, devouring me, and I revel in it. My heart lurches in my chest. My eyelashes flutter. Everywhere's on fire. His tongue trails along my bottom lip and tendrils of heat lance through my body, stealing a moan from me.

Running his hand through my hair, he dips my head back and his tongue slowly invades my mouth. It plays with mine- circling, prodding, teasing. I'm all nerve endings and sensation.

I fist his shirt, pulling at it, wanting him to be as close and tangible as possible. He sucks on my lower lip, and then bites down on it softly. It doesn't hurt; the pain's so faint its like bliss. I'm lost in him completely; there is just so much desperation and need in this kiss we're sharing.

The hand that's splayed at the small of my back brings me forward a little and I don't miss the arousal developing in his suit trousers. He rubs himself against me, as if to show me what I'm doing to him and it's exquisite torture.

I bring my palm up to his face and feel him beneath my fingertips, his skin so smooth and soft. Perfection. His hands travel down to cup my bottom and he fondles me tenderly before squeezing. It's divine. He travels further down to grasp my thighs and he wraps my legs around his waist. I clamp around him instinctively.

We stagger backwards a few steps, him still holding and kissing me eagerly, and then I feel something hard against my spine. He has me against a tree. I can feel his hardness pressing against me, drawing my attention downwards, and I become aware of the liquid warmth pooling between my legs.

I take his shoulders in my grasp, feeling them roll and shift with his every move. I sigh as his tongue continues to play with mine, his lips getting more and more rough. He has entirely taken control and I'm letting him. His hands are still on my thighs, holding me up, keeping me positioned securely between him and the tree.

I tangle my fingers in his soft, luscious hair, and yank at the black strands ever so slightly. He groans very low and deep, full of appraisal. I love that I affect him so much.

He smells delicious too- like aftershave and masculinity- but tastes even better. I don't think I've ever felt so longed for before. It's like he can't get enough of me, and right now, I can't get enough of him either.

It's been so long, so painfully long, since I've felt needed by him. His icy cold austerity and detachment was driving me crazy, and being with him now is my relief. This is not only the most physical he's allowed himself to be with me for a while, but also emotionally. I can sense the fear and the vulnerability lingering behind all that lust, threatening to make him close up on me.

But I want him to trust me again.

I want him to trust me like I trust him.

The kiss transforms into something slow and tender, so as to savour the moment. His touch is gentler, filled with an intensity that transcends just physical or chemical attraction. He must know that this is something more, something special.

He pulls back slightly, breaking the kiss. He stares down at me, and there's wonder in his eyes, wonder and passion and something else, something I've never seen on his face before. I can't quite pinpoint it.