Maslow's Needs

by Sheri Gilmore

  Her phone rang ... once, twice, three times, then stopped.

  “Nobody’s home!”

  She sighed, searching for some antiseptic she could use to clean the wounds. She didn’t know about alley cats, but where she came from there were wild animals everywhere, and one bite could lead to major infection, tetanus, or worse ... rabies. She shuddered, thinking about the series of shots she’d have to endure in her abdomen if that were the case.

  The phone rang again. Jessi kicked the trash can with a mumbled oath. She hadn’t had time to buy an answering machine. She would add that item to the growing list of “things needed” while she was here. At least the NYPD would cover her expenses.

  * * * * *

  Twenty minutes later, she found a large bottle of antiseptic in the back of the cabinet under the bathroom sink. With her fingers stiffening, she had to open the cap with her teeth. She poured the foul-smelling liquid into the sink. She looked at the fluid swirling, then looked at her hands covered with welts and blood. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and plunged both hands into the cold liquid that burned like fire.

  “Jesus!” Her scream bounced around the tiny space into her hallway at the same time her apartment door crashed into the wall. She jumped, jerking her hands free of her self-imposed torture. Antiseptic and blood mingled on the floor. Two steps into the hallway, her feet slid from beneath her and she landed on her ass and lower back with her legs up in the air.

  Lying on her back, the breath knocked from her lungs, she stared at the ceiling and watched a face appear above her. She blinked several times, trying to clear the hallucination. She must have hit her head. She frowned when the image drew closer.

  “Jessi? You okay?”

  She couldn’t answer quite yet, but managed to nod at Drayden Maslow.

  “Why didn’t you answer your pho‑‑ Shit! What happened?”

  She smiled and tried to mouth the word “cat,” but the effort caused her more pain than it was worth. With one last draw, she sucked in the much needed oxygen and coughed, long and hard.

  Strong hands were lifting and pulling her up. An arm wrapped around her waist, and he half-dragged, half-carried her to the sofa in the living room. She leaned her back, now aching from the fall, against the soft cushions and closed her eyes. She could hear him down the hall in the bathroom, muttering obscenities, while he went through the medicine cabinet.

  A few seconds later the cushions gave way to his weight. He placed a towel beneath her arms. When he looked up, their gazes locked. A muscle twitched beside his mouth. “This is gonna hurt.”

  She nodded and waited for him to apply the antiseptic with cotton balls. The expected sting hit. She sucked in a breath through her teeth. She tried to force herself to relax, but the pain kept building through her entire body. Even her hair hurt.

  “T-That’s enough.” Her words were husky and raw, like her skin.

  “You’re cut on your neck and chin, too. Hold still.” His fingers brushed her hair away and angled her head. A tingle of awareness shivered down her spine.

  “Here, turn your head so I can reach this spot better.”

  The cold antiseptic stung and burned.

  “Oww.” She tensed and moved her legs back and forth to stop herself from jumping off the sofa.

  “Shh, I know it hurts, baby, but I have to clean it.”

  His gentle words and touch washed over her like a protective blanket. She squinted through narrowed eyes at his face. The intense concentration he exerted in the task of cleaning her wounds made her shake. If he concentrated this hard on minor first aid, she wondered how focused he’d be when he had his mind on sex.

  She bit her lip and closed her eyes against what she felt for him, now and earlier at his club. Who was she kidding? She’d been enthralled since she’d first seen him. She held in the laugh that bubbled up, too embarrassed she’d end up crying.

  Easing her head back, she listened to the soft sounds of the cotton against her skin, then of him throwing the cotton balls onto a paper towel he’d placed on the coffee table. The burn of the medicine lessened and her breathing grew steady and even.

  After a few seconds, she realized she had her head on his shoulder as he stroked her hair. She didn’t move. The comfort he offered was a novelty to her. A luxury she didn’t let herself indulge in. Dependence made one weak, and she knew she could become dependent on the touch of this man only too easy.

  “I’m sorry he did this to you. If I had known ‑‑”

  She stiffened and pulled away. The hair on the back of her neck bristled in warning. “Who are you talking about?”

  Her words had the effect of a shutter closing over the softness and regret in his eyes. Her gaze searched his face. The gentle concern from moments before had become a mask that she couldn’t read.

  “No one.”

  Her gut told her he had been speaking about the killer. She continued to study his face.

  “Why don’t you tell me what happened?”

  His words were like ice water to her veins. She shivered with a mixture of anger and emptiness. He knew who had killed her cousin, but he wasn’t going to tell. The chemistry exploding between them would have to be ignored.

  Chapter Five

  Shit! Nolan hadn’t attacked her. Drayden looked at her bandaged hands, then back at the cuts and scratches on her face. He frowned. If his brother hadn’t done this to her, who had?

  She watched him with a narrowed gaze, and he knew he’d given too much away. When she eased away from him to stand, he registered the loss of her warmth. His lips tightened. He couldn’t afford to get involved in a sexual relationship with a woman right now, especially this one. He shifted his hips to release some of the tension in the crotch of his jeans, but the second she turned away from him he caught a glimpse of her ass.

  She still wore the black jeans she’d been wearing at the club. In the dim light he hadn’t been able to make a good appraisal, but had known she looked good. He’d seen the way the other men had watched her, like a pack of wolves. He snorted. Some of them were! His club serviced not only the vampire community, but otherkin also. All goth peoples were welcome, as long as everyone followed the rules ‑‑ the main one being, Don’t munch on the cowans without an invitation.

  Her hips swayed, and his mouth went dry. The denim fit her skin like a glove. She had one of those pear-shaped asses a guy just wanted to ‑‑

  She turned; he glanced up. Her hands went to her hips.

  Drayden smiled, knowing he couldn’t deny he’d been staring at her ... assets. He shrugged. “What can I say? I’m human.”

  “Are you?”

  Tension filled the space between them. Their eyes clashed.

  He could see desire and wariness in hers. “I’m as human as you.”

  “You’re not ... vampire?” Her head cocked in an angle of challenge.

  “Yes.” He nodded and stood, slowly. He could see her muscles tense in preparation for defense. He wanted to ease her suspicions. He would give her as much information as he could. “But I’m human, and I’m also witch.”

  Her eyebrow shot up. “Like Konstantinos?”

  His jaw clenched at the mention of the man who had been her escort that night. He’d seen the other witch in action before with other women ‑‑ goth women, who knew the score. Drayden felt a rush of resentment that she would compare him with the writer-musician. “I am not like Konstantinos.”

  Her eyebrows drew down. “Then you’re a different kind of witch?” She looked at him, and he saw the confusion in her eyes. “I-I didn’t realize there were different kinds ‑‑”

  Her confusion had allowed him to move closer. One more step and he stood directly in front of her. His fingers found her chin, but he made sure he didn’t touch the cut he had cleaned. He lifted her face to his.

  Her pupils dilated with surprise.

  “There are different kinds of everything in this world, just like there are in yours. What I meant was that I do
n’t sleep around with a different woman every night.”

  She pulled away from his touch. Her lips compressed into a thin line. “You said that earlier, and I told you it wasn’t your concern.”

  “He’s gone and left you here alone.”

  “So?”

  He smiled and stepped in closer. “So, you must not be the flavor he wants at the moment.”

  She tried to shove past him, but he exerted his strength and didn’t move. He caught her upper arms and pushed her back against the wall. Her strength amazed him. Even with her wounds, he had to tighten his muscles and dig his boots into the carpet to prevent her from breaking his hold.

  After a few seconds, she relaxed and his weight fell into her. The gush of her scent as their bodies met assailed his nostrils. Once again his cock hardened. This time he didn’t stop her from knowing he was aroused. The way they stood, he knew she could feel the outline of him against her abdomen. He pressed closer.

  She jerked back, but couldn’t go anywhere. Her head hit the wall.

  “How long have you two been together?”

  “A week.”

  “Has he fucked you?” The flame of jealousy he’d experienced earlier at the thought of them together returned.

  Her entire body stiffened. He watched her skin flame from the neck of her shirt to the top of her forehead. He heard her words, angry and tense, scrape through clenched teeth.

  “That’s ... none ... of your ... damned ... business.”

  He smiled at the sound of her southern drawl, especially on the word damned. The accent might be slow, but the effect on his libido had him craving to hear her say a few more naughty words for him ... in bed. “Oh, but it is.”

  “Yeah?” She shoved him. “How do you figure?”

  He caught her wrists below the bandages and forced her arms above her head. The sweater she wore rode up to reveal the smooth texture of her skin.

  With a groan, he caught both wrists in one hand. His free hand moved to caress her beneath her rib cage. Her breath hissed in his ear. Her hips bucked, but he pressed closer, holding her in place. “I don’t steal other men’s women.”

  She stilled at that and raised her head. Their gazes met, once again, and locked. He circled his fingers, letting his fingernails brush the sensitive nerves lying just below the surface, one by one across the flat line of her belly. A surge of power engulfed him at the sight of her throat convulsing on a swallow.

  “Are you one of his women?” His hand had lined up directly over her navel. He curled the tips of his fingers and his nails scraped her skin, harder, tugging lightly on a navel ring. He paused in surprise and delight. The detective had a wild streak. His fingers twitched. A tremor passed through her body.

  “He has so many, what difference would it make if I am?”

  He dipped his head to nibble the sensitive area behind her ear. He nipped her earlobe. With the tip of his tongue, he circled the rim of her ear, then let his breath fan the dampened area with a whisper. “I don’t like to share.”

  She bucked her hips again, and he had to tighten his grip on her wrists. The flat of his palm pressed into her abdomen with the ends of his fingers submerged below the waistband of her low-cut jeans. He could feel the coarse hair of her pussy against his fingertips.

  “Are you, Jessi?” He flicked his tongue along her jaw.

  She groaned. “N-No!”

  “Good.” He dipped his head and took her mouth with his at the same time he slid his hand deeper into the crotch of her jeans to cup her mound. Warm, wet heat spread beneath his fingers, but he didn’t try to enter her. Without the proper precautions, his nails could hurt her. For now, he’d let her move against the pressure of his hand to bring her release.

  His tongue slid against and around hers. He sucked her bottom lip, bit her top one. And the entire time, she gave as good as she got. Her little moans and whimpers shimmered down his spine, making him want to sink his cock into her, deep and hard. The hum in his ears intensified, but he ignored the sound he knew indicated a psychic link. He’d felt the connection with her before. She had a highly developed system that she seemed unaware of.

  Just a little more, then I’ll stop before it gets too far out of hand.

  Jessi curled her bandaged fingers around his hand, wanting to yank the loose layers of his poet’s shirt and pull him closer. She opened her mouth to take more of his teasing mouth, feeling the cold swirl of his tongue-ring. She shuddered.

  God, to feel that on my clit! She squirmed her hips against his hand, needing him to put his fingers deep inside her pussy. The pressure of his finger on her clit hardened, but he refused to go further.

  She broke the suction of their kiss, and had to evade his lips that searched and demanded her return. She shook her head. “P-Put your finger in.”

  “Can’t.” He released her wrists and put his hand behind her head. Long fingers massaged the base of her neck, while his fingernails shifted through the thickness of her hair.

  Her hands caught at the front of his shirt. Their lips met and nipped. She groaned. “Why not?”

  “No ... condoms.”

  She frowned. “You don’t need a freakin’ condom to fuck me with your fingers.”

  He sighed and leaned his forehead against hers. “You do if you have these.” He held up the hand that had been around her neck. Five long black fingernails glinted in the room’s lamplight.

  “Yeah, I guess that would be uncomfortable.” Shit. She needed to come, like yesterday. Her eyes narrowed. “What kind of condoms do you use for those?”

  “The kind that are smaller and thicker than regular condoms and designed to fit over the fingers.” He shrugged. “They look like white balloons. You can get them at hardcore sex shops.”

  “Oh.”

  He kissed her again, and she felt the cold of the ring.

  She smiled. “If you can’t use your fingers, you’ll just have to use something else.”

  The hard edge of his cock moved, restlessly, against her abdomen. She heard his sigh.

  “Don’t have that kind, either.” He looked at her with an intensity that had her knees weak. “Unless ...?”

  “Sorry. Haven’t had time to go shopping for that particular household item yet.”

  He laughed. “Then I don’t think we can do ‑‑”

  “Your tongue.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and rocked her hips into his.

  His eyebrow arched, and the pressure of his hand increased against her clit. A wicked glint appeared in his eyes. “You have a naughty mind, you know that?”

  “Yeah, unfortunately.” And it was going to get her in trouble. She’d just asked a suspect to have oral sex with her, but ... dammit ... she’d been without for a long while and he was one fine-looking man. Not many men turned her on, but this one made her wet just looking at him and imagining how he could use those nails on and in her.

  “Well, I can’t turn down the opportunity afforded me.”

  He pulled his hand free of her jeans. The loss of his warmth against that part of her anatomy forced a distressed whimper from her throat. His strong arms were around her in a second, lifting her and carrying her to the sofa.

  “Don’t worry, babe. I’m going to give you what you need.”

  Without further ceremony he followed her down onto the sofa, his weight pushing her deeper into the soft cushions. His lips covered hers, while his hands pulled on the hem of her shirt and tangled in the folds of her jeans. Although their motions were hurried, she noticed how carefully he tugged the shirt down her arms and over her hands.

  A cool breeze shivered across the tops of her breasts. Their mouths parted for a second, as he stared at her chest. Leaning up on his elbows, he reached for the front snap of her bra. With one flick, her breasts spilled into his waiting hands. He groaned.

  “Beautiful.”

  Jessi arched into him, her head back at the first touch of his mouth around one swollen nipple. He tugged gently, then increased the pressure, m
aking her moan in turn.

  “You like that, huh?”

  She brought her head level to stare at him, not liking the smug expression on his face. “What do you think?”

  The smirk widened. He leaned down, circling her nipple with his tongue, but keeping his eyes on her face. “Tell me.”

  She fought the tightening in her groin. She’d heard of women coming from having their breasts suckled, but she’d never experienced the phenomenon until now. Her jeans were soaked at the crotch, and she knew he could smell the musky arousal on her skin ‑‑ a testament to her need.

  The smirk disappeared, to be replaced with an expression so feral that she shivered from the impression of a wild male animal staking claim to its mate. He tightened his grip on her hair and pulled her head back.

  The first jolt of misgiving passed through her mind. She didn’t know this man ‑‑ a professed vampire. She swallowed against the taste of fear in her throat. “Y-You know, this isn’t such a good idea.”

  She felt a low rumble in his chest. God, was he growling?

  His shoulders shook, then a burst of laughter surrounded her. Her mouth opened in surprise. He wasn’t growling, he was laughing ... at her!

  She shoved against his shoulders, ignoring the sting of her hands. “Get off me!”

  His long body rolled to one side, and he fell to the floor, still laughing.

  Jessi swung her legs over his head and planted her feet on the floor. She stood, not liking the quiver of her muscles, and jerked her jeans up and closed. She paced away from the sofa, then back, pointing her finger at him. “You did that shit on purpose, didn’t you?”

  He grinned up at her, then shrugged. “I wanted to see how far you’d go before you got scared.”

  “Scared?” His accurate description of what she’d felt made her hesitate. She shook her head and stood straighter. “I wasn’t scared.”

  His gaze narrowed. He stood. “If you weren’t, you need to be.”