Darcy Branwyn

…Catherine came up on her knees, gathered all of her resolve, and reached out, unbuttoning Jonas’s jeans. His chest was heaving and he looked like he was in pain as she worked the zipper with fingers that were not cooperating very well.

“Damnit,” she said.

His hands smoothed over hers. She backed off as he pulled out of the rest of his clothes for her. It was a relief, since she was in over her head.

His side was to the light rather than his back so she had a better view. She sat back on her heels watching him; the hard, lean lines of a body sent straight out of her imagination. She had to admit, she was…

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…“Jonas?” she whispered, her fingers starting to tremble. “By any chance, do you think this is going to hurt?”

He let out a breath. That he didn’t answer right away gave her pause. “No,” he finally said, like he was talking himself into believing it.

She crept slowly to him, coming back up on her knees. He pulled her against him more forcefully that she’d expected. It wasn’t enough to hurt her but her breath caught.

“I’m sorry,” he said, searching her eyes.

“No, I’m fine. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

He shook his head. “You have a right to.”

“It’s not the part about you being so strong. It’s, you know, your…

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…Her cheeks burned. “Then you’re still going to… I mean, yes I still want you.”

He lifted her up completely, laying her back on the mattress. “It might be too late for me anyway,” he confessed, face close to hers.

She nodded. “Me too.” Her fingers twisted back into his hair.

One knee moved hers out of his way. Heat flared through her body and despite her misgivings she ached for him all the same. She was still in her jeans and hated that. She wiggled, feeling tight in her skin.

“Jonas?”

“I know. But I can’t just take you.” He lifted her chin with a finger, kissed it.

“I might explode either way.”

He kissed the small of her throat. “And I can’t risk hurting you. Give me some time.”

She groaned in response.

“It’s better for you.” His lips pressed against the space between her breasts.

“Sure it is.”

He continued and she was kissed and caressed.  Catherine’s fingers dug into his shoulders as he…

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 …She arched her back as if by instinct. He gave her a moment to recover.

Belatedly, she realized that she was setting him off too. “Sorry,” she managed. “This has to be hard on you.”

 He stopped in the middle of unbuttoning her jeans and looked up at her. She caught gazes with him. “Not like you’re thinking.” His palms formed around her hips for a moment before he unzipped her and then tugged her jeans down over them.

“I mean,” she had to clear her throat, “we set each other off.”

“Yes,” he sounded, tossing her jeans aside. He looked her over in the panties that matched her boring beige bra. “I’m not exactly put out by it.” He took a breath. She matched his breathing. “God, I’ve missed those thighs,” he said, one hand smoothing up her leg.

“Um, yeah.” She turned her face away, embarrassed.

“Don’t,” he told her. “You couldn’t have helped it.”

“I’d never let anyone feel me up before you did.”

“I know.” He smiled. Fingers hooked her panties, pulled them off too.

She glanced at him, then quickly away again. “This might take some getting used to,” she said, mostly to herself.

“Do you need help?’ He leaned in to kiss her stomach.

“What exactly do you mean by help?” she panted.

Her knee, already bent, was nudged further aside…

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“Catherine,” he said, doing that thing he did with his voice.

Oh. That kind of help.

She had to look at him. Suddenly it had become mandatory. Her fingers relaxed and she sighed as she watched his ascent up her thigh. If he was going to do what she thought he was, then she really was going to lose her mind without help. He kissed her again, further up her thigh.

Abruptly he stopped.

Whatever persuasion he had over her mind was withdrawn and he backed away. She followed as if on that string, sitting up after him. He’d turned away from her.

She sat back on her heels, her head reeling. “Too much?” she whispered.

One hand reached toward her, she latched onto it. His back was still to her. “I need a minute.”

She nodded, holding his hand in hers and waiting silently.

He laughed but there was no humor in it. “It’s your scent,” he said, turning finally to look at her.

She reached up to touch his face but he brushed her away. She lowered her hand. Then she realized what he’d meant by scent. “Oh, um, yes.”

“We’ll work up to it,” he said, coming toward her. She touched his face. The fangs were gone.

Catherine nodded. “I might pass out on you anyway,” she said.

“You better not,” he growled, hitching her over him, straddled like before.

She gasped at the contact.

“This will give you control,” he said.

“Sure, give the one who doesn’t know what they’re doing control,” she breathed. “Is that a good idea?”

“It is when I can break you. Besides,” he rearranged her a bit, hands on her hips. “You’ll figure it out soon enough.”…

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