Chapter Twelve

"Catherine?" he said, confusion evident both in his husky voice and hazy eyes.

"I… I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did that," she replied quickly, her eyes still wide.

But she made no move to close the distance between them again, and Vincent, glancing down, found her arms wrapped tight around her mid-section. She was shaking.

"Yes, you do," he whispered. "You’re afraid."

Suddenly, in the face of her fear, his own gave way. He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her, enclosing her in his strong embrace.

"Shhh, it’s all right," he murmured, just as he had an hour ago.

She collapsed against him and pressed her face against his chest, her arms still held stiffly in front of her.

"I don’t understand this," she said, her voice tight. "This shouldn’t matter, not any more."

"Why?" he asked. "Because I told you it didn’t matter? Believe me, Catherine, it’s not that simple – I know. Our minds have a will of their own, and what they believe sometimes goes well beyond logic."

Her arms unfolded then and slid around his waist. She huddled closer with a whimper. "What are we going to do? You’re still afraid you’ll hurt me, and I’m afraid the scar will only reinforce that fear. Oh, God, Vincent, we’re trapped in a cage of our own devise!" She looked up at him, her eyes beseeching him for a way to change what seemed immutable.

Suddenly he leaned down and swept one arm behind her knees, straightening up and lifting her in his arms in a seamless, graceful motion. He moved forward and laid her gently down upon his bed, then sank down to sit beside her.

"Shhh, Catherine," he whispered. "Close your eyes."

She did as he asked, and he watched for a moment, his heart aching, as her lashes fluttered nervously upon pale, satiny cheeks. Leaning down he quickly placed a series of light, butterfly kisses there, trying to soothe her. A tang of salt touched his lips and he paused, pressing another kiss to its source, near the outer corner of her eye. Yes, there it was again, the salt of her tears. He kissed them away, drinking in her sorrow, until he’d taken it from her.

She sighed softly, and he knew, by both the sound and a sudden drifting wave over their bond, that she was growing calmer. He kissed her cheeks, then, paying special attention to the remaining scar beneath her left ear, before moving on to her chin and finally her mouth, where he pressed a kiss so soft and light, she was barely sure it was there.

"I love you, Catherine," he whispered against her lips a minute later.

She opened her eyes and stared up at him. "I love you, Vincent."

"Don’t be afraid," he whispered, leaning down to press another kiss on the satiny surface of her lips.

She reached up to kiss him back, just as lightly. "Don’t you be afraid," she said in reply.

They both smiled, and each tried to hide the wariness that remained, determined not to add more of a burden for their mate.

Vincent looked around at his chamber, then down at her, reclining on his bed.

"This is how it was in my dream," he said.

She smiled tremulously.

"Except that I was here," he added, slipping off the edge of the mattress to kneel on the floor beside her. One hand lifted to stroke her silky hair, and the cupped her cheek, holding her still so that he could peruse her face. His thumb brushed along the tender curve of her bottom lip, and he couldn’t resist leaning down for another kiss. This one was as soft as the others shared in the last few minutes. While he nuzzled at her lips, his hand tenderly traced the length of her throat, stopping at the soft hollow at its base to caress her there. When he finally left that spot, it was to slide, palm flat, straight down the center of her chest, between her breasts, until he reached on her belly. His fingers teased the edges of her top, then slipped beneath it, until he rested just a little higher, but this time the bare flesh of his palm directly touching the bare flesh of her abdomen.

"Oh, Vincent," she moaned.

The sound was swallowed by his lips.

"I love the feel of your skin, Catherine. You’re so silky soft and smooth."

Vincent groaned and relinquished her lips, sliding down to rest his head upon her torso, just beneath her breast, as his fingers stroked lightly along the line of her belly. Little by little he inched over until he found the ridge of her scar. She froze, but he continued to caress her tenderly.

"It was like this in the dream, but not," he added. "Nothing can match the reality of this, the touch of your bare skin," he said, sliding his fingers further upward and pushing the top of her gown out of his way as he went. "The sweet taste of you," he murmured huskily, as he dipped down to press his lips to the spot his fingers had just vacated.

At the feel of his mouth upon her, she arched up against him, then collapsed back to the bed. The tension in her body was still evident, but there was another component to it now. He felt the desire in her begin to edge out the fear, but kept a tight leash on his own emotions. This was for Catherine.

It was difficult, though. He could feel the hunger building in him, feel the other, darker side of him clamoring to get out, to be free. He couldn’t let that happen, couldn’t…

But even as the thought appeared, it drifted away, caught on the current of his spinning emotions. She was so beautiful, so soft and smooth and sweet. He wanted to devour her, to breathe her in and drink her very essence, to consume her flesh until it was a part of him, never to be relinquished, never to be apart. God, he wanted her so!

His fingers finally reached the end of her scar, and he took in a deep, shuddering breath before letting his hand slide up to cup the firm, round flesh of her breast.

"Catherine…" he whispered, the sound vibrating through her torso from his lips.

She arched into him again with a groaning sigh, and his hand tightened about her. This part of her was such a contradiction; both soft and firm, and tender and tight. He absolutely couldn’t decide what he liked best about it, but he knew without a doubt that he wanted more. The scent rising from her was spicy and hot. It’s major source waited below, but there was some here, too, and he sought it out avidly. His lips reached the end of the scar, but he didn’t stop, lapping at the curved underside of her breast to taste the salty sweat glistening there.

For a moment he couldn’t stop, but when she groaned again, and lifted into his palm, he felt the tender bud of her breast tighten into a hard, taut peak. His groan blended with hers, and then he pulled himself upward, slid his hand away and stared down at the tender morsel. Like the rest of her torso, her breast was flushed a soft, petal pink. The tight tip was darker, the surrounding flesh crinkled and gathered up around the base. He leaned in and closed his eyes, drawing a deep breath. Yes, the scent was richer here, emanating in fragrant waves from the tiny folds of prickly flesh. She looked so succulent, like an exotic fruit. He had to taste her.

The tip of his tongue peeked out and flicked against the tip and Catherine moaned loudly and arched up, her breasts straining toward his mouth. Both hands slid up her body, beneath the short top, catching it up and stripping it away. His breath came in short, rasping pants as he took in the unobstructed view of her bare breasts.

"Please, Vincent, please," Catherine begged, writhing before him.

His hands closed upon the rounded curves of her shoulders and he held her still, staring down at the ripe beauty before him. A low, rumbling growl began, almost inaudibly, in his chest, then built in strength. The tightening of his hands upon her shoulders was the first warning she had as an instant later his head dipped and his mouth captured one taut nipple. The curving length of his incisors pressed tightly to the surrounding flesh, and the feel of them there, along with the abrupt and strong sucking of his mouth and swirling of his tongue, almost made her swoon. Only the need, absolute and incorruptible, to experience every feeling possible with him, kept her conscious of her surroundings. This was what she needed, this was what she’d been craving…

Vincent drank in the tantalizing taste and texture of her with avid abandon. She was so soft, so tight, so tender. He ached for her, but he couldn’t leave this tasty feast, not yet. With a final nip and flick of his tongue, he moved quickly to her left breast, giving it the same attention and more. The sounds she made drifted down over him and vibrated through his head, making him dizzy, and though he held her shoulders tight, her torso writhed beneath him, teasing his mind with a magnitude of pleasures waiting.

His body needed no additional encouragement. As he had in the dream, he pressed his throbbing, full erection against the side of the bed, desperate to contain the urgent hunger there until he could slake the thirst that for the moment appeared endless. He felt both strong and weak, intensely vulnerable yet utterly invincible. She was everything. Her movements and sounds communicated her submission and her need, and he growled low, the sound expressive of his bone-deep satisfaction with her response. The pleasure he had from her now was almost beyond bearing, and still he wanted more.

In some dim part of her mind, Catherine was appalled by the moaning cries and whimpering coos that came from her throat, but she absolutely couldn’t stop them. His mouth upon her was driving her crazy, and the pinprick bursts of pleasure from the sharp tips of his nails upon the sensitive skin of her shoulders was ecstasy beyond compare. Oh, God, she wanted him! She spread her legs open in offering, trying to kick the enveloping folds of heavy fabric aside, then groaned in frustration when he remained kneeling by the side of the bed instead, intent upon her heaving bosom. Suddenly his growl escalated, rumbling through his chest to vibrate within the hard tip and soft flesh of her breast. The sensation arrowed down directly to her groin, and as his hands tightened again upon her, nails kneading lightly, her world exploded.

"Vincent!"

The abrupt arch of her body was nothing like what had come before, but he was almost completely unaware of it as an explosive wave burst through their bond. The sound of her voice sobbing his name echoed through his head over and over again, and he released her shoulders to slip his arms around the suddenly open space beneath her back. He held her securely, holding her high as he fed from her luscious breasts, unable to stop as the whirlwind swept through her.

The movement of his mouth upon her eased with each receding wave through their bond, and when the last of it had drifted off on the steady current there, he stopped. His body trembled, but still his arms held her strong and safe within them. He still held her up from the mattress, but her head had fallen back to the pillow beneath it, and her long throat was open, naked and vulnerable. His eyes traced downward, over her flushed breasts, wet and glistening from his mouth. Her nipples were soft now, the surrounding flesh larger and completely smooth. The color of the entire area had shifted as well, and was now a pale, shell pink that looked so delicate and tender it made his heart ache. With a shuddering sigh he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss upon each. When he leaned back once more, his eyes were drawn to the underside of her right breast.

Peeping out from beneath his arms, he could see the very tip of the end of her scar. He caught his breath abruptly, then gently eased her down to the mattress, sliding his arms from beneath her and sitting back on his haunches to scan her body more fully. His eyes slowly traced the scar from the top of her ribcage on down, to where it disappeared beneath the glittery waistband of her skirt.

Catherine was completely insensate to this heated perusal, lost in the aftermath of that devastating climax. But when his lips pressed to her torso, just below her breast, she felt it. Too weak to respond in any other way, her hand rose to stroke lovingly through his hair, loving the feel of him there. She stayed with him, her body humming with satisfied pleasure, as he kissed his way down her abdomen. Suddenly she felt his fingers upon her. They slipped below the edge of her skirt and moved caressingly over her belly, before reaching back up to tug the band down to bare a few more inches of her flesh to his searching lips. She groaned, her hand tightening in his hair, waiting for him to reach the end of the scar, waiting for him to…

Her eyes flew open abruptly as her conscious mind finally grasped the implications her sub-conscious fed it. Glancing down she gasped and sat up. Vincent raised his head to look up at her in surprise, his eyes hazy but intense with desire. His hand rose to push her down to the mattress once more, but she caught it between her own, and spoke quickly, trying to break through the insidious weave of seduction enfolding them both.

"Stop, Vincent, please," she implored him.

His eyes communicated confusion at her words. She was afraid he hadn’t understood her all, that she would fail utterly in her promise, but he stayed where he was, staring deep into her eyes, his chest heaving with hard, panting breaths.

"Please, Vincent, you have to stop."

"No…"

The sound was barely comprehensible, more a primitive, rumbling growl than a spoken word.

"Yes," she insisted, her eyes beseeching him. "Please, Vincent, I promised you that I wouldn’t let it get out of hand. That we would go slow and that I would take the lead. Please help me."

He blinked rapidly, and she could see the emotions warring in his eyes; the primal need to take her, despite her words, and deep below that, struggling to gain dominance once more, the rational man, trying desperately to reassert itself in the wildly chaotic maelstrom their bond had become. She used that moment of confusion to swing her legs over the side of the bed and stand beside him. He still knelt at her feet, but now he stared up at her, and his own eyes implored her, eyes dark and naked with passion and need. Her heart ached to deny him, but she had promised.

Silently she made another vow; both the light and the dark within him would have everything they wanted and needed soon. Soon there would be no more need to hold back, no more need for caution or constraint. She knew it in the deepest part of herself, but first she would have to convince Vincent of that truth, and then, finally, they would be free.

She reached down and took his hands, urging him to his feet, and he followed, leaning against her unsteadily. She turned and eased him down to the mattress until he sat before her. His hair seemed darker now, more golden than flax, and as her fingers stroked through it she realized it was dark with sweat… dark with passion.

"Oh, Vincent," she whispered.

Leaning down she pressed a warm kiss against those darkened tresses, and felt him groan softly in response. His hands circled her waist and pulled her closer, until she stood between his legs. She rested there against him, trying to ease the staccato beat of his heart. She felt it low down, his chest pressed against her abdomen. But the uneven positions of their bodies as she stood and he sat, placed her breasts within easy reach of his mouth, and he couldn’t resist nuzzling at their softened curves and ripe tips. She sighed, but didn’t try to stop him. It was an innocent touch, all in all, compared to what they had just been through, and it seemed to comfort them both.

In retrospect, she realized she’d badly underestimated the situation.

Before she knew what was happening, the nuzzling caresses had turned to a full-scale attack of lips, teeth and tongue upon her tender flesh. She’d thought that the release she’d experienced just minutes ago would give her the edge in terms of control, but she underestimated the strength of her need for him, too. They’d waited too long, denied too much, and now the consequences of that denial were upon them. Vincent wrapped his arms around her legs, then slid them up about her hips, throaty groans and growls vibrating through her sensitive flesh. The arms about her unwound until his hands had free play over her rounded curves, but a louder growl contained a note of frustration.

Catherine interpreted that sound easily enough when his hands immediately began to tug the fabric of her skirted gown up until they finally had free access to her bare buttocks beneath. She groaned as his palms cupped and squeezed her, then slid slowly down, fingers tracing the heated cleft between. At the curve of her thighs they continued on, stopping about midway between her hips and knees, then sliding inward, until his palms rested against the sensitive inner skin. His thumbs stroked along the tender skin at the back of each thigh, and deeper within his fingers tightened upon her, kneading the silky flesh there as he had her breasts a moment ago. The strength in his hands and arms was overwhelming. When he pulled outward, her thighs opened to him and her feet stumbled until they’d repositioned themselves in a broader, more secure stance.

Vincent groaned deep in his throat. The feel of satiny flesh was second only to the rich scent of her arousal, rising up so close beneath him. He drew in a deep breath, nostrils flaring as his mouth dropped open. He could taste the pungent aroma of her at the back of his throat, and his mouth watered, hungry for more. His hands retraced their path upward, this time along her inner thighs, and suddenly the silky flesh turned slick and hot. His lips curled back in a feral growl, baring his teeth, and his breath came in panting gasps.

Catherine felt his fingers stroking so close to her heated center and almost collapsed in his arms. Her hands fell to his shoulders, gripping him hard. She tried to push away from him, but he didn’t budge. Instead his hands left her thighs to grip her by the waist and she abruptly found herself flung face-down upon the bed beside him, her hips still resting over one taut and quivering thigh. The hands at her waist released her and for a moment she thought he’d managed to come to his senses without her help, but she was wrong. As she tried to sit up, pressing off the mattress and reaching for the floor with her feet, his left arm wrapped itself around her waist, pulling her back down to the bed and nestling her tight to his side. His right hand swept the folds of her skirt up over her hips to bare her buttocks to the cool tunnel air. The growl of satisfaction that followed was plain.

"No, Vincent, no," she whispered hoarsely.

She was almost breathless with the conflicting emotions filling her and wasn’t even sure he’d heard her. She struggled to get away, but her writhing bottom only inflamed him all the more. He turned sideways a little so that he could hook his right leg about her own left one, holding her tight and secure, while the rest of her lower body still lay draped over his left leg, which now was pressed along the edge of the bed. Her belly bridged the gap, and her upper torso rested flat upon the bed.

Oh, God, she could feel the throbbing base of his erection and the round fullness beneath it, both pressed tight to the outer edge of her left thigh and hip, now-constrained by the powerful muscles of his own leg. His free hand returned to fondle her full curves, now naked and exposed, exploring her everywhere. Though she couldn’t move her left leg, her right one was relatively unhindered, and she quickly pressed it tight to the other, trying to stop him, trying to keep her promise.

With a snarling growl, he released his hold on her waist, reached down and insinuated his fingers between her thighs, sliding down from there until he reached the inner curve of her knee. When he pulled outward and up, she bucked beneath him with a strangled cry, but the curve of his arm still rested across her back and along her side, though his hand now hooked beneath her knee, where he held it immobile upon the bed, near her hip. She was as trapped now as she had been a minute before, but now he had full access to her body. He took advantage of it immediately, the fingers of his free hand sliding down her bottom to delve between her wide-spread thighs. Oh, God…

He was touching her everywhere, spreading her trembling lips and dipping within the slick wetness just beyond with the tips of his fingers. She was drenched with desire for him, and that inflamed him further. Without warning he leaned over her and she felt his mouth upon her, sharp teeth digging in firmly enough to grip the quivering flesh of one cheek while yet not breaking the skin. Her eyes flew open wide and she froze abruptly, and the minute she did, one long, strong finger slid deep inside her slick channel. Oh, God!

She couldn’t move. She’d been trying to escape his hold in order to fulfill her promise to him not to let things get out of hand, but now she was trapped, both literally and figuratively. If she moved she risked being scraped by claw or fang, and she couldn’t – wouldn’t – risk doing that to him. She understood in an instant that the prohibitive hold of his teeth upon her had been to still her for that very reason. Under the circumstances, she did the only thing possible – she stayed absolutely still.

He didn’t make it easy. As though he’d purposely waited for her to come to that conclusion, as though he read in this new stillness her understanding and capitulation, in the seconds following it, his own stillness was broken. Slowly he withdrew his finger, and just as slowly stroked it back in, pressing deep to explore her. She groaned, her muscles tensing, and his hand tightened upon the back of her knee while a warning growl rumbled through his mouth to vibrate upon the soft flesh of her bottom. She froze again, whimpering. When next he slid out of her body, he toyed at her entrance, sliding back and forth against the outer edges of the petalled opening. When he buried himself in her depths a minute later, there were now two fingers pressed together tight instead of one. She groaned again and a harsh, sharp panting escaped her throat.

Catherine tried not to move, but she couldn’t stop the trembling that suddenly quivered throughout her whole body as he began to stroke in and out, penetrating as deep as he could reach, then withdrawing again until just the tips remained.

"Oh God, oh please…" she whimpered, over and over again.

His hand shifted minutely, and with the next stoke she bit her tongue to stop herself from arching back as he penetrated her deeper than before. This time he stayed deep within her for a moment, turning his hand and delving slowly in as deep as he could reach, until his thumb was pressed between her cheeks and his remaining two fingers were nestled between the plump, swollen flesh of her lips.

The sensations where a hundred times more intense when he finally resumed his stroking motion within her; each downward thrust caressed her not only inside, but outside as well, both front and back. As he thrust in, the fingers outside her body pressed apart as they slid between her lips, stoking past the aching bud of her clitoris to either side, but each penetration saw a minute closing of that gap. Her chest began to heave as he reached closer and closer to the throbbing bundle of nerves, and finally his slick fingers, pressed together tight, slid directly over it with firm, purposeful pressure. There was no controlling her movement then. She bucked violently against him and screamed, climaxing abruptly with a fierce intensity she’d never before experienced in her life.

In that very instant, in fact just a split second before, as her emotions coalesced and burst outward in the bond, he pulled his hand and mouth away from her to ensure she wasn’t hurt. He continued to massage the tender bud and swollen lips with the pads of his fingers, though, driving her on until the shattering sparks slowed then finally stopped.

In the aftermath of that all-encompassing climax, she lay groggy and limp across his lap and upon he bed. She didn’t know how much time had passed before she first became aware of her surroundings, and indeed at first there was only the awareness of his lips kissing her where sharp teeth had gripped, and fingers stroking softly along flesh still quivering with bliss.

It was heavenly, and she made no attempt to widen the net of her senses beyond that. Even when she felt herself eased gently from his lap to lay flat upon the bed with her legs draped over the side, her mind registered very little on a conscious level. She felt his hands upon her bottom, stroking it while he nuzzled there, and she knew when they slid down to ease her legs apart. Even when he bent lower and began to lick the slick, creamy warmth from her inner thighs, just above where his hands now held her, she felt no qualms, humming deep in her throat, satisfaction oozing from every pore as he knelt between her legs on the floor, drinking in her most intimate essence, the rumbling growl her body was now so familiar with still vibrating against her. His mouth felt so good. She arched her back lazily and spread her legs wider. A dominant growl rumbled through his chest, and he acknowledged and rewarded her compliant offering with a caressing stroke of his hands along their inner flesh, where he still held her tight, and a nuzzling string of kisses along the curved underside of one cheek.

It wasn’t until his tongue flicked between her legs and across her lips, reaching far forward to brush teasingly over her clitoris that she came to her senses, crying out and instinctively surging away from the direct touch upon her now hyper-sensitized flesh. His hands left her legs with a growl and reached for her hips, pulling her back. He stood up abruptly then, his growl of pleasure shifting to include a darker, more demanding component. He lifted her hips until her knees rested securely on the bed, along with the rest of her body. She rose up on her hands, trying to turn to reason with him, but he placed the flat of his palm on her back and pushed her shoulders down again, then wrapped his hands around the front of her thighs and pulled them apart, spreading her open wide.

Oh god oh god oh god…

There was no mistaking this position of submissive obedience, and no mistaking his intent. She had to stop him, had to keep her promise. The only problem was that she wanted nothing more at this moment in time than to have him inside her, to take him in deep, to milk his flesh with her own and to feel her womb drenched with his seed. His fingers had readied her, and now nothing less would satisfy her than every inch of his hot, hard sex, thick and long, filling her. Oh, God, how she wanted that! His hands fell away and out of the corner of her eye she saw his thermal shirt thrown to the floor as a snarl was ripped from his throat, the sound speaking eloquently of eager anticipation.

You promised…

No! the rational part of her countered. It’s not fair. I can’t do it, I won’t. I need him so badly.

You promised…

He’ll understand, I know he will; he needs me, too…"

You promised…

The voice inside whispered insidiously, and finally, with a growl that rivaled his own, she threw herself to her side and tugged down the folds of her skirt now bunched up around her waist.

"Stop, Vincent, please!" she cried, holding up a hand to stall him as she huddled half naked on the bed.

He towered over her, his hands at the waistband of his sweatpants, ready to tug them down. Beneath the loose folds the outline of his erection could be glimpsed, though the position of his hands, bunched as it was in the fabric, hid much from her view. It was more than enough, however, to make the muscles at her core clench with a dizzying ferocity. Her mouth was suddenly dry as she stared at the primal magnificence of him. His bare chest glistened with sweat and heaved with panting breaths and the tips of his teeth were clearly visible, glittering in the dim candlelight. He shook his mane back and let loose a roar of protest. She quaked at the sound, not fearful of him, but of its effect – her body ached with need, responding to the call of its mate, and for one small moment she was ready to voluntarily retake the position she’d just escaped.

You promised…

Damn! Damn, damn, damn! With a muffled groan she pushed the other voice forcefully aside, the one that urged her to her knees, and tried again.

"Please, Vincent, please, not yet. Remember what you told me, please!"

He heard her, and she knew he struggled with his own voices as he stumbled back, putting some distance between them. He stared at her as though he wanted to devour her, but suddenly he turned with a growl and bent over the round table at the center of his chamber, gripping its edges fiercely. She groaned, both relieved and disappointed at the outcome. Oh, God, she was tired of this! She wanted it to be over. She so wanted to give control over to him. The submission he craved from her now was patently obvious, and within her there was as strong a need to submit. He was her mate, and he needed her.

You promised…

Damn! She groaned again, and sat up unsteadily, then made her way to his side and tenderly, tentatively, touched his back. His muscles flinched beneath her, and a menacing growl rumbled through him. She backed away and sat down on the edge of the bed, waiting patiently. Suddenly a quiet tapping came across the pipes and she recognized it as the half hour mark. Twelve-thirty. Her heated and aroused body could have sworn it had been hours, but it was only half an hour.

Half an hour, and during that time, while both were still at least partially clothed, he’d brought her to climax twice, though he had yet to find his own release. The slick, creamy fluid gathered between her legs was impossible to ignore, and somewhere inside she smiled derisively. Peter would be happy to hear that Vincent had done a more than adequate job on the third item on his list. In her mind she put a big fat checkmark next to ‘C – Foreplay’. Now if she could only manage items two and four. She had to wryly admit that both Vincent and Peter had been right about the second one. Considering how quickly and effortlessly he took control, she wondered if leading him would be possible at all.

You promised…

I know I promised – shut up.

She sighed and wrapped her arms around her chest. The heat of her passion had cooled somewhat without his physical proximity, and the cool tunnel air now made its presence felt upon her bare breasts. Vincent must have felt a twinge of that response over their bond, too, for he turned to look at her over his shoulder, let out a shuddering groaned, then pulled out a chair and collapsed into it, letting his head sink down upon his arms on the table.

"I’m so sorry, Catherine, so sorry."

His voice broke at the end, and she knew he was crying. She jumped to her feet and moved beside him once more. His shoulders shook, and she reached out to comfort him, then slowly drew her hand back before she touched him and moved to take a seat on the other side of the table.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Vincent, nothing!" she insisted firmly.

He shook his head on his crossed arms, but didn’t look up.

"Please, you have to believe me. If you hadn’t made me promise, I never would have tried to stop you, not any of it. I didn’t want you to stop, Vincent."

"No…" he whimpered, the sound muffled beneath him.

"It’s true. Stopping was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I loved the way you touched me, the way you loved me. After what we’ve shared already, I’m convinced that you don’t have anything to fear, truly I am, but I’m going to try my best to keep my promise to you, so that when this night is over, you’ll believe it too."

He looked up then, his red-rimmed eyes filled with disbelief.

"You can’t mean that, not after what I did…" he whispered hoarsely.

"After what you did?" she repeated. "After you made me come twice by barely touching me? Is that what you mean?" she asked, determined to be as brutally honest as necessary.

His pale face flushed dark, and he looked down and away, unable to meet her eyes.

"I hurt you, you know I did. I saw the marks…"

"These marks?" she asked, standing up and moving to his side so that he could see the little half-moon red bites from his nails along her shoulders and ribs.

He glanced up at them and flinched, turning hastily away.

"Yes, you did that. They’re on my legs too, I think," she added speculatively. "I’ll have to check later and see, before they’re gone."

He shook his head, refusing to look at her, and she reached out to cup his chin in her hand, forcing him to turn her way.

"Yes, before they’re gone," she repeated. "I’ll be surprised if they last two days, though I wish they would."

She shivered as the memory of those pinprick sensations swept over her anew.

"I should never have done what I did," he said savagely, speaking more to himself than to her, jerking his chin out of her hand and standing abruptly to pace the circle in the rug, as she had done earlier this night. "I could have hurt you so badly. My hands…"

His eyes were wild and his voice shook, and Catherine knew he no longer referred to the insignificant red marks on her skin.

"Don’t say it, Vincent," she begged, stopping his words. Your hands were made to give love, believe me. God, you have to know that didn’t hurt. The bond must have told you what I felt when you did that. You had to know how much I loved it, how much I wanted it..."

She couldn’t stop the flush that spread over her chest and face at that admission. She remembered the wanton sensation she’d felt with his hands upon and within her that way, and shuddered, thinking how, of her own volition, she’d struggled against his restraining hands at the end, not to escape, but to spread her legs wider yet, opening herself to his touch, craving it, begging for it with the silent but eloquent demand of her body.

Vincent stopped abruptly and stared at her, blinked rapidly.

"I felt…"

The whispered words trailed off to nothing.

"Tell me," she said. "Tell me what you felt from me."

He shook his head, a small movement, and his eyes stared at some distant point beyond her.

"I don’t know what you felt, Catherine," he finally said, his voice breaking in anguish as his gaze returned to hers. "I couldn’t tell which emotions were yours and which were mine then. I couldn’t tell!" he cried, tears falling from his lashes.

"You couldn’t tell where you left off and I began," she murmured, nodding slowly. "That’s how it felt for me, too."

He took a deep, shuddering breath and nodded, his eyes wide with anxiety.

"But I didn’t feel any pain at all, Vincent. If it wasn’t there, it wasn’t there," she repeated insistently.

"No," he said, shaking his head. "You struggled, I know you did."

"Because I promised to try and control the situation, that’s all. Don’t confuse the two. Just tell me whether or not you felt any pain over the bond."

He stared at her, then slowly, almost against his will, shook his head.

"Because there wasn’t any, my love, there wasn’t any," she whispered softly, standing and moving to grasp his arms tight. She leaned up to kiss away his tears, needing to see the sadness gone from his eyes, needing him to accept that there was nothing to be sad over, nothing to be sorry for.

He drew her close and pressed his face into the curve of her neck, and though he trembled in her arms, this time he made no move to touch her further.

"Oh, Catherine," he whispered hoarsely, his words muffled against her throat. "I’m so afraid that I’ll hurt you, that these hands will hurt you."

"Shhh, my love. You won’t hurt me, I promise. I’ll help. Trust me."

She stroked his hair and held him close until she felt him begin to calm, though she knew that expecting much was ridiculous. He was terribly aroused, his erection pressing strong and hard against her belly, and she was amazed that her own spiraling emotions hadn’t drawn his along during either of the orgasms that had played through her body so recently.

"Come with me, Vincent," she whispered in his ear.

She stepped back and he followed her slowly as she led him to the bed. The mattress stopped her progress, but only momentarily. She reached behind her and blindly flung the blankets toward the foot of the bed, then climbed upon it, never taking her eyes from his as she backed up toward the corner wall at the top, leading him on.

"Lie down," she murmured, pulling a pillow over to the corner for him to rest upon.

He eased his body down, groaning softly, and shifted his weight a little to accommodate the discomfort of the erection that raged between his belly and the mattress. Finally he lay diagonally on the bed, his head near the corner at the top, and his feet near the opposite corner at the bottom. One hung over the mattress, the bed unable to handle his full length, stretched out in this way.

"Give me your hands."

He reached up both hands and they trembled as she guided them down between the bed and the hard rock walls of the chamber at either edge of the corner. The bottom edge of the mattress was found, and she pressed his fingers there, between it and the heavy wooden slats that lay beneath it.

"Try to keep them here, Vincent," she added softly.

He nodded, grasping one of the heavy slats in each hand, his eyes pinned to her face. He was sufficiently calm enough now to recognize what she did, to know that she was only trying to do what he’d asked of her an hour ago, what she’d promised again just a minute ago.

Catherine sat up and moved down a ways, until she knelt by his side, at his waist. She stared at the quivering muscles along his back and remembered how she’d washed those same muscles earlier this night, how they’d felt beneath her soap-slicked hands. She reached out and placed both, palms flat, upon him again, and he shuddered.

"It’s all right, Vincent. It’s all right," she murmured softly as she began to caress the long muscled planes. "You can tell me anything you like, or you don’t have to say anything at all. Whatever you want, my love."

Her fingers stroked into the longish hair growing down from the undercoat of his mane along his spine, and a long hiss of pleasure escaped him to drift through the chamber. She stopped, caught by the sound, then delved deeper, kneading the muscles and scratching lightly along the skin that lay hidden beneath. The hiss stuttered and devolved to a groan, and she smiled, though she didn’t stop.

"Do you like that, Vincent?" she asked shyly. "Does it feel good?"

He groaned again as she dug deep at the very center of his back, at the spot he could never reach himself, and arched reflexively. "Yes, it feels so good," he finally whispered hoarsely, as though he couldn’t contain the words.

She smiled again, and continued to work at the spot that pleased him so. He didn’t speak again, but a soft sound entered her ears that hadn’t been present before. Though she never stopped the tender ministrations of her fingers upon him, she moved her fingers lower, to the small of his back, and then leaned down to rest her check against him, just below his shoulders. Yes, there it was, a steady, thrumming sound that vibrated through his chest with a cyclic, hypnotic rhythm. He was purring.

The sound enchanted her, and she lay there for some minutes, saturating herself within it. Finally she turned her head to press a soft kiss at the center of his back, and was rewarded when a soft moan was added to the intoxicating mix. One kiss was not enough, and Catherine found herself moving slowly down his spine, placing tiny, moist kisses along every inch while her hands kneaded the sensitive flesh to either side near the waist of his sweatpants. When she reached that barrier she reluctantly stopped, smiling in smug satisfaction when Vincent moaned again, this time the tone of it definitely speaking of disappointment. He didn’t wanted her to stop.

Well, that was good, because this would be a respite of very short duration.

She glanced down the length of his long legs, and the thought of what she was about to do made her shiver with anticipation. Finally she hooked her fingers in the elastic band of his sweats and tugged upward. With a muffled groan – this time she recognized it as anxiety – he complied with her silent command, lifting his hips slightly as she tugged the heavy material down his hips. The elastic edge caught for a moment, and she was sure it was upon his straining erection. She saw his muscles tense as he stifled another groan, before she was able to tug it free. She slid his pants down slowly, and the muscles of his buttocks clenched tightly as they were exposed to her gaze. Easing back on her knees, inch by inch, she finally left the bed and stripped the pants off his legs altogether, tossing them on top of his thermal shirt.

Standing on the floor near his feet, she stared upward at the long length of his reclining body. Lying diagonally on the bed, with his hands stretched up over his head, he looked even taller than usual, though maybe his nakedness had something to do with that perception, she thought wryly. One thing was not in doubt, and that was how he took her breath away. The purring sound was gone now, and she could tell from the tension evident in the muscles along his legs, buttocks and back, that anxiety was at the forefront of his emotions once more.

She promised herself to ease that anxiety, and soon. Stepping forward she slid his slippers off, letting them fall to the floor between them. With one finger she lightly ran the tip of her finger along the sole of his left foot, and he yelped, jerking his foot away, startled at the unexpected touch. She caught it between her hands and he stilled immediately. She knew he was afraid he might inadvertently hurt her with his nails here, too. Stepping forward until his leg was bent straight up at the knee, she pressed the top of his foot between her breasts and the front of his calf along her abdomen. Her hands cradled him at heel and calf, and as she looked down at him, she thought how very vulnerable this part of him looked, with no hair to cover it, as most of the rest of his body had to one extent or another. Leaning down she nuzzled a soft kiss at its very center, and she felt the long, strong muscles of his calf tense and quiver beneath her hand in response.

"Please, Catherine, don’t," he asked, his voice husky and hoarse.

"Don’t what, Vincent? Don’t kiss you?" she asked, turning to rest her cheek against the sole of his foot as she spoke.

He moaned, burying his face more deeply into the pillow beneath him and she could see his biceps and triceps flex massively, though he kept his hands where they were, grasping the wooden slats of the bed below.

"Don’t ask that of me, Vincent. I made a promise, and I’m going to do my best to keep it, but don’t ask me not to kiss you, because I can’t promise you that. I won’t."

Turning her head again, she pressed another warm kiss to the center of his foot, then slowly eased it aside and down to the mattress once more. His foot still hung over the edge, but it was further out now than before, his legs spread wider than when she’d begun. My turn, Vincent, a tiny voice inside her insisted. She crawled back up onto the bed, but this time it was in the space between his legs. He groaned loudly as he felt the mattress shift under her slight weight there.

"Please, Catherine," he implored her.

She didn’t bother asking for clarification this time, because she had no intention of changing her course. Her hands and fingers stroked languidly along the back of his calves, knees and thighs, tenderly caressing every inch of him she could reach. Finally she laid her palms flat upon the back of his knees and pressed her fingers down, then slowly pushed upward, letting her nails scrape firmly along his skin in the opposite direction of the hair growing there. It was thicker on his calves, and very short here, but she knew that her touch inspired an exquisite sensation of pleasure by the way his whole body shivered in a long, languorous wave and by the moaning cry he couldn’t contain.

Her hands didn’t stop at the top of his thighs, but continued upward along the tensed muscles of his buttocks, until her palms cupped them. She squeezed the luscious round globes, then leaned down to press numerous, soft kisses upon his quivering, muscled flesh. He shivered and moaned at her touch, and finally she slid down fully on the bed to lay flat against him, her cheek at the center of his back, and her breasts against his bottom. Her hands slid up the outside of his flanks and past his ribs until they reached the area under each taut arm. She caressed him tenderly there, before sliding further upward to trace his arms as high as she could reach, to the very top corner of the bed, where they disappeared between it and the wall on either side. She couldn’t help herself then, rubbing the suddenly tight tips of her breasts against the silky flesh of his behind.

Vincent drew a gasping breath and began to move with her, and she knew he needed the friction that movement provided to his pulsing arousal pressed to the sheets beneath them. With that thought she froze, then quickly retraced the path her hands had taken a minute ago, this time stopping just below his waist. Despite her weight upon him, her fingers insinuated themselves between his body and the mattress, moving inexorably inward. He shuddered beneath her, then cried out loud when both hands closed upon his straining erection from either side.

She pressed a kiss to the center of his spine, and wrapped her hands more fully around him, one above the other, as far as each could reach. Neither could close completely, and both hands fit with room to spare along the impressive length of his shaft. Mentally she made a note to herself to correct the figures on the margin of Peter’s paper. Either Vincent had underestimated this particular attribute of his anatomy, which hardly seemed likely given the analytical turn of his mind, or stimulus by his own hands didn’t have the same affect as by hers. She preferred to believe the latter, and his writhing movements and moaning cries certainly seemed to support that position.

God, he was magnificent! She never wanted to stop touching him. Her own body was quickly growing overheated once more, the feel of him in her hands translating straight to her empty and aching core. She remembered the sensations of his long, strong fingers exploring deep within in her, then imagined the huge, hard, straining length of him filling her and moaned with excited anticipation.

Sliding one hand up she finally found the round, mushroom-shaped crown. Silky liquid seeped from the tip and she gathered it in her fingers and smoothed it over the broad head while he moaned and thrashed beneath her. Her other hand now abandoned its previous place, this time moving downward. At the base of his erection she cupped the encased globes covered in peach fuzz, and massaged them firmly. He bucked in her hand and cried out, stimulated almost beyond bearing.

"Catherine!"

Glancing up, she found that his arms and back swelled massively with the force of his arousal. An instant later her eye caught the glint of pale green plastic on the shelf over the head of his bed. The sample container. She pulled her hands away immediately and Vincent cried out, almost mindless in his passion.

"No, Catherine, please don’t stop!"

"Shhh, it’s all right," she said, moving out of the vee of his legs to kneel alongside his hips once more.

She stroked along his trembling shoulders, and noted with approval that despite the extremely over-stimulated state of his body, he’d managed to keep his hands where she’d placed them earlier. Reaching over his head, her hands closed around his forearms, tugging gently backward.

"Let go, Vincent," she urged.

With a whimper he did, and a moment later his hands appeared then tightly grasped the top edge of the mattress at either side of the corner.

"Turn around."

He moaned again, but after only a moment’s hesitation he released his hold upon the mattress, closed his hands into tight fists, and complied. He stared up at her and his eyes were wild. The deadly tips of his teeth gleamed in the soft light of the chamber, and panting gasps of air shuddered through his open mouth, his chest falling and rising rapidly with the chaotic motions. Leaning down she bracketed his cheeks with the palms of her hands and kissed him tenderly.

"Don’t worry, my love, I’m here," she whispered into his mouth.

"Catherine…" he whispered hoarsely.

Her hands slid away to cup with his where they rested next to the pillow, clenched tight. She tugged upwards while she nuzzled his soft, warm lips, guiding his hands to where they’d been before. At the corners of the mattress she let go. He groaned, but continued on to her intended goal, reaching back and down to secure his hands once more on the wooden slats below. With one final, soft kiss, she sat up again, and rested back on her haunches to peruse him. Drawing in a deep, calming breath, she let her eyes slowly scan downward from his face. Every view was better than the last. She couldn’t get any farther than the center of his body, couldn’t move past the straining length of his surging erection. Oh, God, he was so beautiful and so virile, the absolute picture of magnificent, masculine perfection.

"Please, Catherine, please," he begged, thrashing his head from side to side.

Though his shaft strained hard and hot almost straight up along his belly, without her hands or even the friction of the mattress, he was caught, his arousal spinning out of control, but with no outlet.

"Yes, my love, I will," she promised.

He groaned at her words and pulled his left knee up and out, opening himself to her touch as fully as possible. She knew he would be appalled when he remembered that action later, but right now there was no room in him for anything but the agony of his arousal and the ecstasy he knew awaited at her hands. He needed this release from her, and there was nothing left in him now to deny or refuse it.

She didn’t keep him waiting. One hand slid down to cup his taut, firm globes, while the other closed about his rigid shaft. Both began to move upon him in tandem, one kneading and massaging his tender flesh, the other stroking strongly along the pulsing stalk. His body began to move with her instantly, thrusting the surging shaft through her fingers with growing speed. A low growl rumbled through the night, and his lips curled back, baring the sharp incisors there. She knew it wouldn’t take long – in fact she was astonished he’d lasted as long as he had. Heat grew in the pit of her stomach as she considered that fact; Vincent was going to be a magnificent lover.

The round fullness below suddenly lifted and tensed against the base of his erection, and all other thoughts flew from her mind. His movement increased in strength and speed and when he hissed harder, his voice hoarse and urgent, she immediately tightened her grip upon him as much as she could, trying to match the pace of his frenzied body. An instant before it happened she felt it through their bond, felt a dense massing of emotions and the abrupt flinging apart that followed. He flung back his head and arched up in her hands while a loud roar split the night. Though he froze in that position for a brief instant, at the peak of his passion, the motions of her hands never ceased, and with a growl he fell back to the bed and thrust in countermotion to them as the last streams of hot seed spurted onto his belly and chest.

When Vincent finally collapsed to the bed once more, he lay utterly still, his eyes closed and all of his muscles now totally relaxed. Only his erection still swelled in her hand, and even it began to soften, easing down from the rampant state it had sustained for almost an hour. She couldn’t let him go, though, not immediately. She stared down at him in awe, at his glistening body, the easy rise and fall of his chest, and the innocent openness of his face as he lay lost in some other world.

He turned his head, just a small, reflexively movement, but it awakened her to the moment, and finally she released him, then reached up for the plastic container. The cap was quickly removed and then she scraped the edge of the container along his torso, scooping up the milky seed coating him. There was so much, far more than was typical, at least in her admittedly limited experience. But then there was nothing typical about Vincent, she thought smugly, glancing down at his now-soft penis, still impressive in its size, and the pendent sac below. No, there was nothing at all typical about him.

She recapped the container, then set it back upon the ledge, pushing it against the rock wall where the cold resided most strongly. Another turn of his head caught her attention, and she saw a drop of white fluid along the hollow of his throat that she’d missed before. Without thought she leaned down and licked it away. Below her another patch had sat. Though it was largely gone now, a little remained and she moved to lick him clean there as well. And there was another bit she’d missed altogether, though how she’d missed it, resting, as it did, directly over the deep mahogany of his nipple, was beyond her. No matter. She flicked her tongue against it, then couldn’t resist closing her lips to suck gently at the protruding tip. A low, rolling groan rumbled through his chest Vincent’s hands left their protective hold. He stretched, his body shivering in a long, languorous wave beneath her, then one hand came down to cup her head, holding her close.

"Catherine?" he whispered groggily.

Reluctantly she released the tasty morsel, and pulled herself up along his side until she could look down into his eyes. They were filled with sated pleasure and relief, but also a twinge of trepidation. She leaned forward to kiss him tenderly, nuzzling at the soft curves of his lips, reassuring him with her touch.

"Are you all right?" she asked, stroking the damp locks of his hair back.

He blinked, suddenly wide-eyed, and her heart melted as she read his expression; all right was an understatement. Finally he nodded, not even attempting to answer such a ludicrous question.

His other hand came down to cup her cheek, holding her still for his perusal. "Are you all right?" he asked instead, searching her eyes for any indication of pain or discomfort.

She sighed and shook her head in disbelief, but her smile belied the feigned irritation. "Vincent, I’m happier than any woman has a right to be, happier than I ever imagined I could be, and it’s all because of you."

He studied her closely. "You would tell me, wouldn’t you, if I did something – anything – that made you uncomfortable, that was… wrong? You wouldn’t keep that from me, would you?"

She sighed again, but this time all traces of humor were gone. "Nothing you did made me uncomfortable, Vincent. The only discomfort I felt was self-imposed. I didn’t want to resist you, my love," she added quietly. His lower lip trembled and she reached up to cup that hand that still held her cheek. "You know in your heart it’s true. I love you so much."

His eyes closed tight and she felt him clutching the words to his heart even as he nestled her closer to his side.

"Vincent…?" she whispered, the words muffled against his chest.

"Yes?"

"There are two things I need to tell you."

He looked down, a wary look appearing abruptly in his eyes.

"I got the sample you wanted," she said, gesturing toward the ledge above them.

He looked up to see the pale green container sitting back against the wall, now quite full, and flushed a deep red.

"Don’t you want to know the second thing?" she asked, breaking the awkward silence that followed the first disclosure.

He nodded, swallowing hard, wondering what it might be that caused that particularly enigmatic look she now wore.

"Only that you should know that I can’t think of anything you might do that would make me uncomfortable."

She stared up at his face from her resting spot along his chest and he shook his head slowly, denying that such a thing could be.

"I know you don’t believe it yet, but one day you will – one day soon, I hope."

When he looked down at her again she saw those conflicting emotions warring once more in his eyes.

"Please, Catherine," he finally said. "This isn’t the time to relax our guard."

The grin that appeared on her face at his words was impossible to misinterpret, and he blushed, glancing down at the eminently relaxed pose of his body, then quickly away once more, stunned by the sight of her nestled, half dressed, along his nakedness.

"Are you asking me to be vigilant, Vincent?" she asked, half serious, half teasing. "Because believe me, I intend to keep a very close eye on you for the next few hours at the very least."

His flush darkened.

"But as for relaxing, you’re right, I really should get back to work."

A puzzled frown appeared on his face at those words.

"So much to kiss," she replied in answer to his confused expression. "So little time."

At that she pulled his hand lightly away from her cheek and pressed a soft kiss at its center, then leaned down to leave another upon his lips, which trembled once more at her touch. She didn’t linger there, though, instead moving immediately to lay tiny kisses across his jaw until she reached an ear hidden beneath wild locks of golden hair. That spot, withheld from her sight for so long, received an inordinate amount of attention, and she smiled against it as she felt him shudder beneath her hand, which now rested on his chest.

All too soon – at least in his opinion, he would tell her later – she left that spot and kissed down his throat and from there to his chest, where she pressed heated kisses along its broad expanse. Vincent watched her, his eyes growing hazy with pleasure as she nuzzled her way from chest to ribs. Suddenly he drew in a deep, gasping breath, his eyes startled and wide. She wasn’t just kissing him, she was licking him, cleaning his sensitive skin of what remained of his recent release. Just as suddenly he realized that she’d been doing it before he’d come to his senses, that that had been the foreign tang he’d tasted upon her lips when she’d kissed him. That thought stunned him, the erotic implications so overwhelming he was almost undone by them. Impossible for his body not to respond to such an image, and he glanced down again, horrified to see that his flesh was stirring once more.

Worse yet, Catherine had seen it, too, and there was nothing he could do about it. She stared down at him, and after a minute, her eyes still pinned to his groin, she slid down until she could rest her cheek against the curve of his hip, watching him intently. Her hand slowly descended and he held his breath, trying not to let her hear the note of disappointment as he released it when she bypassed that flesh to stroke the inner curve of his leg, just above the knee. He was so busy watching her watch him that he didn’t feel her hand leave his leg until it cupped the round sac at the base of his swelling erection. The sensation was so abrupt, so unexpected and so intense, that he couldn’t contain a gasping cry in response.

Catherine never took her eyes from his mid-section, but her hand did begin to move, doing what she’d done earlier, kneading and massaging his sensitive flesh. The result was inevitable; his sex rose quickly, hardening and lengthening in front of her very eyes, until it arced up toward his belly, extending past his navel. She drew in a deep breath and felt the creamy heat gathering between her thighs. At the tip of the crown, a pale drop of fluid remained, and intrigued, she leaned over and gently flicked it away with the tip of her tongue. Vincent’s response was extreme. He bucked and writhed beneath her and cried out her name, astonishment, anxiety and desire mingled in his voice. Her hand never stopped moving on that one spot below, but she waited until he’d fallen back to the bed to lie panting hoarsely, and then leaned in again.

"Catherine, no!" he said.

His hands closed upon her shoulders, as though to pull her away, and she looked up to meet his gaze, her own hand suddenly still.

"Your hands, Vincent," she said, reminding him of her promise.

"Catherine, don’t, please," he implored her.

But she didn’t relent, silently watching him, and after he’d read the clear intent in her eyes, he shuddered with a strangled groan and released her, reaching up to slide his hands between the mattress and wall once more. She knew when he’d finally grasped he slats below by the sudden tension swelling throughout the muscles in his arms and chest. The reward for his compliance was first the resumption of her kneading caress, and then the return of her mouth to his aching, swollen flesh.

This time she leaned lower, licking lightly at the base of his erection, just above her hand. He groaned, writhing beneath her, but didn’t impede her motions. Slowly she worked her way upward, nuzzling, kissing and licking the underside of his shaft with minute attention to detail. When she reached the jutting crown of his phallus, the unexpected nip of her small teeth there nearly drove him over the edge, a snarling growl ripped from his throat. Quickly on the heels of that devastating touch, she took the broad head into the warm heat of her mouth, and his body bucked again, his growl shifting instantly into something else, something more – more primal, more virile, more demanding.

The emptiness between her legs throbbed with need and liquid honey drizzled down to coat her thighs. The hand upon him below never stopped, but now her other joined the fray, wrapping around his shaft to stroke against it as she had before, only this time as her hungry mouth devoured the aching tip. The taut globes in her hand tensed, and Vincent groaned loudly.

She wanted to finish, she wanted that desperately, and she could tell that Vincent did, too, despite his protests a moment ago, but she forced herself to stop, taking her hands and mouth from him abruptly. The strangled cry that rumbled out at that absence confirmed her thoughts, but she sat back anyway, needing to distance herself from the temptation before her. It wasn’t enough. The magnificent sight of him, lying supine before her, was terribly distracting despite that distance, and she closed her eyes for a minute, trying hard to focus. Finally it was her body that made the decision. She needed him now, and he needed her. Opening her eyes again she found him watching her with a desperate intensity, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

"It’s time, Vincent," she finally whispered hoarsely. "I can’t wait any longer. I need you inside me. I need us to be together."

He groaned again, squeezing his eyes shut, and his chest and arms expanded dramatically with tension. She slipped her leg over his hips to straddle his body, then settled down slowly and his eyes flew open, pinned on her. She still wore the skirt of her night-set, and though his body was suddenly hidden from both their eyes by the voluminous folds of glittering fabric, the feel of him intensified dramatically. His hard length was trapped between her weight and his belly, and she stroked herself in an undulating rhythm , coating him with the slick heat between her thighs. The groan turned into a growl and beneath her his flesh surged abruptly. She leaned forward then, lifting her weight off his sensitive flesh and distributing it onto her hands as they rested to either side of his head.

His hooded gaze fell to trace her full lips, and he shuddered. She knew he was envisioning them as they had been a moment ago, wrapped so tightly around the distended and sensitive tip of his sex.

"Catherine," he croaked hoarsely, shaking his head in stunned disbelief.

"I told you, Vincent, that there was nothing you could want of me that would make me uncomfortable," she reminded him. "I didn’t tell you all the ways I’ve imagined loving you, though, or the ways I’ve imagined you loving me. I hope that soon you won’t hesitate to tell me or show me what you want. Any thing, any time, any place," she murmured quietly, repeating the words she’d said to him earlier this night. "I belong to you, Vincent, and some part of me deep inside recognizes that I always have."

He shook his head, and she could read the distress in his eyes.

"No…" he whispered, the word almost inaudible amidst the rumbling of his chest.

She placed a hand lightly over his mouth.

"I belong to you," she repeated. "And you belong to me. Deep inside you know it as well as I do. Just accept it, Vincent, because it’s true."

Her eyes softened, and she slid her hand away, leaning down to replace it with her mouth. The kiss she gave him was deep and lush, and there was no withstanding it. He groaned and gave in, loving the feel of her tongue as it explored him. There it was again, the taste of himself upon her. The thought sent a violent shudder through his body, and suddenly it was he who controlled the kiss, despite the fact that his hands were still safely tucked away, clenching the hardwood slats beneath the edge of the mattress. His tongue thrust deep into her mouth, and the indelible memory of his fingers stroking deep within her swung through him abruptly, making him cry out. She pulled back to look at his face, and in her hazy eyes he saw his own pleasure reflected.

He groaned and squeezed his eyes shut, but they flew open again as her hand stroked down his body. This time her goal was clear, and she didn’t deviate or pause. He read both astonishment and relief in her eyes, as she reached beneath her skirt and traced lightly over his straining phallus. She moved lower then, to cup him below, but this time she simply pressed her palm to the full weight, stroking her fingers lightly against the soft skin behind it. He jolted in her hand, shocked by the delicious sensation, and she smiled in response. But she couldn’t stay there long. It was time, and she was so tired of the aching emptiness. Her hand closed around his rigid length and she moved to position herself against the wet tip. He groaned at the feel of her there as she pushed backward into his heat.

He was large, and it took her a few minutes to align herself to him, but with a gasping groan, and a final twist of her hips, the throbbing head slipped in.

"Catherine…"

His voice was primal and hoarse and his eyes were wild in his face. She knew he was finding it almost impossible to assimilate the experience into his frame of reference by the expression there and his emotions over the bond. Her own were no different. There was nothing in her past that could compare to this, nothing that came close. He stayed absolutely still, and she could see what a strain that was for him. It was just as difficult for her, but she waited until her body molded to his, the muscles stretching to fit his imposing presence.

And they’d barely begun, the thought drifted through her in a stunned haze. Finally she rocked back on her hands, slowly, carefully, taking in another inch, and then another. His growl rumbled beneath her, a chaotic urgency contained within it, while his wild-eyed gaze was riveted to her face, as though watching for any signs of pain. She desperately hoped he didn’t misinterpret her intent look of fierce concentration and determination as pain, because if he tried to leave her now, she was certain she would die.

With a whimpered moan she ground her hips back again, twisting in a sinuous wave to take yet a little more of his straining length. Over and over again she writhed upon him, rocking back and forth in measured increments, each time drawing him deeper and deeper within the sheltering heat of her body. She arched her back, and the angle between them shifted minutely, but it was enough, his body surging abruptly into hers, where a minute before she’d been sure that no more was possible.

"Oh, God!" she cried out, moaning loudly as a firestorm of sensations blazed through her. There, oh yes, right there…

At this new angle the taut tips of her breasts dragged through his chest hair to trace paths of fire along his skin with every rocking motion of her body. She surrounded him, so hot and wet and tight that he didn’t think he could bear it a moment longer, though at the same time he wanted it to never end. With a groaning cry he reached forward and grasped her tight, caressing the glistening flesh of her arms and back with fierce possession.

Vincent didn’t seem to be aware that his hands were no longer constrained, and if Catherine noticed, she didn’t mention it. Both were far too busy drawing in the amazing sensations that buffeted them upon the suddenly wild currents of their bond. His hands slid down to fondle the round curves of her buttocks, and with a snarling growl he gathered up the voluminous folds of skirt and tugged upward, drawing it over her head and tossing it to the floor. Now her bottom was bare to his touch, and though he explored her with avid intensity, strangely enough he didn’t stay there long. His hands returned to her shoulders, but rather than resume the caresses he’d begun a moment before, now he simply pushed her up, telling her with that firm touch what he wanted.

Catherine looked down at him, her mouth open in a small oh of shocked surprise. His meaning was clear, however, and she didn’t hesitate more than a minute, straightening up until she knelt upright, straddling his loins. Vincent’s gaze dropped immediately, and when his eyes encountered the sight of his thick, blue-veined shaft, buried halfway within her, the exposed surface slick and red, he gasped and shuddered. He couldn’t look away.

When she was sure his gaze was where she wanted it, Catherine slowly sank down to her haunches with a groaning cry, taking him in deep, until the red shaft disappeared entirely from view. Vincent’s chest heaved with panting breaths as he stared at that impossible juncture, and Catherine rose slowly up on her knees once more, watching him as he stared at the incredible sight. She held herself still at the apex of that stroke for as long as she could, but finally, with a shuddering groan and a sinuous twist of her hips, she thrust herself back down upon him.

"Catherine!" he cried.

Her silken sheath convulsed helplessly around his throbbing erection at the sound of her name on his lips, her body reacting to him in a visceral way that was completely beyond her control. She began to thrust herself against him in earnest now, the strokes long and deep. Harder and faster she moved upon him, until her body, shuddering as shattering sparks began to quiver through her, faltered in its rhythm.

Vincent was there, though, immediately regaining what she had lost. With a savage growl he reached up and pulled her torso down to his, then rolled her over until his weight was heavy and hard upon her. He drew himself up to his knees, sat back on his haunches, and hauled her legs up until the inner flesh of her thighs was clasped tight about his ribs, her heels rubbing against the upper curve of his buttocks with fierce insistence. Reaching beneath her, he cupped a silken cheek in each strong hand, and lifted her up so that the angle to her wet heat facilitated his straining sex. He plunged into her, over and over again, breathing fast and hard, riding the firestorm that whipped about them through their bond. His groaning growl rumbled loud and long, and suddenly the sound spiraled out of control, to become a mindless, guttural roar.

Catherine was there with him every step of the way, mewling whimpers and moaning cries torn hoarsely from her throat as he impaled her tender sheath with fiercely possessive strokes. The bond swirled about them both, urging them on with an unstoppable force. When he roared out his release, she screamed in ecstasy, her body convulsing savagely about his pulsing flesh as he arched up against her, spilling his seed into the waiting nest of her womb.

Peter hummed idly as he prepared the slide and affixed it to the viewing base of the microscope. The office was empty, as it usually was on a Sunday, so he had it all to himself. He smiled as he remembered how Vincent had slipped the container out of his own cloak pocket and into his physician’s bag in such a way that only he could see it happen, just moments after he and Catherine had come to Jacob’s study to say goodbye to him as he prepared to leave.

Though he stayed below periodically it was rare that he stayed so late the next day, but another rematch had been proposed after breakfast, and Jacob looked so determined there was really no gainsaying him. After the predictable loss, one match turned into two, and his departure had been delayed until well after lunch. Oh well, William’s food was always good, and so was the company, surly though one of its members was at that exact moment in time. At least that delay had ensured that he saw Vincent and Catherine before he left. In retrospect, he was sure that had he gotten off any earlier, he would have missed them entirely.

He hadn’t been surprised by the sample’s appearance, though. The look on both their faces had told him instantly that they had finally worked through their little problem. His smile broadened as he recalled their expressions once more. Oh, yes, he was fairly sure that Catherine would not be troubled by those two particular nightmares ever again.

Truth to tell, he was much relieved himself. As it turned out, not only had Jacob been nearby for the significant event, but so had he. That thought pleased him, even though neither’s help had been necessary – a realization that pleased him even more. Now he was only left to wonder when Jacob would discover the new reality in store for him. Normally his friend was quite astute, especially where his son was concerned, but he was fairly certain that the accumulated disappointment of three chess loses in two days had blinded him to much else this day. He almost wished he could be there to see it, but he’d known his old friend long enough to know that that little scene was something better heard of after-the-fact, than witnessed first-hand. Poor Vincent.

Hell, poor him! Jacob was sure to discover the role he’d played in this little game, and if he thought his friend surly now, well, that was nothing, he thought with a grin, to what he expected when he learned this news. After that, no doubt, a long interrogation of all the particulars awaited him at his old friend’s hands. His smile broadened once more. Strangely enough, a part of him looked forward to that discussion. His long years of acquaintance with Jacob also assured him that his friend would ultimately be both relieved and happy at this particular piece of news, no matter how surprised and shocked he might be by its initial telling.

The slide now in place, he bent forward to look through the eyepiece and adjust the resolution. He fiddled with the dial several times, then sat back abruptly, the smile now replaced with a confused frown. Leaning forward again, he carefully scanned the slide below. Long minutes passed as he bent over his task, motionless. When he pulled back once more, his frown was gone, and in its place was a look of shocked incredulity.

The other two tests run on Vincent, once in his teens and again in his twenties, had ended with the exact same result – absolutely no sperm motility of any sort. There was no plausible explanation for what he saw on the slide now, ten years after that last test. This slide’s contents revealed the exact opposite of those other two; it was full of wiggling, squirming and frantically swimming little creatures, and that meant that contrary to all previous evidence, there was absolutely nothing wrong with Vincent’s sperm motility, at last not now, though god knows he’d never heard of a case of motility increasing from the teens and twenties into the thirties. Usually the exact opposite occurred. And what in the world could have caused such a difference? What had happened between then and now to account for such a thing?

The thought appeared like lightening, striking him forcibly; the bond…

He jumped to his feet abruptly, a shocked and distressed look on his face, then slowly sat down again, forcing himself to think things through. So Vincent’s sperm was mobile. That still didn’t mean it would be compatible with Catherine’s eggs. No, it was highly unlikely, wasn’t it? Yes, highly unlikely.

After a long moment deep in thought, Peter stood up and moved to the desk along the wall, where he sat with his hand on the phone for some minutes more before finally picking it up and dialing Catherine’s number. Despite the unlikelihood of such a thing, Vincent and Catherine had to be warned that the possibility existed. Of course there was nothing to be done about the hours just passed, but what were the odds that she would be ovulating at this exact point of time? Small, really, no more than one in twenty. He blanched as he considered that statistic. It suddenly didn’t seem so small. And he had been the one who had brushed aside the need for contraceptives.

His anxiety increased.

While he waited impatiently for her voicemail to kick in – he was certain she wasn’t yet above herself – another thought struck him and he winced. Maybe the expected talk with Jacob wouldn’t go as smoothly as he thought…