Wild Nights

by Sharon Page

  Yes, trust me, Michael almost groaned. “I sensed it existed, love. This is no surprise to me.” The lips of her pussy parted for his fingers. He crooked them within her, dipping into her wet heat. Stirring her, he inhaled her scent deeply. Musky and primal, it made him ache with want. He withdrew his fingers and tapped the sticky tips against her clit.

  Her green eyes glazed with desire; she looked as needy as he felt. “This is like going to bed with a stranger.”

  No, don’t draw back, Erin. “We’ve already been intimate, love.”

  “On a computer screen. Which makes this a lot weirder than I expected.”

  Despite her words, she squeezed his cock through the leather. Both lust and hope shot through him, a mix so intense he almost exploded on the spot. “Weird?” he rasped. “Are you disappointed, then?”

  “In you?” Her eyes opened wide in surprise. “No. I mean, to be honest, when I pictured us meeting, I skipped over the getting-to-know-you part—”

  He plunged his finger into her pussy. Her flame-hot, creamy walls clamped around his finger as his thumb lightly rubbed the tip of her clit.

  Erin jammed her fist into her mouth and moaned around it. “—and put us right into bed,” she finished hoarsely.

  “Sounds good to me.” He kissed her soft, freckled cheek, tasting a trace of vanilla-flavored lotion, savoring her delightful feminine flavor.

  Expertly, he shifted his hand to fill her tight pussy with two fingers, to stroke her snug ass with his index finger, all the while teasing her clit. An orgasm would chip away at her defenses.

  “Oh, god.”

  His cock throbbed painfully as Erin sank her teeth into her own fingers. He saw the bite marks as she moved her mouth away, and his groin clenched.

  “You’ve got to stop, Michael.” She lifted her hand from his cock. “This is really hot … really sexy, but—”

  He silenced her protests by slanting his mouth over hers.

  Erin moaned into Michael’s mouth as he kissed her. She tried to slide her tongue inside, to taste him even more intimately, but his wouldn’t retreat. His powerful body shifted over hers, possessive and dominant, sandwiching her between his hot, hard chest and the warm leather seat. Her swollen, sensitive breasts squashed against him. Her nipples poked into unyielding muscle.

  This is one large, dominant guy, her inner voice warned. A strong, large, dominant guy.

  Yeah, but she could handle a large guy. All those kickboxing lessons hadn’t been for nothing.

  He smelled so masculine. So erotically of sandalwood and leather and the clean heat of his skin. She loved the hot, wet, minty taste of his tongue in her mouth. Strange—she didn’t taste or smell beer on his breath.

  He deepened the kiss, ravished her mouth. She’d never been kissed with such hunger, such raw need. As though he’d yearned for this moment for a lifetime.

  Erin clutched his leather-clad shoulders.

  Suddenly she realized she was sliding back along the booth, pulling him with her.

  Her chest was tight with desire, her throat dry with it; her heart hammered against her rib cage. She felt ready to combust on the spot.

  Erin now understood why people would risk everything for sex. She was horny enough to do him in public. Which would be a crazy thing to do for a woman who made her living by being discreet.

  Dimly she saw waiters race by them, couples pass by, a group of guys in suits leer at them.

  She struggled to cool down and sit up.

  Just take the man home and screw his brains out. What more reassurance do you need?

  She’d run every kind of background check imaginable on Michael Rourke, to the point of trying to follow up his public school records in England.

  A raven-haired, totally gorgeous sex god had his hand up her skirt and was kissing her like his life depended on it.

  A sex god without a criminal record, an ex-wife, dependents, restraining orders. A sex god with a good job—VP for vam-pire. com, a ruthless vulture company that sucked the life out of failing start-ups, kept the lifeblood, and sold off the shell. He was a millionaire. She knew. She’d checked.

  What was the main risk with too-good-to-be-true guys on the Internet, besides the risk of an existing wife or a criminal record? They were in it for the sex. And what did she really want? Not “ever after.” Just a sexy guy who got a real charge out of making her come and who conveniently disappeared with the light of day so she could run her business.

  Get on with it. Crook your finger, and tell him to follow you home. Or, better yet, lead him by the big, hot bulge in his pants.

  He moved his mouth from hers, and Erin almost sobbed at the loss.

  “Do you know what I truly want, love?”

  His voice flowed over her, deep, compelling, and complete with a sexy upper-crust English accent. In response, her pussy clenched greedily around his large fingers.

  This guy was the best British import since Cadbury chocolate.

  “What do you truly want, Michael?”

  His fallen-angel mouth quirked up into a wicked smile. “I want your first orgasm to be on my face.”

  Her first orgasm? While she was perfectly capable of multiple orgasms, only she and her lifelike “drawer willies” knew that for sure. Her sexual encounters involved lots of screaming, groaning, and Oscar–worthy cries of delight, but no real pop. She’d never come with a man. Come close, but never actually hit the peak, rang the bell, gone over the edge—

  He wouldn’t … would he? Erin pulled away to look into Michael’s eyes. Teasing, glittering eyes. The irises were the strangest shade of silvery purple, a startling contrast to his thick midnight-black eyelashes and straight black brows. “You aren’t planning to do that here, are you?” she asked.

  Erin moaned at the sudden vision of being stretched out on her back across the leather booth, skirt forced up, legs spread wide while he ate her. Fondling each other under the table while the jazz and low laughter swirled around was wild enough. Naughty, just as he’d said.

  But oral sex …?

  With the hand that was not stuffed in her pussy, Michael took her hand. He twined his fingers with hers, laid their clasped hands on his thighs. Encased in black motorcycle pants, the muscular length of his leg was like granite.

  “What do you want, love? Where do we go from here?”

  He held her gaze captive. His fingers slid in and out. She could barely form words.

  What she wanted to do with Michael Rourke, Internet lover extraordinaire, meant trusting him, at least for tonight.

  She knew exactly where she wanted to take him. A place she could strip him naked and run her tongue all over his buff bod. A place she would finally unleash the do-me-now, sex-crazed vixen inside—the one threatening to burst out of her skin like an alien life form.

  “My place.”

  “Here we are.” Erin tried for a light, casual tone as she reached the landing outside her door. She hadn’t brought a guy home in a year.

  Michael strode up the stairs behind her, pausing at the top as she turned the key. Her century-old apartment building had a narrow staircase with only two apartments to a floor.

  As she turned to him, saw him leaning on the banister waiting for her to open the door, her heart leaped to her throat. Her body ached with desire.

  Lines from their wicked e-mails flooded her mind.

  I want to suck your big throbbing cock.

  I want to lick your hot, sweet pussy.

  I want to make you explode for me, Erin. I want to make you scream with pleasure.

  Goofy, yes. Funny and hot at the same time. Her legs trembled as she gazed down at the man who’d authored all those erotic promises.

  Even under the warm incandescent light, Michael’s hair was a true lustrous blue-black. The thick, glossy locks drifted over his forehead and brushed his broad shoulders. His leather jacket was so well worn, it looked more of a good friend than an article of clothing. Hanging open, it gave a teasing glimpse of bulging pecs in
an open-necked, burgundy dress shirt. He wore an eclectic mix of clothing, the true hallmark of an IT millionaire, and he possessed an elegance that made her heart race.

  His sensuous mouth lifted in a smile, and his eyes glowed with unearthly beauty.

  He was magnetic.

  Gazing into his gorgeous eyes, she remembered what he’d written to her last night. Don’t give up believing in happily ever after, love. I do, and I’m the least likely person with reason to believe.

  “May I come in?”

  She gave Michael an answering smile, shaky with desire, and swung the door wide. “Of course.”

  He stepped inside, made an admiring comment on her place, and closed the door.

  An instant later, he was on his knees before her, pushing up her skirt. Erin caught her breath as Michael bunched it above her hips and splayed his fingers over the cheeks of her ass. Her legs almost buckled at the erotic combination of his fingers pressing into her skin and his hot breath blowing across her thong, the heat teasing her lips though the web of pale pink silk.

  He was going to lick her pussy while she stood, hand braced on the wall, right beside her front door. For the first time in her life, male impatience seemed a positive trait.

  Erin moaned as Michael skimmed his hands up over her hips. His fingers hooked in the sides of her thong, and he drew it down. Down over her thighs, down to her knees, down until her panties were around her ankles and her soaking pussy was exposed to him.

  “Beautiful. I love your scent,” he murmured. He touched his lips to her curls.

  He lifted her, strong hands behind her thighs, so she was on her tiptoes, straddling his face. His hot tongue made exquisite spirals over her hard, aching clit.

  As he increased his pressure, her spine went rigid, and she lifted higher on her toes, moving away. It was too … intense.

  “Relax against me,” he urged. “Trust me.”

  Those words again. When he asked for her trust, she found herself wanting to give it to him. How she could hear him talk when his face was buried between her legs, she didn’t know, but she obeyed, and he eased the pressure. Gently his tongue slicked through her cleft. His lips toyed with her nether ones. His tongue gave one quick lick to pry her sticky flesh apart.

  It was spectacular.

  Erin’s eyes closed, her mouth went slack as he nibbled, sucked, laved her. She’d never been eaten this way, with a man’s mouth open wide over her, feasting on her.

  To think she’d wondered if he could possibly live up to his e-mails.

  Michael worked magic over her, delving his broad, long tongue up her pussy. Each plunge sent an answering shudder down her spine. Shudder after shudder after intense shudder.

  His tongue licked the bridge between pussy and ass, and she threaded her fingers in his silky hair, cupping his head, stroking him in the same rhythm.

  “Oh, god, Michael, I’m going to … fall over.”

  He moved his knees between her legs. She took unsteady steps to let him through.

  Erin had never had any man offer himself at her feet and be so intent on pleasuring her.

  “Sit on me,” he urged, his voice soft, compelling.

  He arched back, grasped her ass, and lifted her onto his face. Her thighs spread to accommodate his wide shoulders, the worn, smooth leather of his jacket a caress against her skin. His stomach muscles must be straining hard to keep him suspended there, her weight almost fully on him.

  He was so strong, rocking her on his mouth. She clutched locks of his hair. She bent forward to watch him, her hair falling forward. Through the screen of it, she saw his eyes, strangely reflective in the faint light, watch her as he took her to ecstasy. All she could see were those glowing eyes, the dark slashes of his brows, the rest of his face buried so hard against her. Could he even breathe?

  Enough to keep suckling her clit, to roll his tongue around it, to part the cheeks of her ass and touch his fingers to her puckered entrance, to penetrate just a touch, to take her …

  Her body tensed, tightened, wound up.

  She couldn’t believe it.

  Oh, yes, please.

  Erin’s teeth sank deep into her lip, and then her mouth stretched wide into a soundless scream, her orgasm streaking through her. Her hands slid from his head, and he caught her somehow, fingers thick and solid between hers. The pressure of his hands held her upright as she rode every pounding wave. Her body clenched tight, locking around his tongue.

  She’d never known such pleasure.

  Did he feel every ripple and quiver pulling at him? Did he love seeing her buck and moan and sob?

  He must, the way his fingers slid gently between hers, his touch erotic and intimate. He licked relentlessly at her while his powerful grip held her.

  Her climax pulsed endlessly. Her body flailed with it, her hair whipped her face.

  As it eased, she slumped forward, drained, and he held her up.

  “I’ve never come like that before,” she whispered, awed. “Never.”

  It sounded so trite. He’d changed her forever; he’d let her know what she could have.

  Of course he couldn’t answer. She was sitting on his face. But she sensed he was pleased.

  Michael held her tight, straightening his back. Desire shivered through her as he suspended her on his face.

  Suddenly he stood upright, lifting her, balancing her.

  “Michael—?” Erin clamped her thighs against his face. Her panties dropped to the floor.

  His strength was incredible. He supported her so easily. Sure, she’d seen the way his wide, powerful pecs stretched his dress shirt to the limit. And the first time she had touched his hard biceps beneath his leather jacket, she’d marveled at their sheer size and hardness, at the power of him. But she’d never dreamed of this.

  She prayed he held her tight.

  But she was willing to trust him. For this.

  Holding her up to the ceiling, he was like the roller coaster of sex, exciting her even as he made her stomach lurch in shock.

  Erin rocked her clit into Michael’s rolled tongue, wanting more. Greedy for more. Pleasure—mind-numbing, bone-melting pleasure—raced through her with each arch of her hips. Until she could barely think. Until she clung to his hands, fingers locked tight with his.

  She ground herself against his hot mouth—she’d never been so aggressive on a man’s face before—and his low, throaty moans urged her on.

  His tongue gave one more hard, rough rasp over the oh-so-sensitive tip of her clit, and she burst. His name echoed in her desperate shriek. She almost toppled. Her legs squeezed hard; her hands clung to his.

  As the last waves died away, Michael lowered her. She floated through the air. His powerful hands locked around her waist to hold her steady.

  “Oh, I just want to melt all over the floor.” She reached up to caress his cheek, to stroke the sharp planes of his face. As her fingers touched him and stroked warm skin and scratchy stubble, he grinned. Wickedly.

  The glimmer of her kitchen light—the one she always left on—spilled faintly over his face.

  “Ohmigod.” Erin’s legs went rubbery. Her heart skipped a few beats, enough for dizziness to swamp her. “Are those fangs?”

  2

  “Are those real?”

  In the dark shadows Michael saw Erin clearly as she scrambled back, clawing her skirt down. She gaped at him in horror while her hands struggled to get her hem over her thighs. In her haste to retreat, she stumbled in her high heels.

  Michael was behind her in a heartbeat. He caught her and set her back on her feet. Her scream at his touch almost shattered his eardrums. It did lance his heart.

  What in hell had he expected?

  He’d known this moment would come but had planned to make the revelation with more care.

  “Yes, love, they are.” He held her a little longer than necessary to make sure she was steady. He used his deep, hypnotic voice to soothe, and her struggling stilled. “I am a vampire.” He tried for a
matter-of-fact approach. Like he was just talking about a job. “But I promise I don’t bite. You must understand that I would never hurt you, Erin.”

  “Vampire?” Erin yanked her hands free of his gentle grasp with surprising strength for a petite woman. But he knew she had a black belt and loved to kickbox. “You must be joking,” she snapped.

  “No, love, deadly serious.”

  She groaned at that.

  “I am a vampire, and I belong to you.”

  “Get out.”

  Despite his pledge of fealty, she took a stance similar to a martial-arts pose.

  Maybe now was not the time to call her his soul mate.

  Slowly Michael paced around her, backing up until he stood only a few steps from her door. He sank to his knees before her so he had to look up at her to meet her gaze. He hoped to appear less intimidating.

  She glared down at him. “I investigated you. How could I have missed this? I help women avoid men like you.”

  “Erin, I’m still the man you wrote to. The man you spoke to. The man who pleasured you. Nothing has changed.”

  “Thirty seconds ago I thought you were a nice, normal guy who writes software and likes to work at night. Now I know you are delusional. Michael, vampires are fiction.”

  She launched over to the wall switch.

  Light flooded his eyes, and Michael blinked away the instant blindness.

  His plan had been to pleasure her senseless, then reveal what he was. Slowly. Seductively.

  And then her musky essence had flooded his senses as she came on his face. He had heard her cry out his name in a voice throaty with passion and something more—

  Delight.

  Pure joy.

  Reverence. For him.

  He’d lost control and—zip—out slid the fangs.

  “Okay, Mr. Vampire, I want your ass and your fangs on the other side of my door, pronto.”

  “Let me prove to you what I am, Erin.” Michael lifted his wrist to his mouth. The sharp points easily parted his flesh.

  She took a step back as he held up his arm. Droplets of his blood rolled down his forearm.