He took in the room with one comprehensive sweep, but to his credit, he didn’t appear disgusted. “Why live here?” he murmured.
“Because it’s within my budget.”
He turned to her now, his frown showing his puzzlement. “How come? Why don’t you have enough money?”
She thrust up her chin. “Some people don’t set store by material possessions.”
He raised a brow. “It’s surely worth saving enough to find somewhere good to live. When you brought me here, I assumed you had the whole house. But the smell alerted me.”
“What smell?”
“Damp and cabbage. Who lives here?”
She shrugged. “Mainly people on income support. And there are a few low waged, like me. I get by in the summer and sign on in the winter.”
He shook his head. “I repeat. Why live like this?”
“Because this is what I can afford.” She strode across the room, careful to retain her balance, though she was still finding that part difficult. “Why? Too squalid for you?” The room was big enough for her, and it meant she didn’t have to clean up quite so often. It had always been enough for her. She paused, but she saw no reason not to tell him. “My parents owned the whole house once. Then they sold it and moved on, but I stayed.”
“Where are they now?” His voice had roughened, or maybe she imagined it.
“Dead.”
A wave of dizziness swept her off her feet. She staggered, and he was there, catching her before she hit the floor. Christ, he moved fast. Or she was moving slow. She had no idea which. He didn’t steady her. He lifted her and laid her on the bed. It felt so good. Until he put his hands on her waistband.
“Hey!”
“Easy, darling. I might be a bastard, but I’m not that kind of bastard. I’m going to take off your outer clothing, and then you can sleep.”
Nice of him, she thought drowsily. I always stink of the brewery when I get back.
Chapter Three
She worried him. When the drug had hit, her mind had spun open, far too much for his liking. Coke might have produced the lack of inhibition, but surely she should have learned better. Her parents being murdered concerned him too.
He needed something to think about, because he was uncovering the most delectable body he’d seen in a long, long time. And so not his type, but it appealed to him on a new level. Touched him in a way he couldn’t remember. She had a beautifully curved, petite body, lightly tanned. He grinned. Pale as a vampire indeed. Once vampires had prided themselves for their pallor, but it had made them stand out too much, and in any case, fashions change, even in the more slow-moving vampire universe.
He peeled off her skirt and lifted her so he could take off her top. He stopped there. She wore a white shirt, virginal white. And she worried him.
He sat on a nearby hard chair and stared at her, propping his chin on his hands, elbows on knees. Deliberately he kept his mind linked with hers, anchored it, so that if he fell asleep, any change in her would wake him. Not that he felt like sleep right now. The events in that dark alley had driven any tiredness out of his mind. Maybe he was just naturally suspicious—too many years spent working for the Department taking their toll—so that even a drunken brawl in an alley had sinister overtones.
But why she was so badly affected by a drugged and drunk businessman? he wondered. Was it her, or had the man taken more than he should? If it was her, she needed to meet some people who’d help her strengthen her psi. If not, then something else was going on here.
He laughed. In Llandudno?
He’d known it to happen in quieter places, whatever “it” was, and so far, he didn’t know for sure.
*
Cerys rolled over and hit something solid. Something solid and warm. She came instantly awake, then wished she hadn’t. Her groan woke him up.
Slowly the memories of last night returned as he blinked and smiled at her, one hand under his cheek. He leaned up on one elbow, looking far too sexy for his own good. Or for her good, come to that. His short haircut meant he looked pretty much immaculate, even first thing in the morning. “You slept with me?”
He grinned unrepentantly. “There weren’t many other places.” He lost the grin. “Besides, I wanted to keep a close eye on you. The blood shouldn’t have affected you that much.”
“Why not?” She’d woken up with somebody else’s hangover before. It would clear soon. Already she could feel the headache lifting. A phantom hangover never lasted as long as the real thing, she assured herself, although when she moved, her stomach roiled alarmingly.
“It’ll pass soon.” That dark, soothing voice could guide her through dreams. “Close your eyes. I’ll make coffee and toast. If you have any.”
Nothing loath, she did as he commanded, for command it was, but his suggestion sounded good to her. Except for one thing. “Can you make it tea, please?”
“I can probably manage that.”
The old bedsprings sagged as he sat and got out of bed. She ventured a look. He was dragging a pair of jeans over a pair of white boxers, standing with his back to her. Probably just as well. But he had a beautiful arse, his buns tight and grabbable.
How could she be feeling like that when her stomach still rolled with the hangover? Although the headache was fading nicely.
By the time he returned with the promised tea and toast, she was feeling a whole lot better. He found a couple of cushions from the couch to prop behind her back and bolster the pillows, making her feel looked after. She hadn’t felt that way for so long. Not cosseted like this. Dave looked after her at work, running shotgun for her when customers got too rowdy. Nothing like this. He handed her the plate of toast, and their hands brushed.
Tingles sparked between them, shivering up her arm to her shoulder. She ignored them, but she didn’t ignore the attraction she felt for him. As yet she had no idea if he felt anything for her that was more than camaraderie and concern. And she wouldn’t let him see until she knew. She wasn’t that desperate.
He sat on the hard chair she usually kept flat against the wall, the twin to the one she used as a bedside table. She glanced at her watch. “I have to get to work by noon. I’m on the early shift today.”
“Does that place open all day?”
She bit into her toast and cleared her mouth before she answered him. “We open at noon and usually close at one or two a.m. Dave lets us go home early if the place clears. Saturdays we’re open later. That’s the worst night. But I can handle the rowdies.” She took another bite. “Too well, really. I have to pretend sometimes, let them think they’ve hurt me. But I’ve never had any real problems.”
“Until last night.”
“Yes. Until last night.” She chewed in silence and then reached for her tea, letting out a moan of contentment when the hot liquid hit her tonsils. She drained the mug, then stared at the bottom with disappointment. “Did you make a pot?”
“Yes.” He grinned and held out his hand for her empty mug.
This was too easy. She felt too comfortable with him. That ended when he leaned over her to put her tea on the impromptu bedside table. She smelled hot male and couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this close to one. She couldn’t help it. She had to touch.
She flattened her hand against his chest, rubbing to enjoy the feel of the hair sprinkling the tanned skin. He stilled, and his throat moved in a convulsive swallow. Then he looked at her.
Heat poured through her. Steaming, burning heat. He touched her mind with it, let her see it. “You should know if I start, I won’t stop. Don’t make me fuck a woman with a hangover.”
She wet her lips and watched his gaze follow the motion. “What hangover?” The tea and toast had taken care of most of it. Right now she wouldn’t have admitted to it, anyway. This man was the epitome of hot. Beautifully delineated features, sharp cheekbones, mobile lips, dark eyes lit with an inner flame. And the body was simply ripped. She’d been enjoying the sight of his powerful chest, fram
ed with the broad shoulders just made for a woman to cling to.
And the casual use of the word “fuck.” She used it herself, but the way he used it made it sound like a caress, something she wanted above anything else.
“I want to hear the word,” he said.
“Yes,” she said. “I want it. I want you.”
Whatever she planned to say next, he cut off with his mouth, bending to take her in a kiss, their first. He claimed her with that kiss, touched her lips with his tongue. His arms bracketed her, and the mattress dipped as he knelt on it.
And still he kissed her. She opened for him and let all that tea-flavored magnificence in. He was so big, although he hadn’t seemed that way against the giant Dave. But he was. He climbed over her and surrounded her with his heat, his cock a hard ridge through their clothes, pushing at her, making demands she was only too ready to fulfill.
How long had it been? A year? Probably. She’d indulged in a couple of nights with a tourist last year, a nice man from Manchester, but when he asked to see her again, said he’d drive over to see her, she said no. She didn’t encourage deep relations with mortals. It never worked out.
But this man, he was of her kind. She wouldn’t have to watch him age and die. She wouldn’t have to think of him living his life apart from her. Her parents had warned her about that, and she’d done her best to avoid it. But him… She could let herself go with him and enjoy every minute. She stretched her mind to try to remember everything her mother had told her, but sensuality warmed her, and the only moment that seemed important was this one.
He kept his weight off her by resting on his forearms and knees. While she loved feeling his warmth and the heaviness of him surrounding her, she appreciated his concern. He kissed her with increasing passion as if he wanted to taste every part of her. But he didn’t overwhelm her because she was eager too.
With a gasp, he lifted his head and then pressed his forehead to hers. “I don’t want this over too soon. I want to savor you. But you are so sexy it’s going to kill me. I wanted you when I first saw you. Did you know that?”
“And you’re only now making your move?” She spread her hand over his chest, slid it down, loving the subtle curves of muscle, the firm planes of satiny male skin. “My, vampire, you’re slooow…” And she reached up and kissed him, initiating the kiss for the first time. She slid her hand right down to his jeans and flicked the button open, moved to his zipper. It came down with the ease of a comfortable pair of well-worn favorites.
She’d seen his underwear, so she knew it was white, but more than that, she couldn’t wait to find out. She grasped his cock, or what of it she could get in her hand. He grunted into their kiss, added an aggressive thrust of his tongue. He pulled away, but she followed, and he finally rolled off her with a rough laugh.
“No, not yet. Christ, I’d love you to, but stroke me and I might go off. I need a minute.” He closed his eyes and put his arm over his face, his chest heaving as he took a couple of deep breaths. It gave her a chance to admire him all over again, but now that she’d undone his fly, she could see so much more. The head of his cock peeked over the top of his underwear, which she’d managed to drag down a bit before he’d pulled away. As she watched, a drop of clear fluid emerged from the tiny opening. She wanted it for her own, but if she took it the way she wanted to, she might get a whole lot more. And she longed to feel him inside her. Wet just about began to describe the way she felt right now. She squirmed and discovered she was right. She sat up.
By the movement of the too-soft bed, she knew he’d moved too, but it didn’t stop her. Naked, she wanted naked. Now. She unsnapped her bra in record time and slid the straps down her arms, but he was there, his lips on her shoulder, kissing away the marks her bra had left. Then before she’d shaken free of the straps, he had his hands on her breasts, cupping them, a sigh gusting against her back. “Beautiful, just beautiful.”
She’d always considered them a bit large for her petite stature, but she wasn’t about to complain now. Only when she tried to get into the latest fashion, invariably designed for flatter-chested girls than her. Right now he was making his appreciation obvious, and she wouldn’t have them any different. He rolled her nipples between his fingers and thumbs, sent shocks coursing through her, pressing kisses to her shoulders, her neck, and when she turned her head, her mouth. He was taller than she, even sitting, so he could reach her mouth while she leaned her head against his temptingly broad shoulder. “So good.”
God, she loved that. He could talk to her, and mind to mind, it was so much more intimate. No, not intimate, but close, different. Sexy. So fucking sexy.
He explored her mouth slowly with all the deliberation of a man prepared to do this all day. She’d love him to, except she wanted more. Specifically she wanted him out of those jeans. And the underwear.
Slowly he moved, slid his hands off her breasts, and turned her to face him. He gazed down at her, smiling. She could melt into those eyes. He dropped a little kiss on her lips, just a taster, and moved lower to her breasts, where he stayed, lavishing attention on them. He tugged, sucked to draw one of her nipples into his mouth while he caressed the other, pinched and tugged, then stroked the tiny sting away. Her breasts had never felt so sensitive. So spoiled. She leaned back, and he followed her, tasting and suckling. When he slid his hand down her body to her thighs, and then between them, she only needed his gentle pressure to ease them apart. When he touched her clit through her panties, she jerked, unable to control the sensitivity. She cried out, then caught her breath, ready to still her voice.
He lifted his head. “I’d love to hear you scream for me. Will you do that?”
“Not here.” She wasn’t alone on this floor. Next door lived a man she was sure spied on her sometimes, but she had no proof. Even putting out her psi senses, such as they were, had no result. But sometimes she felt like she was being watched. And he’d love to hear her scream in passion.
Rhodri didn’t object. “Okay. Not now. But you will. Count that as a promise.”
He looked wonderful, his dark eyes wicked with intent, his lips slightly parted, flushed from his exertions.
“Jeans,” she managed. “Off.”
He raised a brow and leaned back on his heels. “Sure?” He must know that his cock jutted forward when he sat like that. She tore her gaze away and concentrated on his face. Oh he knew all right. A lazy smile curled one side of his mouth. “Okay, then.” He slid the garments off slowly, so slowly that by the time he kicked the jeans off the bed, she was slavering for him. “C’mere.”
“With the greatest pleasure.” Pausing, she dragged off her panties and dropped them over the side of the bed to join the rest of her clothes. He moved to sit and crossed his legs. His cock jutted up, inviting, irresistible. He sat among the rumpled pillows like some kind of Eastern potentate. Just for her. She lifted, climbed over him, and sat straddled across his thighs. His muscles flexed, his cock bumped against her stomach, and he grasped her hips.
“Gorgeous,” he murmured and kissed her again, lingering over her. Lifting her, he positioned her, and she felt the delicious pressure of the silky head against her pussy. She felt wide open, ready for him. Using her heels to find purchase, she pressed and pushed down. “In. Now.”
She gasped. However open she was, she couldn’t fit him inside in one thrust. “You’re not a virgin, are you?” He sounded stunned, shocked.
She laughed. “No. I just haven’t done it for a while.”
“How long? Jesus, you’re tight!”
“A year.” She thought. “Eighteen months. And it was only a—”
“Never mind,” he said. “I don’t want to know. You’re mine now.”
She wasn’t sure she liked that, but he reassured her in his next breath. “No, not like that. Here, now, you’re mine, and I’m yours. Relax, anwyl.”
She’d heard that endearment many times before, but it had never sounded sweeter. She held her breath, bore down, and found her
reward. He slid past the tight opening into her welcoming pussy.
Deep, so deep. He touched the opening to her womb and slid past, inside her vagina, embedding himself. In this position, he accepted everything she had to give. And yet he was giving her control. She began to move, taking her cue from him to keep the pace easy, shifting until she found the place that sent shivers through her whole body.
He nuzzled her breasts, her throat, and slid his hand up her spine to urge her to look down at him. Then he kissed her, thrusting his tongue into her mouth in time with their movements down below. She shuddered, and he murmured to her, mind to mind. “That’s it, just move. Fuck me good. Let me hold you, kiss you. So beautiful. You weigh nothing, honey, nothing at all.”
She did. But to somebody like him, probably not. His soft moans into her mouth, against her neck, her upper breasts, her nipples, vibrated through her whole body.
And then their actions turned frantic despite their efforts to keep it slow. She couldn’t stop. Neither, it seemed, could he. He worked her up and down, and eagerly she followed his actions, together creating something beautiful. Shivers of delight rippled through her, increasing every time he thrust deeply and hard, stimulating her sweet spot.
Forgetting the neighbors, forgetting everything but this exquisite sensation, she cried out, cried his name.
He laughed and laid her down but didn’t leave her body. The wet slap of skin against skin, the change in direction, drove her back up again, but this time little flutters coursed through her, like the aftermath of an orgasm, but they were building, building.
She gripped his shoulders, slick with sweat now, needing something to hold on to, something firm. Just like that. She loved the way his muscles flexed under her hands as he worked her, his face tight with arousal, his eyes intent on hers. To close them now would be sacrilege, some kind of sin, anyway.
She arched her back, wanting to get closer, wanting more. He laughed again. Pure pleasure rocketed through her mind and set her off once more, touching her deep inside, somewhere his cock couldn’t reach.
Department 57: Bloody Crystal Page 3