Dawn Unleashed

Maggie's feet were miles off the ground. This wasn't their first kiss or their last. But, this kiss perhaps, was the most important. It was the first time they'd kissed with both of them realizing and admitting, not so much with word spoken or promise whispered, that they were in love.

Around them couples bobbed and weaved to pounding rock music. Cole and Maggie clung to one another, moving slowly to a beat that only they could hear in the pounding of their hearts. The prom proceeded. The king and queen crowned. The last of the punch and cookies consumed. Still they danced, wrapped in each other's arms. Oblivious as couples began to filter out of the gym and the band played one last slow dance. It didn't matter what song they played. Maggie and Cole were too wrapped up in each other to notice the words or the rhythm. Whatever song the band played, it was their song.

Chapter 121

It was late by the time Cole walked Maggie up the stairs to her apartment. The neighborhood was a hush of darkened windows and doors locked for the night. He waited patiently while she fumbled with the key in the lock and opened the door. With a smile, she beckoned him inside. Her body gave clues that he needed no insight to read. The sway of her hips, the pert erectness of her nipples pressed against the sheer fabric of her dress, the way she nervously licked her lips and her eyes darted to him and then dashed away were all hints of what she wanted.

He was unsure. There was still too much he didn't know about this splendid new body of his and what it could do. Around her, he was careful, as careful with her as if she were made from spun glass and so very fragile. She'd already given him the greatest gift of all, more than he ever expected or deserved, her love. Anything above or beyond that was a bonus. Her palm rested against his chest, teetering on her tiptoes in her sliver heels, she moved to kiss him. "Maggie, I should tuck you in and let you get some rest."

Maggie lowered her weight onto her heels. Cole was trying to play the good guy and he was probably right. He should go. She didn't want him to. But, everything was so new to them both. The strength of the bond between them and the realization that they were in love, all so new and something neither one of them had counted on.

She was a woman, new to womanhood, but still a woman, with a woman's needs and heady desires. The attraction had been building and building between them for months. Ever since she'd first laid eyes on him writhing in his birth on the snow, that bitterly cold night, she knew it then, she was destined to love him. Maggie had never tried to seduce a guy before. All she knew about the fine art of seduction was what she'd read in romance books and seen on TV. The mystery had yet to be revealed in full and she was just a novice at the game.

With a sigh, she slid her hair free of the many pins that held it bound and shook the strands free to fall in soft waves around the tops of her shoulders. "You're right," she said. Perched on the barstool, exposing a good length of leg to unbuckle first one high- heeled shoe, kicking it free of her foot to land on the floor, and then the other. "I should go to bed."

Cole almost fell to his knees and begged for mercy, watching Maggie slowly unroll one thigh high stocking down the shapely length of her leg and then the other. He'd always been the pursuer and never the pursuee. He wanted to run away with his cock tucked between his legs like a dog tucks its tail. Before, his couplings required no real skill, no finesse. They were awkward, sweaty, clumsy attempts with one goal in mind. Get off and get the hell out, get rid of the girl and any baggage as quickly as possible. With Maggie, he wanted to take his time, explore, hear her sigh his name, watch her as she came, kiss her over and over while he learned every secret her body had to reveal.

He stifled a whimper at the sound of Maggie's zipper whispering open. She had her back to him. But, the sight of the long line of flesh exposed by the parted back of the dress was the final straw. The lacy band of her underwear peeked out around the folds of the dress. The strapless bra he could have off in a matter of seconds. The panties would rip like paper in his hands. He could touch her skin, all of it. Revel in its softness and warmth, its pliability beneath his fingers. "God, Maggie."

Maggie looked over her shoulder all too innocently at Cole. He stood rigid, his feet planted in place by sheer force of his will. By the expression on his face and the tenting of his snug slacks, his resolve was beginning to falter. She felt something in regards to men, especially this one, that she'd never felt before. Power. "What? You've seen me mostly naked before."

"This is different," Cole gritted. A groan crept out of his throat as she stood in the narrow space just inside of her bedroom door and stepped out of the dress. Clad in just her bra and panties, she stretched, bent to pick up the silky layers of fabric and took her time to place the dress on its satin hanger. She moved out of his view and he heard the opening of a drawer and the rustle of cloth. He was on the move. He had no control of his feet. Each step took him closer to the bedroom, closer to danger, closer to Maggie and her luscious body, to the source of his frustration.

Maggie couldn't stifle her grin of triumph. She kept her back to the door, unhooking her bra. Cole's footsteps moved closer to her bedroom door. The lights were out, but he didn't require much light to see. She knew he'd see every naked inch of her as if she were in broad daylight. Her heart pounded wildly in her chest. She'd never been so brave and so sure of what she wanted. The bra was a crumpled, satiny heap in her sweaty palms. Cole made it to the doorway, watching with eyes ablaze. Casually, unhurried, although on the inside she was trembling, she placed the bra on her dresser.

"How so? Its just skin," Maggie asked. In the same unhurried manner, she smoothed her hands over her hips and wiggled free of the lacy underwear. Exposed and completely naked, totally visible to Cole in his almost flawless night vision, she nudged her panties across the floor and climbed on the bed. Pretending that she was completely oblivious to his plight, she faked a yawn and arranged the pillows.

"It's your skin, Maggie," Cole ground out. He was hard and stiff, chafing against the snug dress pants. His hands wrapped around the bedpost, as if his grip was enough to hold his body in place. Feet, a matter of a few feet was all that separated him from the lush paradise so willingly being offered for the taking. The tux was uncomfortably hot. The bow tie was strangling him. The stiff white shirt itched and rubbed him miserably. The weaponry strapped to his calves pulled at the hairs on his legs. His pants, the tightness of them against his throbbing erection, were torture. "I can't. You're too young."

Maggie blinked at Cole in disbelief. Too young? Who was he kidding? Did he really still see her as a high school girl with nothing more than a crush? Was he afraid she'd wake up in the morning and cry foul? "Cole, I'm eighteen, almost nineteen. I'm old enough to vote. By right and law, I'm an adult. I think I'm old enough to know what I want and what I don't."

"What about your future? College?" Cole couldn't argue her logic. She was an adult as was he when he made his decision to enter the Sons. She was offering him one of what was sure to be the most memorable experiences of his life and he was turning it down. He hated, sometimes, the new turn of his conscience.

"My future isn't going anywhere," Maggie said. She sank down in the pillows, stretched out as if she didn't have a care in the world. Cole was so close. She sensed his arousal and his want for her. He wanted this, badly. He was holding out, trying to be the good guy. She respected that. But, he wasn't getting away without a fight.

"You don't understand. I could hurt you. I could bite you, drink from you while were...,"

"Making love," Maggie filled the long, stuttering pause for him.

"Yeah, that. Do you know what that means? We'd be bonded, irrevocably bonded by an accident. I want you to have your future."

Maggie rose to her knees on the bed and crawled across the old comforter to Cole. "I will have a future, no matter what. Nothing is going to change that. I'm still going to college. But, none of it, not even my future means anything if you're not part of it. I know it's a risk. I trust you. Now is not the time for us to be bonded for life, I realize that too. Maybe someday, we'll both be ready. I just want to share this with you. Today. Tomorrow. Maybe forever. I'm not ready to pick out china patterns. But, I am ready for this and for you. Trust me, Cole. Trust me to know what I want, to decide what is right for me, and when it's the right time for me. I love you."

Maggie's hands were light, the brush of feathers over his shoulders. Her fingers wrapped around the lapels of his jacket and eased them over the bulk of his arms. The sweetness and heat of her breath played with the ends of his hair across his neck. His breathing picked up its pace as she helped him release the bow tie and unfasten the buttons of his shirt. "Maggie, its me I don't trust, not you. I don't want to hurt you. You make it sound so easy. It's not. Keeping my fangs out of your neck is a constant struggle. You don't understand. I want your blood every bit as badly as I want your body."

"Shhhh, I know you can do this. Keene and Lori, before he made her a vampire, they were able to make love. He didn't hurt her. You won't hurt me." She had a little trouble coaxing the cufflinks free from the shirt. Undressing a man was unfamiliar to her. Undressing him from behind, backwards, was something she'd never done before. Carefully, not to wrinkle the shirt, she moved to hang it from one of the four posts of her bed frame.

"Keene is over a century old. He's had a lot more practice than I have," Cole countered. He was barely capable of speech. Maggie's tongue traced over the tattoos on his back, working him into a frenzy with its slick warmth against his skin. Her crafty fingers loosened the buckle to the holster strapped across his hip and placed the gun on the bedside table. Next, they walked their way down his abdomen to the belt around his hips.

Maggie worked Cole's belt buckle free. His breaths were a series of labored pants as she moved to the button on his trousers. He was hard as stone, his bulky erection straining against the taught fabric and snug waistband of his slacks. "I'll take it easy on you," she whispered, freeing the length of him with a smooth jerk of her fingers. His moan at just the gentle brush of a fingertip against the down of his groin filled her with a surge of feminine pride and confidence. Seductress, she was not, but she seemed to be doing quite well at holding her own.

"I want this. I really want this. I want you." Cole knew he was babbling, hardly making any sense. His voice was a groan. His sentences were little more than the muttered utterances of a caveman. Her hands offered paradise. Her touch was heaven's gate. Her soft lips the brush of angel's wings on his mouth. His fangs throbbed for her flesh with the urgency that his erection throbbed to burry itself in the sweet juncture of her thighs. He was afraid. Terrified for her. He could slake all his needs on the offering of her body. But, what would that leave her with? What future could he offer her then?

Maggie felt Cole's mouth stiffen beneath her lips. He was thinking again. Worrying about her and the threat of what his body was capable of. "Touch me, Cole." His hand was trembling beneath her fingers. His skin cool against as it brushed against the softness of her breast.

Gently, as carefully as if she'd break at the slightest touch, Cole brushed his fingers over Maggie's erect nipples. She arched her back in response, a reward he didn't deserve for such a timid touch. They were still sitting on the edge of the bed. Dancing a shy, gingerly dance. His pants were around his ankles, tangled in the calf holsters and weapons. He would not cheapen the sanctity of her trust by pumping into her like a beast, armed with weapons of destruction strapped to his body. Not that he needed them, his fangs, his hands, his very body itself was deadly enough. "Maggie, it's not too late to change your mind."

Maggie smiled shyly at Cole and eased back on the bed. She watched the harmony in which each muscle moved in perfect synchronicity with the other at the simplest motions. He bent and unbuckled the calf holsters strapped to his legs. Weapons she hadn't realized he was carrying. He dropped them into a heap on the floor with his pants and shoes. It was too late to change her mind the minute she first laid eyes on him. "I'm not going to change my mind."

Cole moved over her. She was soft as a breath beneath him. He took his time, feeling, touching, tasting, and roaming over her body with his tongue and hands. She responded in ways he could not even have begun to imagine. Every stroke drew a heated sigh from her lips. Every gentle lap of his tongue extracted a sharp intake of breath and quivering of flesh. Maggie ground against him, writhing and lifting her hips, her body the instructor and he the apt pupil in the art of pleasure. Nothing had ever been more fulfilling than the sound of his name, the whisper of her voice saying it in the throws of orgasm.

Maggie stared up at Cole. He was trying so hard to hold back, restrict the pleasure from himself to keep her safe. She wasn't worried. He was gentle as a lamb with her, ever patient and ever giving in his love for her. He wouldn't hurt her. Knowing he was enjoying himself, but not as much as he could be hurt her far worse. She'd never felt such powerful sensations as the ones he invoked within her. Passion was a powerful drug, heady and dizzying in its effects on her body. She wanted him where she was, confused, weak, and starving for just one more taste of paradise.

She had no idea exactly what to do with him when she finally coaxed him onto his back and hovered above him. Luckily, nature was on her side and the force of her own orgasms had made her brave and definitively less shy and intimidated by the wonder of his body. Her teeth couldn't break his skin. There was no danger from his blood in her playful nips along the sharp plane of his hipbones. His penis was a proud thing made of flesh and blood. It stood, jutting out from a nest of fine, dark hair, at full attention, hard and full, almost bursting in its firmness. Maggie licked her lips, marveling at the wonder of him, and placed a kiss on its head.

Cole gripped the sheets and writhed. Maggie's breath was hot against the sensitive flesh. Her mouth was a paradise that was never to be paralleled in its excellence, descending down his shaft. He was going to lose it before they ever got started. His groin was tight, agonizingly so, tingling and throbbing with the weight of his release. So close. Too close. He wanted this to be good for her, for the both of them. "Maggie, please."

The sheets were cool, a wrinkled mess beneath her back. Cole's weight was welcome and warm above her. The hard press of his erection was so close to her entrance. One push and they'd be joined. She wanted him, in her own right, in the storm caused by his touch. She also felt the urgency of his desire, pulsing through her very being, brought to fury by her caresses. His mouth sealed over hers, tongue urgently searching her out in hurried thrusts and eager laps.

Cole adjusted his hips and pushed, barely breaching her, so slowly, advancing carefully, gently as he could, into her tight depths. Maggie bucked against him. She felt her flesh give, stretch to accommodate his size in the most wonderfully, fleeting pain of first pleasure. Her breath was a series of gasps and moans. Nails grazed the skin on his back, not to stop, but to spur him on.

Cole was losing the battle of gentleness and carefulness to his pleasure. She felt good, her walls slick with want and so very tight. She was soft and warm, a mound of flesh to be gently teased and coaxed along. The scrape of her tiny, sharp claws along his skin almost undid him. Her moans were the music to which he timed the rhythm of his thrusts. Her pulse his metronome. When her cries sped and reached a fevered pitch, he pushed deeper and faster occasionally slowing with shallow, brief thrusts to delay the moment of his release.

She was important to him. Her pleasure his main priority. In so many ways he was the virgin, the inexperienced fledgling. He knew release, knew the rush from pumping to completion in a willing piece of flesh. But, he'd never deliberately delayed his satisfaction for another. Before, the moment was all about him and his needs. No more. Nothing had ever been as rewarding, so much more fulfilling as hearing her voice sigh his name, relishing in the grip of her walls around him as he delivered her to orgasm.

His fangs ached for the taste of her blood. His body rigid, taught for release, begging for it. When a second wave drew Maggie under its wake, he shuddered, gave in to the swell and power of it and filled her with the very essence of his being. One need sated, the other desire roared like lion, hungered by the scent of prey so close, so willing, ripe for the taking. His body slack, fulfilled beyond measure, he withdrew and begged, pled, and prayed, with Maggie clutched in his arms, for the predator panting for fresh blood to find contentment in his humble offering of pleasure.

Maggie was wonderfully relaxed, pleasured beyond anything she'd ever dreamed of. Her lids were heavy, her mind floating, fighting the heavy pull of drowsiness. Cole stroked her neck, his fingers playing over the indigo curves of her tattoo. She sensed his need, a hunger that had nothing to do with physical pleasure and everything to do with her blood. Her deepest desire was to tilt her head and let him feed on her blood as he'd fed on her body. This battle was important to Cole, critical for him to win. Her arms locked around him, fingers wound in his hair, stroking, calming him, as he waged his secret war with his beast.

Cole exhaled a relieved breath. Maggie's touch was magic, soothing and calming the mindless beast till it purred like a contented kitten. The desire to drink from her was still present, as it always was. But, he'd won the battle and vanquished his darkest foe. The war would never be over. It would be fought over and over again, ceaseless. The best he could ever hope for was a series of skirmishes, bits of the landscape of his mind conquered piece by piece. Sleepy and warm in her arms, he drifted off. Lulled to slumber by the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest and the sweetness of her breath, washing over his skin in sultry breezes.

Maggie drifted off, tangled in the sheets, limbs intertwined with Cole's in a knot of flesh and bone. There was no need to mumble words thick with sleep. No need to say what they both knew. I love you was a tawdry phrase without meaning when it was so real, so cherished and so shared, by the both of them so completely.

Chapter 122

The abrupt jarring of her mattress woke Maggie from a sound, deep, very satisfying sleep. Cole's voice was a sharp whisper of curses under his breath. His clothes rustled as he hurriedly pulled them on. "Damn it," he swore, fumbling awkwardly with the leather straps of his holster. He clumsily rushed in movements so fast she couldn't focus her sleep bleary eyes on them, tugged at his shoes. "Shit," he grumbled.

Maggie sat up, tucking the sheets across her naked skin. "Cole, what is it?" She was sore in all the right places. Evidence of her night spent with him had her aching and tender. He hadn't hurt her, not at all. In fact, she'd enjoyed every second of being with him. He rushed around the room, eyes darting from corner to corner, looking for anything he might have left behind in such a rush. Was he so ready to get rid of her and forget their first night together? Was there another emergency so soon that demanded his attention? Were they in danger already? "What?" she exclaimed, almost dreading his answer.