Blood and Wine - Margot Scott Page 0,25
it feels like I’m returning to the same long day.” She looks at me. “I just want to help you.”
“What if I told you there was a way you could help me?”
I stroke her chin.
“I’d say, tell me what it is, and I’ll do it.”
I could tell her to go to her father’s study and steal the keys right now. I could say there’s a poor, defenseless creature in the basement that needs to be rescued. It would all be done in a matter of minutes. The theft, my release, and her inevitable death.
But once again, that bastard guilt yanks at the cord around my chest like a rider pulling on reins.
She tilts her face upward. She wants me to kiss her, and I’m running out of excuses not to give her what she wants. What we both want…if I’m being honest.
Memories of another man stealing kisses from a young girl in the shadows of this estate flash in my mind like strobe lights. I take a step back from Mariah and rub my eyes, wiping the images away like rain from a windshield.
“What is your deal, Will?” Mariah asks, exasperated. “Do you want me or not? Because you’re giving me some seriously mixed messages.” She touches my arm. “Is it my age? My birthday’s only two weeks away—”
My laughter slices between us like a knife cutting through cake. “You think a few days would make a difference in the face of half a millennium?”
She clasps her hands in front of her. “I guess not.”
To hell with guilt, I tell myself. I’m tired of resisting temptation that insists on staring me in the face. I move in close, backing her up against the window.
“Mariah, if I wanted you on your back with your legs spread before me, your age would be the last thing standing in my way. If I wanted to sit on your bed and watch you play your pussy like a fiddle in the dark, completely oblivious to my presence, I could do that, too.”
Her chest rises and falls, rises and falls. “But you haven’t.”
“Haven’t I? How would you know?”
She swallows, and the contraction of her throat muscles is enough to make my gums tingle.
“Are you making fun of me?” she asks.
“I’m toying with you,” I say. “There’s a difference.”
“It doesn’t feel different.” Her face glows with embarrassment. She thinks I’m going to all this trouble to prove that I don’t want her. Because if I did, I’d have had her already, and the fact that I haven’t is proof of my indifference.
If she knew how badly I wanted her, she’d be petrified. Like a puppy dashing after a tiger, she’d catch me and immediately regret giving chase.
“If you don’t want me, you can just say so,” she says. “You don’t have to be an asshole about it.”
I cradle the back of her neck and press my lips to hers.
Mariah tenses up, startled, then launches herself fully into the kiss. Her palms glide up my chest. I rest my hand on her waist and draw her close to feel her heat. As my tongue breaches her lips, she lets out a whimper that has my astral body humming like a plucked cello string.
I pull back to give her a chance to breathe.
“I didn’t know ghosts could kiss like that,” she whispers, her fingers closing around my shirt like she’s afraid I’m going to slip away.
“I told you, I’m not a ghost.”
“What are you, then?”
The closest thing I can think of without telling her the truth is, “A demon.”
“You’re not a demon.” She smiles. “You’re my imaginary friend.”
“Some demons pretend to be your friend just to get close to you.”
I take her hand and guide her back toward the dining table.
“What if I’m simply lying to get closer to you?” I lift her onto the table, pushing plates and silverware aside. “What if my true intention is to pick you like a flower, rip out all your petals, and crush you beneath my heel?”
She gasps as I skim my fingers up her thighs, sliding her tee shirt higher.
“I think I might like to be crushed by you,” she says.
Her arms go around my neck as I kiss her again. Standing between her legs, I let her feel my erection against her thigh. Fortunately, I can get hard and even jack off here in the twilight realm. In the early years, it wasn’t a bad way to pass the time. But after a while, the futility of fucking myself