The Weaver's Source

Part Two: Chapter 16

I moaned and tried to pull away from his rough kisses but found I couldn't. The hands that gripped me held me firmly in place, one powerful arm fixed around my waist and a hand deep in my hair, locking me to him possessively. I moulded instinctively against him, my softness pressing up against his strength, absorbing his warmth and inhaling his scent, almost revelling in him. His mouth brushed mine, seeking out my kisses again teasingly. My body grew hot and a horrible ache gathered in the pit of my stomach, forcing me to press my lips together in an attempt to resist him but I couldn't. The moment he pressed his mouth against mine softly, I melted, moaning softly against him and parted my lips, encouraging him to devour me. All gentility left him in an instant. His mouth grew rougher, more urgent, hot and demanding, as his hand slipped to my hip and pressed me harder against him, ensuring I could feel his growing need for me. My skin burned, shivering with delight, answering his demands with my own heat. I wanted him. Needed him.

Abruptly, I sharply pulled my head away and pushed him back as a wave of shyness took me. My sudden action caught him off guard and his grasp loosened, letting me take a few steps back, staring pink eyed at Grigore. He towered some paces from me, his body rigid, his breeches snug about him and his shirt loose; the neckline hanging wide to show the strength of his shoulders and neck and the power of his muscles. I felt my whole being warm at the sight of him, his song filling me sensually, but I hung back, my face pink and hands keeping the hem of my stupidly short shift covering me.

A low guttural sound of deep frustration rumbled from Grigore as he stared at me with a starved gaze flickering dangerously over his features. I quickly glanced about the small room for a way out but there was none. There was no door here in this dark, simple room and no windows. I didn't know why I wanted one, I just suddenly felt flustered and shy, unable to look at Grigore despite my whole body singing for him desperately. Before I knew what was happening, Grigore was across the room and pressing my back against the wall. I couldn't say a word as his mouth found mine again and his hands gripped my hips so I couldn't run from him again. I struggled for only a moment before I caved in as pleasure shivered through my body and a strange carnal lust crept over me, numbing my mind.

I began to kiss him back with as much need as he, enjoying the sensation of his hands slipping under my shift and his fingers stroking my legs lovingly. I let out a soft gasp and arched my back when his mouth left mine and burned hotly down my neck. My eyes closed in bliss as his teeth nipped at the soft skin of my neck, working lower to my shoulder. His hands slid up my legs and cupped my naked bottom, forcing me closer to him as he nuzzled away the shift strap, making my body feel light and excruciatingly hot. As more of my skin was revealed, the more earnest and demanding his kisses became. I was enjoying his touch, melting into him, and I held his head to me, urging him to continue. My breath was coming out in small gasps as his mouth returned to my mine, hovering inches from me, eyes glittering dangerously. I moaned softly, confused when he pushed himself away from me, but my attempts to bring him back froze when his hand slipped from my bottom, tracing my skin to rest meaningfully at my hip. His thumbpad caressed the small line leading down to the tangle of hair barely covered by the hem of my shift. I panted softly, my breasts rising and falling quickly and budded softly. His hand moved, inching towards my inner thigh. I tried to press my legs together, to keep myself calm and make the gathering wet heat vanish, to keep him away and stop him from making me melt any further, but pushed my legs apart with ease, resting his palm possessively on my inner thigh, making my whole body tense up with hot anticipation. I whimpered softly as he leaned down to claim my mouth, his hand moving meaningfully upwards, his grip strong and possessive and leaving behind a trail of fire.

But just as Grigore's thumb pressed lightly against me teasingly, murmuring my name huskily against my mouth, the coach jolted sharply, throwing me into consciousness.