Throne of Blood

THE CALM BEFORE STORM

I woke up to the sweet sensation of Vincent's lips on my skin. A sleep ridden moan escaped my lips, while my fingers entangled in the soft mess of his hair, as he trailed feather light kisses on my jaw line. My eyes pushed open upon his tongue coming in contact with the sensitive patch of skin behind my ear.

Terminating the trail of kisses he was creating on my skin, Vincent withdrew his head from the crook of my neck to gaze at me. My eyes met his without delay. His drowning deep orbs reflected love and adoration, all for me. I was a lucky woman to say the least.

On their own, my hands lifted to his face. My fingers slowly glided through his velvety hair to his enchanting eyes. He had eye lashes so long and thick that could give any woman a run for her money. My fingers traced his soft, delectable lips, moving to his stubble covered sharp jaw line. God, He was so beautiful. There was no other way to describe him.

"Good morning, my love," he whispered, while a smile graced his features, "How are you feeling?".

The light flick of his tongue on the tip of my fingers as they made their way on his lips caused me to lose my chain of thoughts.

"uh umm...I guess sore."

A chuckle vibrated through his chest before escaping his lips.

"Then forgive me love, but I am not really sorry I made you sore. Your body is far too delectable to not be ravished again and again."

A blush tinged my cheeks fiercely for his words caused the vivid images from former night to play in my mind.

A little while into sleep I was woken up by the liquid desire pooling in my core, sparked by the electrifying contact of Vincent's mouth and my skin. He kissed and sucked my skin till the point I was crazy with desire, and could think of nothing but his body on mine. We made love multiple times, punctuated by small spells of sleep, till the crack of dawn when we finally lay completely spent; a jumble of limbs.

I was pulled out of my thoughts by the sound of boots hitting the ground. Vincent was making his way towards the bed, his hands laden with food enough to feed a dozen grown men. Dressed in nothing but black pants and boots, his bare chest lined with hard and shapely muscles on display, sight of Vincent caused my sore insides to still clench with desire. Biting my lips I tried to focus on his beautiful face.

"You must be famished, I for one surely am," he said, while sitting next to me and feeding me with his fingers.

Somewhere along the way feeding turned into kissing, and kissing gave way to love making. We just could not keep our hands to ourselves. Over the course of next few days we made love in the bath, in the kitchen, and every other favorable space we could find in the house. The days were nothing short of pure bliss. Apart from making love to me in abundance Vincent would cook for me, take care of me, read to me, teach me techniques to fight; which I was previously unaware of, and even tell me about his past, amuse with the stories of his childhood which were unknown to almost all of the world, but the bliss prevalent in my life was short to last.