Married To The Mad Vampire Lord

Rohan inhaled the delicious aroma of the seasoned, frying bacon, then leaned closer and whispered into her ear, "That smells delicious, love. What else are you cooking with it in the other pot?"

He asked, hoping to make her talk, to clear the air and dispel the silent hostility between them. Anger was not something a man should allow his wife carry for long, not when that emotion was heavy in the room.

She was silent for a long moment, as if she wouldn't answer him. But when he pressed his lips to her neck, she pursed her lips and answered grudgingly, "Suet pudding. There are also root vegetables."

"Hmm, I like the sound of that. Is there something I can help you with in the kitchen, honey?" he asked, pulling her tighter against his body and burying his nose deeper into the crook of her neck. She always smelled nice, like lavender with a hint of spice, probably because she had been in the kitchen.

"No, I'm almost done. Can you let go? I need to check the pudding," she grumbled. But in truth, she wished he would keep holding her like that and kissing her neck, sending tingling heat through her body and making her hands clumsy.

Still, she mustn't give in to him, not yet. She couldn't just let him pretend like he hadn't done something wrong by leaving in anger without telling her where he was going. If she gave in so easily, he would do it again next time.

But he didn't release her. Instead, Rohan tightened his hold around her waist and brought his hand up to cup her breast, catching her off guard and drawing a soft gasp from her lips.

"Don't let me hit you with a hot spoon. Let go," she warned, trying to wiggle from his grip, but he didn't loosen it.

"I'm sorry," he whispered suddenly into her ear, and the sound of his voice, low and remorseful, stilled her struggle.

"I know you're angry because I walked out on you this morning. It was wrong of me," he confessed. "I was choking on strange emotions... they made me feel like I was suffocating, and I needed air. Something you said made me feel that way."

His voice was gentle now, as his palm spread flat and possessive across her lower abdomen, just beneath the curve of her ribs. The other hand, still cupping her breast through the soft bodice of her dress, caressed her with slow, feather-light strokes, his thumb teasing the sensitive peak in deliberate circles.

The sensation made her melt like warm butter into his arms, her breath catching, body betraying her resolve as heat pooled low in her belly.

Her nipples instantly tightened beneath the fabric, aching with the sudden attention. She tried to gather her thoughts before her head spun into a haze. "I'm sorry too," she breathed. "I should have told you, and I shouldn't have spoken like that… about death—"

A soft moan escaped her lips as his fingers found the string at the front of her dress and loosened it. He slid his hand inside and found her bare breast, the warmth of his touch making her arch into him.

"Rohan…" she gasped his name when he began to rub and gently pinch her nipple. Gooseflesh spread over her chest and arms as his mouth pressed open against her neck, kissing and dragging his tongue over the sensitive skin while his hand worked her breast in slow, possessive strokes.

"Isa…" His voice was husky, lips trailing along her collarbone, fingers tugging the neckline lower to expose more of her flesh. "We shouldn't have wasted today being apart… It's our last day here. We're leaving tomorrow. We should've been doing this, enjoying every corner of this place together..."

He turned her swiftly to face him, and before she could speak, he crashed his mouth onto hers in a fierce, hungry kiss.

His hands gripped her hips and pulled her hard against him, pressing her body to his, showing her exactly how much he'd missed her for the hours he had been away from home. One hand slid down to cup her bottom, kneading it through the fabric while the other pushed the sleeves of her dress down her arms to expose more of her skin.

Her hands moved instinctively, clutching his shoulders, then sliding into his hair as her lips parted beneath his, letting his tongue invade and taste her fully. She kissed him back with a hunger that matched his, their mouths clashing with heat and need.

His lips moved hungrily, feverish, possessive, as if he could never get enough of her. Between the kisses, he panted out, "Is our son asleep?"

She barely managed to whisper, "Yes," against his lips, her voice breathless and husky with arousal.

That was all he needed. He hadn't made love to his wife for two months because he was afraid of hurting her. If today was their last night in this beautiful small house, he wanted it spent in bed with her.

Without breaking the kiss fully, he stopped just enough to sweep her into his arms, one hand under her thighs, the other around her back. She gasped softly, her arms locking around his neck as he carried her out of the kitchen and toward the bedchamber.

Her heart pounded as he kissed her along the way, lips trailing fire along her cheek and jaw, their bodies already desperate, already burning with need and want for each other.

When they reached the room, Rohan finally stopped kissing her, just long enough to set her down gently on her feet. He walked over to their son's cradle, around which he had carefully fashioned soft drapes for warmth and privacy. Leaning over, he gazed down at the sleeping baby, who lay on his stomach with his tiny bottom sticking up in the air.

A small smile tugged at Rohan's lips.

He reached in and gently patted the baby's little behind, then pulled the drapes closed with quiet tenderness before turning back to his wife.

The sight of her, standing there with her flushed, heated face, lips swollen from his kisses, and eyes heavy with dazed longing, made something deep inside him burn all over again.

Without so much as a word, he drew her body against his, fingers finding the strings of her bodice and pulled it apart. Her chest came into his view, and he leaned down and kissed it. She made a soft noise, and he suckled her skin, branding her with his teeth and mouth yet again.

He felt her hands parting his clothes, burrowing past the layers of fabric to find him. She put her mouth to his chest just below the hollow of his throat, and he inhaled sharply. The scent of her hair filled his nostrils, driving him a little bit mad.

Rohan pulled her up to him and kissed her, parting her lips, pressing his thumbs to the corners of her mouth. She was his wife, and he wanted her. For now, for always, he burned for her like someone he was having for the very first time.

He swiftly unfastened the rest of her bodice, then untied her dress in little jerks. He pushed them from her body, then unfastened her chemise, catching her bare breasts as they tumbled out like two round, silken mounds with rose-peaked tips, flushed and trembling in the cool air.

She arched back as he kissed her again, pressing her nipples tight against his palms.

Unlacing and pushing away her skirts took some time, and he became impatient, tearing fabric while she squeaked a protest for ruining her dress in his haste to get to the part he desperately needed to feel.

He lifted her and carried her to the bed, then pulled off his own clothes with the same impatience. His gaze devoured her as he climbed up with her, not bothering to pull back the bedclothes to cover them, he wanted nothing between them, not even the air.

When she started to speak, he silenced her with a deep, claiming kiss. His mouth moved against hers hungrily, swallowing her words, her breath, her soft gasp of surprise.

He kissed her until she weathered beneath him, her body loosening, hips shifting restlessly beneath his weight. When she arched her back and pressed herself against the rigid length of his erection, he groaned into her mouth, deep and guttural.

The pressure of her heat against him made his control slip, and he thrust against her instinctively, needing more, needing all of her.

She spread her legs apart for him in impatient invitation, her eyes dark with need, and he entered her in one slow, fluid stroke.

She was plenty wet for him, hot and slick, and he hissed through his teeth at the feel of her tightening around him, her walls clenching in welcome.