"Your wound" Rosaline murmured desperately against the heat of his lips. "We need to ... we really should ..."
He only pressed harder against her, his mouth attacking the tender flesh of her neck, tasting her skin, devouring her aroma, shaking her body with sensations and need that threatened to overwhelm her young, inexperienced mind after all the excitement of the night.
She shivered against him, clinging to his arm, overcome by the need to feel him close, feel his warmth and desire mingle with hers until there was nothing left but a single burning entity of lust, uniting them, combining their passion into something different, something new, an alien feeling of belonging neither of them had ever experienced before.
"Please ... please, "she whimpered against his lips again, not even sure anymore what she was asking for.
He kicked the door of her small studio apartment shut behind them, pushing her forward in the darkness, right up against the wall. Her scent and heat had him intoxicated with desire, her innocent pleas a heady aphrodisiac for his masculine pride.
So responsive, so wanton, so confused. He could taste it all on her breath. All because of him. The idea sent a shiver through his body, his roaming hands tightening around the gentle curve of her hips as he pressed into her, the warm, humid juncture of her thighs welcoming his rigid heat in its soft niche with a womanly caress.
Rosaline's eyes popped open in the darkness as she felt his stiffness against her thigh, pressing forward, unrelenting, right under the gentle curve of her jean-clad mound. Even through the layers of clothing she could feel him, hot, pulsing, twitching, slowly pealing her body open for his delight, sending her into a frenzy of sweet agony. She twisted her hips, pushed at his shoulder, wanting, needing something desperately, something just beyond her reach, her pretty pleas a welcome music in his ears, urging him on, driving his rigid bulge against her softness, again and again.
The light came on suddenly and Rosaline found herself thrown aside with the same fierce vehemence the stranger had attempted to conquer her lips with only moments ago. He stumbled backwards as well, overcome by a sudden and unexpected bout of nausea.
"Not like this ... it shouldn't be like this," he murmured under his breath looking a little lost himself for the first time.
"What? ... I ..." The moan of protest died on her swollen lips when her passion hazed eyes opened to catch a glimpse of his ashen face. With regret and disappointment weaving their spell around her heart Rosaline had to take a few deep breaths to clear her mind enough to compose a coherent thought.
"It's alright. Nothing bad happened." She tried to reassure him probably just as much as herself.
His nod seemed automatic, his thoughts obviously far away. The wall behind Rosaline's back started to feel suddenly very cold along with the light of the switch she should most likely feel pressing into her shoulder for quite some time. Wrapping her arms around herself protectively she stared into his blank face for long moments.
The spell of the moment had been broken, leaving both of the feeling bereft and confused.
"We better have a closer look at your injury," Rosaline concluded finally, trying desperately to steady her voice.
He watched her lips part slightly and move, nodding his mute consent once again without much of a coherent thought. Those well-kissed, pleasantly puffy lips sent a surge of male pride through his wary heart. She had looked so utterly perfect right there, up against the wall. A heady mixture of innocence and desire that still had his loins throbbing passionately for all what his instincts told him this delightful little creature could provide. Warmth, softness, excruciating longing, acceptance and a silent promise of belonging that seemed to elude him for as long as he could remember.
Why then? Why did he push her away when all of his dreams felt almost painfully near?
But then again, none of his dreams were perfect, he reasoned. Even in his tormented nights, when sleep would finally claim him after long hours of struggle, even when he felt that painful longing tugging at his heart, calling out to him from afar, uncertainty made him pause, made him doubt the inner voices he had grown so reluctant to follow.
Nothing was perfect in this life, especially not his wild dreams.
He fiercely hoped though that he had not hurt her, fragile little thing she looked for sure, especially compared to his tall frame. His body was hard, tendons straining against sun tanned skin, muscles built for fighting and survival, to conquer and overcome by the most ancient law of nature, sheer force alone.
As he watched her shrug out of the light jacket and move about the small studio apartment he couldn't help but feel drawn to her anew. Her movements, quick and effective, reminded him of a frightened little rabbit, her lithe grace of a majestic deer, posing and enticing its hunter, practically inviting him for a chase. And then there were her eyes. Warm, uncertain, giving, in such sharp contrast to his own vibrant stare that kept following her around, no shuddery breath of nerves, no shaky fingers escaping his attention.
She was growing afraid of him again.
Now that the fog of desire was slowly clearing from her mind, her human instincts and natural fears were surfacing once more. She was alone after all. She had invited a stranger she had barely met into her home and now they were alone. In her apartment, in her own little sanctuary, in the middle of the night.
His nostrils flared as he finally took the seat indicated at the small kitchen table, the heady aroma of her fear drifting to him once again.
"It is not my first time in case that helps," she offered with the barest hint of a playful smile.
She had noticed him eying the bowl of lukewarm water and the first aid kit she was about to open suspiciously. Meeting someone with nosophobic tendencies was not much of a news for her though and she was determined to ignore her second thoughts and focus on putting his mind at ease instead.
He was not there to hurt her. He was the man who came to her rescue when she was in danger, Rosaline reasoned. If he had wanted to harm her he could have done so in the park.
"You mean you have a history of inviting complete strangers to your place?"
She glanced up from the bandage she was about to unwrap with surprise at his words and teasing tone as delicious pink flowers started to bloom in her cheeks. He licked his dry lips absentmindedly, wishing again for the sweet taste of her lips under his own, longing to feel of the heat against his scruffy face that had her cheeks illuminated so enticingly.
"No, that was not what I meant!" Rosaline replied, cursing her fair complexion once again.
His smile was utterly disarming and self satisfactory enough to make her lose her train of thought.
"No?"
"No."
He leaned in close. Their faces separated only by inches, his voice a husky whisper against her trembling bottom lip.
"Did you mean perhaps, that you don't make it a habit to succumb to strange men in the darkness of a deserted park? For some, it might seem like an invitation you know, a pretty girl like you, all on her own ... looking so very frightened. Or is it perhaps just an act? Is she parading around? Looking for a cheap thrill, a bit of adventure? Perhaps looking to be kissed thoroughly, to be claimed and taken, hard and roughly, to have her feminine charms enjoyed and toyed with by whomever shall be man enough to handle her for the night."
The cotton swab dabbed in alcohol pressed into the side of his face with a biting sting in reply.
"I meant, I shall be certainly nurse enough to handle you for the night," Rosaline's stated brushing the swab across the side of his face and clearing the wound with limited gentleness.