Olivia laughed and shoved him out the door. “I’d be pissed if you did.”
He fumbled with the keys, she pressed herself against his back, allowing her hands to wander at will. Her hands found his cock, stroking it over his stylish wool slacks. Her fingers eagerly worked his zipper down, then dipped inside his boxers to close around his straining cock. “Oh, God, I want you in my mouth.”
The apartment door flew open and they all but tumbled inside. He slammed the door and thumbed the lock, and Olivia launched herself at him, shoving him against the door. He kicked off his loafers while she unbuckled his belt and flicked open the button of his trousers. She yanked them down, along with his silk boxers, and he kicked them aside.
On her knees, Olivia guided his cock to her mouth, taking him as deeply as possible. God, she wanted all of him, every inch. But he was too large, so she wrapped her fingers around the base of his cock, stroking him and sucking greedily. At the taste of precome weeping into her mouth, she moaned.
Noah groaned. “Olivia, stop, I can’t hold it.”
She caressed his balls, squeezing gently with her free hand. “Then don’t. Come for me, like I do for you.”
He growled, his hips jerking. She took him deeper, somehow managing to swallow more of him than she imagined possible. She sucked harder, and he pulled back and sunk in again, moaning greedily.
“Oh, Jesus, I’m going to come, kitten. Yes, suck it. Make me come!” He cried out when she reached behind him, grabbed his ass, and pulled him against her taking him deep. He roared and came, his semen jetting into her throat while she continued to suckle him.
He tore at his shirt, tossing it aside, then reached down and pulled the soft, knit dress over her head. It joined his clothes in a pile on the floor. Then he reached down, grasped her under her arms, and hauled her to her feet. “Bedroom, now.” He spun her around and gave her a shove toward the hall.
Olivia paused to kick off her shoes before she approached the bed.
“Get it off, all of it,” Noah demanded. “Or I swear I’ll rip it to shreds.”
She giggled and unhooked the front closure on her bra. Noah snapped the strings on her thong and tossed the pesky garment aside. His hands closed around her waist, and he tossed her onto the bed, following her down.
Olivia moaned when his mouth crashed down over hers. His tongue delved deep, exploring, tasting, claiming every centimeter of her mouth as his own. He sucked on her tongue, then freed her mouth and took her breasts.
She cried out at his teeth scraping across a distended nipple. She arched against him when he drew her breast deeper into his mouth, pulling deeply on the nipple until she was squirming beneath him.
“So sweet,” Noah murmured, releasing her breast. He slid further down her body. “Open you legs, kitten. I’m hungry for a taste of you.”
Olivia inhaled sharply when Noah’s mouth settled over her clit. There would be no wasting time on preliminaries this night. He intended to make her come, and make her come hard. His tongue worked the sensitive bud until she ground her hips against his voracious mouth. God, she was so close! And then he stopped.
“Noah!” she cried.
He chuckled. “On your knees, woman. I’m going to fuck you good.”
Olivia shuddered when he arranged her on her hands and knees, then slowly filled her with his pulsing cock.
“Now,” he directed her, hands on her hips, “fuck yourself on my cock. “He controlled her with his hands. “No, don’t come yet.” He reached under her and pulled her upright until she straddled his thighs and he was buried deeper than he’d ever been before.
Olivia moaned. “Oh, God, Noah. It’s . . . God . . . so deep.”
“Yes.” He lifted her hair and draped it over her right shoulder, and then, beginning with gentle gliding motions, he nuzzled her neck. His hands cupped her breasts, holding her tightly against him. He took her with a deep, lunge. “Can you feel it, Olivia, the need to feed me? Can you feel how my cock swells inside you, waiting for the first taste of you?”
Her hips undulated and his ground his cock into her. She moaned, feeling his hot, nibbling kisses along her neck. One hand left her breast and stroked down the length of her body to palm her mound. She shrieked when his middle finger began to stroke her clit and he drove upward, hard.
“Ooooh! Do it! Feed! Fuck me!” She shrieked again when, firmly caressing her clit, he rammed his cock deep.
* * * *
Finally, she was ready. Noah pressed his finger harder against her clit, fondling the heated bundle of nerves while he took her. Jesus, the blood was pounding in her veins. She was going to erupt any second now. He pressed his mouth against the side of her neck, felt the pulsing vein, and plunged his fangs deep.
Olivia stiffened in his arms with the dual penetration, then began to scream. She came with each long gulp he took from her. He curved his arms up over her shoulders. Holding her tightly against him, he drove his cock into her again and again.
God, she tasted sweet. Her blood flowed over his tongue with a rich, coppery taste, and her pussy clutched at his swelling and throbbing cock. He’d fucked and fed before, but the experience had never been like this. He could feel their hearts beat in unison, could smell the combined scents of perspiration and arousal on her skin, could feel each slick centimeter of her heated, quaking pussy when she came and came and came. And then his own release was upon him, and he slammed deep one final time, his come gushing deep into her womb. Tomorrow, he would walk with her in the sun. And, maybe, just maybe, a child would come of this frenzied mating. She slumped against him, limp, and whispered sleepily. “I love you, Noah. I do.”
Ever so gently, he licked the dual puncture marks on her neck, closing the wounds. His cock slid out of her. He eased her down and onto her side before spooning her. “Rest, love,” he whispered. “I’m going to get you some juice. I’ll be right back. Don’t try and get up.”
“Mmm,” she murmured. “Not much chance of that happening.”
Noah returned with a tall, cold glass of orange juice, and slid into bed beside her. “Can you sit up?”
She snorted. “Of course.” She sat up and let him draw her against his chest.
“Drink the juice, pet, you’re going to feel a bit hypoglycemic the first few times, but your body will soon adjust.”
He’d expected questions, maybe even recriminations, but she relaxed against him, sipping the replenishing fluid as if nothing unusual had happened. “No questions, no regrets?” he asked, kissing her temple.
She tuned her head and looked at him. “No regrets. It was strange, really. As if something compelled me to feed you. I felt it earlier tonight, in the alleyway. I would have let you do it there, but I see now why you wanted to wait. You would have had to carry me home.” She took another sip of juice. “Is it always like that? The sex—when you feed while making love?”
Noah laughed softly. “Pretty much. We’ll have to take it easy at first. It will be difficult for us both to resist my feeding when we make love, but as often as we want one another, you run the risk of becoming anemic.”
She gave him a startled look. “You’re kidding me!”
“Well, yes and no. I mean, it’s a new relationship for us both and new couples always fuck like bunnies, right?”
She laughed. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I know I struggle to keep myself out of your office while I’m working.”
He placed a smacking kiss on her cheek. “Never do that!” She drained her glass and handed it to him, yawning sleepily. “Sleep, love. We’ll get up and have breakfast out in the morning. I want to walk the streets of Paris with you, in the daylight.”
* * * *
The metro took them to Saint-Germain-des-Prés where they walked to Les Deux Magots for a breakfast of café au lait and a sampling of pastries, which Olivia complained would leave her unable to button her jeans. As luck would have it, they managed to get one of the few sidewalk tables available, and a waiter who knew Noah, ele
vating the service to slightly above negligent.
“What would you like to do today,” Noah asked, opening his newspaper with a snap of his wrists.
Olivia sipped her coffee and picked an almond off her pastry. “I was going to ask you the same thing. After all, you’re the one who wants to walk around Paris in the sunshine.” She cast a baleful look at the overcast sky. “If it decides to grace us with its presence, that is.”
Noah laughed. “It wouldn’t dare not, not on my first day without dark glasses and full covering. I wanted to take you to the Eighth Arrondissement for a little shopping. Maybe go rummage around the flea markets and bookstalls, then stop at Marche Buci on the way home, pick up something for dinner. You did say you wanted to poke about, right?”
“Yes, but if I want an Hermes scarf, I’d rather find it at the flea market. Really, Noah, designer clothes aren’t my thing. I have a few nice pieces but I’ve gotten them all at consignment shops.”
“Very well, then we’ll catch the metro for Le Puces.”
Le Puces, the most well-known Parisian flea markets, opened at ten-thirty. Arriving early, they found a small café and had a cup of café crème while waiting for Serpette and Paul Burt to open for business. Olivia was practically panting to purchase an ornate Venetian mirror she’d spied. Price was not option, she declared, because it was perfect for her foyer.
Olivia gasped with delight. “Oh! Look at the clocks!”
“They’re huge!” Noah sputtered. “What would you do with a clock this size?”
“Hang it over my couch,” she said, looking at him as if he had two heads. “They’re wonderful!”
By now, he had his part down. He checked the price and snorted. “It’s too expensive, pet, and the cost of shipping it will be astronomical.” He folded his arms over his chest and shook his head negatively. In a trice, the dealer approached and the haggling began.
The deal done, Olivia threw herself into his arms with a shriek of delight. She had her mirror and her clock, along with some lovely vintage clothing.
By the time they were done, Noah decided to call for the car to carry their purchases back to the apartment. Olivia collapsed in the back seat, grateful to be off her feet. After a stop at the farmers market, the scent of rotisserie chicken filled the limousine and her mouth watered in anticipation.
“I’m starving,” she said, reaching for a handful of cherries. She popped a couple in her mouth, chewing the fleshy fruit, then disposing of the pits in a paper napkin.
Noah leaned in for a kiss. “Mmm, you taste sweet and tart, all at once.”
She giggled. “I am sweet and tart, darling.” She laughed when he gave her a wolfish grin.
“Yes, you are, and I intend to spend the rest of the night tasting you.”
“Oooh, I can’t wait.” When the car stopped in front of the lobby, she slid out. “But first, a bath.”
The bathroom was just as lavish as the rest of the apartment, and Olivia filled the tub in anticipation of a luxurious soak. With a grateful sigh, she piled her hair on top of her head and stepped into the tub, sinking into the steaming water.
“Care for some company?” Noah inquired. He held a bottle of Cristal and two champagne flutes in his hand. She nodded, and he set them on the edge of the tub and disrobed. Slipping into the water behind her, he poured them each a glass of bubbly. “To many more beautiful spring days in Paris.”
Olivia relaxed against him and sipped her champagne. “You’re spoiling me rotten, you know that, don’t you?”
His chest vibrated with a wicked chuckle. “That’s my intention, kitten. You deserve nothing less than a generous, attentive lover.”
An arm circled her waist, pulling her closer, and his hand cupped her breast. “Well, I’d say I have that, in spades.” She rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. “Did you enjoy yourself today? Was it all you imagined it would be?”
He kissed her temple. “Everything and more. Of course, I don’t think I’ve eaten quite so much French food.”
A soft laugh escaped her. “Yes, those crepes were fantastic, but I could have sworn I heard my left ventricle slamming shut. They use a lot of butter and cream here. I’ll have a layer of fat hanging over those skinny jeans if I’m not careful.”
He nibbled her shoulder. “Never. We’ll be having too much acrobatic sex for that to happen.”
“Ha! I’ll have you know, thirty minutes of vigorous sex only burns fifty-three calories. We’d have to be locked together like dogs to burn off anything significant.”
“Hmm, that sounds . . . well, actually, it sounds painful.” He slid his hand between her legs and cupped her mound. “I wonder how many a plain, old orgasm burns. Shall we experiment?”
“Mmm.” She arched against his seeking finger. “Yes, let’s. Oh, oooh, right there, baby. Yes, just like that.” She moaned when he increased the pressure.
“I do love a vocal woman.” He held her tight, and she writhed against his demanding fingers when she came.
She stirred in the lukewarm water. “Are we safe here, Noah? From the Sentinel?”
“We should be, kitten. I haven’t noticed anyone following us.”
* * * *
Across from their building, a large man, swathed in a greatcoat, leaned against a lamp post, muttering to himself. “They look so much alike. Which bloody brother is it?” He’d have to get closer to find out. He’d been told Ian Lazarus had tawny eyes, but Noah’s were an eerie, sparkling gray. Neither brother had been to Paris in years, and none of the current Sentinel members had actually seen the vampires up close. The French brotherhood had grown lax, but that was about to change.
Chapter Nine
Club de Flirter was the mirror image of Flirt, right down to its location in an old, renovated warehouse with a dull black paint job. Noah dressed Olivia for their night on the town in a little Greco-Roman chiffon dress by Alberta Feretti paired with a soft leather sandal. He, as always, dressed in black, leaving his long hair to flow freely in the light spring breeze. Both wore long coats, hers in black cashmere with a green silk lining, his a black canvas duster.
The doorman gaped in surprise.. “Mr. Lazarus! No one told us you were in town.”
“That’s because I didn’t tell anyone, Arnault.” He gestured to Olivia. “This is Olivia Sheppard, our new head of security.”
Olivia nodded politely. “Bonjour.”
The man greeted her politely and rushed to open the door for them. “My pleasure, mademoiselle. Enjoy your evening.”
The club pulsed with the beat of tribal music.. The sixties room was filled to capacity with a Goth crowd. They danced with a sexual abandon rarely seen in the club’s American counterpart.
“It’s members only tonight,” Noah said, his mouth pressed to her ear. “Most are witches and vampires, come to celebrate Ostara.”
“Ostara?”
“The Vernal Equinox. The beginning of spring, fertility and rebirth.”
“Ah, I see. That would explain all the bumping and grinding.”
A soft chuckle sent a shiver down her spine. “Yes, there is that.” He looped her arm through his, and they continued the tour. “Let’s check out the control room, see how the equipment is holding up. Paris is a huge terrorist target; I want to make sure our patrons are safe.”
Olivia checked the equipment, scanning through the various screens for camera placement, startled when she clicked on the fantasy room and discovered audio. Erotic moans and sighs wafted into the control room while Olivia studied the décor of the room. The Roman Orgy appeared to be the theme of the night, with food and drink flowing liberally. “Oh my,” she murmured, watching a man inserted a veritable fruit salad into a woman’s pussy and began to feed from her.
“Now, that’s clever,” Noah whispered, coming to stand beside her. “I’d like to do that to you.”
Her breath hitched. “I’d like you to do that to me.”
He took her hand. “Then by all means, let us join the
party.”
She made a halfhearted attempt to pull free of his grasp, but in the end, he led her down the long hallway and into the fantasy room. Her pulse raced when Noah whispered to one of the attendants, then led her toward the back of the room and one of the curtained areas.
The eight-by-eight patch of floor was covered with fluffy, white flocotti rugs. A huge, richly upholstered cushion lay on the floor, covered with silk pillows. Noah pulled the cobalt chiffon drapes around the area, closing them off from public viewing. They would be no more than two shadows. A voice spoke from outside the curtain. “Your fruit and wine, sir.”
Olivia kicked off her jeweled sandals and stood in the center of the cushion, watching. Noah put the bowl of oranges, ripe sliced mangos, a variety of berries, and bottle of Riesling on a low table and stood in front of her, his fingers brushing wispy material from her shoulders, baring them for his kiss. He released the scarflike belt around her waist, tugged the shirt over her head, and tossed it on the floor.
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