Wicked Nights

by Nina Bangs

  Finished, he once again lifted her to meet his thrust. He entered her in one smooth motion that drew a cry of pleasure from her. Eric gave her no time to recover. As she wrapped her legs around him, he withdrew and plunged deeper, filling her, and triggering something else. . . .

  Even as she moaned her aroused delight at the increasing speed and force of his hot possession, another sensation was intruding. Like a split screen, she experienced both. She felt Eric touch her there with his tongue, when she knew his tongue was nowhere near there. She opened her eyes to make sure. Nope, he’d thrown back his head and closed his eyes tightly just as she had.

  But when she felt him flick the tip of his tongue back and forth across the most sensitive spot in her personal universe, she lost it. Who cared how he was doing it? Her cries at the multiple sensations were suspiciously close to screams.

  She was close, so close, that she had to anchor herself to the rug with fisted hands so she wouldn’t bounce off the ceiling when she came. She was breathing in harsh gasps, and she recognized the sounds she made as throaty growls. He could truthfully claim that he brought out the beast in her.

  And then he plunged one more time, so deeply that she knew they’d merged forever. Everything became a blur of pleasure. She reached desperately for that moment of perfect stillness followed by cascading spasms of “Oh. My. God!” Just as she teetered on the knife-edge of her orgasm, Donna thought she felt the slide of teeth over the excruciatingly sensitive flesh between her thighs that was her personal sex-fuse. Her mind didn’t pursue the thought because the countdown had begun.

  Her orgasm was a spectacular fusion of her senses. As her body clenched around him, color exploded behind her closed lids, wind swirled and roared, and taste and smell melted into all that was sexual.

  When she finally became aware of her surroundings again, she was flat on the floor and Eric was sitting back on his heels watching her. Donna lifted a shaking hand to brush a damp strand of hair from her forehead. “What train rolled through here and caught me standing on the tracks?” She tried to quiet her breathing and ignore her still pounding heart. It took her liquefied body a few minutes to harden into human form again.

  His smile was filled with sensual triumph. “You screamed.”

  “No kidding.” She narrowed her gaze on him. “Where was that place you put into my mind, and how’d you mess with my head to make me feel your mouth on me? And what about those powers you said you didn’t have, huh?” Now that she’d settled back into the real world, the things he’d done would qualify as scary.

  “It was my clan’s ancestral home in Scotland.” His expression said he didn’t intend to answer anything else.

  “Ah, a man with secrets.” Her gaze drifted over his body. “You did what you promised. You gave me spectacular pleasure, and I suspect I screamed loud enough to wake any of Lola’s girls from the Cock Crows at Dawn who might still be hanging around.” She drew in a deep breath of courage. “How did you do it?” Can I accept your answer when you finally give it? Because he would eventually tell her even if she had to nag him to the gates of Hell.

  “Maybe you’re already there, talk-show lady.” He didn’t smile when he said it. “I have to go change. Conall will be waiting outside your door when you get ready to go down to the great hall. I’ll meet you there.” Without another word, he pulled on his jeans and left.

  No postorgasmic chitchat. No assurances that he’d never had better sex. Insecurity alert! Maybe he’d had lots of better sex. And why did she even care?

  A few minutes later in the shower, she had lots to think about. Eric had promised he’d do it all for her, and he’d delivered. Donna hadn’t contributed much of anything to their sexual feast other than a few moans, screams, and wiggles. Next time would be different. She’d be a major contributor.

  And as the warm water flowed over her body, she thought about the all-important question: Would there be a next time with a man who could not only read her thoughts, but also generate pictures and physical sensations with his mind? A man who refused to explain himself even though he had to know his secrets might send her scurrying back to New York with enough conjectures to keep her show energized for months?

  Her body thought it was a definite yes for a next time. Her heart sort of agreed. Her mind? Her mind thought everyone was nuts. And somewhere Trish was laughing her ass off.

  Dressed and ready to venture down to the great hall for another fun-filled night of the bizarre, Donna paused to look at Sweetie Pie and Jessica. Both plants were bursting with newly invigorated vines creeping over the sides of their pots and exploring the floor and wall. They looked . . . happy.

  “Me, too, girls. Me, too.” She closed the door quietly behind her.

  9

  He’d screwed up. The danger had smiled at him, and he’d embraced it. Literally. Eric had survived for eight hundred years because he’d never let interest in a woman override his caution. So what had he done a few hours ago? He’d shot Donna a mental picture of his clan’s ancestral castle complete with all sensory details. Then he’d compounded his stupidity by giving her the physical sensations of his tongue doing things it couldn’t possibly be doing if his cock was already deep inside her. He’d been so hot for her that when she paused for a protection break he’d almost shouted that, damn it, he was a vampire so he couldn’t get her pregnant and he couldn’t carry a disease. He’d stopped just short of that idiocy.

  Did she notice that all this was kind of weird? You bet. And she was going to nail him for an explanation. Smart. Freakin’ brilliant.

  Why after eight centuries had he suddenly suffered a major brain cell meltdown? Ego. He wanted Donna to see him as special. And since he couldn’t reveal his more spectacular powers, he’d wanted her to remember him as the guy who gave her the Super O—the orgasm able to leap tall buildings at a single bound.

  What about the other reason, hotshot? Yeah, yeah, so he’d wanted to share his own intense sexual sensations with her. Unfortunately, he’d abandoned the lessons learned over his long existence to make it happen. He refused to analyze his sudden interest in sharing.

  As he climbed the stairs to the great hall, he thought about damage control. He’d opened Pandora’s box and there was no way to stuff everything back into it again. But maybe all wasn’t lost. Donna might suspect his mental talents went beyond just reading her mind, but that’s all. She didn’t suspect he was a vampire.

  He paused in the doorway to the great hall and scowled as he realized he was eagerly scanning the room for her. Who was he kidding? Donna didn’t have to know he was a vampire to make a juicy meal of the castle and everyone in it. She’d seen enough to whet her appetite for more sensational disclosures, and she’d probably be lobbing questions at Conall and Holgarth next.

  Finally Eric spotted her. She was deep in conversation with Holgarth. And judging by her body language, it wasn’t a friendly chat.

  Eric smiled as she flung her arms in the air. It looked like Holgarth was annoying the hell out of her. He understood the feeling. But he was also smiling because when she lifted her arms, her short pink top rode higher, exposing a strip of smooth skin that triggered recent memories. She’d opted for jeans this afternoon instead of shorts. Too bad. He liked looking at her long bare legs.

  “Your tongue is dragging on the floor. You might want to fling it over your shoulder so you don’t trip on it.” Conall’s amused comment startled Eric. How had Conall walked up beside him without Eric noticing?

  “You’d better get over there before they start swinging at each other. If I were a betting man, I’d put my money on Donna.” Conall grinned. “She goes for the jugular when she smells blood.” He widened his eyes in mock surprise. “Hey, you guys have something in common.”

  Eric clenched his fists. Conall’s teasing shouldn’t bother him, but it did. Maybe because it hit too close to home. If she managed to drain the castle of all its secrets, everyone who mattered to him here would have to leave. And he had absol
utely nothing in common with Donna. “I’m only interested in how we can minimize the damage she’ll cause.” Okay, so her body interested him, too. So what? He could handle it. He exhaled sharply. No, he couldn’t handle it. He hadn’t handled much of anything since meeting her. His smile slipped back. Well, maybe he’d handled a few things.

  Conall nodded. “She’s on the hunt. I think she hauled off and hit me with a hundred questions in the few minutes it took to get from her room to the great hall. Most of them circled back to you. She didn’t come right out and ask what you were, but I got the feeling she wanted to.” His grin widened. “She asked what my special power was. I told her I had the power to resist questions from nosy talk-show hosts. She sort of humphed and then shut up. But I could hear her brain still whirring.”

  As Eric started toward Donna and Holgarth, Conall nodded and moved away. Eric knew he could depend on Conall to protect the castle. He’d had centuries of practice in the protection business.

  “I don’t know where you get off telling everyone what to do. Did I miss the part where you were crowned top turd? I don’t want to play the wicked consort of Eric the Evil. Last time I looked, there wasn’t a wicked consort clause in my contract.” Donna turned to Eric as he stopped by her side. “I can’t believe he thinks he can harass me like he does the rest of the poor wretches who work here.” She glared at Holgarth. “Why not rent a wig and you can be the wicked consort?”

  As one of the castle’s poor wretches, Eric didn’t offer anything to the conversation because he was too busy picturing Holgarth in a wig. And from there, he went on to imagine Donna in her wicked consort costume—short on cloth with lots of bare skin showing. Things were looking up.

  Holgarth looked down his long nose at Donna, an action known to reduce grown men to five-year-olds caught with their fingers in the cookie jar. “Of course I can’t make you do it, but I believe your employer can. He called to say the owner insisted you play this part so you could observe customers’ reactions firsthand. Personally, I doubt your ability to convince anyone that you’re a wicked consort.” He dismissed her acting talent with a disdainful sniff. “A pity the owner didn’t seek my opinion. It would have saved embarrassment for all interested parties.” His thin-lipped scowl indicated his disapproval of any decision that didn’t go through him.

  Donna’s mood seemed to lighten in direct proportion to Holgarth’s displeasure. “Well hey, I think we finally agree on something. Personally, I think you’d make an incredible wicked consort—fiendish but totally sexy. Besides, it would give you something useful to do, because so far I haven’t figured out what your job description is.”

  A faint tic at the corner of Holgarth’s mouth was his version of unrestrained guffaws. “I harass the help. It’s what I do. And very well, I might add.” He smoothed an imaginary wrinkle from his wizard robe. “Oh, and never think for a moment, Ms. Nolan, that you are my equal when it comes to biting sarcasm. Next to me, you are a marshmallow waiting to be toasted.”

  Donna grinned and glanced at Eric. “I want to hate this guy, but he’s just too funny.” She returned her attention to Holgarth. “I’ll call my boss and get this whole thing straightened out. I don’t do wicked consorts. Ever.”

  Holgarth chose to ignore her. “Eric, would you show your consort where the costumes are? Ms. Nolan will want to practice her part—a futile effort, I might add. Be sure to explain how our wicked consort stalks her prey, then pounces and sucks them dry.” He blinked as though just realizing something. “But of course she won’t have to practice. She can simply be her own delightful self.”

  Donna growled low in her throat as Holgarth turned away to oversee several castle employees readying the great hall for the night’s fantasies. “Maybe I’ll practice on him. Bring on the fake fangs.”

  “Let’s go to the restaurant. You can make your call and order something to get you through the night.” Eric guided her out of the great hall and toward the restaurant. Sharing meals with her made him uneasy. How many times could he make excuses for not eating anything? Meals were usually a nonfactor in his relationships with women because said relationships didn’t extend beyond his bed. Things were different with Donna, but now wasn’t the time to analyze what that meant. At least the restaurant gave him an excuse to guard her without being too obvious.

  Once seated in the dimly lit restaurant, Donna ordered a burger, fries, and iced tea. Then she pulled her cell phone from her purse and called her boss. Eric settled in for the one-way conversation.

  A few minutes later she glared down at her sandwich as though it were personally responsible for all of life’s injustices. Hers in particular. “Do you think if I shook Holgarth until his teeth rattled he’d tell me how to reach the owner? I have to convince Mr. or Ms. Mysterious that I’ll make a pathetic wicked consort. For once Holgarth is right. I’m a lousy actress.” She sighed her defeat. “I guarantee I’ll be bad for business. Besides, I have stuff to do.”

  “There’s exactly zero chance of you making direct contact with the owner. I’ve tried. Guess I’ll have to show you those costumes.” The plan was perfect. She’d have to stay close to him until it was time for her show. Eric was honest enough to admit his glee wasn’t just because the plan had worked. He’d get to tell her the responsibilities of being a consort. He was making them up even as he paid for her meal, such as it was.

  Donna frowned. “You didn’t eat anything.”

  “I grabbed something to eat right before I met you in the great hall.” He waited impatiently as she finished her fries. “While I’m showing you the costumes, I’ll explain your part in tonight’s fantasies.” The weather was bad, so they probably wouldn’t have many customers. But Eric was determined to make the most of the few fantasies he’d have with Donna.

  She looked mutinous as he guided her out of the restaurant. “Candy first, then costumes. I’ll need chocolate to recover from my reign of fanged wickedness. Walk over to Sweet Indulgence with me.”

  Uh-oh. Eric did some quick calculations. It was a little after seven. Still some light, but overcast and raining. If he put on his Astros cap and used the rain as an excuse to drive instead of walk, he could probably make it to the candy store and back with only a nagging headache to show for his exposure to daylight.

  As he guided his car into a parking space in front of Sweet Indulgence, Donna smiled at him. “You know, we could’ve walked. I wouldn’t have melted.”

  No, but I might have. “You don’t need to start your acting career looking like a wet cat.” Maybe reminding her of tonight wasn’t a good idea.

  Donna raced for the door of the candy store on a renewed surge of irritation. She hated being manipulated, and the castle owner had gone over her head to talk to her boss. It would serve the owner right if she drove every last paying customer from the castle tonight. Hmm. She narrowed her gaze on the many possibilities for payback.

  Eric held the door open, and she hurried inside to escape the downpour. Sparkle Stardust perched on her tall stool behind the counter. Legs crossed and black dress riding high on her bare thighs, she was the black widow of sex looking for a man to devour.

  Sparkle smiled a predatory smile as Eric followed Donna into the store. “Two of my favorite people. Donna, you’ve saved me from death by boredom. A little rain and no one buys candy. Do I understand how the human mind works?” She uncrossed her legs and leaned forward as she answered her own question. “I don’t.” Sparkle waved a hand in the air to indicate the vagaries of human reasoning. Her nails were long and a deep rich red. Hunting nails. “On a night like this all women should curl up with a good man. . . .” She paused for thought. “Or bad. Whichever tickles your tush. And they should eat lots of chocolate.”

  Donna opened her mouth to comment, but Sparkle wasn’t finished. Her gaze slid past Donna to where Eric stood wearing an amused expression. “Personally, I’ll take bad every time. Bad men are unpredictable. I find that very sexy in the male animal.”

  “Yes, well
. . .” Donna wasn’t quite sure how to respond to Sparkle.

  She needn’t have worried, because Sparkle was still focused on Eric. “How’s my big bad beautiful—”

  “I think I’ll try something different tonight.” Eric walked down to the end of the counter, effectively cutting off Sparkle’s comment.

  Donna frowned. What had Sparkle been about to say?

  Sparkle returned her attention to Donna. She wore her secret smile, the one that said she knew exactly why Eric had cut her off. “If you’re looking for something to heat up a damp rainy night, try my chocolate-covered cherries. Have you ever licked a melted chocolate-covered cherry from a man’s navel?”

  “Not in the last week.” Donna wanted to get her candy and leave, but not before she found out where Sparkle was headed. Her first encounter had taught her that Sparkle was always headed somewhere. She glanced over to make sure Eric was still studying the candy selections. “So what’s the best technique?”

  Sparkle practically glowed with the joy of explaining. “You place the chocolate in his navel, and then you pass a lighted candle back and forth over the chocolate until it melts. Once the chocolate is warm and smooth, you slowly scoop it out with the tip of your tongue. Leave the cherry for last. Make sure when you scoop it out you wiggle your tongue around. Finish off by giving him a long sensual kiss with lots of tongue so he can taste the chocolate. Very erotic.” She stopped to stare at Donna as though something had just occurred to her. “You do turn off the lights and just use candlelight to set the mood during sex, don’t you?”

  “Sure. All the time.” Never. But the chocolate navel thing sounded like fun. Maybe she’d try it on . . . “Give me a pound of the chocolate-covered cherries.” Impulse buy, impulse buy. She ignored her inner voice that warned this would probably end up on her hips, not in Eric’s navel.

  “Great choice. Did you know that sex is biochemically no different from eating large quantities of chocolate? So sex and chocolate together have to deliver a meteor-impact orgasm, right?” She happily changed subjects without giving Donna a chance to respond. “How’s your family doing?” Sparkle placed the chocolate in a box.