Rourke (New Vampire Disorder Book 2)

by Marie Johnston

The damaged vampire who had clawed his way to freedom rebelled at her requests and the loss of control.

  But she said only if he wanted to. If he sat, her breasts would be closer to his mouth. He wanted.

  His ass hit the chair.

  “Do you want me to undo your pants or will you?”

  He could kiss Grace’s intelligence right now. She left everything up to him, but he’d acquiesce to whatever she wanted.

  He flipped his button free and unzipped his leathers. His shaft throbbed against the material, but he left it in place.

  “Sit on me, Grace.” He tugged on her hand, not waiting.

  She straddled him. He drew her head down for a kiss, and she exhaled into his embrace. Her hands roamed his chest and shoulders while his hands did the same to her. The touch of skin was as addicting as their pie. She was soft everywhere. He trailed his fingers further down until he cupped her sex.

  Her hips rocked to ride his hand. He swirled his tongue into her mouth and tunneled a finger between her folds. She was so wet. All for him. Her climaxes were a glorious thing to behold. He wanted to bury himself inside, but a front row seat to her release wouldn’t be passed up.

  A moan rewarded him when he found her clit. A few swirls and he stroked back until he entered her. The delightful squirm she did on his lap encouraged more. Soon, she set a pace, seeking the end she knew he’d give her.

  But he held off. She broke their kiss to scowl at him.

  “I want to watch you come, Grace.”

  “Then you need to let me.”

  The side of his mouth tipped up. “This is a pretty good show.” I don’t want it to end.

  His almost smile sent a flood of juices to her center.

  “My sexual frustration is what finally makes you smile,” she said between gasps of pleasure.

  “I didn’t smile.” But if this was her reaction, he might more often.

  Her butt ground into his thighs as she desperately sought her orgasm. “Compared to your normal, that was a full out grin.”

  A laugh barked from a bona fide, albeit small, smile.

  “Rourke—yes.” She was coming. He redoubled his efforts, spearing her with a finger while his thumb excited her clit.

  She leaned back to rest her hands on his knees as she rode through her peak. Breasts in his face, her melting in his hand, his desire to pleasure her for her, not because it was part of the arrangement, it was the most satisfying sexual experience he’d ever had. And the one earlier this evening provided a ton of competition.

  The orgasm faded. He curled his other arm around her and she went lax. Removing his hand from her center, he pushed his pants down to release his shaft.

  Just like that, she perked up.

  Using him for purchase, she rose up and placed herself over the head of his cock. He used her new position to draw a taut nipple into his mouth. Her arms cradled his head and she slowly, savoring the feel, lowered herself onto him.

  Just like before, her encompassing his length matched no other sensation he’d ever known.

  Sex went beyond a basic need, a drive he couldn’t ignore, to a recreational activity he could spend the rest of his life doing. As long as it was Grace he was thrusting into.

  Completely within her, she swiveled her hips. His eyes damn near crossed.

  His head cradled into her breasts, he was firmly within her embrace as she stroked herself up and down his length.

  Such close proximity allowed him to feel her excitement, witness how her breaths caught and quickened when he thrust up into her. He’d never not cared about his partner’s end of the encounter, but to be this close, to have so much influence on her body, it was empowering in a way his past had never allowed.

  He encircled her waist with his hands and took over the pace. Grace was putty in his hands, trusting him to make her feel gooood—and he’d earn that trust.

  She dropped her head down to whisper in his ear. “I can’t believe how amazing it is with you. Everything just feels like more”

  A new erogenous zone was created when she sucked in his earlobe and her teeth gently nibbled. He jerked and pumped her harder. Her breathy laugh tickled along the shell of his ear; his hands dug into her hips. He was going to explode and the force promised to blow his previous orgasm out of the water.

  The naughty girl licked the rim of his ear. “I’m going to come.”

  Sharp moans turned into cries as she crested. He didn’t want this moment to end, but his body had different ideas. His release shot through him until he clenched his jaw and threw his head back to roar her name.

  They shook and shuddered into each other until his head sagged forward into her chest and she rested her cheek against the top of it. For a male who shunned intimacy, he suddenly needed her pressed against him, skin-to-skin.

  A few seconds later, her head lifted. “I’m sorry, is this too much?”

  He answered truthfully. “Not with you.”

  A smile touched her eyes and she finger combed his hair back. He closed his eyes and leaned into her touch.

  “Want to take this to the bed?” she asked.

  Did he? Yes, but…it wasn’t his bed. Correlating with his physically suspended partners was his preference for his own bed. Strong preference.

  Her shoulders drooped. He cursed himself for causing her reaction, it spurred him to stand. She squealed and clung to him.

  “So that’s a yes?”

  “That’s correct.” He carried her back to her bed. After all, it’s not like he would sleep.

  ***

  Fyra gazed impassively at the pompous ass on the dais, who’s fangs dripped yellow funk. Rancor sought to intimidate her.

  It was working.

  When the Circle wasn’t happy, no demon was happy. Her eyes flittered over the piles of bones surrounding the throne he sat on. Hunks of meat hung off the fresh pile at his feet, aerating the room with eau de putrid funk. He used a phalange as a toothpick.

  “Just so happens, Rancor, I was on my way to the earthly realm to harvest info from the vampire Bishop.”

  “Were you now?” his raspy voice drawled. His leering gaze slithered down her neck, skittered over torso, lingering on an area she wished was invisible.

  Her long fiery hair cascaded over her shoulders to cover her bare breasts, protecting them from his attention. She wasn’t one of the ruling class of demons. She had a glorious humanoid body, if she did say so herself.

  And she did. Often.

  But times like this, it was more of a detriment than an aid. The ruling class, the Circle of Thirteen, took who they wanted, like, what rape? Usually, Fyra’s feminine form was a turn off to the leathery bastards, but punishing her would be a great turn on and not on her end.

  Why did angels get robes while demons only got loincloths? Like she’d hide that many weapons.

  At her side stood Stryke, a fellow second tier demon with the same humanoid form, only male and hot as the devil. But he wasn’t interested. She’d tried. At least before her current assignment.

  Bishop Laurent.

  Yummy. He ignored her summons, he hated her for binding him, and he was the best fuck she’d ever had.

  When the Circle had first whored her out, or “utilized all her resources or she faced death” as they called it, she didn’t want the assignment. She’d plotted ways for this Bishop to have an accidental beheading, just out of spite.

  I don’t fuck who I don’t want to.

  She had many more uses. Like brains. And, duh, she was named Fyra for a reason. Not only did she embody her name with her flaming hair and burning yellow eyes, but she was a steamy, crafty bitch.

  Then she spied the big oaf and suddenly…mission accepted.

  He despised her. She shivered with delight. Such a delicious emotion, catnip for demons.

  Stryke threw her a look out of the corner of his eye that said better you than me.

  Talk about crafty. He’d throw her under the bus in a heartbeat. See what she meant? The guy was
sexy.

  Back to placating Rancor. “I’m popping into Freemont hunting his big ass down. Since I bonded him.” She laid that one on heavy because the Circle had an aversion to bonding. “I’ll be able to find him wherever he is. He’s had enough time to gather intel for me.” If the second tier demons didn’t do the dirty work for the Circle, they’d have been slaughtered for sport centuries ago.

  Rancor eyed her suspiciously. Demons had award-winning resting bitch faces. “He defies you.”

  “He is powerful,” she conceded, “but he was the easiest to entrap. Demetrius, well, we all know about him.”

  Rancor’s six-inch-long fangs bared in a hateful grimace. Yeah, she’d totally rubbed that failure in.

  To get back into his hateful graces, she justified her decision. “I wouldn’t be able to get close to the one called Rourke in a human host. The little one, Ophelia, doesn’t go for chicks. The other two, Zohana and Creed, who from their scents, are banging each other.”

  Stryke winced next to her. What was his problem? He might be a prude, the demon equivalent of a unicorn, but vampires liked to get busy and often. Which made Bishop such an essential target.

  “Very well, then,” Rancor snapped. “Come back with answers, or you’ll hate life.”

  Ugh. She’d seen the Circle teach demons to hate life. Maybe she should take the focus off her, eh? The Circle was very peculiar about who was granted access to their exclusive cult on earth. Her class of demon couldn’t possess just anyone to do their bidding.

  Stryke was here because they had an assignment for him. But they didn’t know about his unsanctioned activities topside. “I sure will return with answers. Hey, Stryke, will I see you wandering around up there again?”

  “You bitch,” he hissed for her ears only.

  Laughing, she flipped him off and sauntered out. Their cult leader was supposed to have another voluptuous body lined up for her. Oh yes, she’d get answers out of Bishop.

  Chapter Eleven

  Grace woke alone in bed. Again.

  Two days of passionate, ferocious love-making, and in the morning on both days, she’d awake to his absence.

  It was more confusing than insulting. He’d opened up to her. Physically at least. She filled in the blanks where she could and gave him space. He’d been horribly abused. His rigidity around food and the fact he’d been at another’s mercy went together. It was highly likely he either never got food or had to fight for it. Either way, he struggled to remain civilized. Eating Betty’s pie with him, Grace had kept waiting for him to toss the dish across the room or fight for her fork.

  Feeding from him again could wait. He hadn’t offered; she hadn’t insisted. Baby steps.

  His cold demeanor hid a warm, thoughtful heart. After he’d come in from work the previous night, he’d taken her to her mom, dad, and Nathaniel’s grave.

  Surprising her with a visit to an unmarked gravesite.

  Grace brushed a tear away. It was the most romantic thing he could’ve done. The next thing he could do would be to sleep in her bed. Or she in his, but she wouldn’t force the issue. It’d come in time.

  Just like this night she’d been dreading.

  She had an appointment with Osiris tonight. If she didn’t meet him, her parents who might not really be her parents could suffer.

  Kicking her arm behind her head, she stared at the ceiling. Rourke’s brother had given her two days to learn what she could in order to turn Rourke over.

  It’d also given her time to think about his tame request. Why not just try to lure Rourke out for Osiris tonight?

  No, the male had something else up his expensive sleeve.

  She’d meet Osiris and tell him Rourke’s habits—after omitting all the sex. Then she didn’t know what she’d do. Or what would happen. Osiris may suspect she knew he was behind the attacks. Dare she leverage any info she had for Ari’s whereabouts? Or would it only anger Osiris that he hadn’t fooled her? Besides, what leverage? It’s not like Rourke lived some secret agent lifestyle. He went to work investigating leads into the deaths earlier in the week. After her and Bishop’s experience, she had stayed back at headquarters.

  She and Calli researched a demon tome and journals that creeped Grace the hell out. A necessary experience because only she could remember what had happened in her life. Then she learned about the eyes going black when a demon possessed a vampire and put two-and-two together. Osiris was a host. Is that how he got the big house and expensive furnishings? Here’s my body, now hand over the cash.

  If Rourke was sold off, it fit that Osiris sold himself for buck or two, along with an unknown amount of power. Unless his parents sold him, too, but Grace got the impression he was older. Not exactly solid family morals roaming freely in that household.

  She glanced at the time. One hour before she had to meet Osiris at the fair. He wanted her to wait by the Zipper where the stench of the rides and party goers would override his scent. It had worked before, but then she’d been covered in another guy’s blood.

  Her insides warmed when her mind surfaced the memory of her experience at the carnival with Rourke.

  On a ride!

  She’d better shower, or Osiris would smell Rourke all over her.

  While under the spray and soaping her body, she plotted how she’d flash to the meeting spot. All she needed was an excuse to step outside. The rest she could explain easily enough. She’d been cooped up for days.

  A big fluffy towel waited for her outside the door of the shower. She wanted to know where Betty bought them and what she laundered them in. Grace was determined to find out. They were divine. The elderly vampire didn’t need to clean up after her.

  The cooking though. Betty could cook her old heart out.

  Grace dried her face off and lowered to attend to the rest of her body when she caught Rourke resting against the door frame.

  “Hey.” Her heart rate sped up, but she was determined to remain calm. If they got busy, she’d still have time to pop out, but it’d be harder to step away from Rourke to leave for an hour without an ironclad excuse. She hated thinking in terms of deceiving him.

  There was a slight crinkle at the corner of his eyes, an indication he was pleased to see her. His gaze roamed her curves. When a potent male like Rourke studied her body with heat in his eyes, she was loath to secure the towel around herself. Since he hadn’t shown up again the last two evenings after he left her bed he must have a reason tonight.

  “I have to go investigate another murder.”

  “Demons?” Her heart sank as guilt flooded her.

  Osiris didn’t orchestrate another killing so she’d have cover to get away, did he?

  Why not? He’d allegedly killed at least three families that she knew of. It didn’t wipe away the pit of responsibility that had settled into her gut.

  “Yes. This time it’s a member of a prime family. I think it’s different from the others.”

  A wash of relief almost spiked her guilt. Like the death was of no consequence because it didn’t involve her? She wasn’t that person. “Prime family? Were the demons after a host?”

  His expression was grim. “Likely. Would you like to come along?”

  She blinked. Because her answer was yes. When had she become Grace Otto: CSI-Vampire? “No. I’d like to help, but I should catch up on lesson plans.”

  She’d already come to the forgone conclusion she had to drop tutoring. Her schedule these days didn’t accommodate pre-arranged appointments.

  He shoved his hands into his pockets and considered her. “You miss your work?”

  Tapping a comb through her hair before she secured it back off her face and considered her answer.

  “Yes.” The kids needed her. Sure they could get another tutor, but she abhorred abandoning them. “I miss the face-to-face time, but since I’m surrounded by people now, there’s not a void to fill. I do enjoy teaching. Lesson plans aren’t the same, but I still get to design them.”

  He contemplated
so long, she wondered if she’d said something insulting. She was learning his peculiar mannerisms, reading the subtle nuances of his expressions, but much of him remained an enigma.

  “We don’t have people like you,” he finally said. “Teachers. There’s an academy the prime families attend. The rest of us are…homeschooled for lack of a better term.”

  If at all, hung off the end of his statement. Vampires couldn’t attend elementary school, and unlike college courses, those classes weren’t online or in the evening.

  “Were you?” she asked quietly.

  His expression darkened. “I was taught enough before… I’ve caught up since then.”

  Her admiration for him grew. “Maybe I need to start something.” Her mind whirred, plans clicking into place, a list of supplies she’d need, the ages she could provide service for.

  “You’d do that?” Genuine surprise emanated from him. “But you’re here among the prime. You could even work for the academy.”

  “Sounds like they have what they need if they’re in an established school catering to the prime families.” It’d even be up her alley. Her tutoring catered to children who struggled with the basics, anywhere from science to math to reading. Whatever the parents hired her for.

  “They always have what they need.”

  Telling words. Both his tone and use of “they.” He’d been part of “them” for forty years, but still didn’t consider himself part of the crowd.

  “I’m a commoner, too.”

  A glint of humor entered his eyes. He stepped forward to kiss her on the forehead, the sweetest gesture he’d given her yet. “You’re anything but common, Grace.”

  When he left, his absence carried all the warmth from her shower with him. Cool air snaked over her bare shoulders. She suppressed a tremor at the foreboding sense carried on the draft. Now, to figure out how to sneak around behind his impressive back.

  ***

  Bishop stiffened as another siren song filled his head.

  That damn demon summoned him relentlessly. And it didn’t help her husky voice inspired wet dreams.

  The piece of shit he was talking to glanced around, noting his reaction.