And Richer

by Jackie Ivie

  Mandy’s eyes widened, her lips parted, and then he touched her. Pushed. Her body was flexing and opening...and there should have been more pain than this. She’d been told there would be pain. Something resembling fire. Not just a feeling of pressure. And all kinds of jolts. Like arcs of lightning to a lightning rod. Her body jerked in tandem with them. Her back arched. Her heart pounded. The sensation of movement about them slowed slightly. The guitar went to pianissimo, a sigh of sound. The drums to a hum of barely heard beats.

  “Oh Mandy. Baby. You are. So small. So tight. So...”

  Each bit of words punctuated by a grunt as he shoved, rocking her with the motions. He had a definite British accent, too.

  “Sweet. So little. And...no. No.”

  He stopped, cocked his head toward her and gaped. His eyes were wide. The pupils looked huge. And she’d never seen anything so beautiful. Mandy’s heart felt like it swelled. She’d held onto her virginity for a reason. She’d wanted the perfect man. The perfect time. The perfect setting.

  By some quirk of fate, she’d actually found both. And she knew it.

  “I’m your first?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  “Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!”

  He punched down at the bed with the first four exclamations, then shoved up from her, put his head back, and launched the last one into a triumphant-sounding cry. His bellow hovered for long moments before it faded while he shook in place. And then he dropped his chin, and grinned.

  “Oh, my sweet. Oh, Mandy. My love. My darling. I’ll try...to be gentle. Oh. Who am I kidding? I can barely manage...now.”

  His words accompanied a series of lunges against her, and into her. Each one going a little deeper. For a trifle longer. But it was Mandy’s hands that gripped him, yanking him into full contact. The result sent a flash of pain, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as she’d been led to believe. And it started dissipating as he just rocked in place. And then he stopped. Swore beneath his breath.

  “Oh. No. No. No. No. No. Don’t move! Mandy! Please? Don’t move. Anywhere! Oh, sweet. My...sweet.”

  Everything in his frame went hard. Every muscle taut. His eyes scrunched shut, his face contorted, and tremor after tremor scored through him before moving to encompass her. They all emanated from where they were joined. She was panting little bits of air, and watched him match it. She’d never seen anything as spellbinding.

  His shuddering calmed slightly. His features eased. His eyes opened next, and he dropped his glance to hers, and gave a lopsided smile.

  “Oh, baby. That was close. Really close.”

  “Nigel?”

  “I love you,” he replied, and then he moved.

  Mandy’s cry followed his action. Her legs gripped about him, eyes wide as she experienced how this felt. He slid from her enclosure, pushed back in. Eased out again. Plunged back in. Again. And again. What had been a muted level of sound all about them started to alter. The impression of electric guitar music started again. Grew in strength. Volume. Speed. While she could swear, once again, that a drum was added; beating softly at first, and then picking up tempo.

  Nigel groaned. Straining every muscle, his lunges grew stronger. Slid out quicker. Mandy’s body flexed with each one. Learning. And then yearning. A flash of something sparked into being. Small at first. But growing with each of Nigel’s strokes. Again. More. The sensation became a flame. She grabbed at it. Shut her eyes to focus on it. Tightened her belly. Held it.

  The mattress began rocking. The bedstead creaked. The canopy swayed above them. Even the flickering of the candles seemed to match their rhythm.

  “Oh, Mandy. Oh, baby. Oh, love. Oh, Mandy.”

  Nigel began a litany of words. Chanting them. Corresponding with his efforts. Mandy clung. Matched him move for move. Harder. Faster. Again...and without warning, the feeling deep within her flared. Erupting in a vista of wonder. Heavy beats filled her ears. Ecstasy attached to each one. And her scream accompanied it.

  The sensation stunned. Shocked. And then it captured. Taking her to a realm of bliss where time ceased and joy reigned. Each heartbeat sent satiation through her. And Nigel was still pumping. He’d turned into a wild thing. Using strokes that shoved her along the bedding. Mandy had difficulty holding on. Her ankles slid apart, she tightened her knees. She locked her hands behind his back. Slammed her breasts to him, and then she licked a spot on his neck, and bit into him.

  And Nigel went berserk.

  Every thrust slammed into her. Every pull out was quick. Efficient. Determined. Low grunts supplemented his movements. And then he rammed into her one more time. Stopped. Quivered. And then sent the longest groan into existence. Something fell. Something else shattered. He rose, leaving the bed completely. And taking her with him. Every sound combined, becoming a crescendo of heavy metal reverberation. Furiously quick drum rolls. Heavy breathing. The air swirled about them, sending succor to sweat-coated skin. The candles flared, and then extinguished. The gauzy canopy material caught Nigel’s rise, preventing further lift. And then he started rotating, wrapping them in the material as his body continued thumping into hers in a ransom series of pulsations.

  It awed. Made her heart feel even warmer and heavier. He opened his eyes slowly. Looked for, and caught her gaze. He looked dazed. Stunned. Or something even more staggering. There was an unworldly glow in the center of his vivid blue eyes, warming them to a purplish hue. She smiled. He blinked.

  And then they dropped.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  He’d never known anything like this. This level of satiation was beyond imagining. He’d done that a lot. Most of his waking moments had been tormented with thoughts of being able to make love again. A large portion of his resting ones were spent with that preoccupation, too. But everything he’d envisioned had been far short of the reality.

  He never felt so fulfilled. Content.

  Happy.

  He was still vibrating with a bliss that reached everywhere. His heart was one big mass that pumped light, warmth, and love. Finding his mate was pure heaven. Mating with her was the supreme embodiment of joy, elation, and ecstasy. Pleasure beyond description. Incredible was one word that came to mind. Fantastic. Inconceivable. And mind-blowing. To an infinite degree.

  Nigel extended the fingers of the hand at the small of her back, running his touch along skin that lifted with little bumps. She moaned, moved her chin, shimmied parts of her body, and pushed even closer to him. Matched to him nearly everywhere. Time passed. Their breathing calmed. The room righted.

  He hadn’t meant to enthrall her, but he’d been outgunned by testosterone. Everything had gone haywire the moment she’d spoken about her ex-boyfriend – his grandson, Paul Henry. Nigel had discovered several things simultaneously. Jealousy was an igniter. Passion was a fuel. And the need to mate was overwhelming. As potent as any addiction. As necessary as blood.

  Now, he didn’t know what to say. Do. How to act. Where to start. He felt like a complete heel. Lower than low. She’d called him safe.

  And he’d betrayed that.

  “Nigel?”

  The breath from her whisper brushed his neck. The spot tingled. “Yeah, baby?”

  “I...don’t know what to say.”

  By some stroke of fate, he’d landed on the bottom when they fell. The gauzy black material had her securely wrapped to him. And worse. He was already getting interested in a repeat lovemaking session. Very interested.

  A heartbeat worth of time passed. Another. “Um. Me, either,” he finally replied.

  “I don’t know what came over me.”

  He heard a sniff. Felt the intake as her body shuddered with it. She wasn’t going to cry, was she? And if that happened...? Nigel choked. Oh shit. He felt a sting behind his eyes and blinked rapidly to control it.

  “Uh...Mandy?” His voice was lower than usual. But at least, he’d conquered the urge to cry.

  “I’ve never done...anything like this.”

  “Yeah. I know.” And man!
It engendered the same rush of pleasure. He was her first! And only! The knowledge brought such warmth, the canopy material about him felt restrictive and hot. And scratchy.

  “I am so sorry.”

  “Oh, no. No, babe. No. What the hell? I should be apologizing, not you. I was just working up to it. I mean, I only needed a moment or two first. Maybe three.”

  “But, I...um...took advantage of you.”

  “Is that what you think happened?”

  Oh. Damn. And hell. And double shit. He was failing at controlling the mating urge. It was getting obvious. This was ridiculous. He had to stop it. He thought of cold water. Ice-cold water. The result was his erection got harder. More visceral. Why didn’t his mind control any of this?

  “I was supposed to s-s-stay with you...not ravish you.”

  “Ravish me? What?” Her words should have worked at stopping the rampant desire coursing him. They didn’t. “Oh, hell no. That is not what happened. Don’t go there. Okay?”

  “But, it’s true.”

  “Oh, no. Mandy? Listen to me.” Ah! Damn testosterone! He was actually starting to move within her. She caught a breath.

  “You...are injured. Weak. Nigel...”

  His name came on a sigh of sound that could mean anything. “Oh. Babe. Please. I am not weak. Okay? And I’m not injured. Not anymore. Here. Look for yourself.”

  Nigel put his hands on her upper arms and lifted her so she could face him. The gauze didn’t make it possible. His continual movements bound it closer about them, too.

  “And you’re...an invalid.”

  Nigel stuck a finger through the fabric at her back and ripped them free. The sound of material almost covered up her gasp. And then he spun, putting her beneath him. The only light came from the square fixture above them. It was sufficient.

  “I told you, Mandy. I am not weak. And I’m not injured. Not anymore. See for yourself.”

  He pushed up from her. The move put their meshed loins on display, adding immeasurably to his trouble. She glanced down, gasped, and turned her head to one side. And then she blushed. A rosy shade darkened the cheek he could see. He pushed even deeper into her as his canines reacted. He sucked on his fangs. Drew blood into his mouth. He shuddered. Tightened his abs. Worked at containing the urge to lick. Bite. Suck. He didn’t dare share blood with her again. The potential of changing her completely was too close. It was too soon.

  “There is...no wound. See?”

  “I...saw.”

  Shit. She blushed even more severely. He rocked with it. And that shoved him deeper into her. The move stirred desire into flame again. He gritted his teeth and groaned through a series of lunges that he had no control over. None whatsoever.

  “Nigel?”

  “Sorry, babe. It’s just—. You’re just—. Oh, Mandy. I’ve waited so long for you. Making love to you is...uh. There are no words.”

  “But your man said you have a condition. Allergies.”

  “Some of that is true. I have trouble with sunlight. But it’s because I am a vampire, darling. I told you.”

  She turned her head, regarded him for a long moment, and then she smiled. “Right,” she told him. And then her body gave a distinct shove against his. Drawing him in farther. He’d never felt anything to compare. His legs even trembled.

  “Mandy? Oh...honey.”

  “Oh, Nigel. Wow. That’s...wow.”

  She was rocking with him. Nigel groaned. The sound was lengthy and deep, and quavered at the end. It hovered in the room for long moments.

  “Oh, Nigel.”

  She wrapped her legs about him, her thighs working with him, their efforts settling on a rhythm, and then building upon it.

  “Oh Mandy. Love. Um. I need to explain—oh, baby. You feel incredible.”

  She did, too. Every inch of her was suctioning and working over every inch of him. Over. Again.

  “Explain later.”

  She grabbed his shoulders and jerked him down for a kiss. That was the match-light to his fuse. And...what the hell. He was stuck at a certain age. Late teens. That was supposedly the peak of male sexuality. Science had confirmed it. He was creating the most testosterone. Having the firmest erections he’d ever have. That was matched with an ability to give repeat performances. And that was pretty damned good at the moment.

  He was terminally nineteen.

  Might as well quit fighting it.

  But there was something else at work here. Something massive. It would have occurred to him right then, if his mind was in charge. He didn’t have her in thrall this time. This session was all for her. His mate. His Mandy.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  A guitar riff blasted through the room. Nigel jerked awake, the motion disturbing a twisted bit of metal he slept with. It clattered to the floor. He watched it uncomprehendingly for a moment. It was part of the sports car he’d wrecked and would have died within, if Akron hadn’t turned him. Akron’s appearance had been the capstone of a horrible evening.

  Nigel had just found out he was born into a secret clan. They called themselves Hunters. They were a quasi-militaristic group. Membership was hard to achieve. Invitation only. Hunters had to pass all sorts of psychological and physical tests. Even then, gaining membership wasn’t a given. His father had commanded his presence in the elder Beethan’s study. Once there, his father had immediately started off with the usual tirade of complaints. Nigel was a complete disappointment. A failure. His wants and needs were unacceptable. The Beethan family was the core of a hunting business, had been for centuries. Beethans financed and ran the entire thing. Nigel had been informed that he was the heir. It was his responsibility to get an education in college, and then receive instruction in the field. It was a lifetime commitment that would control his destiny.

  Hunting down and killing vampires.

  As if they existed.

  He hadn’t taken the news well. He’d just found out the girlfriend he’d broken up with had gotten pregnant when she was supposed to be on the pill. He’d failed the first quarter at school. He hadn’t even tried out for the rowing team. He wasn’t ready to assume responsibility for anything. He’d argued with the senior Beethan. His father had yelled and given ultimatums. Nigel had yelled back. He’d been sent to his wing of the mansion with two Hunters as guards. That hadn’t amounted to much. He’d snuck out. Took the keys to his new sports car. And he’d driven away, certain that the old man was a candidate for the loony bin.

  His wreck and Akron’s subsequent appearance clarified all kinds of things. Vampires did exist. They were hidden. Covert. And pretty damned cool. He got the offer to become one as he tried to breathe around a crushed chest and massive internal bleeding. The decision had been a no-brainer; eternal life as a vampire or a really gruesome death. He’d accepted with alacrity. Rarely regretted it. And then, only because of the dark side. Immortality came with a codicil. Vampirism wasn’t eternal life. It was a living death. He existed. Time passed. And he just got to watch it.

  Unless he got lucky enough that his one true mate showed up.

  And he found her.

  Another blast of sound hit his room. The piece of his wrecked car started jumping from a massive infusion of volume from what sounded like an off-key disjointed electric guitar. A pain shot through his skull. It was hard to think. It took a second to recollect things. Where was he? Oh yes. Venice. In MacKettryk’s palace. The master bedroom. Another second passed before he noticed he was atop the bed. Alone. Wearing white underwear briefs. And then his heart stopped.

  His mate wasn’t there.

  The noise got worse. His headache ramped up to match it. He couldn’t think around it. Where could she be? Everything had seemed fine. No. Better. It had been the best evening of his life. Before or after being turned. They’d had a second, even more awesome lovemaking session. Followed it with a shared shower in the stall built for two. Her clothing had been sitting on the bottom of the bed when they’d finished. Cleaned. Folded. She’d dressed. He’d grabbed a p
air of briefs. Trousers. A shirt. They’d slow-danced to a series of rock ballads that seemed to go on for hours. She’d told him of her life. Refused to believe anything he told her about his. He hadn’t said much. He didn’t even tell her that Paul Henry was his grandson. He couldn’t. She didn’t believe he was a vampire. Without that groundwork, she’d have labeled him insane. Her clothing got wrinkled again when she’d chucked it. They’d made love a third time. That one had been lengthy. Slow. And incredibly pleasurable.

  She was there when he’d gotten up to retrieve his piece of steel from the wreck just before dawn broke. She’d snuggled into his arms. She’d been asleep.

  And now she was missing?

  He had to find her. But first things first. He had to stop the racket. His ears couldn’t take the punishment. His head was at screaming pain level. It was sending his mind to shut-down mode.

  He flew down the stairs, blasted through the large double doors, knocking one off its hinges. And then he yanked on the wire that fed Akron’s amplifier. The sound stopped, although it reverberated for long seconds as a shower of sparks emitted from the broken wire he held. Nigel extinguished that on his thigh. Akron looked up and gestured toward the wall.

  “You’re creating a fire hazard.”

  “And you’re murdering hard rock.” Nigel grabbed the plug and plucked it out of the socket. The sizzle of being electrocuted was unpleasant. And painful. He chucked the plug and stuck his fingers in his mouth.

  “Hello to you, too, Nigel. I see you have awakened. Good thing. The sun has been down for eight minutes.”

  “Where is she?”

  Akron ran his fingers along the neck of his guitar before answering. It was obvious he hadn’t needed electricity to make an enormous amount of sound. Nigel glared. It didn’t seem to do much.

  “What do you think of my playing?” Akron asked.