The Bite Before Christmas Page 15

  Slipping his arms behind her back, he raised her up into a near-sitting position, leaning back on his own heels while he licked and nipped and fed at her beautiful breasts. He tongued the raspberry tips, her moan of pleasure the most powerful of aphrodisiacs, making his cock burn and grow and leap with hunger.

  Her sharp nails scored his back, urging him on, and he could smell her arousal, thick and earthy like bright green moss. It wouldn’t take much to push her over the edge. Thank God, because he didn’t know how long he could hold back himself.

  Tangling his fingers in her silky red hair, he tugged her head back, forcing her to meet his gaze. Her lashes fluttered over glazed hazel eyes.

  “I want to take you, fuck you, hard and fast,” he told her. “Are you game?”

  Her head moved on her neck like she was trying to nod, but her muscles wouldn’t work properly. Her mouth opened, the tip of her tongue darting out to lick her delectable pink lips.

  “Please,” she said, and it was all the encouragement he needed.

  Lifting her like a rag doll, he draped her against his chest. “This whole vampire thing…I means no diseases, right? No need for safe sex?” Though why he felt the need to ask now, when it hadn’t occurred to him the first time they’d made love, he had no idea.

  Still resting limply against him, she managed a short nod. “The only danger is in the biting…or taking too much blood. Especially if you’re with a human.”

  His penis gave a jerk of agreement as he pictured doing just that—burying his fangs in her throat, tasting the sweet metallic tang of her blood.

  Christ. He hadn’t wanted to believe all of her crazy creatures-of-the-night mumbo jumbo, but his sexual fantasies had never before included the idea of bloodletting; he was pretty sure the thought would have made him almost physically ill.

  Now, though, he couldn’t stop the projector reel of images playing through his head or the white-hot arousal sizzling through every cell of his body, collecting in his testicles and the tip of his stick.

  “You wouldn’t mind that?” he asked, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice and his sweating to a minimum. “If I bit you?”

  He felt the shiver run through her, and he didn’t think it was from apprehension.

  Her hair bounced as she shook her head. “It’s better if you do. And if I bite you back.”

  It was a miracle, a certified, verified, Pope’s seal of approval miracle he didn’t come right then and there. A sound worked its way up his throat…he feared it might have been a whimper and he quickly swallowed, turning it into a feral growl.

  Pulling her up, he gripped the thick root of his cock and aimed the tip at her slick, swollen core. He could feel her wet heat even before they touched, and once they did, it overwhelmed him. Sensation swamped him, making his lungs hitch and his ears ring as he sank in inch by slow inch.

  “Yes,” Vivian gasped, clutching at him with both her hands and the tight walls of her sheath. “God, that’s so good. More, please, fill me.”

  Good didn’t quite cover it. Not in his book. There wasn’t a word in the English language—or any other, he’d be willing to bet—that could accurately describe how it felt to have her in his arms and in his lap, to be drowning in ecstasy.

  With one final thrust, he did as she’d asked—he filled her. She gave a startled gasp before wiggling slightly and seating herself just right on his raging erection. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders and her legs at the small of his back, she offered him a small, contented smile.

  “Remember, hard and fast. You promised.”

  It couldn’t get much harder. And as for fast…well, he was about to go off like a rocket just from being buried to the hilt inside her, so he wasn’t sure he had much choice there, either.

  Gripping her waist, he held her in place and shifted so that he was lying flat on the mattress, stretched out beneath her. This way, she could control the speed and friction—or have a bit more say in it, anyway—and he stood a chance of holding on for more than five short seconds.

  “Ride me,” he ordered through gritted teeth.

  And she did. Bracing her hands on his chest, and her knees along his hips, she slowly brought herself up…then down. Up…then down.

  His vision blurred, and he honest to God thought he might pass out. But…

  “What happened to fast?” he wanted to know, the words coming out in short, puffing breaths while his fingers dug into the plump flesh of her hips.

  “I like this better,” she said, still performing that excruciatingly slow up-and-down slide that made his vertebrae quiver like dice in a cup. Her eyes were closed.

  Her teeth—fangs included—bit down on her bottom lip. And her breasts…Oh, man, her breasts were like cherry-topped sundaes, begging him to dive in and devour them in one delicious bite.

  Leaning up, he closed his mouth over one straining nipple and puckered areola, suckling gently before letting his fangs…Christ, did he really have fangs?…score the pillowy mound. She gasped and her inner muscles flexed around him. He groaned in response.

  So maybe she really did like biting. God knew it was a gigantic freaking turn-on for him.

  Suddenly, though, the long, slow slide thing wasn’t doing it for him. Too much more of that—and the rhythmic squeeze of her silken folds around his over-sensitized dick—and he wouldn’t get the chance to blink, let alone break in his fancy new razor-sharp incisors.

  Sucking in a breath, he let her rise up off his cock again (disco ball lights flashing behind his eyes), but held her there before she could drop back down.

  “Turn around,” he ordered.

  Her lashes fluttered open and she stared at him, confusion in her glossy hazel eyes. “What?”

  As loathe as he was to lose the hot clasp of her embrace, he moved her back a few inches, pulling out completely. She whimpered in disappointment, and he clenched his teeth to keep from groaning aloud. But the separation wouldn’t last long, if he had anything to say about it.

  Kissing her briefly, hard on the lips, he told her again, “Turn around.”

  This time, she did as he asked, twisting around on her knees to face the other direction. He moved up behind her, pressing her back to his chest, his rigid cock against the curve of her buttocks, wrapping his arms around her to crisscross at her waist and cup her generous breasts.

  He nuzzled her hair away from her throat, inhaling its bottled ginger-grapefruit scent. Kissing the pulse point just beneath her ear, he whispered, “Lean forward. Hold on to the headboard.”

  It took her a moment to comply—whether from apprehension or the thick fog of arousal, he didn’t know—but then she did as he asked. The beautiful slope of her back bowed forward, her hair spilling around her face like a thick copper curtain.

  Her long, manicured fingers reached out to wrap around the upper curve of the wooden headboard. And her ass…God, her ass made everything in him ache—fangs, cock, and heart. He pressed into her, just slightly, just to feel those soft globes against his penis, and lower, against his scrotum.

  Running the flat of his hand down the long line of her spine, he felt her shiver…and felt that shiver leap under his own skin.

  “You wanted hard and fast,” he murmured, bending over her, continuing to lick and suck at her throat and the taut muscle running from neck to shoulder. “And I’m going to give it to you.”

  TYPE A-NEGATIVE

  He was as good as his word.

  Parting her cheeks and folds with his hard, hot penis, he drove back into her, filling her all at once and knocking her forward with a gasp. She screwed her eyes shut, nails digging into the smooth wood of the headboard while she tried to school her breathing and keep her body from flying apart in complete and total ecstasy.

  There was no tender stroking this time, no sweet foreplay or easing into motion. Instead, he covered her hands with his own, his warm, sweat-slick skin pressing against her arms, her back, her buttocks. Everywhere she was yielding, he was firm, his
flat planes molding to her feminine curves.

  Without warning, he pulled his hips back and pumped forward, hard and fast, just as he’d promised. Her mouth dropped open in surprise, but no sound came out; she wasn’t sure there was a drop of air left in her lungs.

  Again and again, he drove into her. Harder, faster. Harder, faster. The room filled with the musky scent of wild, amazing sex; the sound of skin slapping against skin and their low, desperate moans and pants.

  She threw her head back, moving with him, meeting his quick, powerful thrusts because she couldn’t not move. Her teeth—regular and pointy—cut into her bottom lip as she tried to hold back her cries.

  Not missing a beat in the pounding rhythm of his hips, Sean slid his hands down her arms, over her shoulders, and around to her breasts. Squeezing them, plumping them, tweaking the already puckered, sensitive nipples. She whimpered and felt a spasm of pleasure rip through her.

  Oh, she was close. So close. Just a little more. Please.

  “Please.” The word tumbled past her lips without conscious thought. But once it was out, she couldn’t seem to stop herself from begging, pleading. “Please, Sean. I’m so close. Finish me off, please.”

  “God, baby. Me, too.”

  One big, rough palm left her breast and trailed its way past her ribs, her stomach, into the thin nest of tight curls at the center of her thighs. His fingers slid unerringly between her slick folds, finding her swollen bud of desire.

  He flicked it, and shockwaves rolled through her. She yipped, actually yipped like a puppy with its tail caught in a door.

  Sean’s warm, staccato breaths dusted her face as he whispered in her ear. “Now, Viv. Come now.”

  And then his teeth sank into her neck, piercing her jugular in a sharp, sweet tear of flesh. Her blood raced, pouring from her throat and into his mouth. But rather than hurting, it was the most exquisite pleasure she’d ever experienced.

  Sensations rocked her, bringing her to orgasm in the blink of an eye. An incredible, wonderful, coma-inducing orgasm that blew the top off her head and had her screaming in delight.

  Sean continued rubbing her clit, banging into her from behind again and again. And then, with a loud shout of completion, he stiffened, spilling inside her as he came.

  “Is it always like that?” Sean asked sometime later, his voice a raw, scratchy whisper.

  Her head was on his shoulder, her hair fashioned in the style of banshee-chic, she was sure. The covers were twisted and scattered around them, one corner of a pale peach sheet pulled up to cover…well, most of their sweet spots, anyway, leaving a lot of flesh bare to the cool night air.

  Another resident of her apartment complex was apparently in the holiday spirit, playing Christmas music nonstop. At the moment, it was one of her personal favorites, Eartha Kitt’s “Santa Baby.”

  Stretching slightly, she rubbed the arch of her foot up and down the rough length of his calf. “Like what?” she asked.

  “Just…incredible,” he admitted after a second. “Everything was brighter, sharper, more intense. I’ve never had sex like that in my life. Is that you, or this…vampire thing, or is it just some crazy fluke?”

  “I don’t know,” she answered honestly.

  She would have liked to lay claim to whatever “incredible” experience he’d had, to tell him she was the sole reason his eyes had rolled back in his head and his toes had curled when he’d climaxed. It was all her, and he would never feel that way again, ever, with any other woman.

  Oh, yes, she would have loved to tell him as much. But she couldn’t, because she didn’t know if it was true or not.

  “And the biting,” he continued when she couldn’t offer more.

  His fingers came up to brush her throat. She barely felt the injury anymore, but was sure the puncture marks were still there, probably a bit ragged around the edges and beginning to bruise.

  He’d really gone at her, biting harder and drinking longer than most partners would have. But then, he was newly changed, so it was going to take him a while to learn his new strengths and limitations.

  “A month ago…hell, a week ago, if you had told me I’d enjoy something like that, I’d have thought you had a screw loose. But God, you were right—it was amazing.”

  His fingers continued to stroke lightly along her skin. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

  She rolled her head back and forth on his shoulder. “You can’t hurt me, remember? I’m a vampire.”

  “Yeah,” he murmured softly. “And I guess so am I.”

  “You believe me now?” she asked, and found herself holding her breath, awaiting his answer.

  “I’m not sure I have a choice,” he answered a second later, his tone only marginally hesitant. “Unless this is the longest, most whacked-out dream I’ve ever had, it’s time to face facts.”

  She let that sink in for a minute, wondering exactly what he was thinking and what his idea of “facing facts” was. Was there any chance they might include her?

  Her stomach dipped and the heart in her chest kicked up a nervous beat. Licking her lips, she pushed away from him into a sitting position, taking the corner of the sheet with her to cover her breasts.

  Amazing that she had an ounce of modesty left after everything they’d done together. But now that the burst of mindless lust had past, rational thought and doubts were creeping in.

  “I’m hungry,” she said, sliding out of bed and pulling on her robe. He’d fed from her, but she hadn’t eaten in hours. “Do you want anything?” she asked all the same.

  He shook his head, staying where he was, stretched out across the wide bed, staring at her through dark, hooded eyes. Ignoring the goose bumps that popped up along her arms at the sight of his wide chest and well-muscled abdomen, she padded barefoot into the hall and toward the kitchen.

  She drank her first bottle of NuBlood standing in front of the refrigerator, like a football player swigging Gatorade between quarters. For the second, she used a glass and sipped it more slowly.

  She heard Sean before she saw him. He came out of the bedroom to use the bathroom and a moment later appeared on the other side of the kitchen counter.

  He was once again fully dressed, his jeans and shirt as rumpled as his sandy blond hair after nearly two days of wear while he’d been trapped in her apartment. Stuffing his hands in the front pockets of his pants, he rolled back on his heels and refused to meet her gaze.

  The words, when they came, weren’t a surprise. She’d known what he was going to say from the moment she heard him get out of bed.

  “I’m going to go,” he said simply, quietly.

  She nodded. Partly because she understood his desire to leave, to get out, to get some fresh air, so to speak, and clear his head. And partly because her throat was dry, tightening by increments to keep any sound from escaping.

  Having him here with her, as a free-of-disease, live-forever immortal was supposed to bring them closer together, not drive him away. That had been Angelina’s theory, anyway, but it looked like her plan was backfiring.

  “I’m still not sure how I feel about all of this,” he went on, “but I appreciate everything you’ve done. Helping me to understand, nursing my wounds.”

  He held his hands out in front of him, turning them over to show that there were no more burns, no sign of his earlier run-in with direct sunlight. Her eyes nearly watered at the sight. Not because he was healed or even because he’d been injured in the first place, but because it was yet another reminder that even though he was one of her kind now, there was a really good chance she would never see him again.

  “I think I just need to…get back to my own place, give it some thought. Decide what I’m going to do from here on out.”

  She gave another short, half-nod while the pain in her chest grew and she wondered if a stake through the heart was the only thing that could kill a vampire. Maybe a plain old broken heart would do the trick just as well.

  “Okay, then.” He stuck his hands b
ack in his pockets, then pulled them out again. Shifted from one foot to the other.

  It was wrong, she knew, but a tiny sliver of satisfaction took up residence just under her rib cage. At least he was having trouble walking away. At least his conscience was nudging him just a millimeter or two toward guilt at leaving her when they really were spectacular together.

  It wasn’t a marriage proposal offered on bended knee, but it was something.

  Finally, he managed to break through the tension sucking all of the oxygen out of the room and stride stiffly, sideways, toward the door. One step, followed by another, and then another.

  With his hand on the knob, he cocked his head to look at her once more. His green eyes met hers for the briefest of moments and then he quickly muttered, “I’ll see you around.”

  A second later, he was gone, the door closed firmly behind him as though he’d never been there at all.

  “‘I’ll see you around’? I’LL SEE YOU AROUND?!’”

  Vivian leaned back, very afraid Angelina’s head was about to explode. She’d never seen her friend so aggravated. Her face was flushed, her eyes round as golf balls, and her long, red nails were actually leaving score marks in the top of the table where they were sitting.

  After Sean had walked out of her apartment, she’d wandered around for a while, feeling numb and alone. When she’d started to feel antsy and guilty-slash-betrayed, the only thing she could think to do was call Angelina. The meddlesome woman may have been the cause of all her angst, but at least she knew what was going on and would hopefully understand.

  Angelina had immediately suggested they meet, so here they were at Hallowed Grounds, a twenty-four-hour coffee shop that catered to night-dwellers like themselves—at least after sundown—for a cup of joe…or maybe a cup of O. Vivian had opted for both; one for the plasma, the other for the caffeine. Angelina was sticking with straight cappuccino.

  “What kind of jerk-off says ‘I’ll see you around’ after two bouts of hot sex and untold hours of coaching about How to Be a Blood Drinker in Three Easy Steps?” Angelina griped. And then she answered her own question. “A former sun-walker, that’s who. Humans,” she spat, as though it was a dirty word.