by Sierra Dafoe
“What?”
He grinned. “Never mind.” Grabbing her hand, he turned for the exit, tugging her along behind him.
Chapter Three
They practically fell through the downstairs door of Rianna’s building, locked together as they were in a hot, damp, deep kiss. His hands were all over her, cupping her ass as he rubbed the swell of his cock against her belly, sliding into her hair as he pulled her mouth more firmly against his, playing over the plump curves of her breasts. Rianna gasped as he reached under her shirt, his finger circling one nipple through the lace of her bra. The light tickling pressure and the scratch of the fabric sent shocks through her system, and her cunt, wet enough before, was suddenly soaked.
Rianna leaned back, letting the wall support her quivering frame as she slipped her hands into the back pockets of his jeans and grabbed his ass, tugging him against her as she ground her crotch against the taut muscles of his thigh. Then he was lifting her, his biceps bulging as he raised her up to his waist. Rianna dropped her head back against the wall, feeling his tongue flick at her neck as she wrapped her thighs around his hips. She groaned as the hard ridge of his cock pressed the swell of her clit. She could feel the heat of him, even through their jeans.
And she still didn’t even know his name.
Burying both hands in his thick, silky hair, she whispered hoarsely in his ear, “I’m gonna fuck your brains out.”
He turned his head a bit to look at her, that same arrogant smile playing about his lips. “Good,” he whispered back. His eyes stared into hers. “Right here in the hall?”
“We can… we can get a room…” she panted. Or sure, in the hall. What the hell. I don’t care.
He raised an eyebrow, then glanced up the stairs. “Or we could just go to your place. Since we’re already here.”
Somewhere deep in her mind, an alarm chimed. It was awfully faint, though, under the roaring of her blood. She was dry-humping him in her foyer, for God’s sake -- right next to Mrs. Tubberman’s mailbox. It seemed a little silly to be playing coy now. “All right.”
He lowered her to her feet, steadying her as she wobbled. Which showed a certain degree of gallantry, didn’t it? Nevertheless, her knees were trembling as she led him up the stairs. Rianna couldn’t decide if it was nervousness or merely carnal hunger.
She fumbled the keys into the latch, flicked on the light, and turned. He was standing in the doorway, grinning. Did that grin ever fade? “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”
“Why? Do you need to be?” she shot back. “You’re not a vampire, are you?” The words had been joking, but suddenly Rianna wondered. If witches, or something very like them, existed -- and Rianna had intimate proof that they did -- what else might have more than a fairytale existence?
“A vampire?” He seemed surprised. “No.” He strode into the apartment, closing the door behind him.
It was a single room, stretching the length of the building. Steps led up to a large loft that served as Rianna’s bedroom. Underneath the loft was tucked a small, utilitarian kitchen -- she wasn’t much on cooking. At the far end of the room, old multi-paned windows, their glass streaked with age, looked out over the dark waters of the bay. Moved by some impulse, Rianna walked to the windows and stood watching the moonlight shatter and reform on the shifting waves below. “So, what’s your name?”
There was a pause. Curious, she glanced at his reflection in the window. In the warped glass, his face seemed to shift, wavering, as if the bones themselves were fluid, changeable. Rianna spun, and found him regarding her with a mild, puzzled gaze.
He looked like that before, she thought. Earlier, when I asked him who he was.
“Bo,” he said. “My name’s Bo.” Even his voice was different. Still deep, but softer. Then his cheeks spasmed, and he threw his head back and laughed. Rianna stared. He dropped to her couch, which she’d set ten feet back from the windows, and chuckled. “I’m sorry. I was overcome by irony. C’mere.” He indicated the cushion next to him.
Rianna hesitated. The alarm she’d ignored in the foyer was back now, and louder. Never, in the six years she’d lived here, had she let a man into her apartment. And this Bo had, with merely a gaze and a grope, made her forget all the zillion reasons why she never took a man home, never let them know where she lived. He stretched now, resting his long arms along the back of the couch, looking as at ease as a king on his throne.
Something didn’t jibe. His t-shirt caught her eye again, the ragged v cut into its front obviously done with a pair of scissors, carelessly wielded. It didn’t fit him, somehow. Didn’t fit the self-assurance of his manner, the worldly tone of his chuckle…
“You want a beer?” she asked suddenly, turning for the kitchen. As she walked past the couch he snaked out an arm, grabbed her wrist. With a gentle but inexorable tug, he tumbled her onto his lap.
“No,” he replied. “And that’s not what you want either.”
Struggling, she flailed against him, flushing with rage. Her ire wasn’t helped any by the fact that he was right, damn it. He held her arms outspread, her wrists trapped in his clutch -- which, unfortunately, meant that her exertions made her breasts rub against his chest. He grinned, clearly enjoying the sensation, and Rianna was acutely aware of his hard-on pressing into her hip. Scowling, she ceased her attempts -- they were useless, anyway. “Let me go.”
“If you insist.”
He released her arms, and she sprang from the couch. “Now get out, Bo -- or whoever you are.” Stalking to the door, she threw it open. “Get out before I call the cops.”
Rising, he turned to her, his eyes brighter than ever. Like lasers, she thought, like those sci-fi tractor beams… It felt like they bored into her, seeing straight into her soul.
“Is that really what you want?”
Mutely, gritting her teeth, she nodded. So what if she was horny! She’d been horny before, she’d survived it. So what if he turned her on more than any man she’d met…
His smile widened, and he walked to her, placing both hands flat on the open door, pinning her between his arms. She could smell the musky, masculine scent rising from him, the smooth, bronzed skin over the swell of his chest only inches from her face. His strong, muscled neck enticed her, made her want to sink her teeth into it, bury her hands in that lush golden hair as he rode her and rode her…
“Do you really want me to leave?”
Rianna leaned back against the door, panting for breath.
“Or do you want me to fuck you, Rianna?”
She couldn’t pull her gaze away from his lips. Soft, full, a tanned dusky pink. “Say it again.”
“You want me to fuck you.”
Yes. Oh, dear God, yes. Whatever the risk, whatever else happened, she wanted that glorious body against her, inside her…
He smiled down at her, lowered his arms. Stepping back, he said, “Close the door, Rianna.”
She did.
Chapter Four
There was a large overstuffed chair tucked into the niche under the steps. Her reading nook, she called it, though in truth she read everywhere -- the couch, her bed, the bathtub. He undid the snap of his jeans and sank into it. “Now, come here.”
In a daze she floated toward him, knelt down at his gesture. Her hands shook as she unzipped his fly, and he raised his hips slightly to let her slide his jeans down. He moved her to one side as he kicked off his boots (battered suede hiking boots, she noticed, with that same sense of dislocation) and peeled off that ridiculous shirt. Naked, he sprawled in the chair, one lean, taut thigh on either side of her shoulders, and gazed down at her, his eyelids heavy with lust. His erection pulsed against his flat, tanned stomach.
“Oh, Rianna,” he whispered, his hand playing lazily over her short, thick black hair. “Take off your shirt.” She did, revealing her full, soft breasts, encased in a sturdy lace underwire bra. Like her hair, it was black. She reached back to unhook it, but he stopped her. “No. Leave it.”
He
crooked a finger, beckoning her closer, and she rose up on her knees, holding herself still as he traced a finger along the edge of her bra, right where it bit slightly into the swell of her breasts. He followed it down into the warm cleft of her cleavage, then flicked his finger over the tip of her left breast. The lace heightened the sensation, scratching lightly, and she swallowed. He raised his other hand and rubbed the pads of his thumbs across both aching nipples. Moaning wordlessly, Rianna arched into his touch. “Oh, you like that, Adrianna.”
She nodded, her eyes closing as he increased the pressure, tormenting the taut points till they poked out against the sheer fabric. Gasping, she dropped her head back as he caressed her breasts, squeezing them in his large, strong hands, then closing his thumbs and fingers around her nipples, tugging at them. “Please,” she whispered, and he pinched them harder, the lace chafing against them as he worked them between his fingers. She was so horny she wanted him to shove her down onto the carpet, rip her jeans off, and fuck her till she screamed, right then, right there -- yet the agony in her breasts felt so good she whimpered when he released her nipples. He gently bent her head toward him, till the head of his cock nudged against her lips, and --
What had he just called her?
Rianna opened her mouth, darting her tongue out and lapping the silken tip. It was his turn to groan as he leaned back into the chair, his hands resting lightly on her bowed head. “Oh, yeah.”
Oh, Adrianna. Not Katrianna, not Marianna.
Adrianna.
But she’d never told him her name.
What was going on here? Surreptitiously, Rianna tilted her head, glancing up at him even as she swirled her tongue around the shaft of his cock. God, he tasted good!
His eyes were closed, giving her the chance to study him. Strong broad cheekbones, a well-molded jaw line that was just shy of heavy. His nose was slightly snubbed, giving him an almost boyish appeal, and Rianna realized with a shock that he really was young. Twenty-five, maybe twenty-six. No way did this man have the experience to be able to manipulate her. But…
Rianna lowered her head, opening her mouth wide and wrapping her lips tight around his pulsing cock as she pondered. How could his appearance be so at odds with his demeanor?
Something didn’t add up here.
Slowly, with an ease born of practice, she slid her mouth up and down the length of his cock, lashing the swollen vein at its base with her tongue on each stroke. It was sheer physical delight to give this man a blowjob -- her cunt was so wet it was soaking the crotch of her jeans. And it gave her time to think…
The way he’d drawn her to him, so commandingly, so arrogantly. His raggedy-ass t-shirt, like something a guy would still wear from high school. His worldly chuckle. That arrogant magnetism that both attracted and repelled her… and the shy, puzzled grin she’d seen twice now. Almost as if…
His breathing was growing faster now, deeper and more ragged. He was pinned beneath her working mouth, his shaft swelling even further under her ministrations. She could feel him holding himself rigidly still, every muscle in his body taut with desire.
Almost as if he was two different men.
Raising one hand to his balls, Rianna slipped her fingers around them, brushing lightly at the sensitive spot just behind, and felt him quiver at her touch. God, his balls were huge! They seemed ready to explode they were so distended with come.
Men?
He thrashed in the chair, and she could hear his head tossing back and forth against the upholstery. His fingers tightened in her hair. Still she kept up the same smooth, unhurried tempo, feeling his cock grow even thicker, forcing her jaw further open to accommodate it. The swollen ridge of his cockhead dragged lightly against her teeth, and he went rigid with lust, his cock pulsing in her mouth as it leaked pre-come freely.
You’re not a vampire, are you?
A vampire? No.
The question had surprised him -- but not the way it should have. He hadn’t laughed. Hadn’t reacted to the ridiculousness of it. In fact, he’d replied with the same matter-of-factness she’d expect if she’d asked him if he were a Republican, or a weight-lifter.
So if he wasn’t a vampire…
Rianna’s eyes widened.
He was gasping now, so close to the edge he’d forgotten everything but the feel of her mouth on his cock, sucking him deep. As it had earlier, reflected in the window, his face seemed to blur, the lines seeming to become stronger, more saturnine. The boyish features and silken blond hair seemed like a mirage, a veil stretched thinly over something much darker…
Now.
Wrenching out of his grasp, Rianna jerked her head away. “Bo!” Paralyzed by the interruption of sensation, he froze on the very edge of orgasm. His eyes flew open, glazed, petrified. He stared down at her as if he had no idea who she was.
For a moment he looked very, very young.
Sitting back on her heels, Rianna watched as something else in his eyes -- something hard, proud, commanding -- slowly overpowered the terror that had shone, unmistakable as the beam of a lighthouse, from their depths.
She was going to have to be careful.
Curving her mouth in an impish smile, she gazed up, letting her eyes smolder with lust. “Now, before we go any further, why don’t you tell me who you really are.”
Slowly, he returned her smile, a chuckle rumbling deep in his -- or rather, Bo’s -- chest. “You’re a bright one, Adrianna.” His tone was smug, indulgent. “I’ve been watching you, you know.”
“And have you liked what you’ve seen?” She tossed her head playfully.
“Yes. And I plan to see more.”
He gestured for her to remove her bra, but Rianna shook her head. “First tell me who you are. Your name’s not Bo, is it?”
“It’s Botis.” Reaching out, he tugged idly at her bra strap, sliding it down over her shoulder and caressing her skin.
The name meant nothing to her, but it sounded right. “That’s why you laughed. Because the names were so close.”
He nodded, his attention all on the motion of his hand. Slowly, he slid one finger inside the cup of her bra, ran it over her erect nipple. Rianna closed her eyes, feeling a fresh surge of desire. Damn, but she wanted him!
No. She wanted Bo.
Then he clamped his hands around her breasts and drew her to him. “Do you know what I am, Adrianna? Have you figured that out, too?”
His grip was forceful, overwhelming. Lust rippled through her mind like heat waves. “I think so,” she murmured. “But why him?”
“Because, my beautiful Adrianna, this body is the distillation of all your desires, is it not?”
The silken touch of his hair brushed her cheek as he bent his head to her, the perfectly molded lips caressing her own. Beneath her hands, the muscles of his back were solid, intoxicating, encased in smooth bronzed skin that slid beneath her palms like satin. Yes. Oh, yes.
“No.”
Botis paused, a scowl crossing the boyish features of his assumed body, a flush of fury marring the handsome face. “No?”
Oh, she was going to have to be so very careful.
“No. I… I will not succumb to you, Demon!” Some small part of her mind wondered sarcastically which book she’d gotten that line from. But he reacted precisely as every trashy romance she’d ever read said he would -- he thrust her to the floor.
“No?” he repeated, his voice low and menacing, and almost unendurably sexy. “I think you will.” He held her down easily, ignoring her thrashing, and lowered his lips again to the curve of her neck. Slowly, he kissed his way down her body, trailing his teeth lightly along the line of her collarbone, licking at the sweet crevasse of her cleavage. He dallied over her breasts, tonguing them through her bra till her nipples burned with agonized delight.
Her struggles became squirms as he kissed her soft belly, lapping at her navel in a hint of things to come. Releasing her, he sat up and looked down at her, his mouth curving into a smile at the sight of her, stret
ched motionless below him, her entire body quivering with anticipation as he tugged off her boots. He reached for the snap of her jeans, his deft fingers undoing them with one easy motion, then sliding inside to probe her sodden folds.
Rianna closed her eyes, shuddering beneath his touch as he stroked her swollen clit. The sensation was overwhelming, blotting every thought from her mind but the desire, the need, to have him inside her. Timorously, she reached for his rigid shaft, and he smiled again as she closed her hands around it, working the hot, velvety skin up and down its thick length.
“Now, Adrianna. Show me you want it.”
He gestured peremptorily. Obediently, she reached back, unsnapped her bra, letting her breasts tumble out like warm, ripe melons. His breath hissed through his teeth at the sight of them. “Yes. Now that is more like it, my Adrianna.”
His finger danced over her clit, and Rianna swallowed, feeling her orgasm build. Again, he gestured, and she slid her jeans off without disturbing the contact. The moment she did, Botis slid his hand downward, plunging his finger deep into her cunt. Rianna moaned, and reached again for his cock, wanting it in her hand, her mouth…
His breathing grew shorter, heavier, and he slid his thumb up, tormenting her clit even as his fingers plumbed the depths of her cunt. Rianna could feel her juices dripping around it, flowing freely even as she fought against the pressure building inside her. His hand teased her mercilessly, his thumb flicking her clit, and Rianna arched her back, fighting for control.
“Please…” she gasped. “Oh, please…”
“Please what?”
She bit her lip, feeling her face flush with mortification. He was going to make her beg, damn him! Of course. Of course he was. At his saturnine grin she wondered how she’d ever thought otherwise.
His finger closed around her clit, pinching it, and her gasp became a shriek. The sensation was so intense! What else would he do to her, given the chance?
A hungry, heedless part of her wanted desperately to find out. “Fuck me,” she whispered.