by Eve Newton
“Hi,” he says awkwardly as his eyes zero straight in on her tits. Her nipples are hard as pebbles as they strain against the flimsy fabric of her nightgown. He drops his gaze a little lower, it’s hard not to, to take in the expanse of her long legs and he lingers just a bit too long at the hem of the nightgown, which is barely covering her ass and, as a result, the front of her as well. “Err, I’m headed to the kitchen,” he mumbles, as his eyes return to her slightly amused face.
“Me too,” she says. “I need cold water. Have you noticed the cold water here is actually really, really cold?” she asks as they make their way down the stairs, him in just his sweats and her in her teeny, tiny nightgown that he wants to rip off her so he can fuck her here on the stairs. Oh, God, where did that thought come from? His dick gets hard again as he thinks about that and he struggles to focus on what she is saying, so he just nods. “And another thing, how come I can tell the water is actually cold? I mean if it were to hit me in the face, I wouldn’t feel it, but in my mouth, it is delicious.”
Oh, boy. What is she saying about her mouth?
“Cole?” she prompts him with a shoulder bump, and he clears his throat.
“Uh, I don’t know,” he says. “I also wondered that. I suppose we could ask.”
“Yeah, I don’t think so,” she says, wrinkling her cute little nose. “I feel so stupid sometimes, like I am supposed to know these things.”
“I know what you mean,” he agrees with her, and she smiles as she pushes the kitchen door open.
“It’s nice to know that I am not the only one. I find it difficult being around them. They are so much older than me. Us. They have all lived these long, interesting lives and I’m just me. Boring and plain,” she says.
“You are anything but boring and plain,” he says to her with a smile, which lights up her eyes. He realizes that she fished for the compliment as he knows she finds him attractive. It would be so easy to take her right now. He doesn’t find her that hot. Well, yeah, she’s hot, but he definitely prefers his wife’s looks. Devon has his thing with tall, big-breasted brunettes with eyes like his. Cole has his petite blondes with eyes the color of emeralds, which unfortunately coincides with her sire’s taste in women. That thought dampens any sexual thoughts he was having. Jess hands him a glass of cold water and he takes it with a nod of thanks.
“I find it helps with the cravings,” she says as she takes a big gulp.
“Me too,” he states in surprise and she grins.
“I don’t get the whole alcohol thing they have. How Devon can stomach that much Bourbon in one sitting is beyond me. It tastes disgusting.”
He chuckles and says, “I don’t get Liv’s Scotch obsession. I mean how many bottles do you need in one house anyway?”
“A lot around here,” she says as she laughs. “Now that is gross. I would take Bourbon over Scotch any day.”
“Me too,” he says again. This is weird. She has been a part of their “family” for a few weeks now and this is the first time he has ever really spoken to her. It is certainly the only time he has ever been alone with her, not counting the time she came on to him back in L.A. and Liv kicked her ass. “How are you doing now?” he asks her as he gets more water.
“Better,” she says and takes the glass from him. “It definitely helps to be able to go out in the daytime.” She holds her left wrist up and he nods. “And now that Devon lets me feed straight from humans, that also helps a lot.”
“Yeah. That was a harsh judgment by our Queen,” Cole says lightly, as he doesn’t want her to think he is badmouthing his wife.
“I deserved it,” she says quietly, and they stand in silence for a few moments, pondering her suicidal actions.
“It is also helping now that Devon is…” she stops and looks away.
“Devon is what?” Cole prompts.
“Paying me some attention,” she says quietly.
“Oh,” Cole says. He knows Liv is upset by this development, but it had to happen. Devon isn’t the kind of guy to let her devolve into one of those Rogue creatures.
“You must really miss her when she isn’t here. I know I would die without Devon. I don’t know how you stand it,” she adds suddenly.
He turns from her so she can’t see his sad expression. “It’s hard. Really hard. Especially now when she is supposed to be here, and she isn’t. There were some days in Toronto that I thought I would die,” he admits, although he has no idea why. It sounds overly dramatic, but it is the truth. Some days he never even thought he would make it out of bed.
“I can imagine,” she says softly. “Have you told her how you feel?”
He shrugs and turns back to her and says, “Not really. I don’t want her to be worried or feel like she has to fix it.”
“She likes to fix things,” Jess says. “It’s like her thing. Do you think it’s because she is a mad control freak?”
“Like her sire?” Cole snorts.
“Exactly,” she says with a laugh. “You should tell her. Maybe it will stop her from…you know.” She waves her hand about and he frowns.
“What?” he asks her.
“You know…doing what she does,” she says, and he stares at her. She gulps, realizing that she has stepped where she shouldn’t be stepping. “Sorry,” she mutters. “It’s none of my business.”
He sighs. “It’s okay. I know you know.” He turns away again, this time so she won’t see the pain. She places her small hand on his bare back, and he closes his eyes and breathes in deeply. He turns back to her, but she doesn’t move her hand. It stays where it is in the air as he turns and now it is placed on his chest. He can feel the stirring start again and he gulps.
“I hate it when Devon goes to her,” she whispers as she steps closer, those erect nipples barely touching his chest. “I know you hate it too.” Jess tilts her head up and he stares down into her pretty blue eyes, her mouth blood red, lips parted, and he wants to delve his tongue in between them so he can know what she tastes like. His dick is rock hard as she brushes her hand lightly over him, but he steps back. He can’t do it. She is throwing herself at him and he can’t do it. Not with her. She is too close. But screw this, he needs someone. She looks sad as he steps back again.
He mutters, “I’ll see you later,” before he beats a hasty retreat out of the kitchen and back up the stairs.
But he knows an outsider, one that if he called right now would answer. Cole grabs his phone off the nightstand and calls Tanya. It’s 1 AM, but she picks up with her husky voice, making the one syllable of his name sound sexy. “Ready to try again?” he asks briskly.
“Anytime,” she says.
“I will be at your hotel in…” he says and glances again at the clock. At this hour, he can probably make it to London in forty minutes flat out. “…an hour,” he says.
“I’ll be waiting,” she purrs and hangs up. He gets dressed quickly, not thinking about anything but the next action in front of him. He is going to do this. He needs to. His balls are aching, and his cock is so hard he can’t even do his jeans up properly. His hand is useless; he needs a wet, inviting pussy. He needs his wife’s wet, inviting, perfect, pretty pussy, but she isn’t here. She is never here. Always off pleasing other people or saving the world. So, fuck it. He is going to Tanya’s hotel room and he is going to do this. He will bang her and then leave. It’s simple. Bang her, and then leave. He keeps thinking that as he pockets his phone and his wallet and silently leaves the bedroom, hoping he doesn’t bump into anyone on the way down to the garage.
Luck is on his side and he makes it without incident.
Creeping into the garage, he goes to the box that holds all the keys. He wants fast and furious. Liv doesn’t have a Veyron here, which is upsetting. If they move here, they will have to ship it over. He picks the next best thing, as what she does have, is a McLaren MP4 Spider. He has wanted to drive one of these forever. He grabs the key and unlocks it, pushing away the thought that he and Liv share a lot of things i
n common, fast cars being one of them. He opens the door and then curses himself.
He had been about to jump into the passenger side. Fucking British cars are backwards. He slides into the driver’s seat and roars the engine to life as quietly as he can. Not the easiest task. Hopefully it sounded more like a cub yawning than papa lion snarling. He opens the garage and eases the car out, closing it behind him. The crunch of the gravel driveway is loud, and he winces but keeps going. The gates open and he slams his foot down, feeling the power of the engine surge the car forward. Shit. Wrong side of the fucking road. How do people drive in this country with their narrow roads and on the wrong side?
He taps in the hotel’s coordinates into the GPS system and it directs him on his way. He relaxes as he drives. He loves to drive. Living with Liv, he rarely gets to drive anymore. They either get driven or Astral. He should insist that they drive more often. He is sure she will turn her nose up at that. Well, maybe not if they had the Veyron here.
Stop thinking about Liv, he yells at himself. If he keeps thinking about her, he will probably turn the car around. Focus on Tanya. He pictures her.
She is a Vampire. Around three hundred years old, he thinks. Russian by nature and fairly sexy, as sexy goes. Light blonde hair, deep brown eyes, a rack that makes a person wonder if they are real or not (they are), legs that stretch for miles, and a tongue that can do things that drive a man to distraction. He met her on the set. She is a Production Assistant or something. She sensed him straight away and has been hounding him ever since. She is a Greater Immortal like him, which means her sire is a Master Vampire. He doesn’t know who he or she is. It’s not a question that gets asked for some reason, which is another thing he would like to know but feels stupid for asking. But, since she is Russian, it makes him think that her sire’s sire was Gregor. Disgusting fucker. He thinks he probably hated him more than he hates Constantine. The day he died the world probably sighed in relief.
But he doesn’t really give a damn. Even if her bloodline is Constantine’s, he is still going to fuck her.
Bang her and then leave.
No one has to know.
It will be a one-time thing. No big deal.
Being a Vampire races his thoughts. One second, he is thinking about one thing and the next it is something completely different. He thinks it gets worse the older they get as he knows he struggles sometimes to keep up with Liv, and that bastard is even worse. It’s enough to give him a permanent migraine. A permanent hard-on and a permanent migraine. Not the best combination.
The car eats up the miles and before he knows it, he is in the city. He feels a pang of nerves as he pulls up outside the hotel. The valets rush forward, eager to get their hands on the car, but he hardly notices them as he hands them the keys and enters the deserted lobby. He already knows her room number, so he goes straight to the elevators and stabs the button impatiently. He wants this over. He wants his release and then he wants to go home.
She opens the door as he knocks, completely naked, and pulls him inside. “I’m so glad you called,” she says as she slides her hands up him and pushes his jacket off. “I was most disappointed that you left so abruptly on Tuesday.”
He doesn’t say anything. He’s not here to chat. He pushes her against the back of the sofa and kisses her. Her tongue swirls against his in a dizzying rhythm, round and round. Nothing like the way Liv kisses, which makes his knees weak. His hands roam over her body, squeezing her huge tits and pulling on her nipples until they are like torpedoes. They are too big, he thinks absently, he doesn’t like more than his hand can cover. Liv’s tits are perfect. The perfect size to hold and suck on.
Stop it! he yells at himself again. Stop thinking about her.
He slides his fingers into Tanya and groans. She is so wet. This is what he came here for. An eager, wet pussy for him to ram his cock into. She wraps her leg around his waist as she pulls him even closer to her. He removes his hand from her and undoes his pants. He’s not taking her to bed, he’s not getting undressed, all he wants is to fuck her and leave. He shoves his cock into her before he can change his mind and grabs her hips. She is wet and slippery, but he doesn’t fit well inside her. Not like he does with Liv. It’s like his cock was designed to fit inside his wife.
He kisses her as he bangs her, but only to shut her up. She is making these ridiculous noises like some sort of bad porn actor. Liv doesn’t make those noises during sex, when she comes, she then lets him know he has pleased her. She doesn’t need to pretend or feel the need to encourage him and she has never once faked it. Women think men don’t know, but they do. But he honestly doesn’t care if Tanya comes now or not. He is ready and if she hasn’t warmed up yet, that’s not his problem. He feels his balls tighten and he groans into her mouth as he shoots his load into her and as expected, she fakes her orgasm at the same time. The ache eases as his dick goes soft. The tension leaves him as he slips out of her and does up his pants.
“Thanks. I’ll see ya,” he says to her as he bends to pick up his discarded jacket. The shock on her face is almost comical. He would laugh if he didn’t feel so dirty. He has to get out of here right now. He leaves as she yells at him in Russian. He doesn’t understand her, but he is willing to bet it’s not very polite.
He crashes back into reality in the elevator and he repulses himself. He pinches the bridge of his nose as he realizes what he has done. He can smell her on him. He has to get rid of the scent of her. As the doors ding open, he finds the bathrooms and runs the taps, washing his hands thoroughly. Shit. What if Liv is home already when he gets back? She will smell this straight away. Her senses are more honed than his. She can probably smell it all the way from where she is now. He pulls his dick out and washes that too, hoping that no one comes in, but it’s late, or early, depending on whether you’ve been to bed yet or not, and no one interrupts him. He dries off and thinks about changing his pants before he goes home but realizes that there will be no shops open.
Oh, what has he done? He has betrayed his beautiful wife. He disgusts himself even more because that prick is being faithful to her. And this is just one more thing that makes Cole feel less.
He must tell her. He must come clean. He knows she will understand if he can just explain it to her. She won’t mind the fucking bit, it’s the part where he did it behind her back that he knows she will have a problem with.
He grabs the keys from the reluctant valet and sets the GPS to take him home. He breaks every speed limit by miles on the way back. He has no doubt he racked up a wedge of speeding fines. He can’t believe that he drove nearly an hour each way for three minutes with a woman he doesn’t even like. The house is dark and quiet, and Cole hopes that he can make it back in without seeing anybody.
But of course, he doesn’t.
Who should he run into, but the man himself.
The only one he would rather not have to explain himself to.
Constantine is walking through the foyer back towards the stairs with a Scotch in his hand. Cole knows from Liv that this will be about the time that he goes to sleep so he isn’t surprised to see him dressed for bed. Can’t say that he has ever seen Constantine quite so casually dressed. He looks different, relaxed. That changes, though, when he sees Cole sneaking in.
Constantine raises his eyebrow at him. “Where are you sneaking in from?” he asks, with a slight smirk.
“None of your fucking business,” Cole growls at him as he walks up the stairs.
Constantine is at his side in an instant. “I don’t tolerate insolence, boy,” he says, and Cole turns to glare at him. “There’s no sire here to protect you this time,” he adds.
“You can threaten me all you like but lay a finger on me and Liv will never speak to you again.” Cole is stupidly bold in his conviction.
Constantine tilts his head at him in that way where, if the roles were reversed and Cole was two thousand and whatever years old, he would reach out and rip it off. That is such a Vampire thing. He never would
have even thought about doing something like that before he was turned. Constantine breathes in deeply and an evil smile crosses his face. “I see,” he says, narrowing his eyes. “You are sneaking in from a secret rendezvous.”
Cole should have been expecting that. Her sire’s senses are even more honed than hers. “It’s nothing to do with you.”
“No? I told you once that everything to do with Aefre is to do with me. If you are hurting her, I will be forced to do something about it.”
“I’m not hurting her,” Cole says, only mildly worried.
“So you plan to tell her of your activities?” Constantine presses.
“How do you know she doesn’t already know?” he responds.
“I know the walk of shame when I see one,” he says.
Cole has no doubt that he does. Not because he has ever done it, you understand, but there must be thousands of women he has sent down that particular path.
“Yes, I plan on telling her,” Cole says, as there really isn’t much point in denying it further.
“Good, be sure that you do the minute you speak to her. It’s better if she hears it from you.” The implied threat lingers in the air like a bad smell.
“You can’t interfere without giving her reason to wonder why,” Cole says, brave in the face of his growing anger and hatred.
“True, but I only have her best interests at heart. She will see that if I am forced to reveal that her husband is keeping secrets.” Constantine spits out the word “husband” and it gets Cole fired up. Constantine brings out his petty side and as hard as he tries to ignore him, he just knows exactly which buttons to push to piss Cole off.
“My wife and I don’t have secrets,” he says and takes great pleasure in seeing the very fleeting wince at the word “wife.” “We know everything about each other.”
Constantine smirks at him again. “Well, now I know that isn’t true. She has many secrets that she keeps from you. Secrets that I share with her.”
Cole’s anger is turning to rage now, but he puts a lid on it. They are the same height, the same build. If they were humans, they would probably be evenly matched and whatever the consequences, he would punch that smirk off the prick’s face. But, as it is, Constantine can knock his head off without even thinking about it. Cole knows he would never throw the first punch, but he would strike back if Cole hit him first, regardless of whether Liv would forgive him or not.