He laid her gently on her bed. Her breathing was deep and even, so she would probably stay asleep. He reached to pull the worn quilt over her but she grabbed the front of his coat and pulled him down onto her.
He should have resisted. He should. But he couldn't let her know what he was. That meant being a little more weak, more human and in that second, he was one hundred percent male human with a one hundred percent human woman wrapping her legs around him.
She smiled but it was pure deviousness, and Francis wouldn't answer to that power. But then she moved herself on him and his ruby boiled and seethed, making his muscles quake with the need to… conquer it.
She seemed to sense it and to his surprise, liked it. So odd. "Give it to me." This came with more of that squirming against him and long moaning sighs.
He could only shake his head.
She lowered her lashes. "That's the deal. I dirtied your clothes."
"No you didn't." His whisper betrayed the depth of his feeling on that matter.
She smiled and tipped her head back and tightened her legs a little. "I do believe I did."
Francis looked down and froze. Her blood was on his jacket. He looked into her eyes for many seconds, watching them fill with a longing that betrayed her faithful iron resolve. "Your blood…isn't dirty." Confusion filled her gaze and he longed to kiss her again, demonstrate how precious she was in his eyes. "Your blood is beautiful."
Francis didn't understand why that upset her. "But that was the deal. You made it."
Turmoil rocked him. There were many reasons he couldn't do what she asked and none he wanted to explain. Of all the human conditions, why didn't he think to study this one? Because for me, it was irrelevant, he reasoned. He knew just enough about fucking to know that it wasn't something you did lightly, and he had less than zero experience. The closest he'd come to the subject was when his father did it and he never hung around long enough to know what happened after things started heating up. At the first sign of heavy breathing or racing pulses, he bugged out.
He finally bolstered his courage to say what he had to. "I can't… fuck you."
"Why? Am I not good enough for you?" The pain of rejection and longing just beneath her angry voice filled his chest.
He looked down into her beautiful eyes, appalled with the idea of her thinking he would believe that. "No, you're very good for me."
She swallowed, her brow crimping until she looked like a fragile little girl. "Please," she whispered, "make love to me." She placed both her hands on his butt and pulled him against her as she lifted her own hips to meet him.
His body seemed to know how to feel about that and he gasped in reaction to the throbbing heat in his groin. He closed his eyes on a groan. "Abigail."
Her body turned into an electrical viper and a second later, he was beneath her on his back with the point of a knife blade at his throat. Her startling blue eyes, brimming with tears, bored into his. "How… the fuck do you know that name?"
The sweet was all gone from her voice and all that remained was distrust, pain, and bitterness. He could hear the lies telling her he was just like the rest, there to take and hurt. He wasn't different, he only looked different, acted different. But he was just like all of them. Eaters.
Francis grabbed the hand at his throat and pressed the blade into his neck until he felt her trying to resist him. Tears spilled from her eyes. "Stop."
Need struck him like a bolt of lightning and he flipped her beneath him, holding her hands at her head. He pressed his body into hers, his male member throbbing with need. But for what? He lowered his mouth to her lips but didn't kiss her. "Why is it that you don't want to hurt me?"
Her breath on his mouth combined with the taste and sounds she made. His eyes rolled shut. He might not understand what was happening, but his body sure did. More heat speared his groin and undulated his hips, slow and hard.
Her soft cry inspired him to repeat the movement and her nails raked along the back of his coat. The instinct to think their clothes off was so natural and immense, it took all his will power not to comply with it.
"Please," She leaned up and kissed softly on his lips. "I don't want to hurt you. I want you to make love to me. I don't want to beg, I don't know why I need you so much but I do. I need you."
"Make love." The term was different. He knew the difference in a way. It meant she wanted to connect with him the way he wanted to connect with her. And yet he knew that already. But to hear it did flammable things to his already hot body.
She squirmed beneath him and Francis liked the feeling. "You kissed me. It was you, I know it was."