her or embarrass himself.
Growling deep in his throat, he bucked and shifted, rolling her onto her back in the bed, then rolling over her to take control of the situation. The abrupt shift startled Rachel into a gasp and made the top she wore gape open, revealing even more of her pale breasts. Taking advantage, Etienne dropped his head to lick the smooth, salty-sweet skin as he'd longed to do earlier.
Rachel bit her lip, biting back a moan and squirming, struggling to free the hands he held captured in his own. He knew she wanted to touch him back, wanted to caress him as well, but he didn't have the control at the moment to allow that--and he wanted her as excited and hungry for him as he was for her. Shifting, he took both of her hands in one of his, then reached down to remove his belt.
"I could help with that," Rachel offered, arching restlessly beneath him. He fumbled one-handed with the chore, merely smiling and shaking his head. At last he succeeded in removing the item of clothing, then wrapped it around her trapped hands, slid the end through the buckle, and pulled it tight.
"What are you doing?" Rachel gasped as he tied the belt to his headboard. "I don't--"
He silenced her protest with a kiss.
Rachel arched on the bed, her mind a jumble of confusion. Somehow her fantasy was barreling out of control. Things had been fine in this dream until Etienne turned the tables on her and rolled her onto her back, but now the fantasy was taking a path she had never expected--and she seemed helpless to stop it. Of course, Rachel wasn't sure she wanted to stop it, but the very fact that it was happening was bewildering. She was positive that she was alone in bed, dreaming, but she could feel Etienne against her in the darkness, could smell the musky cologne he wore, could taste the essence of him as his tongue thrust into her mouth. Bemused, she decided to just go with it. Allowing her mouth to widen, her own tongue slid out to join and tangle with his, and she tugged uselessly at the belt around her wrists in a vain effort to free herself to hold and touch him too.
She was gasping when his mouth left hers, panting with excitement but disappointed that he had broken the kiss... until his mouth traveled down her throat to the swell of her breast. Somehow the shirt she wore had come open, leaving her naked to his pleasure. Fortunately, his pleasure was her own. She cried out and arched back as he caressed and suckled first one breast, then the other. When he moved lower, his lips trailing down her belly, Rachel moaned and shuddered, very aware that his fingers were leading the way, trailing down over her hipbone, then down her outer leg and up her thigh.
Her legs seemed unsure what to do, and Rachel shifted restlessly beneath his caress. First her thighs pressed together, then they opened slightly, then they simply quivered and twitched beneath Etienne's fingers. Rachel wasn't much of a singer, but she suspected she hit a high C when his caress reached her center. She jerked, moaned, and twisted her head on the bed, especially when his mouth replaced his fingers.
She did very little thinking after that. The only cogent thought Rachel managed was that Etienne was damned good--but then, he'd had three hundred years of practice. Well, it showed. Rachel had never experienced anything like it. Etienne had said earlier that her senses weren't fully developed, but she was definitely experiencing something intense. Her pleasure was perhaps not twenty times what it had once been at its peak, but it was at least two- or threefold. It was almost scary. Almost.
The ringing of the phone woke Etienne. His eyes shot open, his mind and body immediately alert. Although his body appeared to have been already alert, if the erection he sported was anything to go by. Forcing himself to ignore the clamoring of his body, he pushed his coffin lid open and sat up. In the next moment, he crossed the room to snatch the phone.
"Hello?" he barked, unable to hide his annoyance.
Silence. Etienne listened for a moment, eyes narrowing as the dead air stretched, malevolent and angry. Then he guessed, "Pudge?"
A click as the line went dead was his answer. Etienne set the phone back with a troubled frown. The techie hadn't called since