by Jenna Barwin
She held still, bathing in the feeling of him filling her, of the current flowing from her nipples to her root chakra as he continued to suckle her. She began moving against his shaft, angling her hips to rub his full length against her cleft. Pleasure built within her, but she wanted more and, in one motion, rolled him on his back until she was looking down at him, his hair spread out wildly on the pillow.
His eyes turned solid black, followed by a slight curving of his lips. Okay, he doesn’t mind if I take control. He reached for her nipples, pinching and rolling them hard, at the edge where pain and pleasure became one.
She moved her hips, seeking more friction against him, like an itch just out of range of being scratched. She changed the angle of her hips and found what she was looking for, riding up and down on him, producing wet slaps of her cleft against his skin, which he met motion for motion. The suction pulled on her exquisitely, drawing her closer to the edge. She lowered her lips to his again, hungrily devouring his tongue, her hips cocked to find the same spot over and over again, just a little more, just a little more, just a little more—
He gripped her hips and plunged deeper into her.
The pleasure exploded through her, the feelings washing over her in wave after wave of blinding release. Soon he bucked under her, and she opened her eyes to watch his turn solid black again as he came, his penis spasming within her. She rode him through his orgasm until his hands on her hips told her when to stop.
When he finished, she snuggled in closer. His body wasn’t as warm as hers, but it still felt good to press her hot skin against his. His fingers stroked her hair and his lips caressed the top of her head. She rose to look at him.
His eyes held such an intense acceptance of her—it cut her to the core. She felt like her heart had been split wide open and he had burrowed inside her.
She buried her face against his chest. Her feelings caught in the back of her throat, tightening with two hundred years of suppressed pain. No one had ever shown her love without demanding her obedience. Tears flooded her eyes, and she choked back a sob. He had touched a place deep within her—a place of longing that had known only pain. She wanted to weep, to cry for all the empty years she’d spent not feeling loved. She hid her face against his chest, hoping he mistook her tears for sweat. If he asked, she wouldn’t be able to explain why she cried.
She finally closed her eyes, her tears drying. She grew drowsy with the comfort of being held. She must have fallen asleep, because he woke her with a kiss on the crown of her head. She still lay on top of him, her cheek against his shoulder.
She sat up, straddling him, and yawned.
He reached up with his thumb to stroke something from her cheek. “How are you feeling?”
“Wonderful,” she said, smiling.
His eyes were so serious. She liked his serious look. Hell, she liked all his looks. A peaceful tranquility filled her, spiced with an edge of excitement. Was this what love felt like? She reached out and touched his face, stroking his cheek.
He smiled back at her. “I hate to say this, but I should get you back to Gaea’s at a reasonable hour.”
She glanced at the clock on the bedstand. How could he consider four in the morning reasonable? She slid off him to sit cross-legged. He looked so wildly handsome after their lovemaking.
“Gaea will want to know you arrived home safely,” he added. “She won’t forgive me if I get you home with no time for her to question you about our night together.”
She smiled at his observation, running her fingers through his curly chest hair, twirling a lock around her index finger. She didn’t want to leave.
“And if you’re to get back into your pretty ball gown, we should shower first. Come,” he said, sliding out of bed and offering her his hand, “the bathroom is through here.”
Oh well, there’s always tomorrow night. She stopped at the mirror while he started the water. The mirror revealed what she had already deduced: her black eyeliner had smeared when she cried, and now had a crosswise streak where he’d run his thumb across it.
She looked like a hideous circus clown, one with evil intent on its mind.
“In the medicine cabinet,” he said before disappearing under the spray of water.
She opened it and found a cream she could use as makeup remover. A tissue moistened with the lotion did a quick job of cleaning away the black smudge. She was lucky he hadn’t broken into laughter when he saw her. At least he didn’t ask her to explain.
Her makeup wasn’t the only thing wrecked by their lovemaking. Her updo was half down. She pulled out the remaining bobby pins and ran her fingers through it. That didn’t help. She wrapped her hair in a knot to keep it from getting wet and found a hair band in a drawer. As she put her hair up, he began lathering his body with soap, his hair held away from the water by a large white hair clamp. She bit her lip to keep from laughing at the silly way it looked.
He motioned for her to join him in the shower, making room for her. She pulled open the glass door and stepped under the spray, and then backed away quickly from the scalding water.
Yikes. Didn’t he know how to operate the cold handle?
“Is it too hot for you?”
“Ah, I can adjust myself to it.”
“I can make it cooler.” He reached for the faucet.
“No need. It’s easy enough for me to morph a bit to accommodate the heat. I’m comfortable in it now.”
She stepped under the spray, and he scrunched his eyebrows at her. Did the idea of her morphing disturb him?
“Henry, is everything all right?”
He kissed her. “Everything is fine. Now turn around so I can wash your back.”
She obliged him. “But I’ll wash the front, or we’ll be here until sunrise.”
After drying off, she went in search of her underwear. The thong lay on the floor next to the bed, and the bra hung from a chair arm. She got into them and slipped on the dress, then tried to figure out what to do with her hair. She could morph it into an updo again, but perfectly coiffed hair might seem odd to Gaea. And what about Henry’s look in the shower? He seemed uneasy over her morphing comment.
Sighing, she ran a brush through the stiff waves. The results were less than satisfactory. Oh well. Sometimes pretending to be mortal stinks.
He was dressed in no time, right down to the perfect bow of his tuxedo tie. By looking at him, you’d never know they’d been in bed. The same couldn’t be said for her. She stepped into her high-heeled shoes, and he escorted her back to the house, picking up his tuxedo jacket from the gazebo along the way.
It was close to five in the morning when they arrived at Gaea’s front porch. She stood facing him. “It’s been a lovely evening, Henry. Thank you. For everything.”
“It is I who should thank you. I had the honor of having the most beautiful woman at the dance on my arm.”
She leaned in for an unhurried goodnight kiss. The front door opened behind her and she froze with her lips pressed to his.
“So there you two are,” Gaea exclaimed. “I wondered when you would return her home, Señor Bautista.”
“Safe and sound,” Henry replied, with a half-grin, “and at a decent hour.”
“Decent my ass,” Gaea said, her fists firmly planted on her broad hips. “Well, do you want to come in or are you just going to dump her at the door and run off.”
“If that’s an invitation, Gaea, I would be happy to come in, but I must leave in fifteen minutes. I’ll need time to make it home before sunrise.”
Seated comfortably in Gaea’s parlor, Cerissa listened while Henry and Gaea gossiped about who attended—and who didn’t attend—the dance. She suppressed a yawn and settled back into the tapestry chair, feeling like she was glowing. She reached out and took Henry’s hand. Without taking a beat in his conversation with Gaea, he raised her hand to his lips.
“I don’t want to leave,” he said, “but I should be going.”
She squeezed his hand. “I’ll
see you tonight?” she asked. A small ache grew in her chest—she wanted to spend the day with him, impossible as it was.
“Of course,” he said. “Yacov and I have tickets for the Mordida Bugles.”
“Bugles? A concert?”
“Baseball game. And I ordered an extra ticket for you. We have an early moonrise. I can pick you up ten minutes after sunset. We should arrive at the game a little after it starts.”
“Sounds fun. I would love to—”
“Have you forgotten?” Gaea interrupted her. “I was going to hold another open house tomorrow night. You asked to meet more potential investors.”
Henry spoke before she could. “You can postpone the meeting. Cerissa is mine now.”
“That isn’t quite true,” Gaea said, “and you know it. If I’m not mistaken, and I rarely am in this, I don’t detect the scent of fresh blood in the room.”
“Gaea, that’s enough,” Cerissa said, feeling her face grow hot.
“Until he has taken your blood, he has no claim on you. He cannot keep others away from you. The choice remains entirely with you, Cerissa.”
Henry glowered at Gaea. “A mere formality.”
“Just because you wrote the Covenant doesn’t mean you can ignore it when it suits your fancy.”
“Gaea, please stop,” Cerissa said. What must Henry think? She didn’t want him to feel pressured. “There is no need to argue about this. Henry and I will go to the game, and I can meet with investors the following night.”
“Are you sure about this?” Gaea asked, concern in her voice. “Perhaps we should talk further after Henry has left before you make your decision.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Henry said. “Cerissa has made her mind known. We should respect it.”
“Only because it serves your purposes, Señor Bautista.” Gaea waggled a finger at him. “Don’t act like you’ve staked your claim when you have yet to invest your fangs in it.”
Cerissa stood up—the conversation had become much too embarrassing. “It’s time for me to walk Henry to the door and say goodnight. Gaea, I will see you later.”
Henry stood and bowed formally to Gaea.
Outside by his car, Henry said, “Cerissa, I—”
She stopped him with a kiss. Too quickly, his lips left hers. She gazed into his eyes. “I’m looking forward to tonight,” she said.
“As am I.” He raised one eyebrow. “After all, I owe you a few more orgasms.”
She buried her face against his chest, a warm flush crawling up her neck.
“As I said before,” he whispered in her ear, “we can move slowly, whatever you are comfortable doing, but I do intend to see to you pleasured.”
She felt his lips on her cheek before he backed up and bowed to her.
He drove off and turned onto the main road. She sat down on the garden bench, the white metal seat a pattern of grapevines, and pressed her fingers against them. His headlights soon faded in the distance until she could no longer see them. The early morning air cooled the heat of her embarrassment. Would she ever truly be comfortable in bed with him? The confidence in his voice—he was certain he could please her with his tongue. Maybe she should let him try.
She took a deep breath and slowly let it out. The garden smelled fragrant with the night-blooming jasmine and the earthy scent of the nearby vineyard. The sun’s edge slowly peeked out over the eastern mountains on the other side of California’s central valley.
A wistful sadness momentarily overcame her.
I will never be able to share this with him.
Then she pictured Henry naked, and a smile grew on her face. There were so many other wonderful things she could share with him. She couldn’t wait for nightfall.
Chapter 48
Cerissa slept until almost four in the afternoon. After a quick shower, she pulled on a pair of jeans and a stretch top. Her phone buzzed while she was getting ready.
A text message from Henry: “I’ll buy you dinner at the stadium.”
Sweet of him, but she couldn’t begin the night on an empty stomach. She needed fuel to maintain human form. She went downstairs and grabbed a sandwich. Finished, she returned her clean dish to the cupboard and heard the utility room door open behind her. Blanche and Seaton emerged.
“This is goodbye,” Blanche said, sounding cranky. She held up a crumpled letter. “Gaea must have left this by my bed. The old bat didn’t have the guts to tell me after the dance. The stupid board turned down my residency application. I have to leave tonight. Not that I really wanted to stay in this vampire prison.”
Good. Blanche got what she deserved. “I’m sorry you didn’t make it,” Cerissa said, trying to be a gracious winner, “but I don’t see how you can call the Hill a prison.”
Blanche stepped through the kitchen, dodging the late afternoon sunlight coming through the kitchen window to pull the blinds shut. “Living in isolation from the real world—what would you call it? A rich ghetto? Just because those assholes have money doesn’t make it any less a prison.” She took a couple of blood bags out of the refrigerator and held them up. “I mean, look at this crap we drink.”
“But if they had accepted you, you’d have gladly lived here.”
“Hey, it’s not like I don’t got options. I’m fixin’ to go to San Diego next.”
“Good luck with that,” Cerissa said, and resumed walking to the door. Time to get ready—sunset wasn’t far away.
A hand latched on to her shoulder. “Just wait a minute. Goin’ somewhere?” Blanche asked.
Cerissa turned around. “I have a date with Henry. We’re going to the baseball game in Mordida. Now if you’ll excuse me…”
“This won’t take long.” Blanche sat down at the kitchen table and motioned for Cerissa to join her. “No hard feelings, okay? We’re gonna see each other around, so why doncha let bygones be bygones.”
Cerissa remained standing, crossing her arms. “Blanche, you spread lies about me. Why should I ever forgive you?”
“Because it’s just business. You can’t take business personally. My maker taught me that long ago, when he cut me loose. If you carry a grudge, it’ll eat you right up. Better to forgive and forget.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? But I’m not giving your conscience a free pass. No way.” She turned again to leave.
Blanche grabbed her arm, pivoting her around and holding her fast. Cerissa rolled her eyes. Not this again. Her lenses had alerted her, but Blanche latched on before she could escape. I should rip off her arm and beat her with it. Then she might show me some respect.
But that wasn’t an option, either—any attempt to fight back would give away she wasn’t mortal.
“Look,” Blanche said, smirking and showing some fang. “Let me make it up to you. If you decide you want to become one of us, see me. You’re smart. I bet you’d make a good vampire, and until I join a treaty community, I can turn anyone I want.”
“Let go of me,” Cerissa demanded.
Blanche glanced guiltily in Seaton’s direction. “Oh, sure,” she said, licking her lips and taking a step back. “Ya know, someday things will change. When that day comes, you’ll want to be on the side of the winners. Come see me and I’ll help you out—I owe it to you after what I put you through.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Cerissa replied, and left the kitchen, walking fast.
Wow, that was bold. Cerissa ran up the stairs to her room. Had Blanche really meant what she said? Or was she just blowing off steam? Either way, it didn’t matter. This couldn’t wait. She needed to tell Ari—right now.
* * *
As soon as the sun set, Henry was out the door and driving toward Gaea’s house. When his cell phone rang, the caller’s name displayed on his dashboard and he tapped the steering wheel’s “accept” button. “Leopold—thank you for calling,” he said.
“Do I understand this right? You want to buy out Cerissa’s contract?”
“I would like to make her my mate.”
“And what makes you think I have any interest in letting you take her blood?”
“I thought for a fair price—”
“You talk of fair. Were you fair when you sold Enrique’s against my wishes? Were you fair when you forced me to sign a draconian treaty?”
“The others agreed—”
“And now our situation is reversed,” Leopold interrupted, sounding triumphant. “What do I want? The amount I would have made on Enrique’s if we had kept the restaurant going another twenty years—what it would be worth in today’s dollars, that is.”
Henry pulled over to the side of the road. The phone call had his whole attention now.
“Any amount you name will be purely speculative. Tastes change. The restaurant may have sold at a loss by then.”
“The owners who bought it from you sold the restaurant at a healthy profit twenty years later. So I know the amount to the penny—$1.2 million in present-day dollars.”
“That’s a lot to pay for an envoy’s contract.”
“But it’s my price. I have a lot invested in her. You want the girl, you’ll pay it.”
He gripped the steering wheel tightly. Last night had chased away any lingering doubt—he had to have Cerissa as his own, even if it meant paying a ridiculous sum to a petty man.
“All right, you have a deal,” he said. “I’ll start the wire instructions tonight—you should have the money before sunrise.”
“You are in a hurry. I should’ve asked for more.”
“You’re getting more than a fair price. Send me a confirming email with your bank account number. I’ll have Marcus draw up the formal agreement.”
“I don’t care about a written agreement,” Leopold scoffed. “As soon as I have the money, you can have her blood, but not a minute before.” The clicks of a keyboard sounded from Leopold’s end. “I’ve sent you the routing number for the wire transfer.”
Henry stared at his phone, waiting for the email to come through. “There is one more thing,” he said. “I will tell Cerissa. Please don’t speak to her about it.”