Netherworld: Drop Dead Sexy

by Tracy St. John

  If he did, he gave no sign. “Yuck indeed. If you stake one of us without pinning us down to the ground, the damage is only temporary. After all, our hearts don’t actually beat. It heals like any other injury we’d sustain.”

  I thought about it. Vampire biology. We sure didn’t get that in tenth grade science. “I see. And if a vampire’s body is killed while he’s in ghost form, instead of returning to the body at nightfall, he simply disappears. Do I have it?”

  “Correct to the letter.”

  “Where do dead vampire souls disappear to?”

  Tristan shrugged, the motion a violent jerk. I could tell the conversation made him uncomfortable. “Unknown. No vampire to my knowledge has ever returned as a ghost once its body has been destroyed by beheading or burning.”

  No wonder he wasn’t smiling anymore. Grim stuff. “Doesn’t that scare you when the sun sets, to not know if you’ll be coming back?”

  Tristan shrugged again. “Vampires keep their day resting places well hidden, even from each other.” He abruptly changed the topic. “How are you getting along with Dan?”

  I knew when to let a subject go. With a smile I said, “Dan’s a peach.”

  “I think he likes you too. He was staring daggers at me when I brought you in here. He must think I plan to have my way with you.”

  Tristan’s observation about Dan marred my enjoyment of the old-fashioned phrasing. So I hadn’t imagined that flash of jealousy. My defenses went up. “I don’t like getting tangled up in relationships. If he’s looking for his one-and-only, he hasn’t found her yet.”

  Tristan leaned close, putting his hand over mine. “Someone hurt you.” It was a statement, not a question.

  “You could say that.” I moved forward in my chair bringing me closer to the vampire. I liked Dan, but he wasn’t going to trap me. Better he find out now than get too invested and be hurt later.

  To Tristan I said, “I find I prefer grazing at the buffet over ordering and getting stuck with a particular meal.”

  He chuckled. “I’ve never heard it put quite that way before. So you’re open to the affections of more than one man?”

  He didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, he leaned over to kiss me long, slow, and deep, igniting every inch of my body with his lips and tongue alone. Man, Tristan sure could kiss with that curl-the-toes kind of passion every girl loves.

  His lips moved over mine, tasting me thoroughly. One hand cupped my jaw and the other wrapped possessively around the back of my head. With that kiss, he had the liquid of my insides bubbling at full boil. Good golly, Miss Molly.

  My hands slid over his suddenly naked chest, enjoying the smoothness of his skin that stretched over hard muscled planes. I’d never had a preference for hairy versus smooth chests. I admire and enjoy the many different ways a man could be. Right now, the silky clean lines of Tristan’s torso were very much to my liking.

  “Don’t wish your clothes away,” Tristan whispered when he finally lifted those too-talented lips from mine. “I want to undress you slowly.”

  I nodded. I wasn’t sure if I had a voice or if it had gone on vacation.

  Tristan slid the spaghetti straps of my sundress down my shoulders, baring them and the tops of my breasts. His lips and tongue were velvety soft as they traveled down my chin to my throat. He paused at the hollow at the bottom of the column, sending trembles dancing down my body as he kissed me there. He slowly moved across the line

  of my left collarbone, kissing his way to my shoulder. He gently bit the rounded muscle there before reversing his course, traveling oh so slowly to the other shoulder.

  I sat in a puddle on my chair. He hadn’t touched any naughty bits yet, but I gushed like a sponge being wrung out. The man was way too talented.

  He got to my girl parts soon enough. Tristan cupped my still-mostly covered breasts, lifting them up for his attention. He nuzzled the bared tops, kissing and nibbling. His thumbs rubbed my nipples through the soft material, bringing them to nubby peaks. I moaned in encouragement. He delved deep into my cleavage, his chin pushing the fabric down as he licked a hot, wet path in that valley.

  He went to his knees in front of my chair, his body pushing my legs apart. My fingers traced the divots and creases that outlined his muscular shoulders. I watched his dark head just below my chin with half-lidded eyes as he moved up and down, now kissing the inner curves of my breasts.

  Tristan clutched the top of my dress in his fists, and I expected him to rip it down. Instead, he gradually uncovered my breasts, the bodice slipping down to expose my rosy nipples in increments. The slow undressing made my insides roil. I didn’t think I’d ever been so turned on, and he hadn’t even done much to me yet. Heck, he hadn’t even gone Dom on me, but I was as goose-pimpled as any sub strapped to a St. Andrew’s cross and waiting for the first thud of a paddle.

  He licked the index finger and thumb of one hand. His gifted mouth closed on one taut nipple while he used his spit-slicked fingers on the other. He licked and rubbed, sucked and tweaked, nipped and pinched. My happy flesh swelled and reddened under his care and something down below flexed hard. Heaven help me, I thought I might come just from the attention he bestowed on my chest. Tristan Keith wasn’t simply gifted in pleasuring a girl. He was an absolute genius.

  I lost track of the time he spent playing with my breasts. He was wonderfully thorough, even taking time to lick the creases separating breasts from ribcage. My flesh pulsed and ached. One moment gentle, the next rough, he gave me every pleasure possible from the fleshy mounds. I shuddered, sighed, moaned and sobbed as he took me to heights I’d not believed possible through breast play.

  Once he had me shaking all over, he continued his downward journey, baring my flat belly. He kissed the soft skin, and I discovered erogenous zones I didn’t know I had. Between each rib and the line running straight down to my belly button were gut-trembling surprises of sensation. Oh! And the cup of my navel, where his tongue dipped and swirled … who knew the electric zingies that could produce? I wriggled so hard in my chair that he had to hold my hips tight to keep me down. My reaction spurred him to keep at the sensitive spot until I cried for mercy.

  “You’re killing me, Tristan,” I groaned.

  “Too late for that,” he teased me. But his assault on my belly button ceased.

  The bodice of my sundress was probably stretchy enough to slide over my hips, but Tristan chose to start from the bottom and work his way up. He snagged one of my ankles and slid my sandal off. He kissed the bottom of my foot, starting from my heel, licking over the arch, and gently biting just below my big toe.

  I’d never been one for foot play. In fact, my feet kind of embarrassed me. They were long with perfectly straight toes and slender. They were also size 8 ½. Okay, closer to 9.

  Fine. I have skinny, 9 ½ sized feet. I could go skiing without strapping skis on. Insert Bigfoot jokes here.

  Tristan didn’t seem put off by my not-so dainty base. He sucked in my fire-engine red polished big toe and I swear I almost swooned from the pleasure of his warm, wet mouth. His thumbs rubbed my arch at the same time, and the pressure relaxed even as his tongue and lips excited. Good God up in heaven, I could learn to enjoy this.

  He bestowed the same attention on the other foot. I’d become complete goo now. I couldn’t have stood even with the support of a bicycle kickstand attached to my rear. In Tristan’s possession, I was a complete goner.

  He placed my feet on the desk behind him, splaying me wide apart. His mouth and hands moved up my calves, spent time tickling the backs of my knees, then started a slow but determined path up my inner thighs, pushing up the skirt of my dress as he went. I trembled as he traveled upwards, the fine tremors growing to near quaking. He darted a look up at my face, his expression pure deviltry that made my insides knot tight in anticipation. As he closed in on the apex of my thighs, I couldn’t contain the wavering whimper that fell from my lips.

  Tristan pushed the skirt up so that my entire dress
wadded at my waist. He eyed my sex like a gourmand contemplating a particularly tasty dish.

  “You’re beautiful, Brandilynn,” he said. He stroked the soft skin of my hairless mound with one hand while carefully spreading me open with the other. “Every inch of you is sweeter than the last.”

  I couldn’t respond. He’d left me in an agony of desire and anticipation.

  He smiled and slowly lowered his face. His light kiss on my straining clit sent sizzling sparkles through me. My hands slammed down on the wooden armrests of my chair to clench in white-knuckled response. For such a light touch to bring me to the brink of climax showed just how adept Tristan was.

  The tip of his tongue barely touching, he lightly traced down the lips of my sex. The pressure was as light as a butterfly’s wing, but it made me writhe. Down one side, up the other, a quick flick on the sensitive nub to make me squeal, and then doing it all over again.

  Next his wicked flesh ran straight up the center, and my legs involuntarily closed to squeeze his head. With a chuckle, Tristan flattened his hands against the insides of my thighs, opening me again. “Hold still, girl, or I’ll have to tie you down.”

  “Please, Tristan,” I groaned, fighting to form the words.

  “In a moment. You taste too good to rush.”

  I sighed in surrender as he bent to his work once more. He fed with languorous strokes, licking and sucking my flesh, making every minute touch exquisite torture. He avoided my clit though, and I was desperate for him to touch me there. Tristan only snickered at my efforts to draw his mouth to that distended nub.

  “So swollen and red. You’re looking very needy, my girl.”

  “Dang you,” I grated between clenched teeth.

  “Hmm. Rather ungrateful for all the attention I’m paying you. Should I stop?”

  I wailed in response to the threat. My hips thrust towards his face.

  Instead of returning to his sensuous feasting, Tristan stood. He was naked, and I reached greedily for the jutting organ with the idea I’d torture him for awhile.

  Tristan slapped my hands away, then bent and gripped me about the waist. Picking me up from the chair, he swung me around to perch me on the desktop. I had a moment to be amazed at his strength before he situated my buttocks at the edge of the surface and made ready to thrust into me.

  After the long lead up, I was more than ready to be taken hard and fast. Instead, he crept into me so slowly that I squalled in protest. Wrapping my legs around his buttocks, I tried to pull him in, demanding he quench the burning need eating me up. His hand twisted painfully in my hair, and he pulled my head back to meet his gaze.

  “You will stop now,” he said, his voice deep with command.

  I whined, but under that stern gaze a switch flipped and I immediately submitted. He grabbed the back of my knees, forcing them up and tilting my hips. The position forced me to brace myself on my hands.

  Watching Tristan slowly enveloped himself in me made me shudder with need. Had I ever known such an overwhelming urge to be possessed? If I had, I sure couldn’t remember it now. And he drove me crazy with the slow impaling, making me feel every tiny increment of his gradual progression. Feeling him creep deeper and deeper, his thick penetration stretching me wonderfully, I hovered so close to the pinnacle of ecstasy. It wouldn’t take much to carry me over, and I think Tristan knew that. I could complain and whine all I wanted, but it was up to him to allow me the explosion my body begged for. For now, he chose to torment me.

  He was careful to not let his groin meet mine, denying that tantalizing brush of his body with my clit that would shoot me into paradise. With exquisite precision, Tristan rocked his hips back and forth, coming so close until his crinkly pubic hair came in the lightest contact with my straining bud, and then backed away again. His lovemaking was slow and gentle. He used it to show what a sadistic brute he truly was.

  “Please,” I whined.

  He smiled down at me. “I love hearing you beg. Tell me how much you want me.”

  “I do, Tristan. I want you so bad. I want you to take me, make me come. Please, let me come.”

  He thrust harder but still too careful to accomplish what I needed. “More. Really beg me, Brandilynn.”

  “Please, Sir. I want it. I want it so bad it hurts. Please, I’ll do anything you want, just please, please let me come.”

  I nearly sobbed with agony. He drew it out, the selfish pig, enjoying my torment. It almost made me want to curse him with all kinds of filthy profanities. If he’d just do it…

  “Pleeeease…”

  Tristan grasped the backs of my hips and rammed himself in as far as he could. Again. And again. The explosion bloomed, a thousand thermonuclear devices detonating all at once, mushroom clouds billowing to decimate every cell of my being, leaving me a wasteland. White hot pulses ignited over and over, rupturing all in their path, ripping my world wide open.

  When my brain began to re-assert itself, I still thrashed in the eddies of aftershock, my body twisting in the throes of the greatest, most profound, mindblowing big ‘O’ I’d ever had. Jeez Louise. If I’d been alive, I think it would have killed me.

  But what a way to go.

  I lay flat on my back on the desk, having apparently lost all ability to keep myself upright went the shockwave hit. Tristan stood over me, gasping with his head thrown back. It must have been good for him too.

  Finally the rumbles within my overwrought body quieted enough for me to be able to lay still, weak as a plate of spaghetti. Tristan’s head lolled forward and he looked at me with a cat’s self-satisfied grin.

  “Let’s do that again. Soon.”

  “Give me time to recover from this one. Like a year or so.”

  He laughed and pulled free. I hated to feel him go, but he sat on the desk next to me, picked me up and cuddled me on his lap. A good trade. I snuggled into the hollow of his shoulder with a happy sigh.

  I’d heard sex while giving blood to a vampire was the most incredible lovemaking of all, but I couldn’t imagine any physical sensation being more intense than what we’d just had. I just had to ask. “What kind of lover are you as a vampire?”

  He kissed my forehead. “Probably no better, though the glamour no doubt makes it feel otherwise. Being bitten by a vampire gets some victims off without sex.”

  “I wonder if my attacker had sex with me.” The though erased almost all the good feelings I had, and I shuddered. “I’m not sure I’d want to remember that.”

  Tristan hugged me tight to his wonderful body and kissed my forehead again. “I’m sorry to push you, but we really need to know.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “Is this business with the vampire serial killer hurting your political aspirations?”

  Tristan nodded. “You are a smart girl. I’ve been accused of trying to cover up the killer’s identity by my political opponents. The idea is getting a foothold in the county.”

  “I guess that comes with the territory. You are the vampire leader of this community.” I regarded him. With his GQ good looks, he was such a pleasure to look at. “Is it true you’re planning to eventually run for president of the United States?”

  Tristan snorted and found something else to look at. “That’s a rather lofty goal, seeing how vampires have only been able to vote for the last thirty years.”

  I ran a fingertip over his jawline. I had fallen into the old routine of good conversation that made a client happy after sex. My clients always appreciated that as much, if not more, than my ability to get them off. I didn’t have to do it anymore, but old habits die harder than we do, apparently.

  “Some of my clients have said if there’s a para who could pull off getting into the White House, it’s you.”

  Tristan kept his expression and tone noncommittal, but I detected the pleasure in his eyes. “The community leaders here think Fulton Falls is a bigger deal than it is.”

  I grinned. “I got that from Congressman Fletcher last time he passed through.”

&n
bsp; Tristan looked at me in surprised delight. “My, my, Miss Payson, you do have quite the clientele.” He mused out loud, “So George is that impressed with me.”

  From outside the closed door, Dan called. “Tristan?”

  “Yes?”

  “I just checked out the coroner’s office. They finished up Brandilynn’s autopsy. The cops are on the way to get the report.”

  Fun time was over. Tristan and I stood, completely clothed again. He took up my hand and kissed the back of it with courtly aplomb. “Thank you for a lovely time, Brandilynn.”

  “The pleasure was all mine.” Good Lord, had it ever been.

  “And now the unpleasant awaits us. Let’s see what we can find out about your death.”