From the Changeling Press version
Grant watched the girl gradually slump over the table in exhaustion. At the sight, tenderness restrained his hunger and lust. The raging thirst was pushed aside by the urge to care for her, to ease her burdens.
The small room was barely furnished. The place was neat and clean, but desolate. He went to Amelia and gently cradled her light frame in his arms. When she stirred, Grant laid his palm to her forehead and willed her back into deep sleep.
Her strength of will amazed him. This small girl managed so many responsibilities without help from a father or husband. Not only did she work to support herself and her brother, but also fought to do so with dignity. She was so slight to carry such a burden, both real and emotional. She was far too thin to have missed dinner on this or any night.
What could he do for her? Would she even accept his help?
He carried her to the narrow bed, settling her carefully. When he loosened his hold, her hand lifted and tangled in his loose hair. She moaned softly and snuggled against his chest. Fire burned through him from scalp to groin. He slid onto the bed with her, shifting her more fully onto his lap. Though still asleep, she burrowed into his arms. His breath caught at the trust she offered him. Trust he was far from deserving.
Yet, Amelia felt right in his arms. Her petite curves fit perfectly against him. Grant sat there, slowly relaxing back against the wall. She moved with him, never losing the contact between their bodies.
Her dress bunched into lumps, an irritation he could do without and was surely not pleasant for Amelia either. A bit at a time, he removed her shoes and stockings. He loosened her corset and eased her out of the heavier outer dress, leaving Amelia in her simple shift. Even in the dark, her satin skin glowed, drawing his hands. He stroked a long finger down her bare arm. The gentle touch singed him, his cock hardening painfully within his suddenly tight breeches.
Amelia shifted restlessly and cried out against his chest, “No, please don’t. Please stop.” Her hand tightened on his shirt. Her imagined fears clenched at his soul. Amelia should never fear being touched, being loved. Her body, so feminine, was made for the loving arts.
What had happened in her past to scare her so? If the tavern owner was guilty of more than threats, a merciless death awaited him. Grant’s arms stiffened around her, crushing her against his chest.
She whimpered in her dream terrors.
He could help her. But did he dare? Thanks to his mother’s demon blood, Grant was more than able to enter and guide her dreams. He could chase away any lingering nightmares and replace them with whatever she wished for.
Amelia shifted against him, her slender hip pushing into his already aching cock. The sharp pain dampened his arousal, helping him focus on her needs. He would ease her fears, and then leave her before his various hungers did more than scare her.
Grant wrapped her in his embrace, pulling the light coverlet over them both. He brushed his lips over Amelia’s, resting his cheek against her forehead. Grant extended his thoughts, coaxing her mind to open to him.
Her dreams swirled in chaotic circles about the tavern owner and his foul hands on her. Her flesh crawled. Her stomach rebelled. The man, Jones, had forced her against the wall, his hands mauling her.
Her fear and anger became his. He could tear this man to pieces. He would.
Amelia shoved the man away before Grant could interfere. Once pushed, Jones disappeared and Amelia stared at Grant. Her green eyes studied him warily. Grant merged his mind with hers, allowing them to communicate here in her dreams without words.
She wondered if he would hurt her too.
“I will not hurt you.” He held out a hand, offering his strength and a choice.
“Who are you?” She slowly stepped away from the squalid wall and reached for his hand. The connection was immediate and powerful. Fingers burned, welded together, bonded.
His heart raced as her unexpected trust filled him with excitement. “We met earlier. My name is, Grant.” Was his voice breathy? How strange.
The tavern faded away, replaced by darkness. “Where are we?”
“Where would you like to be?” Grant marveled at her control of the background, which was unusual. Once he sought command over a sleeper’s dream, he rarely lost that control, but she had a strong mind and he could let her hold the reins if that were what she wished.
“I don’t know. I don’t understand.” She moved closer to him, taking comfort from his strength. Their bodies brushed lightly and she gripped his hand like a lifeline. She was strong, but unsure of herself.
“Would you like to walk in my garden? The flowers are lovely, though not as beautiful as you are.” He offered the suggestion and let her consider it. Each touch between them awakened his senses in ways that were usually limited in this dream realm. The brush of her breast against his arm hardened his cock and had his fangs throbbing. He wanted her and here in this world of their making, they could do as they wanted. If she was willing, this could be a very fulfilling dream.
Amelia nodded and light poured around them. Flowers sprung up and crowded the narrow flagstone path where they stood. The flowers were his creation, a reflection of the garden behind his mansion, but the light was her choice. He would have preferred a moonlit walk in the garden, but here in dreams, the light would cause no pain to his sensitive eyes.
She looked up at him, her perfect face framed with her glowing curls, and smiled. Her contentment filled him. Grant’s lips fell slowly to meet hers in a sweet union. Arousal fanned though him in welcome warmth. While controlling his lengthening fangs, he stroked her soft lips with his tongue, teasing them open. Even here in the dream realm, he needed her desperately.
She accepted the invasion, pressing into him, her free hand slipping to his neck, feathering though the long hair at his nape.
The gentle tugs sent tingles dancing across his scalp and through his body. ”Amelia,” he sighed. ”What are you doing to me?”
She pulled back just enough to whisper, “I don’t understand this need, but I must touch you. I must taste you. What is this devilry that you can cause such conduct when I know I should not do so?” She kissed him again, followed with a tentative nibble to his full lower lip.
”You may touch or taste me any way you wish. I quite enjoy your fancy.” He did more than enjoy, he craved. With each touch, Grant grew harder and hungrier. Still, he would take nothing not offered freely.
A long padded bench appeared to the side of the path and she tugged him toward it. He sat and pulled her back into his arms. She stood between his thighs and kissed him. ”You do taste intoxicating.” The new angle allowed her more control and he relinquished it willingly. Her tongue tickled at his lips, but hesitated when he opened to her.
Grant’s hands roamed freely. Amelia’s waist narrowed then flared upward into lush breasts. So perfect for his hand to memorize. Her nipple pebbled under his wandering fingers. Through her plain dress, he rolled the tip with thumb and forefinger, tightening it into a nub with his exploration. Her body tensed, and then, she relaxed and moaned into his mouth with a breathy sigh. Then, with a surprisingly aggressive surge, she sucked his tongue into her mouth.
He turned her body and lifted her onto his lap. The position was almost an exact imitation of how he’d held her in her bed outside of this dream realm. With a thought, their clothing disappeared and a satin coverlet draped around them. The bench widened into a decadent summer bed. He lowered Amelia, kissing over her lips and nuzzling her cheek across to her ear, pausing to suck her ear lobe with teasing licks of his tongue. Her gasp drove him on. When one fang brushed over her ear both were left panting for more.
Quickly skimming over her inviting throat, he trailed lower to her breast. His suckling mouth found one while his fingers tempted the other. He laved over the puckered nipple, drawing a moan from Amelia while a fang scrapped over the sensitized tip. The sensation blazed through him, making his cock throb and ache with unbearable need.
Her back arched upward, drawing his free hand to follow the line of her hip to stroke over her tempting mound. Amelia’s moist sex warmed his fingers as he feathered over her feminine lips, then parted them to touch within her waiting, silken sheath.
Her thighs tightened over his hand. Her body grew still and tense.
It might kill him, but he would stop if her fear was too much. “Easy. I do only what you want. I can stop --”
“No, I want more. Please...” Amelia’s hand clenched over his shoulders. Her short nails cut crescents into his flesh. The pain was like bright pinpricks of pleasure.
He heard the fear and need that warred within her. Her body cried out for release from desire, but her mind set limits she hesitated to cross.
Returning to her mouth, he tasted and teased her lips until her mouth relaxed once more against his. His fingers continued to stroke over her slick folds, building the desire within her. He deepened their kiss, while dipping a single finger into her waiting depths.
Her sex was swollen and slick under his fingers, the fine, but crisp hair tingled against his fingertips. She kissed him back, welcoming him with her dancing tongue.
Grant stroked in and out, inserting a second finger to slowly stretch her open and show her the pleasure that she wanted so much. His thumb flicked over her ridged clit. Grant was demanding with the need to sink into her waiting heat. He ached to feast on her, to devour her slick arousal and show her how to satisfy him. Yet he held back, wanting her to feel pleasure in this first experience, willing to show patience with her inexperience.
She clutched his back as the first tremors of release quivered, tightened. Her body rocked into his strokes. Her lips and tongue devoured him with eager desperate passion. Amelia moaned against him with a final surge and gently bit his lip, drawing a drop of blood.
The painful hunger scorched through him, drawing him back from the pleasure and leaving him gasping through the pain. Grant pulled from her lips and fought for control. His cock ached still, but it was his fangs that swelled and pounded in time with each heartbeat. It was their agony of need that blinded him to everything else.
She thrust onto his penetrating fingers, crying out in pleasure, clenching around him. Her body demanding his response as her climax ricocheted through their connection, scorching the last of his restraint.
His fangs lengthened, throbbed, burned. I can’t, his mind called out to her, in warning, in apology, a breath before the sharp tips sank into her tender throat, drawing her warm blood. Grant was swept with her sweet passion. Amelia’s thoughts swirled over him. He felt all of her joys and fears. At once, he could feel his fangs and fingers invading her body and feel how she welcomed all of him. The ecstasy of her taste offered him a world of satisfaction, easing his burning sexual need even as it satisfied the blood thirst. And through it all, Grant felt Amelia and he allowed her contentment and satisfaction to fill him.