by Jackie Ivie
There was more.
The list of what he’d lose was endless.
Then again... at some point in this life, vampirism might be a viable option. He didn’t want to deal with all the age-related losses: hair, hearing, vision, memory... bone. Muscle tissue degeneration. And he mustn’t forget the other issues, like hemorrhoids, arthritic joints, enlarged prostate problems, bladder control issues, erectile dysfunction... that sounded most unfair. He rather liked his willy exactly where it was and working exactly like it did. Old age sounded like shit. Becoming a vampire might actually be a good idea about then. Or maybe...before his sack started sagging.
All of which was years away at the moment. Lots of time to make heavy duty decisions like turning into a blood sucking entity. Hell. He hadn’t even started a retirement portfolio yet.
Then there was the huge possibility that he’d screw up. His ex-wife had been his high school sweetheart. They’d wed right out of school just before he entered basic. It lasted three years, mainly because he was on active duty the entire time. When he got back and tried to play house, he found out how ill-equipped he was for love and relationships. He didn’t know how a woman’s mind worked, and what he was supposed to say and when. He was clueless that when she asked if she looked fat, she didn’t want the truth. He always said the wrong thing. And just why did the one thing a woman found charming and funny in him become the same thing she ended up hating, anyway? Women didn’t remotely make sense. So, he was sarcastic and a smartass. It wasn’t hidden. They knew that going in.
Tassanee was almost his equal at both, though. She had a mouth and a quick wit, and was one hell of an opponent in a debate. So... maybe, just maybe... he was looking at this wrong. Maybe he should ask her if the vampirism part of this mating thing could wait. See if she’d considered a trial run and wait for him to decide. That might work out. Or she might get pissed off at him and that would be the end of that. And him.
His last relationship had lasted six weeks. Six weeks. And potential death at the end of it. Hmm. It might be worth it.
“Can I sit here?”
He lolled his head her direction. Blinked. That was stupid. It moved his lids over his eyes with a feeling like sandpaper on wood. His eyes watered in defense, blurring everything for a bit. It didn’t change, though. Tassanee was still standing, poised at the seat beside him, waiting. And behind her he could just make out the door to the cockpit. Someone had stuck what looked like the handle of a safety ax through it, effectively locking it. From this side.
Great. She wanted privacy. There wasn’t anyone around to buffer this. And he wasn’t in any condition to fight. But at least, she’d asked. He licked his lips again. Yep. Still chapped. He should have found a lip balm.
“I promise not to touch you,” she continued.
“Wow. You’re really doing a number on my machismo, babe.”
“Your what?”
“It’s a term. For how we guys look at ourselves. I guess the better phrase would be how we project ourselves. You know. To the world.”
“Oh.”
She wrinkled her forehead slightly. That was cute. She didn’t look convinced. She didn’t even look like she understood. Len sighed a little soft sound. Damn. He couldn’t even get his lungs to expand for a big breath. That was going to be awkward.
“Sit down, Tassanee. We have to talk.”
“Again?”
“Yeah,” he replied.
She slid into place, her ass getting sucked into the leather seat like the spot was created especially for it. But what did he know? Maybe it was. It sure didn’t feel like leather caressing his butt at the moment. More like sandbags. A lock of her hair slid across his arm, resting on the elbow of his jacket. He considered it for a bit. And then looked up.
Something pretty damn powerful whooshed through him the moment his eyes connected with hers. It was vast. And sweet. And sent his heart into another level of cardiac rhythm. He had to look away. And fast.
She’d moved her hand to where her hair grazed him. Her finger trailed along the leather of his jacket sleeve. Len considered it for a moment.
“I think you’re in violation, babe.”
“What?”
“No touching. Remember?”
“Oh! You’re so unfair!”
She lifted her hand.
“I’m unfair? Come on. We need to face facts, sweetheart. I’m not the one leaping into your life, claiming instant ownership with no expiration date, no option, and no return clause.”
“What do you want me to say? It’s not like I wanted it.”
Len chuckled. “That’s probably true.”
“Of course it’s true! Everything I’ve said to you is true. Uh... almost everything.”
“Babe. Please. Nobody is accused of telling falsehoods.”
“Yes, you did. You just said that.”
“No. I didn’t. Look. Can we declare a truce here?”
“Truce?”
“I’d like to talk. Not argue. And it’s not me on your side of the cabin, now is it?”
“But you don’t understand! Everything about you calls to me. It’s like... my entire body altered the moment I touched you. I have a heartbeat again. I’m breathing. Sweating. I’m warm. Really warm. I can even swallow!”
Funny she should mention swallowing, but his was more a gulp. Len started searching his inside jacket pocket for a lip balm.
“I can’t stay away from you, Leonard. Don’t you see? You’re my mate. Staying apart from you is like asking a fish to stay out of water.”
He found the tube of lip balm. It was right next to his VAL cell phone. He almost hooted in exultation. Len pulled the stick out, took off the cap and rolled it out a hair, slathering his lips as if that’s all he had to do for the moment. And like nothing she said meant a damn thing. If his hand wasn’t shaking, it would have worked. And, of course, she’d have to notice and speak of it.
“You’re shaking.”
“Yeah. Fancy that,” he replied.
“Why?”
Len used the same concentration as he put the lip balm away. It still didn’t work. But at least his lips felt moister. And a kiss from him wouldn’t scrape the ruby shaded perfection of her mouth.
Shit. Get the brain working, Len. Say anything. However inane and stupid.
“You’re messing with the male machismo again, babe.”
“I am?”
“You know, we guys like to pretend that we’ve got everything handled. We’re in charge. In control. Stuff like that.”
“In control of what?”
“Oh...you know. What we’ll have for lunch. Where we’ll spend our free time. Who we’re going to text. Our own destiny. You know...stuff like that. It’s usually a farce. But nobody calls us on it. Except you. Right now.”
“Oh.”
He’d done a piss-poor job of explaining again. She looked even more confused. Like he needed more proof that women didn’t think at all like men. This time his sigh had a bit more air to it. It actually lifted some of the strands of her hair still caressing his jacket sleeve.
“Let’s set some ground rules. Okay?”
“To what?”
“Our little conversation. Rule number one. No touching. At least...not unless it’s asked first and approved. Rule two. No kissing. Same clause. Rule three. If rule two gets broken, there is absolutely no fang-work allowed.”
“Fang work?”
“Blood exchange. None. Zero. Zip. Zilch. Got it?”
“This is stupid.”
She slunk a little lower in her chair and huffed a bit, proving she definitely had the capability to breathe, and she was already pretty adept at using it as a weapon.
“You want to stay here or return to your side of the cabin?”
“I am a vampire. I can do what I want.”
“True. Unfortunately, since you are a vampire that means I can’t do what I want.”
“What?”
“Exactly.”
He waited. She didn’t get his meaning. She looked even more confused than before. And he really needed to move his eyes from hers if he wanted to continue making words. But somebody else was in control of his movements. And his mouth.
“I’m saying I’m not immune to you, Tassanee. Okay? Far from it. Light years from it. I’m in sixth gear on a five speed. My body is driving me bonkers with it. Now, wait. Stop that. No touching Leonard. First rule. Remember?”
“To hell with the rules.”
Her voice sent shivers. And then she was straddling his lap, shoving his jacket open, and ripping the rest of his t-shirt apart. Good thing it was cheap, dollar store material. And then she ran her hands over abs he’d toned to rope-like consistency, and pecs that shuddered beneath her touch. His skin was in worse shape. Gooseflesh rose and flowed outward in waves from everywhere she placed her fingers. But he was the violator of Rule Two. It was him going in for the kiss. And it tasted exactly as he’d suspected. And twice as hot.
Oh, he was in trouble. Tassanee had some major kissing skills. Every flick of her tongue sent signals shooting through him. They raced to beat the shivers scoring his belly, all of it going one place. Down. And then he felt a slice on his inner lip, and at the first taste, Len’s body went stiff with the reaction. The wonder. Delight. Like an entire rack of firecrackers had decided to go off, taking his nervous system with it.
And she was absolutely right. To hell with the rules.
CHAPTER SIX
First things first. While he could still think. Maneuver.
Hell.
Breathe.
Len reached down and yanked on the recline lever, sending the chair into a flat surface that angled his hips upward. And oh... sweet! She seemed to know exactly what to do. Her legs shimmied the length of his thighs, so she could settle right atop the bulge at his crotch, and start rocking, as if there weren’t at least four or more layers of material in the way. Maybe more. He hadn’t been counting all the gossamer folds on her harem pants. And he didn’t dare tear them. It would be bad enough arriving stateside looking like an advertisement for lust and passion. It would be worse if he tore her clothing. Oh. This was bad. Insane.
Unbelievable.
Her cloak slid to the floor. It might have been him shoving at it. It was probably more the way she shrugged it off while her hair enwrapped him, surrounding him with a curtain that felt exactly like it looked. Silken. He had to brush strands of it aside to reach her waist. Slide his fingers up the sides of her little square bodice. Slant them inwards...and then...
Holy shit.
Len lurched at the first touch, each palm experiencing absolute perfection as he framed and explored and cupped. She had perfect breasts. Pert. Sizeable. Topped with little nipples that stabbed at his palms as he massaged and enjoyed. Her little bodice top was attached with a string about her neck and one about her waist. Neither one did a thing to hamper him. The bodice seemed crafted for ease of access. Len scrunched it into a twist of material down her front, dividing and displaying, and...wow. The view of cleavage hadn’t lied earlier. She was perfect. And he couldn’t get enough. His fingers massaged and held and adored. She was perfect. Absolutely perfect. To a groan-inducing level. She may have felt the same since the moment his groan separated the suction of their mouths, she arched backward with some really sweet-sounding cries that rebounded off the cabin walls. And they ended with little, panted pleas for more.
As if he needed the encouragement.
Len was already sitting up, bringing his mouth to one of her perfect nipples, and at the first lick she turned into shuddering woman and feminine whimpers. Her fingers raked through his hair, clenching almost to the pulling point as she alternately clutched him close, and then tried to squirm away. And he wasn’t allowing that. Every part of this was so enjoyable, his chuckled more than once, putting cold air atop the erect nub of flesh he’d created. That bodice made a great handhold, too. Especially for bringing her down with him as he reclined again. This was beyond fantasy land. It was right in there with first orgasm heaven.
And he’d been right about her legs, as well. She had really nice, firm, muscled thighs. Gymnast fitness level. They were gripped to both sides of his hips, latching her in place so she could do some sinuous movements specifically targeted to his groin. Holy hell. She was good. Every motion of her body seemed calculated to drive passion higher. Send temperatures higher. Sweeter. Enhancing the moment of entry into a driving need. Bone crunching want. Hip thrusting carnal requirement. And that just got him the grind of metal zipper against his cock, and that was ceasing.
Right now.
Len kept her balanced with one hand about the rope he’d made of her bodice while the other flipped his waist button loose. The zipper wasn’t an issue. It practically unzipped itself as he yanked his fly apart, releasing one straining hard rod. Guess those cotton briefs were a good idea, after all, because there wasn’t anything between his cock and complete succor now...except about a thousand some-odd gossamer layers of material. Damn these stupid harem pants!
He used to think they were cute. Right now they were the equivalent of jail. Maximum security prison. Solitary confinement. Without food and water. Shit. Shit. Shit. Everything on him was primed and loaded and ready to delve into warmth, and moist, and wet-dream-level tight. And those trousers of hers were in the way.
“Oh babe. Help me. Babe. Help. Babe.”
He matched each word to a hip lunge, gaining swirled cotton-candy feel where he needed tight chasm. Liquid warmth. Coiled valley.
“Hmm...”
She was peppering his face with kisses, scraping her lips on stubble he hadn’t been able to shave off. And sending little murmurs with every kiss. While her fingers were twisting his nipples into pleasure-pain status.
“Trousers?”
The word was a guttural groan, as his free hand started searching along her waistband while the one holding her aloft shook so badly, her breasts jiggled. And that was even more eye candy that ramped the heat level and zapped the air. This was hormone hell and testosterone tease. He might as well be pinging through the cabin like a ball in a pinball machine. The entire place felt like it was starting to go in one big spin. And that’s when she moved a hand and finally started helping.
No. Wait. She wasn’t helping at all.
Her pants fastened at the back, and once the laces were untied and pulled, it worked like a lock or something. Ingenious design. Once he knew how it worked. The material just opened up, separating the legs of her pants into two halves. Len didn’t need another clue. He released her bodice so he could shove both hands at material, bunching it to either side of him. That gave him access to grasp her hips and grab handfuls of what hadn’t just looked like a perfect ass. But then she latched onto his rod and put everything into hyper spin level.
And his choked growl didn’t do a damn thing to stop her.
Her gasps accompanied every motion as she wrapped fingers about him and slid down, and then slowly corkscrewed her way back up with a back-and-forth motion. Again. And again. Each move was accompanied by the slide of her entire body. And...oh shit. She was going to get exactly what she bargained for, but in the wrong order, if she didn’t stop that.
Len shoved her hands aside with his right hand and rammed her down with his left. And then got blocked by the tightest, most vast obstruction in the world. And that’s where he stopped, his tip getting massaged by heat and construction, while the rest of him went into tensed disbelief.
No. No. This was even worse than bad.
“What?”
Her voice had the ability to raise gooseflesh. And send commands. And his hips wouldn’t obey the slightest thing as he kept doing little lunges that pushed more of him into her with each one. And it got tighter. Almost painful tight. And pleasure wide.
“Oh...babe. No. You’re a virgin?”
She nodded. Her eyes were solidly black. Totally deep. And endlessly enthralling. And his cock just kept pushing into her with li
ttle spurts he couldn’t stop.
“How can...that be? You’re too good and—shit. My ex-wife wasn’t even a virgin.”
“Is it wrong?”
“Oh hell, no. But I need...to do some preparing. Some...tongue action. Something to make it...less painful. Easier. And...oh shit! Babe! Don’t move!”
She’d locked her legs about his hips and slammed down, sending him right into depths of constrictive pleasure while a long, throat-tearing cry emitted from her throat. Her body encased him in tight sensation, wrapping him in walls that enclosed and kneaded. Taking him so near climax, he had to call on every reserve to halt it. He grabbed her waist and pinned her in place, shaking so badly, the chair beneath them rattled. Hell. He’d thought he shook earlier. No. That was but a prelude. This was such intense amazement, he started laughing through it.
Oh man. And he’d fought this?
She’d finished her cry and peered back at him, her face and upper body silhouetted by the dim cabin lighting behind her, while the waterfall curtain of her hair shielded them. Stan had been totally right. Len was one lucky guy. It was even hard to breathe, as if he’d been benching 300 lbs, and let the bar rest atop his chest. He’d never felt anything like any of this.
She wasn’t exactly obeying, either. She might be just sitting atop him, watching him, but her nether regions were working and milking and driving him mildly crazy. But he had it controlled. And that was what mattered. Len grinned and then he reached up and stroked a stray lock of hair of her shoulder.
“I’m so sorry, babe. Is it bad?” he asked.
“What?”
“Uh...the pain.”
“Oh. I expected that. They tell me it eases...but. Um. You’re so big, Leonard.”
Well. Hell. With words like that she should have expected the reaction as it felt like he swelled, and that got him clamped even tighter, while her eyes went even wider, matching her mouth.