Dawn Awakening

John Mark lifted his mouth from Robbie's sex and licked his lips. And he'd thought type-o-negative was his favorite flavor. Hardly. There was nothing like the sweet, decadent, rich taste of his woman on the tip of his tongue. They were just getting started. The things, every last thing his mind had managed to conjure up over the last several years, he planned to do to her now. Torture. Tease. Tickle. He wanted her gone. Treading water only to be over come and pulled under over and over again by the undercurrent of her passion.

Every nerve ending in his body begged for release, like a runaway locomotive on a greased track, to plunge into her, through her, crash and burn, until they were both so far gone, thoroughly fucked until they couldn't see straight. And didn't give a damn if they ever did again. It was all he could do to pull back from his pursuit of the very core of her long enough to let her jerk his t-shirt over his head before he buried his tongue into the sweet depths of her center again.

Robbie pulled at the leather strap restraining John Mark's hair at the back of his scalp with trembling fingers, finally freeing the strands to fall in a wave of black silk along the tops of his shoulders. She balanced on one leg, the other wrapped around his shoulder to grant him better access to the heart of her. She couldn't breathe. The sensation of his tongue against the aching nub at the apex of her sex, flicking and working the bundle of nerves into a frenzy of something completely indescribable in its pleasure and painful torment; always building, working up to a crescendo, and ebbing away just before the wave pulled her under for the final time, was maddening. She couldn't take another second of such decadent torture. He had to do...something. She needed...something... Anything to make it stop...anything to make it last forever. "John Mark," she gasped. "Please."

The sound of his name, finally coaxed from her parted lips, went straight to his cock and was the breaking point of his control. His girl needed him. She needed him and he was as elemental to her at this moment as the oxygen in her lungs. Robbie hurt...begged for him to ease her need...ached for him. And he, as much as he wanted to, and had all these devious well worked out plans in his mind to bring her to this erotic condition and string her along until he was good and ready to grant her release, he couldn't leave her just hanging there to writhe and moan against him, tormented by the desire he'd coaxed to life with the flick of his tongue.

It'd be just as much fun, maybe more so, to make her come, work her back up into a frenzy, and take her there over and over again. After all, he wanted to make sure his woman was happy before he tended to his own needs. As hard and aching as he was for her, one stoke inside her sleek depths was going to be all she wrote. He was already so close to where she was that when he got there, it wouldn't take two seconds of her delightful body wrapped so tightly around him to have him falling over the edge.

Robbie writhed against the hard press of John Mark's fingers slipping into her depths. And she thought his tongue could work miracles...what he did with first one long finger and then another was paradise. There was a little sting as he broke through her virginity, reverently and gently, so carefully, as if he held something priceless in his hands.

The wonderful friction of his fingers, gliding along her wetness, working her, stretching and filling her to the point where she saw stars, climbed on top of them, and rode them through the heavens. Not caring if her feet ever touched the earth again, she hovered on a blanket of celestial bodies. Crying out his name, bucking against his hand with urgent thrusts of her hips, she fell apart, bursting like a super-nova, drifting and weightless, shattered into so many fragments, floating directionless in space to be pulled into the gravity of John Mark's orbit and put together again. Weighted by the warmth of his body holding her, the sound of his voice like the caress of his fingers on her skin, she ran her hands along his cheeks and bent to kiss the lips and fingers that had delivered her to the edge of the universe and beyond.

The bed was too far away. There were too many clothes separating them. Coaxed to his feet by Robbie's gentle pulls on his shoulders, John Mark scrambled to his feet. Dizzied and drunk by the scent and taste of her on his lips, their eyes locked, hers glittering with passion and his burning with need, he kicked free of his boots and wrestled out of his jeans, daring to take the same risk she had with him, by standing naked and exposed before her. Turned on and at the same time, a little shyer than he'd ever anticipated he would be in front of the woman he loved, he grinned down at her.

Robbie took her time, agonizingly so, exploring him. Running her dainty fingertips along every inch of his skin. Pausing at the hard rise of his pecs to graze his nipples, traveling down the ridge of his abdomen to toy with the line of dark, soft, downy hair just south of his navel. John Mark closed his eyes. Unable to bear the heat of her appraising stare and the soft purse of her lips another second. "Say something," he rasped, gasping at the scrape of her nails along his skin.

'Wow' was the first word that came to Robbie's mind at the sight of John Mark, so strong, naked and bare in his perfection, like a Greek statue come to life, standing here, living and breathing in the flesh, before her. 'Holy Shit' was a close second choice in explicatives that described her reaction to John Mark's impressive physique. She wanted to touch and to taste every bare inch of him. It was obvious he was happy to see her. The hard jut of his erection rested against the flat plane of his stomach to stop just below his belly button. Gingerly, she reached out a hand to stroke it, amazed at how something so hard could feel so incredibly soft beneath her fingertips, like steel or carved marble sheathed in warm silk.

He sucked in a breath at the slightest flutter of her fingertips against his length, bending his head down and arching his neck so that his hair fell like a sleek curtain along the tops of his shoulders, framing his angular face in black satin. His eyelids fluttered open, the brown of his eyes had deepened to a rich mahogany color, searing her with the heat of his raw desire. He was beautiful. But, that didn't begin to describe him or do the things he inspired in her any justice. "There aren't words enough," she whispered, encouraged by his crooked, somewhat cocky smile, to continue her exploration.

John Mark was going to lose it here and now. Just the slightest brush of her fingertips along his erection was enough to have him whimpering like a pup. Add the glimmer of self-satisfaction in her emerald eyes at the reactions she caused with the gentlest of touch of her hand on his skin and the blush of crimson staining her cheeks from the orgasm he'd brought her to, and he was a gone man. Happily so. She was pleased with his body. Pleasured by his mouth and his hands. And that pleased him, causing him so much pleasure it was almost painful to bear. Grinning, he said, "I know, right. I'm hot."

Robbie giggled at John Mark's summation of her lack of adequate wording. Yeah, hot summed it up nicely. Leave it to him to take one of the most intense moments of her, no their lives, to date, and come up with some way to break the tension building and mounting, on the verge of crashing down around them and sweeping them away like a raging river, and turn it into something manageable. Swept off her feet, literally, he dropped her on the bed like a sack of potatoes, and hovered over her.

John Mark balanced his weight on his elbows. The hard ridge of his erection pressed against the softness of Robbie's sex, so close to the entrance it was excruciatingly painful to wait another second to be inside of her. Her breasts, those ruby tips teased and suckled by his lips brushed against his chest, searing him with their delightful warmth. Gently, he cupped her cheeks in his palms and brought her lips up to meet his in a kiss. This was right. This was the time. No matter how many times they made love, no other time would be as special or as meaningful as this one. Their first. The first time they shared so openly and freely, giving and receiving everything they had and everything they were.

Robbie ran her hand along the curve of John Mark's back, bringing it to rest at the hard jut of his hip. Opening her thighs in welcoming, she closed her eyes. Concentrating on memorizing every second of her first time: the coolness of the comforter against her skin, the warmth of John Mark's body covering hers, the gentleness in which he cupped her face in his hands, the urgency and taste of his kiss on her lips, the smell of him, blanketing her in its musky, earthen undertones that were uniquely him, and the truth in the words he uttered against her mouth, she took a deep breath, filling her lungs with air and whispered the only response there was. Her own truth. "I love you too."

John Mark slid into Robbie, savoring the searing heat and slickness of her depths. Heaven had a name, paradise a destination, and it was Robbie. Never in his wildest dreams and deepest fantasies had he imagined how good it would feel to finally claim her at last. Her soft flesh yielded to his hardness, enveloping him in its soft, sweet embrace. The sound of her words reverberated in his ears, boring into his mind, and rooting into his heart. Gently, carefully, buried to the hilt of his length, giving her body time to adjust to him, he settled into her.

Robbie thought John Mark's invasion of her body would hurt more. And it hurt. But, it was a bittersweet pain so mixed with pleasure that she couldn't tell where one sensation ended and the other began. He was a careful lover, giving her the time her body needed to adjust. He was gentle and slow, pushing into her with the greatest of concern, agonizingly so. Kissing her and muttering whispered words that didn't register in her brain, he took his time with her. Stroking her body everywhere with his fingers, palming her breasts in soft caresses, and keeping his weight balanced not to crush her, he loved her. Pain forgotten and lost in pleasure, she arched her back, digging her fingers into the broad expanse of his shoulders to spur him on.

John Mark tried to hold back. He wanted their first time together to be everything. The stuff of legends. Straining against the force of his will, he fisted the covers beneath them. Her body bucked, hips arching and rising to meet every thrust. Was there anything more beautiful than the expression of utter pleasure on her face? The way her lips circled in a little O as he pumped into her, pleasuring her with his body. The gasps of her labored breathing and the sting of her nails biting into the skin on his shoulders and back as he filled her, driving her closer and closer to the edge.

He was on the edge himself, so close to toppling over, the need to fill her, to spill over into her was agonizing. His body was tense, quivering with the pleasure of his release. It was painful, but not in a bad way. No, it felt good. So good. Better than anything he'd ever felt before. The softness of her body, yielding beneath him, gripping him, and milking him, driving him faster, and harder, to plunge deeper and deeper into her until he couldn't tell where he ended and she began. "Robbie," he gasped in urgency. "Please...say yes." He needed her. Not just her body, not just her heart, all of her. He wanted to fill himself with her very soul, drink it down, and give her his in exchange.

John Mark pushed into her, increasing his rhythm to a wild pace, faster and deeper, dangling so close to completion and taking her there with him. She knew, just as her body instinctively knew how to breathe, exactly what he needed and what she desired, more than his body, more than the heart he'd so willingly laid at her feet. What he asked was as elemental as air, as essential as water, as consuming as fire, and as grounding as the earth beneath them, and the one thing that would bind them together inseparably for all time. This moment was her destiny. This second was exactly what John Mark was born for. And this act was their greatest gift to one another. "Yes."

"This is forever, Robbie," John Mark rasped through the points of his fangs. Robbie smiled up at him, tipping her chin up to grant him access to her supple neck. The pleasure of her body was secondary to the gift she was offering up to him. There'd be no separation between them. More intimate than sex and eternally binding, he had to make sure she understood what it was he was asking and what it was she was giving to him, make sure it was what she really wanted before he took one single drop.

"I know," Robbie answered. She expected pain, but there was only the pleasure of John Mark invading every single molecule of her body, possessing her in every way possible. He rode her with deep thrusts, his breath singeing the skin on her neck as his lips worked at the wound on her throat. She bucked and writhed beneath him, opening her self up to him completely. He drank from her. Drove into her. In willing exchange, he offered himself to her, moaning in a throaty growl as she plunged her fangs into him and drank down everything he was, spilling his life into her, filling her body with his release and his blood, and her soul with the very essence of everything he was.

Robbie's lips on the hard muscle of his shoulder, her fangs tearing through his flesh and releasing his blood to swallow it down, take him into herself was his undoing. Her pleasure surged through him, singing to him through her blood. She fell apart beneath him, her hands grasping at him, hips bucking to meet his in an urgent, primal rhythm older than time itself. There was nothing, no part of him to hold back now and he let go, pumping and thrusting, stretching and filling, possessing her, and she him. Grinding out her name like a curse from the condemned and the prayer of the faithful; joined in body, heart, and soul. Through the pain and the pleasure, in possession and surrender, through endless journeys and at long last brought home, he came, jetting the hot stream of his release deep inside of her.

Afterwards, with a content and very, well sexed up Robbie draped across his chest, dozing like the cat that got the cream, John Mark had time to think about things. The craziness of life in all its insanity and the way sometimes, things just fell into place exactly where they were supposed to. He'd wanted this with her for so long. And it was worth every cold shower and the endless nights of waiting for her to get a clue about him.

He hated the circumstances that had finally brought them together. The death of Robbie's parents and what he'd had to do prevent hers, still so raw in his mind. Fate didn't always take the easy road. Where boy meets girl and they fall head over heels in love and everything turns out sunshine and rainbows. But, the path, as rocky as it had been, had gotten them there. And he had the woman of his dreams, the love of his life, wrapped in his arms as a result. So, how could he regret one second of the journey, wrought with such pain and loss that had brought them to this place of happiness and absolute bliss? He couldn't. He could only hope that the worst was over and if not that they'd be strong enough to bear the rocks and low places in the road together.

Planting a light kiss on Robbie's forehead, he twined a strand of her hair around his finger. He got it. Finally understood why Lucien had knocked him on his ass and almost ripped off his head for bringing Alex into the heat of the fight the night of Patrick's botched rescue attempt. Finally, it clicked in his head why Patrick growled like a feral dog whenever another male got within five feet of Janine. Wars had been fought for less. Poems written, songs sang, and art sculpted because of this...the warmth of a woman's love, the softness of her breath, and the gentle beat of her heart.

"Mine," John Mark whispered into the darkness, lifting a lock of her hair to his nose to inhale her fragrance. He knew right then and there, no matter what the consequence or the cost, even if it meant his life. He'd do anything to protect her and keep her safe. He'd give his soul if he had to choose between it and her happiness. His life was no longer his own do with as he pleased. It belonged to her. And in her palm, at her tender mercy, she held his beating heart.

Necessity awoke Robbie from the most pleasant of dreams. She was dreaming of sunny places and starry, velvet nights. The warmth of John Mark's arms so tight around her was almost unbearable to leave. He sighed beneath her, toying with her hair, winding the strands around his fingers, releasing them to watch the corkscrew curls spring into place. Never in her whole life had she known such happiness. And what a respite it was after all the sadness they'd both endured.

An empty place had been left in the wake of her parent's deaths. Like a piece of her had gone to the grave with them. John Mark helped to fill the void, or rather to give her something to hold on to besides her pain at their loss. She could have and probably would have worn her grief wrapped around her like a cloak of despair and been quite happy in her misery and isolation. But, he hadn't let her get away with it. As hard as it had been, he'd forced her to live instead of simply going through the motions in a passable, functional sort of way that would have fooled everybody else, except for him.

Robbie was glad for his tenacity. Anyone else would have given up on her a long time ago. Not him. Even when she was at her worst, he'd taken it in stride and saw her for her best. Smiling contently, thanking whatever lucky stars had brought him to her, she wound her legs through his and nuzzled her cheek against his chest. How could she not fall in love with him? He was her rock. He held her up when she wanted nothing more than to go under. And he believed that at the end of all this grief, there was light and happiness at the end of the tunnel.

Robbie was a pessimist at heart. And she knew, as such, there'd be plenty of times when the glass would seem pretty damned empty. Her parents were no different than any other couple. They fought from time to time. There were heated words, raised voices, and doors slammed shut. But, at the end of the day, they'd always come back to one another, tripping over their apologies and swallowing their wounded pride. Before, she'd thought it was what married couples did to make it work. Fought. Forgave. And forgot. But, she'd never understood the why behind it. Now, she did. When you loved, really loved someone more than you loved yourself. Pride wasn't so important. Arguments didn't always have to have a winner or a loser. And forgiveness didn't cost a damned dime. John Mark and she would have their share of both good and bad. Life was like that, a roller coaster of ups and downs. But, at the end of it all, as long as they came out, still in love, there was nothing too big or too hard to overcome.

She hadn't imagined what it would be like to be so in love with another person that she couldn't catch her breath. To long so desperately for the feel of his touch on her skin, or his lips on her mouth that it hurt. To be in a silent room and still recall the sound of his voice in her mind, telling her how much he loved her. And to have her heartbeat quickening at the mere thought of him. She was in love. She couldn't believe it. And yet, here she was, dumbstruck, almost dizzied by the weight of her emotions and the depth of her feelings for him.

Idly, she traced her finger over John Mark's collarbone, working down to where his heart beat like a wild drum beneath the tips. She couldn't imagine what she'd done to work her way in so deeply inside the beating organ. She wasn't beautiful. She wasn't necessarily witty or overly intelligent. What, in the grand scheme of things, had she done to make him love her? He'd waited so long for her to get on board with his plan. Dreamed of her night after night while she wandered off to live the life she thought she wanted only to finally, at long last, find her way back home and into his waiting arms.