Did I think she barely had a scent before?
No, now I could easily recognize her scent even amongst a sea of sweaty, unwashed, weekend music festival goers high on stinky weed and bathing in patchouli. “I see you found my supply bin in the closet. I do appreciate the tape.”
“You’re in danger with me,” she chokes out. “How does this even work? What if I don’t ever want to be turned? So, you just live with me and watch me grow old and die one day, and I break your heart again? I can’t do that to you.”
“Love, that is my choice, and one that I make without hesitation or reservation when it comes to you.” I rub my cheek against the top of her head. I desperately want to turn her thoughts away from that darkness. “I’m curious to see what I’m wearing tonight.”
She tips her head back and meets my gaze, my attempt to cajole her with a little humor falling pitifully flat. I can’t help cupping her cheeks in my hands, so I can brush her tears away with my thumbs.
“I will not rush you. Tonight, tomorrow, next year, ten years from now—I will be right here, waiting, hoping. But I will not walk away from you or allow you to let fear make this decision for you. I am stronger than anything that will ever threaten you. It is my decision to fight for you. We will figure out what it is, and we’ll take care of it together.”
She nods, and I brush a kiss across her lips.
“Good girl. Let’s take a shower, and you will need some food before we leave, and I’ll have to feed.”
“I brought four bags of blood for you. I hope that was enough.”
“More than, thank you.” I don’t add that I can drink more at the club later, if I’m still hungry.
I turn to retrieve my things from the closet and peel the remaining tape off the doorframe for her when I spot the open photo album on her bed. I pause, studying it. “Love, is this your mother?”
She glances over. “Yeah. That was me and Mom when I was sixteen.”
“May I?”
She nods.
I pick up the album, my gaze drawn not to how much they look alike, with the same hair and the same beautiful smiles, but to the faint marks on the top of her mother’s left shoulder. Very faint, near the curve of her neck, visible thanks to the tank top.
“She was beautiful,” I honestly say. “And you look so much like her.”
“Mom always said I have Dad’s eyes.”
Interesting. Violet eyes are rare in humans, and they are never the brilliant, clear color of Eilidh’s. If her father had the same color eyes…
If I didn’t know any better, I’d say the mark on her mother’s shoulder was a mating mark. “Did your mother ever have another husband, or boyfriend, or anyone like that in her life?”
She shakes her head. “Never even dated. Even when I was older and told her she should try going out and meeting guys. She loved Dad too much. I honestly think if it hadn’t been for me, she might have given up on life. Those first years were really rough. Countless times, I remember hearing her cry at night, when she thought I was asleep.”
Ahhh.
My sweet Eilidh’s enigma grows even more complex.
When she steps into the bathroom, I pull out my phone and snap two photos of that picture, one at regular size and one zoomed in on the marks. They don’t look exactly like a wolf’s mark, but it can’t be anything but a mating mark. I’d stake my life on it.
Literally.
By the time she emerges from the bathroom with my garment bag, I’m peeling the tape from around the closet door. Then I retrieve my blazer, vest, shoes, and socks from the closet.
She shows me what she selected for me to wear and I can’t help but smile. “Jeans and boots, hmm?”
“I hope that was okay.”
“It’s brilliant, love. I’ll wear whatever makes you happy.”
It feels damned perfect, calling her that. Love.
Unless she asks me not to, I will.
I plug my nearly dead phone into its charger and then gently tug Eilidh into my arms again. “Don’t forget to pack for tonight. If you still wish to stay with me, that is.”
Her pulse thrums in a delicious flutter of need and desire that confirms this is the truth, even if she is scared. “I do.”
“Even if all we do is snuggle and watch movies and talk,” I add. “If you would rather shower alone, I understand and will not take offense.”
It’s adorable, the way she bites on her lower lip as she stares up at me. Her fingers play with the front placket on my shirt, fingering the buttons and stitching before lightly brushing over my bare abs. “I’d like to shower together.”
“You set the pace of this.”
She nods, then looks up again. “Would you really spank me for lying?”
“Absolutely, I would. I still might. I reserve the right to give you a punishment spanking for that. You do not lie to me. Ever. I will never lie to you. In the future, be advised lying to me will earn you a spanking.”
She blushes again. “I’m sorry I lied.”
“You even knew I’d know.”
“Yeah.”
I tuck her hair behind her ears and cradle her face in my hands. “Love, I am the one person you never need lie to. I’ll always be honest with you. Trust flows both ways, and I need the truth from you, even if you think it’ll hurt me.”
She bounces up on her toes and kisses me, her arms wrapping around me. I linger, savoring the sweet taste of her.
Please, don’t let me fuck this up.
Her lashes flutter. “How about that shower?”
“Sounds great.”
I swear I had honorable intentions.
I really, truly did.
Except when we reach the bathroom, she grabs me by the front of my shirt and pulls me in for another kiss that heats up…
Fast.
A supernova hits a fuel tanker leaking gasoline all over a dynamite factory kind of fast fast.
She backs me against the wall and, as we kiss, she shoves my shirt down and off my shoulders. I shrug out of it and discard it while she’s already working on my belt and slacks.
She’s wearing a tank top and shorts, and her hair’s still that lovely shade of black. I cup the back of her head to take control of our kiss, or she won’t end up at work tonight, and I’ll be spending another night in her closet rather than leave her.
Because if this woman takes a leap of faith with me, I’m damned sure going to catch her.
Every time.
22
Dexter
I slow down our kiss—I know, I know. But I’m a gentleman.
Except being a gentleman still gets me stripped to my boxer briefs with a raging hardon that I can’t disguise, and I’m trying to help Eilidh out of her clothes.
Her violet eyes darken into gorgeous, sparkling nebulas I’d love to spend eternity swimming through. Spending all day today surrounded by her scent…
Despite the circumstances, I think today was the deepest, soundest sleep I’ve had in what feels like forever. It felt like being hugged by her while the darkness and oblivion took me. I didn’t have any nightmares.
For once, I awoke feeling refreshed instead of resigned.
I haven’t slept with anyone—I mean, gone to sleep with anyone—since I lost Robert.
There’s never been someone I trusted enough or felt even remotely like sharing my bed with in such an intimate way.
Sex with someone? Sure.
Spank them? Eat their pussy? Tie them up? Feed from them?
Yeah.
Curl up next to them when I’m forced to succumb to the sun’s powers every day and allow them to hold me?
To see me at my weakest?
To make myself vulnerable to them?
My sweet Robert was the last. It doesn’t matter that I could have easily compelled anyone else to behave themselves while I slept. I never had to compel my sweet boy to love me or to hold my secrets and carefully tend my trust.
Never.
I don’t want
a partner forced to comply.
I want one I know does it out of pure desire, of love.
God, my life’s pathetic, when I look back on it.
I peel Eilidh’s top off over her head, and then we’re racing to finish stripping. She’s gorgeous, her beautiful, rounded curves no longer hidden from my hungry gaze. I’m tempted to cup her breasts and run my tongue over her dusky, pebbled nipples, but first I want as much of her flesh pressed against mine as I can feel.
Her warmth.
My mouth crashes over hers again, hunger rolling through me. Thirst.
Not for blood, or wine, or water, but for her.
I’m starving for the way her hands stroke my body, the way her curves fit against me, the way my cold, still heart struggles to beat in time with hers.
I’m famished, and she’s my endless, bountiful feast.
When her fingers close around my cock, I moan into her mouth, practically a roar, making her flinch.
I cup her ass with my other hand and pull her body tight against mine. “Anytime I’m too much for you,” I rumble against her lips, “anytime you need me to stop or slow down, whether it’s in play, or in bed, or even in a deep conversation about us, you tell me red or yellow.”
Her eyes are hooded, pupils large, lips sweetly swollen and red already from our kisses. “What if I don’t want you to stop?”
“Then you tell me green, baby.”
Her fingers tighten around my cock and she slowly slides her hand down my shaft, easing my foreskin away from the head and making me growl. I draw my head back just enough I can look down at her. “Are you teasing me, baby?”
She bites her lower lip again, slowly shakes her head, and I nearly explode in her hand. Her flesh practically scorches me as a flood of memories wash in and threaten to take my knees out.
I’ve never had this reaction to any other since losing my Robert. Ever. This visceral, primal need that can only be satiated by her body being wrapped around mine.
After Robert and before Eilidh, humans were mostly all the same to me. A means to an end. Even with sex. While I usually could get off, mostly I had sex with them to keep from feeling guilty about feeding on them.
No reason for both of us to be miserable.
Although, lately, it’s been far easier to buy blood than to go looking for it fresh from the source. Even with my powers, I haven’t wanted to be bothered going through the motions and expending the energy. It’s just…too much work.
Yes, even with my powers. I could barely force myself to go in search of someone appropriate. Someone I knew I could make myself perform with.
But Eilidh…
My soul’s been…renewed. Restored. Rain falling in the desert.
It’s a struggle to keep my voice low, so I don’t scare her, but I haven’t felt desire like this since my loss. “Tell me what you want, Eilidh. Say it.”
“You. I want you.”
I spin us around and dip so I can hoist her up, wrap her legs around my waist, and pin her against the wall while I kiss her. The scent of her arousal thickly filling the bathroom makes my fangs ache and I struggle to keep from sinking them into her sweet flesh.
Which means I keep kissing her, devouring her mouth. Her arms drape around my neck, and her fingers plunge into my hair. Every nerve ending in my body feels like it’s truly alive, on fire.
She’s fire.
She’s sunlight and passion and warmth, all right here in my arms.
Enough to work its way through my cold, dark soul and bring it back to radiant life.
When I lick along the seam of her lips, they part for me, and then her tongue and mine duel while she grinds against me. I keep one hand on her ass, supporting her, preventing her from impaling herself on me yet. I know if I let her do that, I’ll be completely lost.
I want it to be her decision, but I also want it to be one she won’t regret, not one she made because she was so horny she couldn’t help herself.
She tastes of springtime and honey. I’m addicted to her, even without drinking a drop of blood directly from her sweet, perfect veins.
I can already hear Lucius laughing as I realize I will be dropping a very pretty penny with him to buy every last drop of her blood—straight or blended—in his possession. Because like holy fucking hell will I share her in any way with others.
No one gets her but me.
Here’s hoping she’ll have me for life, because I won’t stop until I convince her she’s mine.
Letting her lean against the wall for support, I move the hand cupping her head and use my thumb to play with her clit. There she goes, biting down on her lip again—fates help me, she’s perfection personified. A luscious, spankable ass, with curves I can actually hold on to.
Staring into her eyes anchors me to her. I fear I’ll be lost if I let go. Her clit swells as I play with her, making her moan and gasp and rock against me. Her nipples are pebbled into tight peaks, and I know at some future point I’ll be leaving my marks all over her breasts, not just her throat and mons.
“Play with your nipples, love,” I whisper, and she does. She tips her head back against the wall, her gaze locked on mine. Every gasping breath rushing from her fills my ears, and I have no other desire than to make her come.
In my arms, with my strength, she weighs practically nothing. My stiff cock waves in the air, occasionally bumping against her rounded ass as I focus solely on her and her pleasure. Her heels dig into my ass as she rocks against me, and her sweet nectar coats my fingers.
And when her eyes start to unfocus, and her lips part, I know I have her close to the edge. It’d be so easy to notch myself between her thighs and press in just as she’s orgasming, but I won’t do that to her yet.
It matters. Her trust in me matters.
I never want it in the back of her mind that I might one day violate her consent, whether it’s for sex or play or blooding.
I need her to trust me. I need this bond with her.
I lean in until my mouth hovers over hers. “Give it to me, love. I want to hear you cry for me.”
She tips over the edge, every muscle in her body tensing and then uncoiling with a snap that makes my dick twitch and throb.
I don’t stop what I’m doing, though. I keep my thumb right there, still playing with her, her mons and clit and my fingers slick with her juices and making it that much better for her. It takes me a few minutes, but I get her over a second time, swallowing her cries with a deep kiss that tastes better than anything I’ve ever sampled.
As she sits there catching her breath, I’m looking into her eyes while I bring my hand to my mouth and slowly lick my fingers clean, just like I did last night.
Fates! In this way, she tastes even better than her blood.
“What about you?” she whispers, breathless.
I smile. “What about me, love?” Yes, there is absolutely more than a little smug pride coursing through me, that I got her over honestly, without needing to mentally tip her over the edge with my powers.
Allll me.
She drapes her arms around my neck again and kisses me, wiggling against me. “Fuck me, please?”
“I don’t have any condoms.”
“You’re a fricking vampire. You can’t get me pregnant, and unless there’s something new about vamp biology no one told me, you’re clear of all STIs. So please fuck me.”
She has a point. I smile, sucking on her lower lip. “Ask me properly, love.”
Either she will, or she’ll resist, and I can back up, without having pushed her too far in a bad way.
Her lips crash over mine and she grinds on me again. “Please fuck me, Sir.”
I’m lost. I’m absolutely, completely lost. Either she’s mine forever, or she’ll spend forever with me silently shadowing and protecting her, but there is no one else for me.
There cannot be anyone else for me.
I lift her enough I can reach down and line myself up, then slowly lower her onto my dick. All that sweetl
y scorching heat clenches around me. Once I’m fully seated inside her, I hold her ass in both hands and kiss her. She tries to rock against me, but I remain steadfast, wanting to savor this.
Pressing her against the wall, I nuzzle my nose against hers. “You’re getting a spanking tonight,” I say. “For lying to me. I’m going to use my bare hand and redden that gorgeous ass of yours, and then I’m going to put you on your hands and knees and fuck you until you’ve come so hard and so many times that you’re too hoarse to scream anymore.”
She whimpers and tries to rock against me again. I think she’s beyond coherent thought at this point.
I lick along her jaw, to her ear. “Then I’m going to tie you up and bury my face in that sweet pussy of yours and make you come some more. Until I’m ready to stop. I hope you’re good with that, love.”
“Yes, Sir!”
I nip her earlobe, not with my fangs, and not nearly hard enough to break the skin. “I know I can’t compel you, love, but I will spend every second we’re together proving to you I can take care of you in any way you need, satisfying your every need.” I take a slow thrust out and back in, deeply seating myself within her slick pussy and drawing a needy moan from her. “Give me your trust, and I will give you everything I am in return, forever.”
23
Eilidh
I gotta admit, that doesn’t sound like a bad deal at all. Especially when I have what feels like the better part of nine thick inches of vampire cock sliding up my cooter after experiencing two of the best orgasms I think I’ve ever had in my life. Even better than last night.
Yes, I was a little perturbed that Dexter called Lucius and just took over like that, telling my boss I’d be late.
Except I’m not nearly as mad as I thought I was.
In fact…I’m kind of wishing I didn’t have to go to work at all tonight.
I realize if I just ask Dexter to take over and take care of me, I’d never have to work again.
Ever.
That’s my lady bits and my stupid, weak heart speaking.
Her Vampire Obsession Page 21