By My Choice...: A Valentine's Day Story (Valentine's Day Stories) by Christine Blackthorn Read Free Book Online

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    His brow came to rest against hers, their scents of vanilla and spice mingling in the space between them until they became her whole world.
    “Let me help, Baby. Let me help.” A whisper on his breath, a plea.  
    His thumb slipped under her chin, gentled her with soothing caresses into raising her head for him. She knew what he was about to do, somewhere in her mind she did know but had lost all strength to resist the onslaught of sensation, of emotion. With that first touch of his lips she knew she was addicted, hopelessly lost in him.  
    She expected his lips to claim, to conquer, to take, but the touch was featherlight, a mere stroke over her own, gone before she had even registered the kiss. The fleeting touch left behind the taste of cardamon and heavy wine, of evenings in front of a fire and decadent fantasies coming to life. It was a taste with a promise, a complicated taste, seductive, impossible not to want more, a taste which spoke to her curiosity as much as her libido.  
    Her mouth tried to capture it, tried to draw it in with a stroke of her tongue over her lower lip but his mouth had already parted from hers, the taste already disappearing. It was instinct which made her angle her head to chase it, to follow the temptation, to catch those illusive lips.  
    He played with her, his lips a teasing touch, a caress, a lick, a nip on her lower lip. It was aggravating, tantalising, playful — and not to be borne. Jen reached for him, her arms coming around his shoulders, her hand shaping itself to the curve of his cheek. She liked the slight roughness there, so different from the softness of her own. The first touch of his lips was unsatisfactory, too light, still too fleeting. But the taste. She could spent every day of the rest of her life immersed in that taste. It enchanted and enthralled her, lingered on her lips and awareness.  
    His lips were velvet, softer than she could ever have expected. She could feel the slight ridges and as he nipped her upper lip, the sharp tips of his incisors scraped across her skin in an erotic gentleness, so at odds with the power of the man. She needed more. She was not a small woman with her five foot eleven, but to reach him she had to lean on him, shift her weight and allow him to support her. He could have bent his head to her but he chose not to do so and she recognised it for the strategic consideration it was, even in her muddled state. To reach his taste, his touch, she had to trust him to hold her, had to give herself into his keeping.
    The blatant manipulation should have annoyed her but he gave her his taste, and in so doing invaded each aspect of her being, wiping away any emotion, any sensation other than him. The moment she fitted her mouth over his fully, her tongue teasing the seam of his lips, his reticence broke and he devoured her. His mouth opened to hers, engaged her in a duel of tongues, of taste, of breath. Her lips felt bruised under the power of his kiss, her mouth had never been so sensitive. But she was by nature not passive, not outside the bed, nor within — or wherever else she chose to enjoy her lovers. She was used to giving more than she took, was used to the control, and long habits asserted themselves.  
    He let her, allowed her tongue to play with his, to discover and caress wherever it wanted — but the tenor of their interactions changed. The unbridled passion banked, was transmuted into something sweeter, something tender. He gentled her away from the sharp tips of his fangs, let her play, but controlled the way in which she could do so. Was it the nature of the man or the Lord? The fact she could, and did, puzzle over this question, told her the kiss had, unaccountably, cleared her mind. Little is more designed to cool your erotic ardour than to realise you can think better after a kiss than before, especially if the man you were kissing had held a starring role in a wide range of your teenage fantasies.  
    Their lips