by Jessica Lee
“No.” His voice dipped to a deep, rusty tone. “We’re not.” Guerin closed the gap between them. The fist holding the sheet at her chest was the only thing keeping her nipples from grazing his chest. She didn’t know whether to be grateful or curse her rotten luck. “And I’m not going anywhere.” One strong arm snaked around her back and yanked her into his pelvis, taking her breath in the process. “But only because it’s what I want. Don’t mistake it for anything else.” Guerin’s other hand gripped her nape, his fingers threading into her hair, holding her steady. “Only in bed do I follow your orders.”
A shiver raced over her flesh, triggering a rush of hot arousal from her core. The warm trickle dampened her thighs. Guerin’s nostrils flared along with the flame swirling his irises.
“Maybe that’s where I should keep you, then?” Eve lifted her hand, allowing her nails to follow the dips and ridges of his abdomen and upward toward his sternum. “Chained to my bed. Your every move at my command.”
A rumble vibrated off his chest, and his cock flexed against her hip. Her womb clenched. “I think you like the idea, vampire.” She trailed an index finger around his areola, then scraped the hardened bud before capturing the tip between her fingers and squeezing tight.
Guerin hissed.
Eve released her sheet and placed his other nipple in the same hold. His head fell back between his shoulder blades on a groan.
“Oh, shit.” Guerin pulled her in, his hips working the length of his erection against her. She dropped her hands and retreated, breaking free from his grip. Guerin’s head snapped forward and he growled in disapproval.
“Shower.” Eve allowed a slight smile to play on her lips, then she turned and continued into the bathroom. After pulling back the white plastic curtain and adjusting the lever, she had the water at the perfect temperature. Eve stepped under the spray, her back to the door. “Join me.” Nothing about her tone suggested the words were a request.
Strong hands glided up her back inch by inch as if savoring every centimeter of her skin. Her eyelids lowered, his touch pulling her breath deeper into her lungs. So good.
Don’t get lost in this, Eve. In him… The words rang inside her head, snapping her back in control. She pivoted away, grabbed the soap, then passed it over her shoulder to Guerin. With her hands braced on the tile, Eve faced the wall and eased her legs apart. The invitation and command needed no explanation.
The wet and slippery sound of lather generating inside his large hands echoed in the confined space. Her nipples pebbled into hard points, but it wasn’t the chill in the air drawing them tight. Anticipation of his roughened palms on her flesh hummed through her veins. Her fingers curled, nails searching out the small lip where ceramic met the grout for a hold.
Then he went still. The pelting sound of the water beating porcelain was the only thing left moving in the room. Not even the air dared to escape her lungs. What was he doing? Touch me. God, please touch me. She bit back a groan.
“Guer—”
Two broad palms, wet, hot, and hard, landed below her buttocks, jamming the rest of the word in her throat. Her fangs shot from her gums at the sensation—the claiming. She wanted to cry out, but instead, Eve bit down, jamming the sharp points into her lower lip. He rubbed the tissue there, then slid north over her cheeks. Slowly he worked the globes of her ass, teasing her. Straying close to the crease but never slipping inside. Then up her back he moved, the soapy warmth of his hands heating her blood along the way. At her shoulders, he somehow found every ounce of tension and kneaded it away. The soft lavender scent of the soap filled her nostrils, and her head lolled.
“Very nice…,” she crooned.
“I’m glad you’re pleased,” he replied, his voice low and deep.
One of his hands fell away, only to return seconds later with the oval shape of the bar under his palm. Down and over her shoulder he roamed, using the soap as if it were a massaging stone. Guerin trailed beneath her arm and around her side, then up until his loosely closed fist rested under her breast. Using matching movements, he followed the same path on her opposite side. His arms surrounded her, and he cupped both breasts as if testing their size.
“Perfect,” he murmured into her hair.
Guerin’s chest pressed into her back. So easy. It would be so easy to let go. Let him take her weight. All of her. Just for the next few minutes. But to do so would mean letting her guard down—trust. A simple five-letter word, yet it held the power of life and death in her world. Plus, wasn’t it a two-way street?
The vampire’s slippery palms encompassed her nipples, moving in tight circles over the sensitive buds. The firmness of the bar inside his hand heightened the little explosions of electricity arrowing straight to her clit. And it proved her undoing. Eve whimpered and her knees buckled. If it weren’t for his body wrapped around hers, she would have crumbled.
Crumbled.
The very idea of that verb happening to her in regards to a man seemed foreign. She rocked her head. Yet her body conformed to his, humming like a finely tuned instrument that he played like a master.
But to a melody she controlled.
Exquisite.
Eve reached up, arched her spine, and laced her fingers through his damp strands. His cock, a hard and incessant rod, nudged the crease of her ass.
“Let me touch you.” His words were hoarse at her ear as his hands drifted away from her breasts.
“Yes.” The answer tumbled from her lips on primal instinct.
The soap fell to the porcelain with a thud, and his hands dipped low. His fingertips speared the slickened folds, skating over the quivering nub at the apex of her pussy. Eve gasped and went to her tiptoes, settling the ridge of his cock between her cheeks.
“Oh, God,” she groaned. Guerin answered with a rumble of his own and rocked into her. One of his hands left her sex, followed by a shift of his hips, then the thick ridge of his erection slid between her buttocks. Back and forth with subtle thrusts, he buried his cock a little deeper, a little farther. The long fingers of his other hand caressed the sides of her clitoris, ratcheting her higher and higher, but not quite enough.
“You feel so damn good.” In and out, he pistoned. Her core ached for the hard length that only teased the mouth of her pussy. Eve moaned.
“Guerin…” Her thighs trembled. “Make me come.” Was she begging or commanding? She didn’t know anymore.
“My pleasure,” he breathed. His hand darted forward, sinking a finger into her core. Her channel clenched and she cried out, soaring straight to the precipice of her orgasm. But then the hard presence was gone before she could take flight. She gasped, released her grip on his hair, and slapped the tile with both palms.
“What are you doing?” she groaned.
He stroked her swollen bundle of nerves once, then twice. Yes. Her breath hitched. Then he was inside her. The firm presence of his shaft penetrating her sex… Eve unraveled.
“Guerin…!” Hard tremors rocked her body.
“That’s it,” he whispered in her ear. “Come for me, beautiful.”
Lightning raced across her nerve endings. Endless sparks of pleasure took her up, up… Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop. Had the words left her lips or had she spoken them inside her head?
But Guerin didn’t stop. His thrusts quickened, in her core and between her folds. Guerin’s arm tightened around her waist. The sound of his breathing was reduced to hard pants. He was close.
Her tremors slowed to gentle quakes, and the thought of his imminent orgasm pulled her back to the present. Not yet, you don’t, vampire.
Eve twisted free of his hold, spun, and knocked him back under the spray. A harsh gasp of air burst from his lungs. Before he had time to spring forward from the deluge of water, Eve dropped to her knees.
“What the hell was that for?” he growled, swiping a hand over his face and eyes, pushing a mass of wet locks back over his forehead in the process.
She encircled her fist around the base
of his thick erection, her fingertips not quite meeting. The flutter in her stomach intensified at the sight. Eve looked up through her lashes. The dark and brooding male met her gaze with a stare that sent another wave of tremors through her core. The leash she’d held over her beast was about to break.
“You come when I say so; that’s what this is about. Understand?” She narrowed her gaze and tightened her grip on his cock. Guerin hissed, slamming one palm onto the checkered tile with a smack, grabbing the shower curtain rod with the other. “Do you understand?” Eve filled her other palm with the tight sac beneath the base of his shaft and tugged for emphasis. Guerin tossed his head back and growled. The corded and bulging veins mapping the sides of his neck pulsed.
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?” Eve gave a slight twist to the jewels. His head snapped forward, fangs glistening from beneath his upper lip. Water sluiced over his shoulders and rolled down over the dips and hollows of his abs. His bronzed skin gleamed. Damn. The male was a powerful presence who made her want to remain on her knees in worship to his divine anatomy.
“I understand,” he said, each word slow and deliberate. “I come when you say.”
The affirmation of his submission surged through her. A transfer of power that compared to nothing else.
“Good.” Eve lifted his shaft, leaned in, and applied a moist and heated trail with her tongue from her fist to the tip. Once there, she traced the crown’s ridge before dipping in for a taste of the beaded precum rising from the slit. A pleasure-filled utterance of approval rolled from Guerin’s throat, and a hint of a smile curled the corners of her mouth at the sound. She opened wide and sank over the large head, taking him as deep as possible. A shiver raced through Guerin, vibrating through his shaft. Eve worked the length up and down with her lips and tongue, making sure to apply enough pressure at the base as a reminder of who controlled his release.
“Fuck, Eve…” Guerin dropped his hands to her head and sank his fingers into her hair. Using her tresses for leverage, he held her steady and pumped his hips, sending his cock deeper into her mouth.
Eve grabbed his hands with her own, jerked free, and fell back onto her palms. She glared up at the stunned male, who stared back at her as if she’d lost her mind. “You forget your place. And for that”—she stood and pulled back the curtain—“game over.” Eve stepped from the tub, snagged two towels, wrapped one around her torso, and headed for the bedroom.
Plopping on the edge of the bed, she dragged in a deep breath and began the process of drying her hair. The mindless act helped to calm her down. And God knew she needed to get herself under control. She’d never experienced such chemistry with a man. She barely knew him, and mere days ago, she’d suspected he was part of Seth’s crazy scheme to abduct and dissect her like a lab rat.
Trust was something she’d given to only one person in her life: her mother. She’d been the only person who had ever been there for her, since her father hadn’t cared enough to stick around. So why did it mean so damn much for Guerin to give her his? She hadn’t failed to notice the word “Mistress” seemed to be absent from his vocabulary. Either he didn’t trust her enough to lower his walls completely, allow her to be in complete control—to be his Mistress—or he was hiding something.
The latter was what scared her.
Movement in her peripheral vision caught her attention. Eve turned her head and found Guerin standing a couple of feet away in the bathroom doorway. Well, more like filling the doorway with his more-than-six-foot frame. A white towel draped low on his hips but failed miserably to conceal his lingering hard-on. With his arms spread wide, he held the molding in his hands as if it were his lifeline. His Adam’s apple bobbed on a hard swallow, then he spoke.
“I haven’t done this…” He closed his eyes, and Eve could almost see the wheels inside his mind spinning, searching for what he was attempting to say. He opened his eyes. “This.” Guerin released the frame with one hand and motioned back and forth, indicating the two of them. “Sexual submission to a female.” The words exited on a rush of air, as if he’d lose his nerve if he didn’t spout them as quickly as possible. “In a very, very long time.”
“So was your fetish history part of the reason you were chosen to find me? Let me see if I’ve got it right about how this was all supposed to go down…” Eve held up her hand, checking off her mental list with a lift of a finger. “You lure me in. I give you a taste of what you’ve missed. You get to fuck me, and then what?”
His dark gaze captured hers, and time slowed to a crawl. She had no idea how long they remained like that: connected. But when the moment came to disrupt what they’d created, an odd sense of what Eve could define only as sorrow washed over her. As if deep down, she knew once everything was out in the open they could never go back.
“This wasn’t part of the plan.”
“Then tell me what we’re doing here. Why are you in my life, Guerino, and exactly what do you want from me?”
Chapter Eleven
Arran stepped from the Enclave’s rented Jag, pulling the dark shades from his face. He squinted at the red neon sign mounted a few feet away over the club’s dark dungeon-esque door. A fallen red rose glared off its black backdrop with a prominent single thorn pointing north. A drop of blood hung from its spiked tip.
“This was Guerin’s location the last time you spoke to him?” Kenric joined Arran and glanced up at the club’s logo. Arran nodded.
“The informant told Guerin that Eve’s last known location was here at the Rose’s Thorn.”
Kenric’s nostrils flared. “Smells like there was a fire close by and not too long ago.” The master vampire’s gaze swept his surroundings.
“Yeah. I agree.” The scent of charred wood singed his nostrils. Reflex had Arran passing a hand over his face as if he could wipe the odor away.
“All right.” Kenric worked the leather between his gloved fingers. “Let’s get inside and piece together something that’ll point us to our missing second-in-command—so I can kill him before somebody else gets the chance.” He sauntered in the direction of the door, his boot heels crunching on the gravel parking lot.
Arran smoothed his palm over the stubble on his lower jaw, chewing on the impact of Kenric’s last statement. He shook his head. Nah, he wouldn’t. Arran slid his hand to the back of his neck, working the knot building at the base of his skull. No doubt Kenric probably felt like killing the vampire, but he knew the master of the Enclave, and honor would never allow him to act on emotion alone.
For the entire flight, Kenric had barely said a word, uttering only what was necessary. Arran almost wished their mates had joined them. Emily’s company might have been a calming presence for the other vampire. But there was no way either warrior would have put them at risk by bringing them on this mission. Besides, someone had to stay behind with Michael to make sure Markus was kept secure and alive. Not an easy task since he ate only by force, and the only one able to achieve that would be two thousand miles away in Germany. Neither option was a perfect one. But Markus was locked away, in a weakened condition, and no threat to their mates. Kenric had made sure to get an extra meal into the wasting vampire prior to their departure. If all went well, they’d be back in the States before Markus required another feeding.
He followed Kenric into the dimly lit club. The chest-vibrating beat took him back nearly a year ago to Fairfield, South Carolina, and Wicked Ways, the Goth club where he’d stumbled into Gabrielle after he’d left the Enclave. His cock twitched at the memory. Damn. He’d never get enough of her. Didn’t want to. Arran wanted to savor every second, touch, and pleasure that was Gabrielle. Forever.
“The bar.” Kenric tapped his shoulder, yanking him back to the present.
“What?”
Kenric leaned in closer and shouted over the music near Arran’s ear. “The bar.” He nodded in the direction of the massive piece of architecture and added, “Let’s see what the bartender can tell us.”
Afte
r passing through a few dozen gyrating bodies, they snagged a couple of empty stools. The crack of a whip sizzled through the air. Arran turned toward the origin of the sound. At the back of the club, a couple of halogen spotlights glared off a St. Andrew’s cross in the corner of the room. A bound, nude woman swiveled to the dance of the whip at her thighs and buttocks. A small group had gathered around the display, enthralled in the action. Arran’s gaze fell to the vampire at his side.
“Nice place,” he mumbled.
“Interesting,” Kenric added with a quirk of his lips.
“Was möchten Sie?”
Both men turned their heads in the direction of the bartender’s voice. Wearing only a pair of cutoff jeans and twin piercings in his nipples, he stood with his hands braced on the edge of the wood, waiting for their order. Kenric held up two gloved fingers. “Vodka, bitte.”
The man nodded, then went to work on their shots. Arran leaned toward Kenric. “You actually think this guy’s going to tell us anything about what goes down here?”
Kenric cocked his head. “Absolutely not,” he scoffed.
“What I figured.” Arran straightened as the bartender returned with their drinks. He fisted his and tossed it to the back of his throat.
“Excuse me,” Kenric called out to their hovering bartender as Arran plopped the shot glass back onto the bar’s high-gloss surface. The man moved in the elder vampire’s direction, capturing the open bottle of Stoli in the process. He glanced at Kenric, then to Arran, and lifted the liquor to offer another round. Arran covered the glass with his palm and shook his head. The one shot had been for the sake of appearances. He nodded and returned his attention to Kenric.
Kenric crooked his finger, drawing the other guy closer. “Sprechen sie English?”
“Einwenig.” He cleared his throat. “I know a little.”
“Excellent.” Kenric placed both elbows on the wood, bringing them face-to-face. “Then I need you to listen very closely.” The other man’s gaze met the master vampire’s, then glazed.