The door cracked open, and she froze. Didn’t the self-defense experts say don’t fight, survive? Or did they say kick him in the balls and run?
The tall broad figure of a man stood silhouetted in the doorway.
“Laurel?”
Her breath whooshed out of her and she turned on the wall lamp next to the bed. She’d know that low husky voice anywhere. “Drew? What are you doing here?”
He stepped in and closed the door. “They assigned me this call room. What are you doing here?”
“This is my call room,” she said.
He scrubbed a hand over his unshaven jaw. In the dim light, his blond hair looked as though he’d just gotten out of bed. Dark eyes dropped from her face to her chest, and her nipples tightened under his gaze.
How many times had she fantasized about this man? And here he stood. The mysterious doctor who didn’t date. Drew Whitlock M.D., sex on two legs.
Drew licked his lower lip. “Maybe we could share.”
Share? What did that mean? She got the bed, he got the floor? “What… did you have in mind?”
He took a step toward her, into the light. The thin material of his scrub pants outlined an impressive erection. “You know, Laurel, I’ve always wondered what it would be like to… share a call room with you.”
“You have?” Her stomach flipped. Could she be so lucky?
“Yeah.” He took another step.
“That’s interesting, because I’ve always wanted to… share a call room with you, too.”
A sexy-as-sin smile spread across his face, and he thumbed the lock on the door handle and tossed his key on the sink counter. “Let’s share, then.”
“Yes, let’s.”
“Hot in here.”
Laurel drew her hand down the moist skin of her chest. “Yep. AC must be out.”
He kicked out of his shoes and stripped out of his scrub shirt, revealing a well-developed chest tapering to a stomach tight enough to stand on. His scrub pants hung low on his hips, that impressive bulge more prominent now.
He tucked his thumbs in the waist, sliding them down an inch. The swollen head of his cock pushed against the fabric. One more inch… she held her breath in anticipation. He paused. Laurel looked up, and he winked.
“Your turn, Doctor McKenna.”
She exhaled. He’d caught her staring. Okay, two can play at this. Laurel stood, mirroring his stance, hooking her thumbs in the waist of her pants.
The sexy-as-sin grin widened.
She worked the waist down until the tiny ribbon adorning her black lace thong peeked out. His gaze travelled from the ribbon to her breasts to her lips, and then his amber eyes met hers.
Drew loosened the drawstring of his scrubs and let the waist slide down until the arrow of hair bisecting his abs widened into a dark blond thatch. The head of his cock tented the fabric on the way to clearing the scrub pants, then… he stopped. What a tease.
She frowned. He laughed.
Okay, enough. She wanted him all to herself for a while before the damned pager went off. At this rate, it’d be morning before they got naked. Laurel turned her back to him before letting her green cotton pants drop to the floor, leaving her ass cheeks bare except for the narrow black strip of her thong. Drew groaned behind her.
Perfect.
Next, she unsnapped the front closure of her bra and tossed it aside. She cupped her breasts, leaving her nipples exposed above her hands. She pivoted.
His sound of pleasure was worth the effort. The bulge twitched. The scrubs dropped in a heap around his ankles. No underwear.
Laurel sucked in a breath and dropped her hands. He was magnificent. His shaft jutted out, long and thick and surrounded by dark blond hair. And to think, that erection was for her.
In two strides he closed the distance between them. Laurel braced for an all-out assault, but instead he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her softly as he backed her up against the wall, then bracketed her with a hand on either side of her shoulders. So warm, his smooth chest pressed against hers. The coarse hairs on his thighs tickled. A clean citrus smell rose from his skin and mixed with the heady scent of him.
He pressed his lips to the corner of her mouth and kissed his way up to her ear, biting gently on the lobe as he sucked it between his lips and tickled it with his tongue. Pleasure arrowed to her core as goose bumps rose across her arms.
This was good, but she hadn’t gotten enough of his mouth. What would he taste like? She arched against him, inviting him forward. “Drew…”
“Mmmm?”
She worked her hands into his hair and directed his mouth to hers, nipping his lower lip and inviting his tongue inside. For a moment, his amber eyes caught hers, and then dropped to half-mast as he entered her mouth. Oh, Lord. He tasted like hot musky man. His tongue danced across her teeth and dove inside, twisting and tangling.
He leaned into her and his warm thigh spread her legs and snuggled against her core, connecting them from lips to hips. Another rush of moisture dampened her thong, her body ready to accommodate, enclose, enjoy. Was he planning to take her against the wall, or move to the cot?
The thick hot ridge of his cock rubbed against her belly, setting off an answering heat between her thighs. She wanted to command him inside, and now, but there might be greater delights to come…
His glorious erection circled and pushed into her stomach. He cupped her breasts and teased her nipples with his thumbs. Pinching desire sent her heart into sprint mode, had her gasping. Drew smiled against her lips.
“You like that Laurel?” he murmured.
Good didn’t even begin to cover it. She nodded and panted into his mouth. “ ’S good.”
He nipped her lower lip and proceeded to take his talented mouth on a tour, kissing his way down her throat to her breasts. “God, you’re beautiful.”
The warm wet of his mouth replaced his hands as he laved one breast, then the other, sending waves of arousal down to her center. The man was good. He knew slow was better, and actually did it. He slid his hands along her sides, kissed his way down, pausing to dip his tongue in her navel and squeeze her ass cheeks.
My sweet Lord, he was heading south.
He went to his knees, dragging her thong down her legs and off. He ran his tongue up her inner thigh and grinned up at her. “Move your feet apart for me.”
Oh. My. God.
Laurel pressed her back against the wall. She had a sneaking suspicion she was about to need all the support she could get. A throbbing set up shop in her opening as she widened her stance and bared herself to him.
“Oh, yeah.” Drew nuzzled her then drew his tongue up her cleft, ending with a swirl around her clit.
A tremor started as he licked her. If he kept this up, she’d come in seconds. Laurel threaded her fingers in his golden hair. Thank God he wore it long enough she could hold on.
Drew’s hands stroked up her inner thighs and gently urged her legs apart. More licks stroked over her, each ending with a rotation at the top. Laurel’s back tightened and she fell over the edge. The call room blurred as the orgasm shook through her with the force of a defibrillatory shock.
As the room came into focus, she looked down. Drew still crouched in front of her, holding her hips steady. He grinned and stood, still grasping her hips.
Sexy as sin.
To her surprise, he pulled her into his arms and buried his face in her neck. “I’ve wanted to do that since the first time I laid eyes on you.”
“I’m glad you finally got your chance,” she said, and slid her arms around his back and pulled his hips into hers. The impressive erection was still very much in evidence. If he thought they’d finished, he had another thing coming.
Laurel licked his shoulder. Even his skin tasted sexy: salt and spice and musky man. She nipped him and soothed the area with her tongue.
Teeth tugged on her earlobe. “Careful. Don’t leave anything I’ll have to explain to the boss.”
“Of course no
t. My turn now.” She reached between them and stroked his cock, base to tip, base to tip, a drop of pre-come pearling on the head. Another stroke pulled a groan from him.
“Stop, or the party’ll be over way too soon.”
Placing her hands on his hips, Laurel guided him back toward the bed. He spun her around, and pushed her down to sit on the low mattress.
“Hey! It’s my turn!”
“Hold it there, hot stuff. Got to get protection.”
This story will be continued in Volume II of Everything Erotic.
~~*~~ BONUS MATERIAL ~~*~~
Vampire Vacation
The V V Inn:
Book One
“It is not the strongest of the species that survives, nor the most intelligent that survives. It is the one that is the most adaptable to change.” ~ Charles Darwin
Chapter One
I open the door to find a body at my feet. The rich smell of blood causes my canines to lengthen. Reaching out in the darkness, I flip on the switches. Light comes on across the room, illuminating the dead guy lying face down in front of me. The whole scene makes me wish I’d stayed in bed today, curled up next to my warm husband.
“Crap, look at the rug.”
Okay, out loud that sounds rather dispassionate. Whoever this poor stiff is, he’s dead. I’m the one left with a huge mess on my hands and guests arriving within the hour. Good thing I caught this before one of the maids did. Their screams from the last time were a devil to calm down.
Reaching out with my mind, I connect with my husband in a soft electrical tingle of sensation. Rafe? There’s a dead guy in suite six. We’ve got to move fast before the next group arrives.
Rafe’s rugged face appears in my head. My extended consciousness lets me see the room around him as well as hear his thoughts. He’s leaning against the sink in our private kitchen, wearing a robe, a steaming mug of coffee in his hand.
Does it look like an accidental overfeeding? His mental voice sounds incredulous. We haven’t had one of those in years.
No, there’s way too much blood. Can you come up here and help me?
Sure, Dria. I’m fresh out of the shower—give me a couple minutes.
I step over the body and into the room, closing the door behind me with a soft snick of the catch. I’d rather not have the guests get a whiff of this mess. Some of them would probably think we did it on purpose for “ambience”. But others might not.
Walking over to the bench at the end of the bed, I sit then look around the suite. A king-size bed, neatly made, gleaming dark furniture and lush brocade fabrics greet me. Nothing but the corpse looks out of place. The stark white face turned toward me doesn’t look familiar. I’m sure he isn’t a mate of one of the vampire masters staying here; I make it a point to meet all of them when they arrive.
Examining his brown hair and twenty-something face, I don’t recognize him as a vampire servant either. Not many have come to stay with the current crop of undead we’ve got right now. Who else?
The blood arouses my basic vampire needs while confusing my train of thought. I concentrate, trying to clear my head. Think, dammit, think!
Could he be a companion? A lot of masters bring “food” with them. Being a full-service hotel we can provide all the needs of our guests, but some still insist on BYOB.
His oxford shirt and ragged jeans rule him out as an employee. Unless he’s an off-duty new hire I’m unaware of.
Rafe, have we hired anyone new?
Not in at least a month. You’ve met everyone. My husband hesitates for a moment. Send me his face and I’ll let you know if he looks familiar.
I concentrate to project the image from my mind to Rafe’s. My strong ability enables me to share the entire experience with him if I wish. I could send the metallic smell filling the air, the sticky congealing blood pooled about the victim’s head, or the dark essence of death that lingers after a vicious kill, but choose to limit it only to the image.
No, I don’t recognize him either, Rafe confirms. Damn, Tommy’s flagging me down. Give me a minute and I’ll be right up.
Hurry, please. We’ve got guests coming in, I glance down at my ever-present watch, forty-five minutes!
Rafe ignores me. Typical. He’ll get here when he gets here. My muscles tense up while I fight an urge to pace. I’m starting to freak out a bit. Who could’ve killed this poor guy? And why? Why here for that matter? I’ve seen my share of corpses in my long undead life, but in the twenty years we’ve run this inn, there hasn’t been a single murder.
Okay, okay… let’s see. What should I do? Taking a deep breath in, I try to center my thoughts. Rich, aromatic blood rushes into my nostrils. That was a mistake. It smells so damn good. Fidgeting in my seat, I feel desperate to do something to distract myself from my desires.
We can’t call the police in this isolated area of Alaska. Not only would they take hours to arrive, but they wouldn’t be able to help once they got here either. I don’t want to think of the memory altering I’d have to do if they did show up. Instead, I can be the one to take notes and catalog evidence. That seems to work well on the detective shows.
I pat down my hips, realizing too late the black clingy dress I’m wearing doesn’t have pockets. Where the hell is my notebook? I need it to write this stuff down.
Rafe! Are you coming?
No. Not yet, my dear. A masculine chuckle reaches my mind. I’m heading up the stairs now.
The hotel resembles a large T-shape, with the lobby being dead center where all the wings converge. Not wanting to send him back downstairs, I think about what lies between there and here.
I need a notebook and a pen to write down all the facts. Can you get them for me?
I think we need to cut back on the TV, Dria.
I can hear the smile coming through in his words. He read my mind and knows what I plan to do. Jerk. That man loves to pull my chain and live on the edge.
Relax, liebling, we’ll handle this.
Easy for you to say. You’re not a vampire sitting next to, I glance over at the large red stain around the victim’s head, what looks like three or four quarts of blood. Rafe’s my human husband. The mate bond ritual we shared sixty-five years ago, combined with our frequent, mutual blood exchange, keeps him from aging.
I hear Rafe hesitate on the wide, curving staircase leading up to the second floor. Damn him! I bet he is trying to place where he saw a notebook last. My teeth grind together in frustration. Some things never change, even when you’re undead and married. He never bothers to learn where we keep things. Okay, that’s not fair, he knows where his things are. Our bond may lend him a lot of my vampire strengths, but it doesn’t change his core of a normal, human male.
You’ll find pen and paper in the hall table, top drawer, outside suite seven.
I don’t need to see his smile to confirm he’s laughing at me. That’s okay. I’ll pay him back later. In spades.
You want to show me too, while you’re at it?
I focus my will and gather an image in my mind, picturing the last time I fed from my spouse. The delicious smell of his sweaty skin fills my head. The clean and musky memory triggers heat low in my middle. It spreads out at the mere reminder of the salty taste of piercing his flesh to drink. I feel the rush of his life-giving elixir fill my mouth and tease my taste buds with its power. I push the feelings, sensations, and pictures out to his mind just as he enters the suite.
Rafe stops the motion of the door before it hits the body. He staggers forward a bit as my mental projection slams into his mind. He’s holding the notebook and pen in one hand while gripping the doorknob tightly with the other.
“Whew! Alright already, I get the picture!”
I smile and pull the illusion away. Rafe closes the door and joins me on the other side of the corpse. I think I made my point. I may not need much blood anymore, but he certainly enjoys the little bit I do take when we make love.
He tosses the notebook, aiming straight for my head. Ap
parently, I struck a nerve with my teasing. Poor baby, turn-about is fair play.
I jot down the basics I’ve got for the dead guy–his age, race, brown hair, and what he’s wearing. Rafe squats near him. His gray dress slacks pull across his apple-cheeked ass and I once again lose my focus.
“Unlucky stiff,” Rafe comments. “What do you know so far?”
He looks back over his shoulder and smiles at me. My eyes are drawn up to his sparkling blue ones. Crap. What did he say? I scramble around for an answer.
“Umm…” Good God, I’ve got to get the hell away from all this blood, and soon. “I came in to do a last-minute check of the rooms before the MacKellan group arrives. Found him dead by the door, just like you see him now.”
“As far as wounds go, all I can see is this big dent in the back of his head.” He holds his fist out to the wound. “Looks like it could have been something this size. Think he could have another injury under him?” Putting words to action, Rafe places a hand under the corpse’s hip and shoulder, lifting him up to look. “Nothing in his chest.” He lowers the body back down to the carpet.
“You’re sure you don’t recognize him, right?” I ask.
“From his face? Nah. I’d have recognized that scar.” Rafe points out the small crescent-shaped scar on the left cheek, and I jot the observation down in my notebook. “Did you see his shoes?” Rafe nods in the direction of his feet. “He wouldn’t be walking around in those loafers outside for long. The winter temps here would freeze his toes off in minutes.” He looks back up at me, a frown creasing his forehead. “He’s fully human, right?”
“There’s only one way to find out.” I lean down to draw in a deep sniff of air from near the body. Subtle undertones of the victim’s personal scent seep into my brain. The pure, clean essence of his human blood overpowers everything else when I look for it. “He carries no blood marker from another vampire. Which means he is not a servant or a mate. He could be a companion who arrived late, someone we’re unaware of.”
Everything Erotic Volume I Page 8