Part 21 (1/2)

Marcello grinned. Taking his hand, he pushed the table away from them, giving them more room. Then, his fingers on her waist, he urged her to stand before him. His palms slid over the satin of her red dress, smoothing over her body.

Tatiana looked down at him, eyeing the top of his head. Her breathing deepened, pressing her chest and stomach hard against the corset until she was almost lightheaded. She saw the long wavy strands of his hair spilling over his masculine shoulders.

Marcello looked up at her, from beneath the silky length of his lashes. He watched her reaction as his hands slid down her legs. Taking the hem of her dress, he worked her skirt and chemise up over her hips, brus.h.i.+ng his hand over the stocking covered length of her calves to her thighs.

Tatiana s.h.i.+vered, taken aback by his gentleness. His forehead slowly lowered, coming close to her corseted stomach. His cheek settled by her waist, rubbing lightly against her.

”Monsieur...?”

Marcello's head snapped up, his eyes flashed with red anger, as he turned to the curtain with an animalistic sound starting in his throat. The man in the checkered waistcoat jumped back in surprise. Tatiana didn't move. The man looked at her, then to the Count. Marcello growled at him, ordering him away in low French that sounded deadly even to Tatiana.

”Excusez-moi!”the man said quickly, bowing from the room.

Marcello looked back up at her, as if he expected her to have changed her mind. Tatiana wiggled her body against his fingers, urging him to continue. He smiled, again setting his cheek along the curve of her waist. His fingers continued to slowly explore her hips and thighs.

Tatiana s.h.i.+vered. She didn't want him to be slow, or gentle. She felt the restraint in him and she wanted him to let it go--like he had the last time they'd been together, when he drank her blood and her control over him slipped.

Tatiana thrust her fingers into his long hair, pulling his head back from her. His dark eyes sought hers. She hesitated slightly before leaning over to find his lips. She pulled his face up to meet hers. She kissed him once, twice, before pulling back.

”Please, Marcello....” Almost too embarra.s.sed to say the words aloud, she closed her eyes, panting against him for a long moment. Whispering, she managed, ”Please....”

”What,bella , what is it?” he asked softly.

”Please, make love to me,” she whispered. Her eyes opened to him and she knew he could feel the battle that raged inside her at the admission. She didn't care. She let him feel it, let him feel her. She was tired of fighting him, of fighting herself.

”Please, Marcello, make love to me like you want to, not like this--like you want to do it. I can feel the restraint in you. I can feel you holding back. I don't want you to.”

”I will not act the beast for you,bella mia . I will not ravish you so you can hate me and blame me later for it.” Marcello's eyes hardened and his hands gripped tighter to her hips.

To her surprise, she understood why he was holding back. He didn't want her using this against him? Why did it matter to him? Why didn't he just take her? Why all this waiting? Why this seduction? Most baffling was the question, why would he care what she thought of him?

Tatiana's body throbbed with need. She was hot to the point of being feverish with desire. Boldly, her fingers shaking, she reached down to his hand. She pulled it from her hip and drew it down so he could feel her desire for him. She swallowed nervously, but whispered, ”I would think you cruel if you did not act, my lord.”

Marcello's fingers slid forward at her push. She gasped, leaning back as his fingers slid into the soft opening of her body. She thrust her hips toward him, encouraging, needing.

Marcello growled. The last bit of his restraint faded. With a flick of his fingers he hit the nub of her pa.s.sion. She trembled in instant pleasure.

”Hold onto the table,” he ordered. Marcello waited as she obeyed. Leaning slightly back, she gripped the table for support. He took one knee and lifted it up. At the same time he knelt before her on the floor. Hooking the knee over his shoulder, he said, ”Come sei bella. How beautiful you are.”

Tatiana moaned in antic.i.p.ation, delighted by his words. They felt so sincere. Marcello lifted her dress over his head. She knew he didn't need to breathe and could stay buried beneath her skirts forever. His kisses started on her lifted thigh. He kissed her in light trails until she s.h.i.+vered. Then, his tongue found her, tasting her flesh in long, hard strokes. She pushed her hips forward, searching for his mouth, wanting him to continue his kisses until he came to the fiery center of her need. She knew she was wet for him, knew her body was more than ready.

”Marcello!” she gasped, not caring who heard. Outside the party still raged--loud and unaware.

His fingers moved, teasing her center lips open so they could stroke deeper. His mouth came closer. She could feel his teeth along her skin, dragging slightly. She wanted him to bite her, wanted to feel the pleasure of his claiming. She wanted to feel her life draining into his. Both times he drank from her the connection between them had been deep. She wanted it to be so again.

Tatiana's fingers gripped the table. Marcello worked a long finger inside her, stroking and testing her lightly. Her body was tight from denial and she knew it pleased him to discover it, for he groaned against her sensitive flesh. She bucked against his hand, throwing her head back in pa.s.sion. A new song began beyond the curtain--modern and new to her senses, hard and pounding. Its beat swirled dangerously in her head, drowning out everything.

Tatiana felt another kiss whisper past the bend where her thigh met her aching center. When she felt the brush of his fangs, she pushed forward into him, purposefully nicking herself. She heard Marcello's moan and felt him licking the wound. She pressed her leg around his back, drawing him closer. To her delight, Marcello's teeth sunk into her leg.

Tatiana cried out. Marcello's fingers began stroking her to a frenzied pa.s.sion as he drank along her thigh. She rocked her hips into his hand and her leg against his mouth. His thumb circled in tormenting pleasurable strokes against her sensitive nub. Her body began to quiver and tense, peaking hard and fast.

Beneath her skirt, Marcello's eyes were closed. He drank at leisure, able to taste her pa.s.sion for him. As she climaxed against his hand, her blood released an intoxicating flavor into his lips. He could taste her potent release and knew he had to stop soon or he wouldn't be able to. Biting his lip, he used his blood to heal the wound he made on her. Her hot, wet body still quaked, tightlyclutching his finger. He released her, coming out from beneath the red of her skirt.