isolt griffin

I'm more alive than I've ever been

He remained every bit the predator that he always was and that he always had been, only now was he in pursuit of prey that he could not attain. His hunger was for a taste he could not have... at least not in its entirety. Her body would bring him pleasure, this much was certain, and yet without the employ of his hands he would know only enough to taunt him. Only enough to curl a wanton finger towards him, to beckon him onwards when all the while he was forced to remain immobile. And in this she was every bit a predator as he.

Isolt's lithe frame writhed atop him, ensuring that he was afforded all of the best angles, all of the most splendid and titillating views, as her fingers continued to bunch within the silken strands of her gossamer auburn hair. She was merciless in her tempo and in the way she pinched her teeth into the cushion of her bottom lip, her efforts rewarded with a writhing thrust from her lover and a deep, basal growl to echo all of the pleasure that he felt and all that he could not have. She was unbothered by the splintering of her headboard for the time being, far more entralled by the erotic darkness in Damon's eyes as he gazed up at her. A darkness that she welcomed with ravenous vigor as, finally, she pulled him to her, her hunger to have his hands upon her every bit as virile as his own.

What she did not expect, however, was to be ousted from her perch atop him and forced unto her back once more, Damon moving as the practiced lover that he undoubtedly was to regain the control to which he had become accustomed. A simper threatened at the brims of her cherry lips only to dissipate completely with the harsh thrust of his hips against her own, Isolt's fire-crowned head pressing into the pillow as a ragged gasp of unadulterated pleasure peeled from her throat. His was the finest lovemaking, a perfect amalgamation of pleasure and pain, the ache she would feel later a peculiar and promised pleasure. She breathes her command to him, succombing to the caress of his tongue, his fingertips, and his fangs as a moth coaxed so willingly to the flame. Isolt nearly purrs her pleasure as his fangs find their place upon her flesh, the aroma of a her blood a deeply alluring thing. "Yes," she whispers softly to him as he draws his face nearer to hers; a tenderness that is there and gone almost in the same moment, her wrists suspended forcefully above her head in a near echo of what she had done to him only moments prior.

The vampire woman draws ever closer to the crest of the wave that would bring her to nirvana, azure eyes pressed to a close in her fervor to take from all of the pleasure that was his to give. And then... he halts. Her eyes snap open, her hands gliding effortlessly upwards to find their place against the austere line of his jaw. "I love you too," she whispers against his lips, placing a kiss upon his lips as if she may never again be given the chance to do so. A long moment do her eyes linger upon his, a relaxed simper tugging delicately at her features as his words meet her wanting ears. "No," she offers, "you are everything." It is then that he resumes his tempo, coaxing them both towards the freefall of absolute, unrivaled bliss. And she finds it, they find it, in a long moment of lascivious perfection. His name leaves her lips as a curse, a lament, a prayer, a slight groan of something very much akin to disappointment leaving her lips as he moves to recline beside her.

Isolt turns, giggling softly as she brushes away a few stray splinters of what remains of her headboard. "Now who's the impatient one, hmm?" It is a light-hearted tease, a kindly smile creasing her features as she presses her lips softly to his. "The wedding is only a week away... we don't have long to wait." She shifts then, snuggling herself into his chest, her forehead resting against his chin. "Stay with me tonight... please."