"Rachel?"
She lifted her eyes the length of his body and met his uncertain gaze, realizing she had gone still with him in her mouth. Giving herself a mental shake, she raised a hand to hold the base of his manhood and allowed her mouth to slide the length of his member, then back again. She could do this. She could resist. She had to, Rachel told herself firmly. She had to prove to herself that she could resist anything, that she would be safe around her co-workers, that even with temptation this close--in her mouth, in fact--she could prevail. A groan from Etienne encouraging her, Rachel slid her mouth along his length again, her tongue working his flesh with an interest that seemed focused on the bulging vein it followed. Just a little bite, her mind tempted. A nip, really. She pushed the thought aside and drew him nearly out of her mouth again, slowly becoming aware of his responses. Rachel had experienced the sensation several times with him already, their passion merging, heightening for both of them into overwhelming waves of excitement and desire. This time was different, however. Her mind, preoccupied as it was with the need to feed, was not aroused, and so she was now experiencing only his passion and pleasure. It flooded her mind as if it were her own, filling every corner with the sensations he was experiencing, sensations of almost unbearable pleasure.
The feel of her own warm, moist mouth sliding the length of him was a pleasure she would never have experienced as a mere human. The scrape of her teeth over the tip of him made them both moan, and Rachel squeezed her thighs together as a new ache settled there. It was such pleasure-pain, she repeated the action several times until she was sure neither of them could stand it again without shattering.
Aware that these thoughts reflected Etienne's state as well as her own, and unwilling to end the pleasure so soon, Rachel changed the rhythm of her caresses. Etienne's disappointment touched her like his pleasure, and she smiled despite it. Sliding her free hand up his jean-encased thighs, she tightened the hold she had on the base of his manhood and twirled her tongue over his flesh.
"Rachel." It was a plea for release, but she was feeling heartless. She was hungry--both for blood and pleasure. She wanted to make this an experience he wouldn't ever forget, and since she was experiencing it with him, knowing exactly how it felt and affected him, she could.
Every woman should enjoy such mind-melding, she thought vaguely. They would never again doubt their ability to pleasure a man, or fumble about counting on him to verbalize what he liked or didn't. They would simply know, and do what felt good. They would also share in the enjoyment of the experience in a way not normally possible.
"God, Rachel."
She ignored his pleading. She was feeling what he was feeling, and knew he was again ready to burst. So was she, so this time Rachel didn't change technique or rhythm. This time her hungers would not be denied.
He cried out and exploded into her mouth a heartbeat before her own body cl**axed. Rachel's mind suffused with his pleasure and her own; then her newer instincts took over and she sank her canines into the vein her tongue had been toying with. She felt Etienne's startled reaction, then felt her own pleasure hit him as blood flowed through her teeth. The two sensations blended together, flowing back and forth between them from one mind to the other, seeming to strengthen each time it was exchanged until nothing could seem to hold on to it.
When Etienne began to sway before her, Rachel allowed her teeth to retract, freeing him. Then she sat back weakly as he dropped to his knees before her.
Her mind was struggling to accept the pleasure overwhelming her and was now suffused with weakness. Was it her own?
Etienne encompassed her in his arms, but his hold was light, barely there. When he spoke, his words were slurred and so faint that she couldn't grasp what he said. Then he began to tumble backward. Rachel tried to catch and help him stay upright, but she didn't seem to have the strength. She was sliding into the warm liquid darkness that had overwhelmed her after each lovemaking session with him.
This time was different, however. The other times, Rachel had been the only one overwhelmed, while Etienne--stronger and more used to the experience after three hundred years--had been her anchor. This time, he seemed to be slipping into that darkness with her. The realization gave her a sudden fright. Rachel wasn't sure if the alarm was her own or Etienne's, but as she slipped into unconsciousness, she knew that something was very wrong.
Rachel woke slowly, unsure what had disturbed her. She lay still for several moments, her cheek resting on something cool and hard. Her eyes were closed. She felt incredibly weak--drained, really--and didn't understand why. The memories of what had occurred in the garden swept through her mind and she smiled where she lay. That smile was quickly followed by a frown. She shouldn't be so weak. She had taken some of Etienne's blood and should be stronger for it, not weak. Shouldn't she?
"Etienne?"
That far off shout roused her from her languid state, and Rachel opened her eyes to see the shapes and shadows of the garden. She was lying with her head resting on Etienne's chest amid the blooming night flowers. Moving slowly, she managed to raise herself enough to look over the plants that lined the path and glance toward the house. There was nothing to see; the house appeared as still and empty as it had when they'd first been locked out.
Sighing, Rachel allowed herself to drop back onto the cold ground again. She was both shocked and a bit frightened at the weakness she was suffering. With a turn of her head, she was able to peer at the pale outline of Etienne. He lay in the dewy grass beside her, his body gleaming in the moonlight. Rachel patted his chest weakly, but there was no response.
She felt concern claim her. "Etienne?" She nudged him with a little more force. "Etienne?"
"Etienne!" That male voice was an echo to her own. It sounded closer this time, but still muffled, as if heard through ear muffs or at a great distance. "Rachel? Dammit, you two--answer me! I can sense your presence, but it's too weak to follow."
Despite that claim, the voice was drawing closer. Rachel barely had the chance to peer down at her clothes and make sure they were in order before she heard the back door of the house slam. Rachel forced herself to sit up again as Bastien strode into view.
"There you two are." He hurried toward them. "I was worried sick when Tom said there was no answer and the door was locked. I rushed over with Etienne's extra keys and--What the hell happened to the two of you?" he asked with alarm as he got close enough to see Etienne prostrate beside her. Then his gaze found his brother's body and his eyebrows flew up. "Oh."
Rachel glanced at Etienne, flushing when she noted that his pants were still undone, his flaccid penis hanging out bearing a pair of unmistakable teethmarks.
"Oh, dear. You bit him, huh?"
Humiliated, not to mention too weak to stay upright, Rachel dropped to the ground with a moan. She let her arm flop over her face.
"Thomas, bring the blood!"
Rachel let her arm drop back in alarm. It was bad enough that Bastien was a witness to this moment, but to have Thomas there, too... Her panic eased a bit when she noticed Bastien kneeling beside Etienne and straightening his clothes.
"How are you feeling? Pretty bad, huh?"
Rachel glanced at Bastien, surprised by his solicitous tone. "Yes. I don't understand why, though."
"You must have ingested too much blood," he explained. He scowled at his unconscious brother. "Etienne shouldn't have let you. He knows better."
"He was, er, preoccupied at the time," Rachel admitted with another blush. She cleared her throat. "Why is it I shouldn't have--"