She made a wild, mewling sound, her hands flying out to her sides to suddenly grip whatever she could get hold of. Her fingers curled tightly around spines and tightly packed pages. Her whole body clenched violently, her hands jerking the books clean off the shelves. They slammed to the floor, dual bangs that marked the slip of first one finger, and then another, into wet, silky flesh. Isabella was filled with an unexpected, wild terror. No one had ever touched her in this manner.
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She made a wild, mewling sound, her hands flying out to her sides to suddenly grip whatever she could get hold of. Her fingers curled tightly around spines and tightly packed pages. Her whole body clenched violently, her hands jerking the books clean off the shelves.
They slammed to the floor, dual bangs that marked the slip of first one finger, and then another, into wet, silky flesh. Isabella was filled with an unexpected, wild terror. No one had ever touched her in this manner.
In fact, no one had ever done half of the things to her that Jacob had been doing. As she gasped hysterically for breath and looked down at her body in his embrace, she realized that her wanton reactions would have never given that particular fact away.
Feel what my touch can create in you. She knew without a doubt that he spoke the truth. If she just relaxed, he would show her everything—every last thing she had dreamed of, and even things she could never have imagined. As she hesitated, as she was lured by that temptation, Jacob slid a long, seeking finger into the sheath of her body. Bella gasped, the stuttering intake of sound reverberating loudly in the enormous library.
Jacob exhaled a heated curse in his own language, the word clearly meant as an intense, expressive compliment. She laughed at him breathlessly, without knowing why.
Probably because of the rise in sensation and frustration the intimate touch created. Jacob felt her shudder, marveled at how tight she felt around his finger, how her very insides quivered with delicious, eager little spasms.
He could pleasure her, just like this, make her completely mad with sensation and passion until she had no choice but to explode with it. Sweet Destiny, who would have thought she could be so responsive? Never had a woman fired so hotly under his touch. Never had a woman set him to burn as his little Bella was so easily able to do. She had her legs wrapped around both the man and the no-longer-hidden beast that were his make-up, and no one could ever have touched him that profoundly before.
He pressed his thumb against the swell of feminine flesh that he knew would fill her with sensation, rubbing in minute, slow circles, moving his touch with deft, compelling skill in a stroking mock of what he would soon be doing to her body for real. She moaned, writhing against him, her reactions making him burn hotter and harder for her until he thought he might explode under the erotic duress.
He wanted to rip free of the confines of his clothing, slide the throbbing and painful hardness of his aching sex against her… toying at that tight entrance for a moment before plunging himself deep into that taut, honeyed prison he was positive was meant to capture him and hold him forever.
He pushed his insistent finger a little deeper into her body, just a moment longer, wanting to be fully assured that she was ready for him… Resistance. Jacob went very, very still. Something extremely important was swimming on the outside of his awareness, but he was deeply consumed with his need for her, instincts created at the birth of the Earth chaining him to his course.
He broke out in a terrible sweat as she wriggled mindlessly against his frustratingly, abruptly still touch. So wet, and hot… and so tight. The realization hit Jacob like ice water. Suddenly, reality came washing back in on him.
All of it. He closed his eyes, groaning with agony as his body rebelled against his impulses to follow his sense of moral right. The beast in him argued that he had already gone too far, that he had broken all threads with honor the moment he had plotted to come to her without monitoring.
How had he missed this important truth all this time he had traveled as a shadow in her mind? Jacob realized he had not missed it. He had simply chosen to ignore the clues on a subconscious level because it would have interfered, as it was now doing, with his selfish desires. So now, he found himself in a position that tore him in two conflicting directions. If he did not leave her immediately, he would damage her badly, perhaps beyond all repair, as the risk of his darker nature taking over plagued him.
But on the other hand, leaving her would be damaging in another sense. It screamed at everything Jacob was to not leave her so tormented, so close to pleasure, but left with the pain of being unfulfilled. Jacob made a choice, slipping his touch out of her body, cringing at the agony of her confused protest.
Better this than the alternative. They had come far too close as it was. Isabella felt tears springing into her eyes, her face turning away from him as he slid her gently down onto her feet. His gentility only served to make her want to shatter even more. Her hands opened and closed on his shirtfront as she swallowed the rushing urge to sob out loud. He had come here, knowing he should not. He had once again fallen prey to her unintentional lure, disregarded the laws that he, above all others, was sworn to uphold.
Rage swirled through him. It was all he could do to speak. I beg you. Forgive me. The room shook with his departure, the floor shuddering and the shelves rocking slightly as a rumble roared through. The gaslights hanging from the ceiling swayed.
Isabella dropped to her knees, suddenly too weak to stand, too stunned to cry. With numb fingers, she redressed herself. She was half blind with anguish by the time the room settled.
She had no recourse for her feelings. She felt a horrific sense of deprivation and loss, an emotion she could only describe as grief. Logically, she knew why he had shut down, why he left without explanation.
It was self-explanatory. She was human. She was too weak to make love with him. She was considered a lesser being, like a clever pet, and a taboo resource for passion.
She reached up to rub the deeply sore mark he had branded her shoulder with. This mark had not been thoughtless. He had made it with purpose. She had felt every ounce of the intention that had gone into it. She wore the proof embedded in her skin.
However primitive an act it had been, it had been a symbol of commitment from him, and it had meant as much to her.
She reached up and angrily fisted tears from her cheeks, sniffling as she turned to look around. It was these laws and words surrounding her that had dictated he leave. This was the history of a race of elitists.
Snobs, part of her thought meanly. Their traditions were steeped in implacable beliefs, and the one she was facing, she believed, was a prejudice. Demons had a thing about purity. Those lesser creatures are ours to protect from ourselves, not to be violated in impure sexual abomination. This is the law. The dog does not lie with the cat; the cat does not lie with the mouse. Whosoever breaks this sacred trust must suffer under the hand of the law… She wanted to believe there was logic to this.
She was a logical person. But there was never logic in encompassing statements, especially those written thousands of years ago, which, as she understood it, this one had been. She had seen Saul. He was proof of the danger within every Demon, and she could accept that they were a volatile species in spite of their many efforts to be otherwise. Noah believed her to be unique, that she had a purpose in the future of Demon society.
At first, Isabella had gone along with the idea just so she could stay and find out everything she could about this world of beings living parallel to her own. She would have been content to die a pale old lady in this library. There was more than enough knowledge within it to keep her sated for an entire lifetime. But now… Now she was beginning to believe she truly did have a purpose for being there. Maybe she was meant to find a way to kick the supreme starch out of their shorts.
Something in this library could perhaps explain why every time Jacob barked, she purred. She laughed at herself weakly. She looked around herself and saw the books she had accidentally pulled down lying on the floor. She scooted over to them to gather them up.
She handled them gingerly, apologetically, sorry she had so mistreated them for so unrealized a moment. She dusted the front cover of one of them, reading the title. She shuddered, not liking the ominous title in the least.
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From far above, he watched with unwavering dark eyes as they walked down the shadowy street. The human male was so absorbed in his flirtation with his female, he would have no chance of protecting her from harm should they be surprised by a threat. What if he were to drop onto them from his current height? The debate of defense would be futile as well. A human versus one of his ilk?
Jacob (Nightwalkers #1)(16) by Jacquelyn Frank
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