Elizabeth Finn - Immortal Protector

He spread the lips of her vagina open to his gaze, and she froze and held her breath. When he studied her exposed body, she gasped at his intrusive eyes. He leaned his mouth to her with one quick glance to her face, and her breath left her lungs in a rush. His tongue was incredible as it moved lightly over her sensitized skin. She was moaning; in one moment she was flustered in embarrassment at her complete lack of control, and in the next moment, she cared not at all. He very obviously did not care how she chose to respond to him so long as she was pleased, and she was indeed pleased.

He latched himself to her sex as though it were a deep, passionate kiss between their mouths, and he pulled her tight nub between his lips, flicking it with his tongue as the suction wrenched the desire from her body to be experienced by them both. She abandoned composure of any sort and succumbed to gasping sobs of repletion as her orgasm overpowered her. While it racked her body with one shuddering wave after another, she still failed to care she was losing control of herself in front of this man—or whatever breed of human he might be.

As her body calmed and his lips continued to kiss sweet, soft kisses along the slick folds of skin that surrounded her sex, she daydreamed about making love to him. He’d promised it, and she was ready for it. She was ready for him.

He kneeled between her legs and let her watch him as he stroked the length of his shaft. There was no fear whatsoever, and though she knew it would be impossible to escape without pain, she was at ease. His pale hand on his rigid length was intoxicating. She was mesmerized by his dark, twinkling eyes. The tips of his fangs were dropped and glistening from his slightly parted lips, and he ran his tongue to one of the points and touched it. She knew it was his own private, unconscious show of longing, desire, need, hunger, and she was learning to enjoy the sight of it.

She wasn’t sure it was wise to trust he wouldn’t bite her, overpower her, or destroy her, but she trusted it regardless. She’d spent her life fearing and distrusting men … all that is except him. He could kill her with one bite; she’d seen it done by him before, but she didn’t fear him in the least.

As he watched, she pulled her legs out wider and beckoned his body to take hers. He smiled at her gesture and leaned up and over her body to hover above her. He watched her eyes as he guided the head of his cock to her entry. He nudged and parted the lips with the tip and readied his body to enter hers. “Are you sure this is what you want?” His voice was purring but serious, and his eyes were smoldering, waiting for her final permission.

Of course she wanted this, but she appreciated being asked after more than her fair share had tried to take without her permission. She nodded and offered a weak and strangled “yes.” It came out as a whisper that she hoped sounded as convinced as she truly was. When he pushed past her barrier, breaking through to her depths, she cried out in pain and the emotional finality that pulsed through her mind. He was pushing with a controlled but insistent stroke, holding her gaze the entire time, and when he reached her depth, he stilled and waited as she panted beneath him and begged her muscles to relax.

As her body figured out how to allow his intrusion, her panting slowed and the strained muscles of her face loosened. He withdrew from her body with one smooth glide before plunging into her again. The force behind his thrust was intense and harsh, but when he was deep within her, he waited for her pain to subside again. He pulled once more from her body before swiftly sinking deep into her yet again. He started pushing and pulling, setting a mesmerizing but demanding pace that eventually had the pain fading to the background and the pleasure building.

She hadn’t expected to come when he’d made love to her. She assumed it would hurt too much, but as his thrusting continued in his perfect deep and steady pace, her body readied itself, and she found herself panting once more. The pain was hidden somewhere far away from her mind, much like the loss of her mother was at this moment, and in an explosion of pent-up need she came again. His own orgasm overcame his body at the exact moment hers did and left her convinced he had far more control over his body than she obviously had over hers.

His orgasm came with a low groan emanating powerfully from his chest. He thrust through his release, pushing harder and harder even after he’d emptied himself in her body. He was stroking through his ejaculate, and when his strokes eventually tapered off and he withdrew from her body, she could feel his seed seeping from her. He lay beside her and pulled her into his arms. Ember rested her head to his chest and listened to his heart beat its slow, melodic pace. He was alive. However it differed from her, there was no question of it.

“Are you okay?” His words interrupted the quiet of the room.

“Yes.” She was suddenly shy and nervous, and he must have seen it in her expression as he reached to her cheek and pulled her lips to his own. His fangs were once again retracted, and he allowed her to slip her tongue past his lips to the cool wetness within.

When she gave him his lips back, he spoke. “I’m guessing you have questions. You always seem to have questions.” He was smirking again. “So you should ask them now.”

How right he was. “You have spit…”

He chuckled as he responded. “Of all the questions you could ask, you ask about spit? Do you think my mouth on your skin would have felt nearly so nice if I didn’t?”

“And you have … you know … semen…”

“I think your mouth and your pussy can attest to that. Yes I do.” He was smiling at her quizzical nature and from the look of it, enjoying this very much. Most people got annoyed quickly by her endless questions, but not him. He seemed to welcome them, and she had no intention of letting this opportunity slip away.

“How long has it been since you’ve been with a woman?”

He watched her, studied her, before he spoke. “A real woman: since before I transitioned. One of my kind: a few years or so. Why do you ask?”

“Seems like a long time.”

“When you’ve been alive for three hundred years, it puts the concept of a long time into perspective, but yes, it has been a long time for me. Far longer than I prefer to go.”

“Why so long?”

“I’d prefer not to discuss that.” His tone was serious.

“Well I’m pretty sure I came on to you three years ago, so it seems it’s your own fault you’ve been abstinent.” Ember smirked at her comment.

Chuckling again, he obliged her curiosity. “You were hardly old enough at seventeen, but at twenty, you are certainly no child.”

“Well in that case, eighteen would have sufficed, would it not?”

“I’m three hundred and thirty-nine years old, Ember. Twenty is a stretch. And I transitioned when I was thirty-six, so this is not the body of a teen or even a twentysomething-year-old man—even if my cock may think it is. Did I hurt you?” There was a sudden softness to his eyes not so befitting a man who kills people to sustain his existence.

She was sore, very sore, but she had no regrets whatsoever, though she doubted he would understand that. Truman ran his hand down her stomach and landed at her sex, cupping her in his palm and soothing her tender body with the coolness of his touch. Ember breathed a sigh of contentment as he watched her face as though he was reading her mind. This being was incredible—intelligent, strong and yet gentle, and ferociously protective of her. Why should he care for her—plain, ordinary, boring Ember? She didn’t deserve his attention, and yet, she had it, and it was focused solely on her at the moment.