by Tamsin Baker
I stared. My mouth may have dropped open. Just a little.
I couldn’t take my gaze away from the gorgeous, totally hot male standing directly under the shower spray. I silently thanked my aunt Tilly for installing a decent size glass-encased shower and squirmed my mouth into a Mona Lisa smile.
Water streamed through his dark hair and it shone like luscious, wet silk. His body glistened and moisture highlighted every rippling muscle, every hollow, and every bulge. His perfectly proportioned ass sat at the top of long, shapely muscled legs. He squirted shower gel into his hand and, without a hint of shyness, lathered himself. He spread the suds across his broad shoulders and down his sinewy arms. Suds gathered against his sculpted chest and crested in the dark curls of his groin.
His hand dropped to his shaft and I let out a labored breath. He turned his gaze to mine as he soaped flesh that grew and thickened until his alert cock pointed right at me. Honest to God, I thought my girly parts couldn’t throb any harder. Wrong again. Under his predatory gaze I stripped out of my clothes.
Never had anyone stared at me the way he did. He owned my body, heart and soul. He held out his hand, inviting me in. I stepped into the shower. He pulled me close and kissed me as if his life depended on it, his tongue demanding, thrusting, snaking around my tongue, across my teeth, over my lips and deep within my mouth. I curled my hands around the back of his neck and held on for the ride. His hands roamed freely, arousing lust across my skin.
He sucked the puncture spot in my neck. I gasped as tingles spread through my body, the erotic reminder of how good it felt when he bit me even more powerful than when we first got home. I raised myself as high as I could, grasped his head and tilted my neck.
Sweet heavens, I had no control. None.
"I told you, you'd crave my bite.” He gave a low chuckle that somehow sounded predatory, possessive, and darkly passionate at the same time. His hands relentlessly caressed my body—not just my breasts, bum and hips—but every part of me. He grazed his teeth across my skin. “Is this what you want?”
Heaven help, me it was. Hardly able to stand, I clung to him. I was panting, full of desire and boneless in his arms.
He hugged his arms under my ass and pressed me against the shower wall, the wet tiles smooth against my back as he yanked my legs around his waist. I groaned at the sudden exposure and vulnerability. He crushed my lips and muffled the groan. With his tongue performing acrobatics in my mouth again, he brushed through my inner lips and pressed a finger inside me, then two, then three. A spasm of pure pleasure rolled through me. I was so wet he had no trouble pumping smoothly in and out.
He cupped my face as he broke the blistering kiss. “You are more than ready, mon ange.”
I didn’t have time to answer. He plunged deep inside me and a scream tore from my mouth. Every nerve ending flared with blinding pleasure. He slid into me balls deep, withdrew almost all the way out and thrust again. When he withdrew a second time, I ground against him in a wordless demand for more. He grinned at me, and I snuck my tongue in his mouth to caress his fangs.
He moaned. “You play with fire, my love.”
I tugged on his hair. “Bite me.”
“Patience heightens the reward, mon ange bossue.”
I didn’t have the focus to try and translate. Wait. Did he just call me bossy? I stopped caring when he arched up and forward and ground his pelvis against my clit. The delicious friction sent more spasms of pleasure spiraling from my core. I tightened my thighs around his waist and rocked against him. I saw stars as the pressure on my nub resonated in pulsing waves through my body. Writhing under him, I whimpered at the glorious sensation. Each plunge amplified the pleasure until my pussy quivered and my body hummed from ecstasy.
Panting, I dropped my forehead to his chest.
“Look at me.” He slowly rotated his hips.
“Don’t stop, I need—”
He lifted my chin and smiled as I slowly met his gaze. Amber eyes blazing, he untangled my hands from his neck and positioned my arm so my elbow was inches from his mouth. His fangs fully descended, but I felt no fear. Nothing but desire. He bit my upper arm and I screamed a primal roar. Wild, animalistic, uninhibited, it’s how he made me feel and I loved it. Craved it. He gazed into my eyes as he swallowed my blood and I knew without doubt that his gaze, full of lust and desire, matched mine.
Too quickly he withdrew his fangs, licked the punctures closed, then released my arm.
“Your turn.” He tore his fangs at his wrist and held the bubbling wound to my mouth.
Was it possible to get addicted to his blood? Or was I addicted to the man. Perhaps a bit of both. I gave an experimental lick, and the tangy, metallic taste I expected was all but gone. Instead, it tasted like him. Ginger and citrus, earthy patchouli and musk. I lapped at the blood, clutched his wrist and sucked hard as I stared at him.
When his cut healed over, he flashed me a lustful smile. His hands and his mouth caressed and teased everywhere across my skin. Rubbing against him, I abandoned myself to the sensuality of his touch. His scent filled my head, his sexy sounds filled my ears, but I wanted more, I wanted our bodies to unite. I arched my back and spread my legs wider in a blatant plea for more.
I moaned. “More. I need more.”
“More of what, mon ange?”
Smartass. He knew exactly what I wanted. “You.” I squirmed my painfully hard nipples against his chest. “All of you.”
He entered me in one swift thrust and we cried out together. An orgasm ripped through me and a psychedelic rainbow burst in my head.
“Open your eyes.” He stilled. “I want to watch you shatter.”
I dragged my eyes open and focused on his gaze. Raw power and savage desire were etched across his face. I gripped not just a man, but a vampire lord with needs that could break me. Could, and yet I knew I’d readily give him everything he wanted, anything he needed.
He increased his thrusts and I found myself jammed between the unyielding tiles and his firm body. I gyrated against him as we hurtled to an intense, shared orgasm. Gazing into his eyes, my vulnerability to him almost overwhelmed me, until I grew aware that I held a frightening power over him at the same time.
“Come with me,” he demanded.
And I did.
Chapter Seventeen
Snuggles woke me as he always did, with a soft paw to my nose and a meow in my ear. His purring ramped up and I snuggled into his soft fur. I could have slept for ages longer, but I had too many things to do and places to be. I stretched for my phone, my hand brushed along Nic’s chest, and suddenly everything was right in my world.
Nic lay on his back, one arm flung across his face, half of his spectacular, muscular chest exposed. Snuggles turned a few times and found a comfortable spot between us.
Nic turned to face me and caressed his hand over my hip. “Good morning, angel.”
Snuggles wriggled onto his back, stretched his limbs and pawed Nic’s face.
“Am I safe? Or will he scratch my face off?”
“I’m quite certain you’re safe. He’s glad you slept here, rather than me in your mansion. So am I.” I planted a soft kiss on Nic’s forehead. "You are safe as long as you tickle his belly, otherwise all bets are off.”
He circled his fingertip around Snuggles pink skin. “What a pity today is not your own. You have the morning off, but a report to write.”
“I remember.” I jammed my hand over a huge yawn. “Followed by English Literature this afternoon and training this evening.”
“My brave angel. Such a long day for you yesterday.” He trailed his fingertips from my hip to my breasts.
“No time for making out.” I stilled his hand with mine. “It’s already after ten.”
He pulled a face at me. “Can you make time for lunch?”
“If I’m quick.”
He gave my behind a quick slap. “Then get on with it.”
“Can you reach my laptop?” I yanked an oversize t-shirt ove
r my bare chest and arranged my pillows the way I liked them.
He searched with his gaze, and finally climbed out of bed and sauntered naked across the room. He delivered the laptop and planted a kiss on my head. “Coffee.”
“I will kiss you all over.” I kept my gaze firmly on his face and beamed at him. If I looked any lower, I risked not making it to my lessons this afternoon, let alone finishing the report for Ben by noon. “But not right now.” I shooed him away as I pulled the laptop open.
“I have mail from my mom.” I clapped my hands. “I’ll read while you make coffee. Thank you.” I blew him a kiss.
He caught the air kiss and brought it to his lips as he wandered out. Charmer. I grinned. He was my charmer. Snuggles hopped down and followed Nic down the stairs. It looked like he trusted him for breakfast as well as tummy tickles, and didn’t that make me feel all warm and gooey inside.
I opened my mail and settled back to read. I scrolled quickly through the first few paragraphs about Mom’s anthropological studies with the Kazakh eagle hunters. Not that I wasn’t interested, but I had fingers crossed that she’d answered my questions about my ancestry.
I hadn’t come right out and asked Mom if she’d married a vampire or vampire heir, or if she was a witch, or descended from one. But my questions hadn’t been far off.
She confirmed that Tilly believed she and my dad were the children of a male vampire and a female witch—a combination that always produced a dhampir, or a born vampire. She proudly traced their roots back through at least five generations of witchery. But her dad had up and left like mine, so heaven only knew his genetics. Apparently, my dad always ridiculed the idea, and Mom had no idea where he was hiding. But he had to be either a dhampir like Tilly, or, sweet heavens above, a born vampire. She gave me contact details for a PI she knew who specialized in finding people who didn’t want to be found. But really, he’d left my life so completely, what was the point?
I had to reread the final paragraph, three times.
“Darling, you were never very interested in our family history. I know you were so angry with your father you couldn’t bear to hear anything about him or us, but I met him through the coven. The witchy ancestry on my side is as rich as that on Tilly’s and your dad’s sides. It doesn’t mean you are a witch yourself. In fact, you’d need to work on it if you decide to explore that part of you. It does explain why Tilly chose you to inherit. I wish I’d been there for you earlier. I will come home as soon as I can.
Wow. My mother wasn’t exactly the maternal type. She wasn’t dropping her work to race back to me. But this was unexpected. Tilly must have believed her brother was a born vampire, which made me a dhampir-witch hybrid or maybe even a vampire-witch hybrid just like Ben said.
Is this what Nic meant when he said he’d waited so long? Was he waiting for me because he wanted me to be a born vampire-making machine? A heavy, dull pain throughout my body weighted me to the bed.
“Mon ange. What is it?” Nic lay a breakfast tray on my dressing table and leapt to my side.
I tried to school my face into a neutral expression, but my whole head felt as weighted and slack as my body and I knew I still wore a pained look. I should just shut up, and paint on a fake smile.
Nic lifted my chin. “Louisa, mon cœur, whatever it is, don’t shut me out.”
We couldn’t move forward until I addressed this. A naked fear roiled inside me. Dammit I wanted to keep building a relationship with this man. “I need you to tell me the truth.”
He clambered next to me and pulled me into his arms. Still nude, still gorgeous, but all I could think about was why he wanted me.
“Of course, always the truth for you, my love.” He nestled his chin into my hair. “Your mother’s news is distressing?”
“Why did you say you’ve been waiting for me so long?” I clenched my hands around my laptop to stop them from shaking. “Is it because I can make a born vampire baby?”
“What?” He gripped my forearms, a blush darkening his normally pale skin as he blinked rapidly. “I. No.” He gave a quick shake of his head.
My normally unflappable Nic was flustered. He was either surprised himself, or surprised that I’d figured it out. I held my breath.
“I’d decided to tell you on Saturday evening.” His forehead touched mine.
I stroked slowly from his forearms to his shoulders and stayed quiet. Whatever he needed to tell me, he had to say it in his own time and words. The seconds stretched out. I’d almost given up when he lifted his forehead away.
“A long time ago, a seer told me that I would find my soulmate at the end of a tunnel, surrounded by weapons.”
“My basement.” I whispered.
“There’s more.” He cupped my face in his hands and brushed his lips across mine. “She also said that my soulmate would find her path and her calling after many wrong turns, and that path would lead her to me.”
Soulmate. Someone who made me feel entirely whole, healed and intact, like no piece was missing from the puzzle that is uniquely me. I couldn’t describe how Nic made me feel. Even if I swallowed a thesaurus, I’d never find the words to encompass the tenacious, profound and lingering emotions that enveloped me whenever I thought of him.
I snuggled into his chest. “The fortune teller at your garden fete told me I’d find my path after many wrong turns.”
“I know, and the fortune teller you saw is one and the same as the seer who told me about my soulmate so long ago. She moves around but stays with us often.”
Did I even believe in soulmates? I glanced into Nic’s intense gaze. “You really believe you have found your soulmate in me?”
“I know it, mon ange. I felt it even in your garden on the first night we met.”
That would explain my crazy attraction to him right from the start. The deep-seated connection that weaved itself through the initial lust.
Mon ange, mon cœur, ma moitié. My angel, my heart, my other half. My better half. “Ma moitié.” I whispered into his chest.
“Oui, ma moitié, my soulmate.”
We sat curled into one another while I sipped my coffee. In his arms, I felt secure and protected. I couldn’t imagine my life without him.
“I better start the report for Ben.” I sighed but didn’t move.
Nic moved so he still held me, but my arms were free to type. “We will write it together, take it to his office then have a quick lunch before your lessons start. You haven’t forgotten our date on Saturday, have you?”
With everything else going on, I had. I glanced at my closet where my new dress hung. “Of course not. I’m looking forward to it. I'm looking forward to meeting your donors too.”
Nic kissed me again, far too sweetly and quickly. He rested his chin on my head and tapped the keyboard. “Ma moitié.”
The End
Author's Note
Thank you for reading Biting Temptation, I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
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Do you enjoy steampunk, a slightly steamy foray into an alternative 1882? If so you will enjoy my latest story Tower Tango! You can read the first chapter on the next page.
Tower Tango
CHAPTER ONE
Rupert Hanley scanned his room for the third time. He'd already learned to his detriment that squirming against the bonds just tightened them. He'd designed the wrist restraints too well, no amount of wriggling let him g
rab the leather bands or use his hands as tools.
Blast it. He ground his teeth. The automatic release feature needed more work.
He would not be found helpless like this.
If he could reach his feet to the desk, he might manage to grab a ruler in his toes and switch off the damn mechanism. His laugh became a grimace. Years of daily gymnastics might pay off today.
With closed eyes, he focused and stilled his upper body. He pushed his wrists down against the thick bands, extended his legs in front of him, and rotated left. On the fourth try he grabbed the rigid metal ruler between his big toes, aimed at the lever and swung at it.
"Nice moves."
Rupert dropped the ruler. He twisted to avoid jamming his toes into the cogs and instead smashed his knees against the riveted metal.
He spun to face the source of the polished voice. "How in the blazes did you get in?" He forgot for a moment the restraints held him tight. "Leave at once."
A young man approached, goggles resting against his forehead like a second set of eyes. A colonial rifle hung casually across his torso.
"I heard someone cry out." He pointed toward the window. "It's open, so I entered. Was it you?"
"If it was a Latin curse, yes." Rupert puffed out his chest.
This strange-looking man could be a thief. Not that he dressed like one. He'd tucked lightweight gas-pipe trousers into laced mid-calf boots. A studded belt around his waist might have passed for a lady's corset. Young, by the look of his soft-skinned face. Maybe a fop? No, not with an oily rag shoved carelessly in his top pocket.
What did it matter? Rupert growled through gritted teeth. Unless he reached the lever, there wasn't much he could do about it. "We are on the sixth floor, how the devil did you climb up?"
The man smiled. "I flew." He raked his gaze across the contraption grasping Rupert. "Do you need a hand?"
Flew? The man was delusional. And he needed a decent tailor. "No. I'm fine."