“That’s…” he lightly runs a finger against my nipple, and I suppress a shiver, “a long time.”
“And, unlike you, I know what I want.” He teases my nipple again, just the barest of touches, and I don’t stop the shiver that cascades down to my already pulsating core. “Right now, after enduring the hellish events of the past two days, I want…” another tease, another shiver, “no, I need to continue our conversation at the bistro, the one we were having before being so rudely interrupted.” His hand leaves my face to unbutton my jeans as the other continues torturing me with waves of pleasure. “Do you recall the topic?”
He slips one finger into my wet center, instantly finding and teasing my g-spot. I bite my lower lip to stop the yelp. “Uh…remind me,” I say, voice cracking.
Never taking his eyes from mine, he forces me to take a step back right against the table. “We sat at a table just like this…” Another feather light tickle with both fingers. Another sharp intake of breath and another quiver. “But all I wished to eat…” The other hand vacates my breast to aid in pulling down my pants and underwear only to press into me again. I almost come right then. “Climb on the table,” Connor orders huskily as the bastard removes his finger from me. It doesn’t occur to me to do anything but obey. My bare butt lifts and rests on the wooden table where we just discussed murdering people. And I absolutely don’t give a damn. A small part of me knows I should but lust and anticipation silence that moron. That was then, this is now. All that matters is the now. Connor removes my shoes. “All I desired to do was lick…” My pants and panties fall to the ground. “Nibble…” I am totally naked from the waist down and I don’t give a good goddamn. “To feast upon…” I should—no. No. The now. And in the now he falls to his knees before me like a disciple before a goddess. Perfect height, as if he and the table were made for just this moment. My legs part on their own in anticipation. He lightly kisses up from my knee to my thigh. “To devour…” He brings my right leg over his shoulder. “You…” he whispers a centimeter from my ready sex. The simple vibration of his words against my already frenzied sex sends it into overdrive. “This.”
When his tongue flicks my clitoris that first time I think my eyes cross the sensation’s so overwhelming. So delicious. He waits an agonizing second, an eternity, before he does it again. I run my hand through his soft auburn hair for an anchor. He flicks it again. Again. His own hand moves up my belly, my abdomen, under my shirt again to grip my breast. Another flick in time to him pinching my nipple. Again. Jesus Christ, that’s good. I close my eyes to better savor all his expert work. The flicks and pinches gain momentum with a swirl and a kiss to that sweet spot thrown in to keep me off balance. The man truly has a silver tongue in all respects. My orgasm builds with every flick, swirl, and suckle. I don’t know how much longer I can last…
Then he’s gone.
He pulls away and my eyes fly open. I barely have time to blink before Connor’s standing and quickly removing his own clothes. Oh, hell yes. His pants quickly fall to his ankles just as he grabs my waist as his mouth that still tastes of me mashes against mine. I take his rock hard erection in my hands to hasten the inevitable. He glides in gently, slowly filling me. Oh, that’s even better. How the hell did I ever think I never wanted to do this again? We don’t kiss, I hug his neck and moan into his hair with each perfect, thrilling collision. I wrap my legs around his waist to draw him in deeper. He can’t be deep enough. He hugs me against him, our naked flesh fully connecting, so there’s no space between us. We’re one, locked in the delectable gluttony of it all. This man, this madness, how right and wrong everything we’re experiencing is. Oh, I’m close. So close…
I open my eyes and notice the bar stool across the room levitating. Shit. Shit. Fuck it. I close my eyes again. He thrusts, hitting my g-spot for the first time, and I really lose it. I dig my fingernails into his scalp and cry out. “Come for me, Beatrice,” Connor pants against my neck. “Let go. Come. Come.”
When the orgasm shatters through me, I hold onto my lover for dear life as my body spasms around his still thrusting manhood. Oh, that’s good. This is so good. But Connor’s not done and apparently neither am I. He continues rutting me, a little harder this time, gliding right over my g-spot with pinpoint precision with each stroke and the fantastic tension begins building anew. Building…building…
Another wave of ecstasy ripples through me, if possible stronger this time. I’m so into savoring my own bliss I barely notice Connor crying out as he climaxes as well. Neither of us moves for several seconds as we regain our senses.
“That was fantastic,” Connor pants, “bloody fantastic. Amazing.” He strokes my cheek, and I finally open my eyes. He kisses me before smiling again. “I adore multi-orgasmic women. We can make a game of how many times I can make you come in an hour.”
“Is that what that was?” I ask.
Connor chuckles. “Oh, my innocent Beatrice.” He kisses me again. “We are going to have so much fun together.”
Fun. Yeah. Fun. I can do fun. Can we have fun again now?
The man must be a mind reader because his erection grows inside me the moment I finish that thought. He did say he could go for hours.
“Care to try my game?”
I clench myself around his erection and grin. Fuck it. “Why the hell not?”
And he lowers me onto the table to begin the game. Let the good times roll.
Chapter Six
The Shallow End
Something I can now cross off my bucket list: joining the mile high club. We were barely in the air on our way to Las Vegas in Connor’s private plane when I ticked that one off. Sex in public—a club bathroom to be specific—came the next day, pun intended. I can also cross off meeting a celebrity. I lost my shit when Connor waved over Brittany Spears and we all shared a drink together. April and I went to Vegas once, but hitting the town with a connected billionaire is a damn better way to do it. Dancing at the most exclusive clubs, shopping at every designer boutique, having a suite at The Venetian with the whole of the strip laid out outside the huge window, I could damn well get used to the high life.
With all quiet on the vampire front, Connor insisted on getting away while the getting was good. Four nights of debauchery, of dancing, drinking, fucking like rabbits, of having my every whim catered to was just what the doctor ordered. I didn’t even bother to turn on my cell phone.
But the good times have to come to an end or at least get put on pause for a day or so. Fuck you, reality. I’m gently woken by a kiss to my bare neck. Ugh, three rum punches while sunbathing by the pool knocked me out. Or it could be the sleepless nights and more orgasms in four days than the entirety of my life catching up to me. I slept on the plane and must have dozed off in the car too. “We have almost arrived,” Connor whispers into my ear before kissing then licking my neck again. He says he can taste the sunshine on my skin like it’s the rarest, sweetest vintage of wine. I’m positively brown with all the sunbathing I did. I woke around two in the afternoon and had a few hours to kill before he rose. Most of that time was spent at the pool enjoying rum punches, in the casino, or shopping. The nights were a hell of a lot more romping but the days did have their moments.
I open my eyes and even in the dark I recognize the one-story ranch houses with chain-link fences that comprise my, as I’ve heard assholes call it, ghetto. Just because it’s filled with damn hard working immigrants and retirees does not a ghetto make. I sigh. I don’t want to go home yet. I am not looking forward to the questions, the sighs, the disappointment about to greet me. That first night I returned home around three AM to pack and left a note explaining where I was going. Spur of the moment trip to Vegas with a friend and not to worry. I also left her a message I’d arrived safely and was having a blast. Probably should have phoned her again to tell her I’d be home tonight but that only occurred to me on the plane. Not sure of the welcome I’m about to receive. Probably not a party.
Her car’s in the drivew
ay along with a light colored Mercedes convertible I don’t recognize and a Lexus convertible parked on the street. Maybe she is having a party. Oh hell, if that Mercedes is my brother Brian’s new car I’m going straight to a hotel. I—
“Surprise,” Connor says.
“What?”
The car stops and Connor’s grin grows. “Do you like it?”
It takes me a second to put two and two together. “The car?”
“Yes! The Mercedes. Do you like it?”
“You-you bought me a car?”
“Well, technically it belongs to CM Holdings, but for all intents and purposes…yes. I bought you a car.”
“Connor, thanks and all but…I-I can’t accept it.”
“Why on earth not? You mentioned you did not have an automobile. I have the means to provide you one.”
“Connor, it’s too much. It’s too extravagant.”
“The cost of it is about one tenth of what I just spent on our trip,” he points out.
“I know but—”
He leans across and kisses my words away. “Use it until you purchase your own. There are no strings attached to this gift, I promise, fairest. You had a need, and I had the means to quell that need. Surely there is nothing wrong with that.”
“I-I guess not.” It still feels wrong somehow. See? This. This is why I didn’t want to come back. I didn’t say a word of protest when we spent thousands at Prada and La Perla. Maybe he’s right, I do over think things. He’s letting me borrow a car, he’s not buying me. This is what people do when they’re in a relationship, try to fulfill the needs of their partner. Guess that’s just a foreign concept to me. Steven was a closeted sociopath and Will never got the opportunity to show me he could. A horrible realization knocks me for a loop. If we count the first night at the club as the beginning of our romance, I’ve been with Connor longer than I was with Will. That is…so wrong.
“Beatrice, are you well?” Connor asks, bringing me out of my head. “You have grown…melancholy. You do not have to accept the car. It—”
“No, it’s not that. I just…” I quickly kiss him to reassure him. “Thank you for the car. It was sweet of you to think of me.”
“I have done precious little else since I met you, my fair Beatrice,” he says, eyes crinkling as he smiles.
I kiss him again. “Call me tomorrow night, okay?”
“Must I wait that long? I have no clue how I shall restrain myself.”
And one more kiss for the road. “Try. Bye.”
I climb out of the car before he can work that devil penis magic on me again. I need a break from it, but only a small one. Give my poor, sore body a chance to recover. I am amazed I can walk. The driver helps me with my suitcase to the door. Damn am I sore but the good sore. After comparing Will and Steven I thought the only way to have good sex was with love. I didn’t love Steven and sex became something I just put up with. My one night with Will was astonishing. Mind blowing. Perfect. And the sex with Connor wasn’t as transcendent but it was still pretty damn great. Fun just as he promised. I can live with great fun.
But the good times cease rolling the moment I set foot in the house and see her expression. Nana sits on the couch watching TV, but when I step in her gaze immediately whips back to me. It’s as if she cannot believe her eyes, like I’m a strange ghost, one she’s not happy to see.
“Hi,” I say as I shut the door.
“Bea,” she says, rising from the couch.
“I’m home.”
“Where the hell have you been?” Nana snaps.
“Vegas. You know that. I left you a note. Messages. I—”
The sight of the man stepping out of the hallway stops my words, my breath, my thoughts, the whole of my atoms, the whole of the world dead. Just dead. Normally he merely takes my breath away but that was then. In the before. Now my breath’s gone for an entirely different reason. I think.
The last time I set eyes on him he lay in our med bay, most of him bandaged like the Invisible Man with only a closed eye exposed. I should have gone to his side, held his hand, sung to him and read him stories, as he had by my bedside when I was in a coma. But I couldn’t stand the sight of him. So damaged. So weak. Both of us. And it was all my fault. I turned my back on him and never looked back. At least literally. I wish I had figuratively as well. Staring at him here, now, there isn’t a trace of that night. Not a scar. No claw marks on his ivory skin, hell there isn’t a golden brown hair out of place. He is still the most gorgeous, angelic creature ever to grace this earth. And he’s here. In my living room. Staring at me with those gray eyes and a barely there sad smile on his full, reddish lips. “Hello, Trixie.”
I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what I want to do. Run into his arms and not let go until the sun rises. No. Don’t you dare, Bea. This is an ambush. He’s here to bring you back. To make you confront everything. I can’t. I can’t. Not now. Not tonight. I’m too tired. I don’t want him here. I don’t even want to be here anymore. I’m literally shaking from shock and anger. They’ve been conspiring behind my back. Talking to each other, deciding my life for me. How dare they? How dare he just show up like this? I manage to unglue my eyes from the interloper to my grandmother. The traitor pleads with her eyes, her frown, for me to behave. To be grateful. No. hell no. “Did you ask him to come here?” I hiss.
“No,” Oliver answers for her. My gaze whips back his way. “I came on my own.”
“But I should have,” Nana says. Her turn for MY glare of death. “I should have called him long ago, back when April suggested it.”
“Oh, April’s in on this too,” I scoff. “Figures.”
“She’s terrified for you, Honey Bea. I am too. Especially after what I’ve heard about this man you’re…dating.”
I look at Oliver again. “Let me guess. That was you?”
“Yes. Absolutely.”
“So you came here to poison my grandmother against my boyfriend?” I spit out.
“I came here because you are lost,” he states as plain fact.
“And the fact I’m screwing a vampire other than you has nothing to do with it? Bullshit.”
“Beatrice!” Nana says.
“Three months. Nothing. Not a call, not an email. I finally start enjoying myself and suddenly it’s intervention time?”
“Yes, because this is not you,” Oliver says.
“Yeah, well, it is now. Because being the other me…all I got was misery. Horror. Guilt. She was a chump. A moron. Good riddance to her. So go back to Kansas. Get the hell out of my house, Oliver. There is no one here who wants or needs your pitiful excuse of a rescue.”
“This is my house, Beatrice,” Nana says, voice steel, “and he is my guest. And don’t you dare speak to him like that again. Ever.”
I ignore her. “I said get out. I rescind my invitation for you to be in this house.”
“And I extend an invitation to my house,” Nana counters.
“Just…get out!” I shout in frustration.
He stands his ground, all of him, even his face tensing in anticipation for my attack. “No,” he says with finality. “You may scream, you may cry, you may beat me bloody, but I am not leaving you. Not like this. Never.”
The determination in his gray eyes, in his voice, I haven’t experienced either since we returned from Dallas, since the night we swore we’d always come for each other even if it were to the gates of hell. We’d climb that gate and drag the other out, taking on a hundred demons with our bare hands if necessary, no matter what. It is as if that promise were scrolled on our bones. Always there. A part of us. A covenant governed by God himself. It used to be wonderful. A security blanket that transcended distance and time. But right now it’s a burden. My body’s so heavy and the demons I’ve been keeping locked up deep, deep down know if I give into him, they’ll be released. I don’t want to fight them. I don’t think I can. Not even with him by my side.
“Fine,” I say, grabbing my suitcase again. “If you
won’t leave then I will.”
“Bea—”
“Where are the keys to the Mercedes Connor gave me?” I ask Nana.
“I don’t—”
“I am leaving this house even if I have to walk all the way downtown. Give me the God”—Oliver flinches—“damn keys, Nana.”
“I did not know you could be bought so cheaply,” Oliver says.
I’m not even going to dignify that with a response. “Keys!” Nana glances at Oliver who remains a stone cold statue. They both know me well enough to take my threat seriously. They should. I’m about ten seconds from walking out the door and calling an Uber. Nana hangs her head and moves toward the bar, picking up the key. When she’s close enough, I snatch it from her hand. “Thank you.”
“Honey Bea, don’t do this,” Nana calls as I turn toward the front door. “We love—”
I shut the door on her hollow sentiment. You don’t ambush people you love and call them a whore. I hurry to the Mercedes in case they chase after me. They don’t. I climb in, adjust the seat and mirror, and peel out without EVEN putting on my seatbelt. When I realize I should I can’t get the damn thing on. I just yank and yank until I’m screaming in frustration. I have to pull over not three blocks from the house to regain my composure. I hit the steering wheel and scream again. I can’t believe this. I can’t believe I just stormed out of my own house. I can’t believe I have nowhere to go. I’m kind of homeless. Guess I could go to a hotel. Of course I just came from a hotel. Ugh, just go to the club already. I don’t want to be alone.
I ignore the seven texts and five voice mails from the past few days and just dial Connor. “Miss me already, fairest?” he purrs.
“Oliver just ambushed me at my house and I stormed out when he wouldn’t leave.”
He’s quiet for a few seconds. “Are you alright?”
“I’m livid. I’m worried. I’m…exhausted. They’ve all been plotting behind my back, Connor. Nana, Oliver, April, probably even Javi. I-I-I feel like killing someone!”
The Sin Eater (A F.R.E.A.K.S. Squad Investigation Book 5) Page 8