Delilah Devlin - My Immortal Knight 02
Page 3
“I’ve over a hundred fifty years of practical experience, love. I’m just stating facts.”
A hundred fifty years of fucking? She wet her lips with her tongue. “From where I’m standing, I’m not seeing anything that special.” Liar!
His hand glided up and down himself. “This is only one piece of the equipment, love. But I’m getting ahead of myself. I want to describe the process, so there will be no surprises. I don’t want to frighten you.”
“I’m not scared.” Her skittering heartbeat made a liar out of her.
One brow rose, mocking her assertion. “Well, then let’s get on with it.” The hand between her legs, rubbed over her hips, then clasped one buttock to force her closer. He lowered the head of his cock to her pussy and pushed between her legs.
Darcy’s nails bit harder into his shoulders, but she refused to betray her excitement in her expression. She pressed her lips tightly together and dared him with her eyes to take her.
Instead, he leaned forward and kissed her lips. Darcy gasped and he took advantage, sliding his tongue into her mouth. She angled her head and deepened the kiss. When her own tongue swept inside his mouth, she encountered sharp barriers. His incisors.
She tried to jerk away, but his hand on her ass anchored her against his hard, lean body. Her skin noted changes there, too.
“I wanted to prepare you.” His voice was deeper, rougher. Quentin was losing his veneer of humanity, changing into his vampire self. He pressed her ass closer, causing his cock to rub against her aching cunt. His gaze pinned her like a butterfly to a mounting board. “Tell me you don’t want this.”
Darcy shivered in his embrace, her nipples constricting tightly. “Just this once,” she whispered, not recognizing the husky tone of her voice.
The corners of his lips curved and the tips of his fangs appeared. He stood, his cock pushing unerringly inside her cunt, higher, deeper, until his hips lifted her from the floor.
Darcy gasped loudly. She’d known he was large, but knowing and knowing were two different things entirely. She was stretched to the limit. The walls of her vagina eased around him, softening to accept his intrusion.
In two steps, he pushed her beneath the shower’s spray, pressing her back against the tiled wall. Darcy closed her eyes as water sheeted over her face. Her legs rose to wrap tightly around his hips, and her arms clutched his shoulders. Instantly, her focus became the rigid pole of his sex, driving impossibly deep inside her. His hips rolled. Darcy’s back rose and fell against the wall and her legs squeezed to draw him closer, deeper.
His hands grasped her buttocks and he lifted and shoved her hips down, causing a friction between her vagina and his cock that threatened to sweep over her like a wildfire.
“Give me your neck,” he growled.
Now! Now she’d find out what a true vamp-induced orgasm felt like. She rolled her head to the side and offered her neck for their pleasure.
His tongue lapped at her skin and Darcy trembled. Then his fangs bit into her, and her breath hissed between her teeth. A short, sharp pain was followed by an indescribable euphoria as his mouth suctioned against her neck.
Darcy grew still in his arms, sensation overpowering her limbs. Her passion-drugged senses noted his body was hardening, muscles expanding. His cock thickened and lengthened, and Darcy’s hips lurched. She whimpered.
His teeth pulled away. “Wait. Will ease.” His chest and hips shook.
Darcy opened her eyes and saw his savage mask. Plates of bony armor pushed his forehead out, altering his gaze into a sinister, hooded leer. His mouth dripped with her blood.
“I don’t want you to stop.” She bit her lips and moaned when his hips jerked beneath her. “Move! Move now!”
He lowered his head and sank his teeth into her neck again, anchoring her in place as his hips resumed their deep, upward thrusts.
Darcy mewled like a kitten, one hand fisting in his hair, the other scraping his back with her nails.
Quentin pounded harder, driving her higher against the wall—faster and faster.
Then she was writhing in his arms—a wild thing, clawing his back to reach the summit. Her orgasm slammed through her, stiffening her legs, arching her back. She cried out.
Quentin’s answering howl reverberated on the tiled walls.
Still panting, Darcy’s gaze rose to meet Quentin’s. As she watched, his face reformed but his gaze was wary. “You can let me down now,” she said.
His lips tightened, but he nodded.
Suddenly, the door to the bathroom slammed open and the shower curtain was jerked back. Joe took in their compromising position with a single searing glance.
He raised a sharpened stake in his fist.
CHAPTER THREE
“No! Joe, don’t do it.” Darcy cried out, her hand reaching beyond Quentin’s back to stave off the blow.
“You god-damned bastard!” Joe spat. “What did you do—use your vamp hypnotism on her?”
Quentin remained where he was—deep inside Darcy’s still-pulsating channel. Despite the interruption, he wasn’t ready to withdraw from the sweet flesh that fisted around his cock.
Joe raised the stake higher. “Get off her!” he said, his jaw clenched.
“Unless you care to join us,” Quentin said, his tone even, “I’d suggest—”
“We’re finished,” Darcy said, and pushed against his shoulders.
Reluctantly, Quentin backed away from the wall and eased his cock from inside her. Her legs slid to the floor, but he was gratified when she clutched his waist to steady herself.
He turned to face his adversary, unconcerned his cock gleamed with their combined cum.
Joe’s face darkened, his body taut. When his gaze swept over Darcy’s naked body, his stance grew more rigid. “Bastard!”
Quentin realized Darcy’s blood still trickled from the punctures in her neck. He held up both hands. “I’ll close the wounds.” Keeping an eye on the man holding the stake, Quentin drew Darcy close to him.
Darcy flinched, but allowed him to lick her neck to seal the small punctures. When Quentin lifted his head, he glared a challenge at Joe.
Joe’s gaze darted to Darcy. “Go get some clothes on,” he said curtly.
Darcy’s arms wrapped around her waist and she stepped toward Joe. “You can’t hurt him.”
Quentin hoped Joe didn’t see her backside or he’d be dust. His fingers had left bruises, which were quickly turning blue.
“Were you willing?” Joe asked.
“Yes,” she whispered.
He closed his eyes for a moment and lowered his stake. “How could you?”
Darcy’s face was ashen, and a sheen of moisture glazed her eyes. “I don’t know. I was curious, I guess.”
Curious? Anger bristled through Quentin, but he held his tongue. She’d been a hell of lot more than curious. Hotter than a bitch in heat was a more apt description.
Joe’s gaze swept over her again, and a muscle tensed in his jaw. “Fuck you, Darcy.”
Darcy blanched and turned her face away.
Quentin’s hands fisted. He resisted the urge to tear the man’s head from his body. He recognized jealousy and desire when he saw them. And Joe was eaten up with bitterness borne of both emotions.
“Get dressed,” Joe repeated.
Darcy left the room without a backward glance.
Quentin would have liked to follow her out, to soothe the hurt he’d seen in her eyes.
But Joe loomed over him, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Finally, his face twisted into a sneer and he tossed the stake at Quentin’s feet. “Stay away from her, or I swear I’ll kill you.” He turned on his heels and followed Darcy into the bedroom.
Quentin pulled the shower curtain closed and turned the water a notch hotter. Then he reached for the raspberry soap. When his lathered hands encircled his cock, he murmured, “This is going to be more interesting than I thought.”
* * * * *
“Darcy!”
“Did…Did he hurt you?” Joe asked, his voice softer now.
“No.” The word strangled in her throat. She was sore and she wouldn’t be at all surprised if her tender inner flesh was slightly torn. The vampire’s cock had almost been more than she could take.
“Dammit, Darc, don’t lie to me.”
Darcy whirled, fighting tears and embarrassment. “Joe, this is none of your business. I’m fine.”
“Then why are you lying?” Joe’s gaze pinned her.
Darcy fought to remain immobile and not give him a clue concerning her conflicting emotions.
He must have seen something anyway, because his lips twisted and he grabbed her arm. Pulling her behind him, he entered the living room, then dragged her down the hallway to the guest bedroom.
When the door closed behind them, she shook off his hold. “I’m tired. I want to rest.”
“After you’ve satisfied me,” Joe said, his jaw set.
Darcy jerked. “What did you say?”
“Just take off that robe.”
“I will not. Get out.”
Joe’s hard-eyed gaze narrowed, and Darcy felt a moment’s uncertainty.
“I said, take it off.” His voice was low and menacing.
Her gaze swept over his bare chest to the top of his jeans. The snap at the waist was undone, but she detected no bulge of sexual arousal.
“Stubborn…” he said, stepping close to her. His hands landed on the collar of her robe and he pushed the lapels wide. “…foolish…”
So shocked she could only stand there while he stripped the robe from her body, Darcy didn’t realize she was naked again until the cool, conditioned air hit her moist skin.
“…stunning…” Joe’s hands hovered just above her breasts. His brown-eyed gaze stared at her nipples, which were drawing to painful, rigid points.
It was the cool air, she told herself. Not the heat that flushed his cheeks, nor the muscle that clenched his jaw. One palm lowered to cover her breast and she gasped. Already abraded from Quentin’s play, her breasts were sensitive, tuned to the powerful, sensual pull of Joe’s rigid posture and the deep breaths that billowed his broad chest.
His gaze rose to her face. “I’m sorry, Darc,” he voice raw. “I meant only to see if he’d harmed you.” Still, he stepped closer.
Darcy didn’t step back. Their chests met and her head fell back. Their mouths were inches apart. When his arms closed around her, she whimpered and widened her legs to let him nestle between her thighs.
“I won’t hurt you, I swear,” he said, then his lips closed over hers.
Too lost in his kiss and the confusing maelstrom of her awakened desire, she didn’t protest when he walked her backward to the bed. Her mouth latched onto his and she sat on the edge then allowed him to follow, dragging her into the soft center. His body blanketed her cooling skin, and she welcomed him, opening her thighs wide around his hips.
His kiss deepened, his tongue swirling into her mouth. Not wanting to surrender, but helpless against his sensual assault, Darcy reciprocated, murmuring unintelligible protests until his mouth lifted from hers. His expression was still angry, but the hurt lingered in the stark clarity of his gaze. “Tell me to stop.”
His command echoed Quentin’s—jarring and direct. But she knew she wouldn’t ask him to stop. He’d been her partner, her best friend. And she wanted him every bit as much as she had the big, bad vamp. Clasping his face with her hands she pulled his face to her breast and cried out when his mouth closed around her nipple.
He shifted to the side and his hand glided over her belly and below. His strong fingers delved between her swollen flesh. Darcy widened her legs and pushed her hips up to take him deeper.
But she flinched when a second finger joined the first. She was too sore to take him.
He withdrew.
Afraid he’d reject her after being reminded of why she was sore, she was surprised when his mouth continued to suckle her breast—softer now, his tongue sliding over the tip.
Darcy’s hips lifted off the bed again, and Joe slid a jeans-covered thigh between hers, pressing gently into her soft core. The gentle abrasion was almost too much, but she rode his thigh.
Needing him closer, Darcy smoothed her hands over his bare back, then down to slide her hands beneath his waistband, cupping his firm buttocks.
Joe’s buttocks tensed and he murmured, and then pulled away. Without breaking with her gaze, he stripped his pants down his long, lean thighs and kicked them to the floor.
Darcy’s chest constricted. She’d seen him in gym, wrestled him to the floor during workouts, but she hadn’t any idea how beautiful his male flesh was—like warm, creamy cocoa. His cock was a shade darker, springing high and tight from a nest of black curls.
“I won’t come into you,” he whispered, his brown eyes soft and caring. “You’re too tender. But let me love you.”
Darcy let her legs fall apart, splayed wide for his hot gaze. Joe’s hands cupped her knees and glided along her inner thighs, pausing inches from her pussy. He leaned down and blew on her heated flesh. His fingertips rubbed briefly around her opening, and then he raised them. His expression grew dark. “You’re bleeding.”
“Not much,” she answered quickly. “It’s just…it’s been a long time.”
“He hurt you. Why did you lie for him?”
This was the one person in the world who deserved the truth from her. “Because I liked it.”
“Why him?”
Darcy looked away. His disappointment burned a hole in her stomach. “I don’t know. Watching him with that other woman…”
“If you were horny, why didn’t you turn to me?”
Crassly put, but honest. Darcy couldn’t give him anything less. “I didn’t know you wanted this. With me.”
“Who’s watched your back for three years?” His voice rose. “Who held you when you cried your eyes out after Manny left?”
“We’re friends, Joe. It’s what friends do. I thought that was all you wanted us to be.” Darcy sighed deeply. “It isn’t like you haven’t had other women. You told me all about them.”
“Maybe, I wanted to see whether it bothered you.”
“You were testing me?”
He raked a hand through his hair—the gesture evidence of his frustration. “If you’d given me any indication you cared…”
“I do.”
“Not the way I want you to. Hell, you’d let me fuck you, now.”
“Aren’t you going to?”
He glanced down at his cock, a look of disgust twisting his mouth. “You may not want me the way I want you to, but I won’t refuse what you offer.”
Regret tore at her heart. “I’m sorry Joe.”
“For fuck’s sake. Don’t apologize. I’ll really feel pathetic.”
“You don’t look pathetic from where I’m laying. And this isn’t a pity fuck. We’re friends. I love you.”
“Don’t look at me that way. I was just…surprised. When I heard you in there… with him…I thought he’d forced you.”
“Well, he didn’t.”
Joe’s eyes closed briefly. “Why a vampire? We kill them. Was it his cock? Did his size fascinate you?”
“It wasn’t…just that. I wanted him. He makes me insanely angry, but at the same time I’ve never been so…turned on by a man.”
“And now? You want me?”
Darcy blinked. Stated baldly, she sounded like a whore. “Yes.”
“Will you have him, again?”
She shook her head. “I shouldn’t. I know that. But I don’t know. He pulls me.”
Joe took a deep breath and his gaze raked over her body, coming to rest on her open legs. “You’ve got a gorgeous cunt, Darc. Especially now—pink and wet.” His hands clasped her knees again, but he pushed them closed.
�
��What are you doing?”
“Being a friend. Get some sleep, Darcy.”
* * * * *
Quentin woke to the rumble of male voices outside Darcy’s bedroom door. The SU team had arrived. He stretched and then turned to his stomach, rolling his face in her flower-sprigged, pink pillowcase. The sweet scent of her shampoo and natural musk filled his nostrils.
Darcy had been quite a surprise. As surprising as the feminine décor of her bedroom, which contrasted with the spare iron bed that dominated the center.
He’d expected tensile strength and endurance to match his. But her lithe, spare body had been unexpectedly feminine. Nor had he expected her passion—his back still bore the marks her fingernails had scored in his skin.
Just this once. She’d said it with her eyes clouding with desire. Quentin hadn’t a doubt in the world she’d be back in his bed before morning—unless her partner put a spanner in the works.
He regretted her humiliation. A super-cop caught with the enemy. That wouldn’t go down well with a straight arrow like Joe Garcia. And Quentin hadn’t missed the hot look the other man had swept over her naked body.
Well, he could look all he wanted. Quentin wasn’t going to share this one. Although, he wouldn’t mind if Joe watched. He’d rather enjoy rubbing the other man’s nose in his jealousy.
Quentin’s stomach growled and he recognized the aroma of streaks frying on a grill. He rolled out of bed, intent on halting the group from cooking the essence out of a perfectly bloody steak.
But there was the problem of a lack of clothing. He refused to contemplate donning the rumpled orange uniform he’s tossed in the corner of her closet. And there wasn’t any sign of his bags. He grabbed a towel from the bathroom, knotted it around his waist, and headed for the door.
As soon as he swung the door wide, all eyes turned to him.
“Now that’s your color,” the large, beefy man named Max said, biting the side of his lip.
Quentin swept the room with a glare and hitched the pink bath towel higher. He spotted his bags next to the door. As he retrieved one, chuckles followed him. Quentin stalked toward the privacy of the bedroom to change when the door to the kitchen swung outward and Darcy strode into the room.