Call Her Mine

by Lydia Michaels

  She lowered her head. Didn’t she feel like the jerk? His fingers tipped up her chin until their gazes met. “Were you jealous, pintura?”

  “No!” she scoffed and lowered her lashes.

  The corner of his mouth kicked up. He stepped closer and the warmth of his touch returned, nearly burning through the thin fabric of her chemise. “Well, I have no issue admitting that the idea of you dating someone before me makes me insane with jealousy.”

  She opened her eyes. His pupils were dilated and smoldering. “It does?” she asked, somewhat breathless.

  “Very. It makes me want to take you right here in the kitchen, claim what’s mine, and bury myself so deeply inside of you, no other man will ever tempt you again.”

  Her sex thrummed and heat pulled low in her tummy. She sighed. That sounded really, really nice. The hem of her chemise tickled her calves as Christian’s fingers leisurely gathered the fabric above her knee.

  “It was very sweet of you to make me breakfast this morning, pintura.”

  His warm fingers grazed the flesh of her thigh.

  “I like it when my mate sees to my needs. I like when she is driven, as if it brings her pleasure, to meet my needs.”

  “I wanted to,” she breathed. Her head tipped back and his mouth pressed over the hollow of her throat.

  “I have other needs, Delilah.”

  She exhaled, needing to release some of the desire building up inside of her. His fingers grazed the apex of her thighs and she quivered in his arms. He somehow backed her up to the table.

  “Would you like to see to these needs as well?” He gently sucked on the money spot at the curve of her shoulder. Her knees shook. That spot got her every time.

  “Yes,” she whispered and his warm finger slipped between her folds and into her heat. A deep moan turned into a steady purr in her throat.

  “I do not wish to press you to do something you do not want.” His mouth worked from one shoulder to the other, kissing and sucking on various sensitive points of her neck.

  She arched her body into his touch. No forcing going on here. If he stopped touching her she might go rabid on his ass.

  “Don’t stop,” she whispered breathily.

  He withdrew his finger and slowly, but deliberately plunged it back in. “That’s it, pintura, let me make you feel good.”

  A second finger joined the first and then a third. He was bringing her there quickly, stretching her, filling her. She arched backward and he eased her to the table. Her knees fell apart, her chemise twisted at her hips. Christian leaned over her sex, his breath tickling her folds as his fingers worked in and out of her. She gasped and jerked as his tongue flicked her Queen Christina, the piercing just over her clit.

  “I have missed your taste, Delilah. Never has anything ever tasted so decadent on my tongue.”

  He pulled her thighs father apart and licked over her folds, his tongue grazing the tiny hoop hanging over her clit. All of her focus was centered on that talented mouth.

  She arched into him, his wicked tongue licked as those soft lips closed over her and suckled. His fingers pressed into her. Delilah’s hands sifted through his hair and held him there.

  “Yes,” she cried and he suckled harder, pulling her clit, licking her folds, stabbing his tongue deep.

  Her orgasm built and his hands slid over her hips. The pinch of his fingers digging into her ass was what pushed her over the edge. She shouted his name as the first pulsing wave washed over her. He never relented, his mouth working every throbbing contraction higher and higher.

  Her knees shook and her back arched. Breath sawed from her lungs and she was suddenly being lifted. Drowsy, she opened her eyes. He was sitting in a kitchen chair and pulling her onto his lap. His half-lidded gaze burned as he helped her seat herself. He had opened his pants at some point.

  His flesh was hot against her thighs. “Take me inside of you, Delilah.”

  This was the connection that had been lacking the night before. She reached between them and wrapped her fingers around his wide length, guiding him to her center. She was so wet he glided right between her folds. Her body lowered, his palms supporting her back, and they both groaned in pleasure.

  His gaze never left hers. This was the connection she’d been looking for, the link of not just two bodies, but two minds.

  Her hands coasted over his shoulders and tugged at the collar of his shirt. Her fingers pressed into his warm skin as she lifted herself over him. His grip on her back tightened and then he lifted her chemise off. The chill of the kitchen had her nipples pulling tight, but his hot mouth soon warmed her needy flesh.

  His lips closed over one pierced nipple, pulling tight. She rode him, riding his cock as he sucked. He switched from one breast to the other. Her body grew slick with sweat and her leg muscles burned deliciously. He filled her so completely. It was better than anything she’d ever known.

  They might not be capable of talking without arguing, but as far as fucking was concerned they had it nailed.

  As it went on, he groaned and arched with her, lifting his hips, meeting every drop of her body with a hard thrust. His back bowed against the back of the chair and they soon went wild. Her cries ricocheted off the plain kitchen walls. His louder grunts a beautiful baritone, anchoring each cry.

  The fabric of his pants muffled the slap of her flesh. Her eyes closed as she embraced every sensation. The sweet smelling air from breakfast now tinged with the mixed essence of their arousal, the sound of their heavy breathing accompanied by their cries and groans of pleasure, the weight of his hold, so possessive and strong. The taste of the salt on their skin. It was all so erotic.

  He gripped the back of her neck and she opened her eyes. “Kiss me, pintura.”

  Her mouth crashed over his. Lips, teeth, and tongues mingled with frenzied need. He forced her down on his cock and ground himself into her. Her clit beat with the same rhythm of her heart as his mouth mimicked the thrust and pull of their bodies below.

  Pressure built and her body trembled. “Christian, please…”

  He thrust into her hard, again and again until she cried out and came. Her sex clamped down on him and he groaned long and low, his voice breaking as he growled out her name. Heat filled her channel and she clung to him, her fingers digging into his muscled shoulders.

  Their motions slowed and he now gripped her close as though he’d never allow her to let go. She needed the support apparently as much as he needed to hold her. Fan-fucking-tastic. She didn’t know if it was an Amish thing or a vampyre thing, but sex with Christian was beyond anything she ever experienced before.

  Chapter Seven

  Christian held the basket of fresh cornbread Delilah made and leaned forward to knock on the door. He was still confused about why they were here, but after approaching Cain—awkwardly—that afternoon, the young male wholeheartedly extended an invitation for them to join him and the other Hartzler children for dinner.

  They waited and Delilah bounced happily beside him. Today was the first day in a week he actually would be willing to call a success. He was still reeling over the fact she had made him breakfast—and she had not tried to poison him. Not that poison would kill him, but who needed all that pain and the long process of evacuation?

  Then there was the sex they’d share that morning. It was everything the evening before was not.

  Christian had been intimate in the past, but nothing compared to the incredible sensation of being intimate with his mate. She was…beyond description. Her beauty and grace—when she chose to display it—left him without words. He was a very lucky male.

  As his mind recalled the events of the past few days, he wondered if her mood the previous evening was not a result of her repulsion, but a result of distance. He hadn’t reached out to her and perhaps that was what had hurt her most, because the moment he actually spoke softly to her she seemed to soften. He adored spying those gentle sides to her otherwise abrasive persona. He liked her rough, too, he was
coming to find. Simply put, he liked her.

  So desperately he wanted to touch, hold, and comfort her, but her welcome of his touch remained a guess up until this morning. His mate, he was learning, was a softhearted soul. Perhaps, in time, he could share his own softer sides. The previous night had been another mistake. He was so out of practice with females and had no experience with mates. He’d hurt her and like a dunce, it took him a long time to figure out why.

  Christian never allowed his vulnerabilities to show. Control and a veil of indifference had been ingrained in him since he was a boy sitting among elders on the council. Delilah was a lot like him in that manner. She spoke in a sarcastic language he did not always understand. But he was coming to see she hid vulnerabilities as well. He’d spotted some of that insecurity the first evening they met, but had not seen it since. She too wore a veil it seemed.

  He craved the trust he witnessed with other mates, but feared showing his insecurities to Delilah would only give her ammunition when they argued. It was difficult, at times, to be a male, always putting aside his more emotional needs for the appearance of strength and assuredness.

  The door opened. “Finally!” Cain said, stepping aside to let them in.

  Christian had never been inside their home before. Already the smells struck him as odd. Cain was the least traditional of all the males on the farm, from his understanding. There was some odd mix up with his mate and he was married to the girl, Destiny, but she was not his actual mate.

  “Destiny, Delilah’s here,” he called as he drew Delilah into his arms and planted a kiss on her cheek. Christian stifled a growl.

  The small curvaceous wife of Cain stepped out of the kitchen. Her breasts filled the front of her dress and her hair was down around her shoulders and curly. Perhaps he was wrong in assuming these females would be good influences for his mate.

  “Delilah! Christian! I’m so glad you guys could make it. Usually Abilene, Gracie, or Anna does all the cooking. Cain and I rarely get to play the host and hostess. This is sort of exciting for me. Do you like Portuguese food? I miss it terribly and luckily, here on the farm, I can usually manage to make the same recipes I was raised on at our farm in Portugal.”

  Did the female ever take a breath? Destiny pulled Delilah into the kitchen and Cain directed him to the den.

  “So, Chris, how’s the mating going? Tired yet?” Cain asked and chuckled.

  “Christian,” he corrected.

  There was more noise coming from the front of the house. Adam, Cain’s twin, stepped in with two children in his arms, one a little girl, sound asleep on his shoulder, and the other a dark haired young boy holding a wooden ship.

  He lowered the boy to the ground and the child scrambled about the floor as if there were invisible waves for his ship.

  “Here, I’ll take Lucy,” his mate, Annalise, said, reliving Adam of the sleeping child.

  “How do you do, Brother Christian?” Adam greeted. Christian appreciated the brother’s attention to tradition.

  “I am very well, Adam. And yourself?”

  “Very good. Is your mate with you?”

  “She is in the kitchen with the females.”

  “I will have to introduce myself. Annalise said they had a nice visit the other day.”

  “Indeed.”

  The front door opened again and a young female’s voice shrilled. “Will you leave me alone!”

  Gracie Hartzler entered the den, appearing flustered, her cheeks flushed and her eyes narrowed. “You had to invite him, didn’t you, toad?”

  Cain turned. “Speak to your sister-in-law. Destiny did the inviting.”

  Gracie stomped off and Dane stepped in. “Trouble with the ladies?” Cain asked.

  Dane looked at Christian and scowled. “No one told me you were going to be here.”

  Christian’s brows rose. “I could say the same for your presence. I assumed it would just be the Hartzlers.”

  Cain smacked a hand down on Dane’s back. The boy flinched. “Aw, Dane’s like family, aren’t you, Dane?”

  “Depends who you ask,” Dane grumbled.

  Cain squeezed his shoulder and he winced. “Well, we’ll just leave Gracie out of it. She’s only the runt of the litter anyway.”

  It was complete mayhem. Everyone talked over everyone. The young child was using his shoe as a boat ramp. That kind of vessel did not sail that way either, but Christian assumed the child would not appreciate having that pointed out to him. The females cackled loudly in the kitchen and there was music coming from somewhere in the house. They were having dinner with a group of heathens.

  * * * *

  “So how’s it going with you and Christian?” Anna asked Delilah as she nibbled on the crust of the freshly baked pie Gracie arrived with. Gracie appeared out of nowhere and slapped her fingers away.

  “The pie is for dessert and no one wants it after your fingers have been all over it,” Gracie snapped.

  Anna frowned and went back to picking at the crust.

  “It’s getting better,” Delilah admitted truthfully. Today had been wonderful. After that morning in the kitchen they’d bathed together and Christian had taken her to the barn.

  There was a baby calf with fawn coloring and a white face that was absolutely adorable. Christian didn’t name his animals, but by the time they left the barn every creature had a name. The fawn colored calf now went by Marmaduke, which Christian said was a silly name for a cow to have. When she asked what he would have named it he simply said, Robert. He was funny and most the time he didn’t even realize it.

  “Can I see your tattoo?” Anna asked, motioning toward the stars on her wrist.

  “Which one? I have a bunch.”

  “You do?”

  Gracie came closer and waited expectantly. Delilah looked toward the door of the kitchen and shrugged. Why not? She hoisted up her skirts and showed off her legs.

  “Wow, those butterflies look real,” Gracie said admirably.

  Anna noticed the Geisha faces on the back of each calf. “These are really beautiful. How long have you been getting them done?”

  “I got my first one when I was sixteen. I did it myself, but it’s fading.” Or had faded. Li casually glanced at her finger where her ladybug had been. She wasn’t sure when it completely disappeared, but it was gone as of this afternoon. It concerned her and she worried about how her body was changing. So far all of her other tattoos looked okay.

  “Who does them for you?”

  “I do most of the work myself. The places I can’t reach I have a friend do, but all the art work is mine. I just did this ducky the other day.”

  The door to the kitchen pressed open. “Destiny—”

  Dane stilled. Delilah dropped her skirt. It wasn’t like she was indecently exposing herself, but they were on an Amish farm. The girls all stepped back from where they were admiring her legs.

  “What do you want, Dane?” Gracie snapped. “We were talking.”

  He shook his head and backed out of the kitchen. Great, probably to go tattle to Christian about her flashing her hoo-hoo.

  “Ignore him,” Gracie said. “So, you’re an artist?”

  “Uh, I draw tattoos…”

  “Well that’s art,” Anna added with a smile.

  Destiny came over from the stove. Whatever she was making smelled delicious. Delilah just hoped she could eat it. She’d hate to be the difficult vegetarian.

  “Adam has some paints and stuff in the barn. Maybe he could let you borrow some and you could do some portraits,” Anna said.

  “I don’t really do people,” she said a little overwhelmed by all the attention.

  “I’d love for you to help me paint Lucy’s nursery. Sometimes I think I’ll go insane if I have to look at one more mint green wall.”

  “Um, I could do that, I guess.”

  “Ooh, will you paint something on our bedroom wall? Cain would love that.”

  They all began to talk at once and Delilah found herself agre
eing to anything and everything they asked. Christian would just have to deal with it. If she was expected to stay here she was going to need to find something to do besides wait on him.

  Wait! What?

  “Oh, that reminds me,” Anna said. “When’s Vito making his next trip out to the farm? I have a list for him.”

  “He’s supposed to come out sometime next week,” Destiny said. “Vito’s my brother. He comes out every couple of weeks and smuggles goods to us. If there’s anything you need that you can’t get here, he can usually get it for you.”

  “What kind of goods?”

  “Music, batteries, books, store brand junk food, clothes, lingerie, underwear—”

  “Your brother buys you lingerie?” That seemed a little odd.

  “No, he works at a strip club. He usually just passes a list to one of the girls and they bag it up for him.”

  “Oh. Are you guys allowed to do that? Can’t you get in trouble?”

  Gracie giggled. “With the bishop’s penchant for slutty panties, he sort of lets it slide.”

  “The bishop wears women’s panties?”

  The girls burst out laughing. “Oh, God no! They’re for Larissa!” Anna gasped.

  Lucy woke up from all the noise and began to cry.

  “Do you want to help me set the table?” Destiny asked.

  Delilah followed her into the dining room with a stack of plates. The men were sitting in the den talking quietly. Christian’s gaze immediately found hers. Poor guy. He looked completely out of his element. She wondered if he was a bit agoraphobic.

  “I’ll be right back. I forgot the napkins,” Destiny said and disappeared back into the kitchen.

  Delilah began setting out the plates.

  “May I help you?”

  She jumped and turned only to find Christian right behind her. “I’ve got it. Why don’t you go play with the other boys?”

  “I’m two hundred and seventy-six years old, Delilah. I do not play.”

  “Well, talk, whatever. Go be a good guest.”

  “I have nothing to say to them.”