Free By My Choice...: A Valentine's Day Story (Valentine's Day Stories) by Christine Blackthorn Page B

your life at Council meetings.” He had reached the lobe of her ear and sucked on it almost experimentally. Her moan was breathless and hoarse. Who would have thought an earlobe could be so erotic? It was hard to formulate the next sentence.
    “Adrian, you are over four hundred years old, have not been chaste and are one of the leaders of our world, in a social and political sense. Believe me, there are not many salacious details of your life one could not find out were one inclined to listen to gossip.”
    His mouth hesitated in astonishment over the sensitive air behind her ear, his breath rustling the fine hair with each exhalation in a sensual torture. She wanted his touch, she wanted to touch him. But before she could demand her freedom again, his lips descended on her skin with a dry chuckle and a kiss more friendly than tantalising. Though the expression in his eyes as his head rose to look at her was nothing but seductive:
    “It is possible I have simply never tried out the whips and chains. I might have discovered a new favourite past time.”
    This was too ridiculous to address and she felt her last answer encompassed all that needed to be said, so she repeated it, matching his grin:
    “You are over four hundred years old, have not been chaste and are one of the leaders of our world, in a social and political sense. Ergo: gossip.” Then she sobered: “Remove the restraints!”
    Before she had even finished the first word she felt the flick with which he unhooked the restraint but he did not let her go right away, only let his fingers tangle with hers, pressing them into the bed as he levered upwards and began to stroke into her with unhurried, slow movements. Her concentration was shattered by the renewed assault on her senses.  
    “Believe me, Jennifer, seeing you here might very well make me reconsider the experiments with restraints.”  
    His voice was dark and husky, his eyes on her burning with lust and anticipation. It was a look to heat every woman’s blood, but hers needed no more stimulation.  
    Having realised this night would happen, no matter what, she had enough of the preliminaries. And since his restrained arousal began to annoy her, leaving her feeling exposed and helpless, she decided to play a little on her own. Her legs were long and strong, perfect to wrap around a man’s waist. She rolled her hips, meeting his slow thrust with her own, enjoying the slide of his flesh into hers. The moan was his this time and she enjoyed seeing his muscles cord under the strain of fighting for control. His hands let go of hers in favour of finding purchase on the sheets, conscious of his strength and the ease with which he could hurt her with too tight a grip. She did not care, caught in the pleasure of his body, the power she held, and even if it was only by his acquiescence.  
    “You are playing with fire, Jennifer.” Few sounds could hold so much erotic appeal as the voice of a lover at the end of his tether, but she was certain she could tease the other sounds from him as well.  
    “Not yet.” She whispered — then she tensed her muscles, hooked her legs around him, shifted her weight and flipped him.  

Choice  

    He went willingly, she was only too aware of that. It would have been impossible to budge him in any way without his permission, even less so with him still lodged firmly in her, but vampire reflexes being what they were, he discerned her intent long before it actually occurred and let her roll him, his hands supporting her waist. His compliance, and the sight of him spread out below her like a barbaric sacrifice to a heathen God of Beauty, was more than any rational being could resist. With his hands around her waist she rolled her hips, torturing him with the languid slide of her body over his, around his. He could have stopped her, could easily have held her still or taken over, instead he seemed content to let her play, his hands a light support, nothing more.  
    She loved