Le Petite Morte Ch 02

Donovan woke to the sound of horns blaring--New Orleans street music symphony--and the sun nearly blinding him because the curtains had been carelessly left open the night before. His arm swept out across the bed, meeting nothing but cooling sheets. He'd known, somehow, that she was gone before he'd fully dragged himself from sleep. The air was, for lack of a better word, missing something.

He found himself torn between disappointment and relief, with disappointment weighing in more heavily.

Tugging the sheets around him, he stumbled from the bed, managing to stub his toe on the bedside table, as he always did at least once a week. He was still cursing when he tripped into the bathroom and saw the flash of red across his mirror.

504-555-2964. Call.

Donovan didn't realize he was smiling until he started scrubbing his face in the shower.

* * * * *

"Do you always wear red?"

Katheleena turned, a sly smile spreading across her face as Donovan crossed Jackson Square from Decatur. "It makes a statement, doesn't it? Especially when one's about to enter a cathedral."

Donovan widened his eyes in surprise. "I'm not fully aware of the mass schedule, but I'm pretty sure there isn't one until much later this evening."

"You'd be correct. But fortunately for us both, I'm not interested in mass. Merely in lighting a candle and saying a prayer. I won't be long." Katheleena took a few steps forward before turning back to smile at him again. "You don't need to worry about me trying to convert you. You can sit at the back."

Donovan ambled along behind her, slightly uncomfortable. It had been more years than he'd care to recall since he'd stepped inside a church, and an equal amount of time since he'd been to confession himself. It wasn't that he didn't believe in God, as he told his mother every time she called to nag him--he just believed that his sins were a bit further down on the list of greater injustices being done.

Five minutes passed, then ten. Donovan began to wonder if she had simply ducked out of one of the other exits, playing some sort of practical joke on him, when he saw the flash of red making its way up the far left aisle. As she drew closer, Donovan caught the faint trail of tears on her cheeks. From the look of frost in her eyes, he decided it wasn't in his best interests to ask about them.

By the time she crossed the back of the cathedral to meet him as he stood, she was the artlessly confident woman who'd stalked into his place last night. Donovan waited a beat, then unable to overcome the manners his mother had beat into him, he asked, "Are you alright?"

Katheleena studied him for a moment, a tiny smile playing across her mouth. "It's such a shame that you seem to be a decent person. I'm unsure whether I'm going to enjoy breaking you or not." Tucking her arm into his, she turned them towards the double doors leading back out to the Square. "Don't worry, though. It'll be good for you either way."

Donovan laughed, a little uneasy, but more amused than anything. "I bet you say that to every guy."

"You'd be right. Come on, now, and let's get something to eat. Dealing with God always makes me ravenous."

* * * * *

"So you've no siblings then, no family at all?" Katheleena took a sip of red wine before setting the glass down gently on the white linen tablecloth. The candlelight brought out blue-black threads in the mass of hair curling and waving playfully around her shoulders, and made the creamy skin that rose from the red bodice of her dress golden. Donovan had to blink and run the question back through his head in order to get it to process.

"No, no brothers or sisters. My father died a few years ago, and my mother is living the crazy life of a senior citizen in Arizona." Donovan sliced his steak carefully, inhaling the aroma of rosemary and thyme wafting up from the tender hot meat. A small bite later confirmed the suspicion that it was actually much better than it looked and smelled. "Although if I could ever convince her that we have food like this here, she might switch to a retirement community in Metarie."

"It is delicious food. I hope you're not offended by the idea of me ordering not just dinner but dessert as well." Katheleena pushed her hair behind her shoulder, only to have it swing forward again when she laughingly shook her head. "Any restaurant worth a review has to have a fabulous cheesecake."

"There we are in agreement. So many varieties to choose from, it's almost painful." Donovan speared a baby new potato swimming in a garlic butter sauce, popping it into his mouth with relish. He stopped chewing when he saw the look in Katheleena's eyes.

"A little pain can be a good thing."

* * * * *

Her apartment was only four blocks away from the restaurant, what should have been a quick ten minute walk. It took closer to thirty, Donovan finding himself pushed into closed store entryways, and Katheleena attempting to crawl her way into his mouth. He didn't fight her, since he was more than enjoying the tricks her tongue was doing, but he found himself completely turned around, and absolutely unsure of where he was until they bumped into one last building front.

"We're here. I'm on the second floor, all the way at the end of the hall." Katheleena turned her head and tugged on his earlobe roughly with her teeth. "I've got no neighbors at the moment."

"Um. Okay." Donovan wasn't entirely sure what that meant for them until Katheleena steered him towards the stairs, backing them up them until he stumbled and went down. Her weight on him was slight, but given the angle, and the stair digging into his back, it was enough to make him grimace slightly. "Ahh, this is a little uncomfortable."

"No pain, no gain." Before Donovan could respond, she put her hands on his shirt and pulled hard, ripping the fabric and sending buttons bouncing on the stairs. When he stared at her with his mouth open, she threw her head back and laughed, a sound that made him think of voodoo priestesses and ancient rites. Pushing up to her knees on the stairs, straddling his lower body, she pulled her dress up and over her head, sending it flying past him onto the landing above them.

"Black lace. Nice to see that you do own a color besides red."

"Remind me to wear the navy blue. That'll wipe all thought out of your head completely, and there'll be no smart remarks from you. As for now..." Katheleena leaned down and brushed her lips over his slack ones, nipping on the lower one slightly. "Like I said, no pain, no gain."

And so it began. A nibble here. A nip there. A longer, harsher bite that throbbed there. Somewhere in the haze, the pain and pleasure mixed, and Donovan was no longer sure which was which. He was no longer sure that he cared.

When he felt her tug roughly on his pants, then her hot breath on his upper thighs, he had enough thought left to rasp out, "I don't think we really need any biting down there."

The air that whispered over his skin when she chuckled low had shivers running though his body, the kind that his father would have said came from a ghost walking on his grave. Her tongue traced random patterns on his thigh, the cool air hitting the warm wetness left by her tongue, making him involuntarily convulse.

"Oh, but there's so much more interesting things to do besides biting. Let me show you."

The first slow lick of her tongue around the head of his shaft had him arching his back and groaning. Not even the chuckle she emitted at his unmistakable eagerness could cause his pulse to slow. The second lick of her tongue drew him further into her mouth, the hot moistness of it, and he lifted his hands to tangle in her hair. A third pass of her tongue and he felt the head of his shaft bump against the back of her throat before sliding down smoothly.

"Oh, my God. Jesus." When she began to slide back, he reluctantly let go of her hair, his hands shaking. When she rolled her eyes up to him there was a distinctly devilish look in them. "I've never had anyone do that to me before."

"It's better for both of us if you just let go." Her eyes glowed more fiercely, and her husky voice seemed to ooze with sex to Donovan's addled brain. "No pain, no gain."

"I'm not really into...." Before Donovan could finish the statement that he wasn't really into rough sex, despite the previous night's demonstration, she sank her mouth all the way down his shaft until her nose rested on her pelvic bone. As if the tightness and sheer heat of her mouth wasn't enough, she hummed low in her throat, and sent his already precariously balanced senses reeling off the cliff.

His hands were brutally harsh in her hair, his thrusts short but deep. When he heard her gag slightly, his head fell back on a sound somewhere between a moan and a growl. It was only when she began to struggle that he let his hands fall back, gripping the edge of the stairs hard enough to bruise.

Instead of being angry, like he would have expected, she slid up his sweat covered chest, her tongue leaving a wet trail until she reached his lips. The kiss was harsh, fierce, brutal enough to have the blood in his lips rising to the surface, almost breaking through. Her words were raspy against his skin.

"Now for the gain."

A mere shift, and she was sinking down to the hilt, completely enveloping him. Her breath was ragged, almost a pant, as she rocked back and forth, the pain in the small of his back forgotten by the overwhelming sensation of being inside her. He knew already that he wouldn't last long; from the tremors and shudders racking her body, he had a feeling she wouldn't be that far behind him. Determined to be more than an instrument, to be more of a participant, he rose his hips up to meet her grinding rhythm.

Time and place fell away, and there was only her. Only the smell of her skin as it dewed and ran with sweat. Only the feel of her hair as it glided across her face. Only her.

When she moaned out his name and sank down and ground against him one last time, her face falling into the crook of his neck, her hot breath sending chills down his spine, he couldn't stop himself from thrusting into her a final time.

After a moment, he felt her whisper against his neck, "You are entirely too good to be true. I almost regret it."

Moving his face to look into hers, he asked, "Almost regret what?"

She smiled, somewhere between sleepy and sly. "Nothing. Not at the moment anyway."

"Well, let me know when you do regret something."

"Believe me, you'll know."