Between the Marshal & the Vampire(31)
"Having such a long lifespan must be lonely," Mariel said gently. She couldn't begin to understand or empathize with what Vellum faced, but she tried to. She tried to imagine a life without fear of death, but also without closure. If you lived a good life, you gained some satisfaction on your death bed. But if that death bed never came? How did you feel accomplished? You had no timetables, no restrictions, no deadlines.
No challenges.
She studied him with sudden understanding. Domination was, in a way, a challenge Vellum could measure and meet. A tiny goal in the grand scheme of things, but at least it had a beginning and a moment where he would feel that he'd triumphed.
"I told you, Mariel," he said with a pale smile, "I'm not a fan of being painted as a lonely being. I have a considerable advantage that many men would kill for."
Yet it's one I suspect you no longer want, she thought, and a shiver moved through her, born of dread, sadness, and a hint of fear. What did Vellum's future hold for him? She had the awful feeling that it wasn't anything pleasant, and that he wanted it that way.
8
"Well, now isn't that a pretty sight."
Clay's easy, amused drawl should have made Mariel blush madly and scramble to collect her clothes, or at least try to shield herself with her hands. The other Mariel would have done those things. The Mariel who'd remained in Willowtown.
But she didn't know that woman anymore, and she was glad of it. Beyond a quiver in her stomach, she didn't feel ashamed or embarrassed to be caught naked in the stream by Clay. In fact, she straightened up from her bent over position to allow him to look his fill.
What a difference a trek across the territory can make.
The creek they'd eventually reached had been a rapturous sight even if it wasn't overly wide or deep. The males had generously suggested that Mariel take her bath while they prepared camp and she hadn't argued the consideration, hurrying down to the water. However, she should have anticipated that her temporary peace and privacy wouldn't last for long, not that she minded much at all.
She watched heat creep into the Marshal's whiskey-colored eyes as he looked her over. He took his time, as he did with all things sexual, letting her know by the way his eyes lingered on her that he liked what he saw.
He lusted after her. Every inch of her. It was apparent in the tensing of his long, lean body and in the rise of the fabric covering his groin. It was definitely evident when Clay strode boldly forward through the water, uncaring that his trousers grew soaked up to the knees.
Mariel took a step backward, momentarily intimidated. It made Clay grin, all cockiness and sunshine. The fierceness in his eyes eased just a tad.
"You know you don’t need to be afraid of me," he murmured as he drew near.
She tipped her chin up. "I'm not afraid of you. I was afraid you'd trip over a rock in your haste and crush me beneath your body."
"Oh, I'll crush you beneath my body, alright."
He reached her, splashing water over her thighs, and curved a large, calloused hand gently behind her neck, beneath her pinned hair.
"But first," he murmured, bending down to brush his lips across her cheek, "I'll do a little exploring and admiring, if that's alright with you, ma'am."
"I can't resist a man with…pleasant manners," she sighed as Clay brushed the backs of his fingers down her throat.
"I'm more than pleasant, Mariel," he whispered. "Let me show you."
She felt him smile against her cheek before he tipped his head down so he could watch the progress of his hand as it skimmed over her collarbones. For a man who'd lived a rough, dangerous life, he had only ever been gentle with her. His knuckles drifted down until they grazed the top of her left breast. She couldn't help breathing faster, her chest lifting into his touch as he sensuously caressed the swell of flesh. Clay loved her body. She knew he'd gladly spend hours simply touching her like this if he could.
But he was also a skilled lover who knew when she wanted more from him. Still smiling to himself, he gently brushed her erect nipple with one finger. She gasped, her body shuddering from that single touch. Her hands found his shirt and gripped it for balance.
"Never can get enough of the way you dance for me, Mariel," he whispered.
He watched himself brush his knuckles back and forth over her nipple, making her entire body bow toward him. His hand at the nape of her neck massaged her as though he were trying to keep her calm. That simply wasn't possible though, she thought wryly.
She spread her hands flat on his shirt, feeling the firm muscles beneath. His body made her mouth water. She loved his good humor and his charm, but times like this were when she happily acknowledged that Clay was a mouthwatering example of a man. He was only matched, as far as she'd seen, by one other male.
His hand left her breast tingling and aching, only to explore further down her body. Her stomach jumped involuntarily as he grazed the skin of her abdomen and then paused to tease at her navel, a blunt finger dipping in and out. The action made her breath quicken as she anticipated what was to come. Clay's hand drifted lower still, until his fingers combed through the curls covering her mound.
"I'm thinking maybe you don't need to wash yourself in this cold stream," Clay murmured against her cheek. His voice was rougher, thick with lust. "I'm thinking maybe I'll do the deed myself. Lick you all over, Mariel. Use my tongue to make sure I do the job thoroughly. Wet every inch of you."