Sookie Stackhouse Boxed Set (Books 1-8) - Charlaine Harris [203]
JB lived close to downtown in half a duplex. He asked me very sweetly to come in, but I told him I had to get home. I gave him a big hug, and I advised him to call Dr. Sonntag. I still didn’t know her first name.
He said he would, but then, with JB, you couldn’t really tell.
Then I had to stop and get gas at the only late-night gas station, where I had a long conversation with Arlene’s cousin Derrick (who was brave enough to take the night shift), so I was a little later getting home than I had planned.
As I unlocked the front door, Bill came out of the darkness. Without a word, he grabbed my arm and turned me to him, and then he kissed me. In a minute we were pressed against the door with his body moving rhythmically against mine. I reached one hand behind myself to fumble with the lock, and the key finally turned. We stumbled into the house, and he turned me to face the couch. I gripped it with my hands and, just as I’d imagined, he pulled down my pants, and then he was in me.
I made a hoarse noise I’d never heard come from my throat before. Bill was making noises equally as primitive. I didn’t think I could form a word. His hands were under my sweater, and my bra was in two pieces. He was relentless. I almost collapsed after the first time I came. “No,” he growled when I was flagging, and he kept pounding. Then he increased the pace until I was almost sobbing, and then my sweater tore, and his teeth found my shoulder. He made a deep, awful sound, and then, after long seconds, it was over.
I was panting as if I’d run a mile, and he was shivering, too. Without bothering to refasten his clothing, he turned me around to face him, and he bent his head to my shoulder again to lick the little wound. When it had stopped bleeding and begun healing, he took off everything I had on, very slowly. He cleaned me below; he kissed me above.
“You smell like him” was the only thing he said. He proceeded to erase that smell and replace it with his own.
Then we were in the bedroom, and I had a moment to be glad I’d changed the sheets that morning before he bent his mouth to mine again.
If I’d had doubts up until then, I had them no longer. He was not sleeping with Portia Bellefleur. I didn’t know what he was up to, but he did not have a true relationship with her. He slid his arms underneath me and held me to him as tightly as possible; he nuzzled my neck, kneaded my hips, ran his fingers down my thighs, and kissed the backs of my knees. He bathed in me. “Spread your legs for me, Sookie,” he whispered, in his cold dark voice, and I did. He was ready again, and he was rough with it, as if he were trying to prove something.
“Be sweet,” I said, the first time I had spoken.
“I can’t. It’s been too long, next time I’ll be sweet, I swear,” he said, running his tongue down the line of my jaw. His fangs grazed my neck. Fangs, tongue, mouth, fingers, manhood; it was like being made love to by the Tasmanian Devil. He was everywhere, and everywhere in a hurry.
When he collapsed on top of me, I was exhausted. He shifted to lie by my side, one leg draped over mine, one arm across my chest. He might as well have gotten out a branding iron and had done with it, but it wouldn’t have been as much fun for me.
“Are you okay?” he mumbled.
“Except for having run into a brick wall a few times,” I said indistinctly.
We both drifted off to sleep for a little, though Bill woke first, as he always did at night. “Sookie,” he said quietly. “Darling. Wake up.”
“Oo,” I said, slowly coming to consciousness. For the first time in weeks, I woke with the hazy conviction that all was right with the world. With slow dismay, I realized that things were far from right. I opened my eyes. Bill’s were right above me.
“We have