by Unknown
Fighting his rising frustration, Dylan gripped the arms of his chair. “Can we come back to the issue of Nicky’s activities?”
Navarro’s dark gaze met his and locked. “We won’t interfere with your right to protect your possession.”
Dylan relaxed. He had permission to kill Nicky himself.
Chapter Ten
‡
To his disappointment, Emmy wasn’t asleep when he returned. Instead, Dylan followed the sound of muffled laughter to the kitchen. Quentin and Emmy were inside, seated at the table.
She was dressed in his robe, the dark blue a foil for her rosy cheeks and sunshine-colored hair. Her gaze swung to the door, and her eyes lit up like Christmas lights when she saw Dylan. His heart swelled in his chest—grateful he could produce such a look of joy.
Quentin raised a slice of pizza, loaded with pepperoni and sausage from the savory aroma, and waved it at Dylan. “Join us. Emmy was just telling me she has a distinct preference for organ meats.”
Dylan’s gaze narrowed as he stared at the gap at the top of his robe. It exposed more cleavage than he wanted to share, even with his best friend. “Only mine, I hope.”
“That’s not what I said.” Emmy blushed scarlet. “And for your information, Dylan, that wasn’t what we were discussing.”
“Better not be,” he growled, feeling grumpy. How many ways could he say ‘get lost’ to his buddy? Dylan strode past the counter littered with open pizza boxes to the table, and he hooked his foot around the leg of chair, pulling it close to Emmy. He straddled it backwards.
“Didn’t go well, hmmm?” Quentin murmured.
Dylan’s gaze didn’t leave Emmys’ face. “About what we thought.”
“We’re on our own then.”
Emmy took a bite of pizza and darted a glance at Dylan. “Do I have tomato sauce on my nose?”
“No, love.” He shot a sharp look to his friend. “And it’s not your fight, Quentin.”
“And leave me out of the party?” Quentin drawled. “This little intrigue is more fun than I’ve had in a long time.”
Emmy set her pizza on her plate. “Okay, I’m just a little bit tired of being left out of the conversation, when I feel like I am the topic of the conversation.”
Gratified he’d brought her temper to a peak, if not her body, Dylan clutched the back of her head and brought her forward for a kiss.
She shoved at his chest. “I have pizza breath,” she warned.
“My favorite.”
“Thought it was whiskey and woman,” she murmured, her eyes drifting closed.
“It was.” He kissed her full on the lips, hoping Quentin took notes.
“You changed the subject.” Emmy pushed him away. “I hate when you do that.”
“Because it’s so easy to do?” he asked, teasing her into a temper.
She rolled her eyes. “I swear I’m going to scream.”
“Not again, my ears are still ringing,” Quentin drawled.
Dylan leveled a killing glare at his former best friend. “So, what was this about organ meats?”
Emmy’s blush deepened. “Dylan! Drop the subject.”
“I thought that wasn’t what you were talking about,” he said, feeling the tension in his shoulders roll away. Teasing Emmy was fast becoming his favorite pastime.
“Organ meats on pizza,” Quentin said with a smirk. “Will you get your mind out of Emmy’s gutter?”
“Quentin!” Emmy gave his friend a deadly glare, which only served to amuse Quentin who laughed.
Shaking her head, Emmy turned to Dylan. “I just wondered why they never make pizza with liver or hearts. There’d probably be a market for that combination with so many vampires walking the streets—now that I know you guys eat things other than pig’s blood.” She drew a deep breath. “I’m rambling again, aren’t I?”
“Yes,” he and Quentin responded, sharing a look of male commiseration.
“So, why do you need blood, if you can eat real food?” Emmy asked, her eyes wide and curious as a child’s.
“We need the nutrients,” Dylan replied. “Our stomachs don’t digest other foods well.”
“But you still need calories? Or what? You get skinny? Lose your gorgeous hair?”
“Our skin dries like a mummy’s,” Quentin said.
Dylan pressed his lips together to prevent a bark of laughter. Emmy looked so appalled, he took pity on her. “I experience hunger the same way you do. If I don’t feed, my stomach feels like it’s gnawing on itself. Makes me grumpy.”
“I can so relate,” Emmy said, taking another bite of pizza. “And I’m relieved about the mummy thing.”
“Regular food is like roughage.” Dylan couldn’t resist another oblique reminder of their previous conversation about vegetables. “Passes right through.”
“I say,” Quentin said. “That was rather indelicate in mixed company.”
“No, no,” Emmy broke in and waved a hand. “It explains a lot. So, is it just human blood and body parts?”
Dylan wished the conversation would come to an unnatural end. “No. Human blood is the tastiest, but any mammal’s will suffice in a pinch. Organ meats are more flavorful. But any cut of meat will do.”
“You’d better eat some pizza, or I won’t kiss you again,” Emmy said, her expression at last reflecting a little distaste for the subject of their conversation.
Dylan grabbed her hand and directed her slice to his mouth. He took a large bite all the way to her fingers, making sure he brushed her fingertips with his lips before biting.
Emmy drew her bottom lip between her teeth and set the remainder of the slice on her plate. “I think I’m full.”
“Clean up the kitchen, will you, Quentin?” Dylan drew Emmy from her chair.
“What else am I here for?” Quentin grumbled.
*
Dylan’s heart slowed its pounding and he stretched, careful not to dislodge Emmy. The fading pleasure of a moment ago was already giving way to a slow reawakening. He’d have her once more before the sun rose.
With his fingers deep in her hair, cupping her skull, Dylan wondered how he’d ever thought his bed was filled when the only occupant was him. Wearing her like a blanket, her knee between his thighs, he felt as though they were part of a puzzle, pieces pressed together. A perfect fit.
“So, how does one become a vampire?” Emmy asked. Her chin rested on his chest, and her gaze was fastened on his face.
Dylan knew she’d be relentless until he satisfied her with an answer. Turning a human was a topic he’d just as soon ignore. It was more than distasteful. A raw sorrow filled him every time he thought about it. But Emmy’s curiosity was proving as insatiable as her sex drive. “By your expression, you expect something ghoulish.”
“Is it?” she asked, excitement making her eyes shine. “I mean, I’ve watched vampire movies. In some, you get bit on three consecutive nights. On the third, you die. By the time you wake up in the morgue, you’re a bloodsucker. Sometimes, you get partially eaten and come back the next night missing body parts. And then there was this one movie with a voodoo priestess—”
“Em!” He mashed a finger against her lips, holding it there until she sighed. “One must be drained nearly to death, and then be fed a vampire’s blood.”
“Oh.” She looked disappointed. “Sounds simple enough.”
“Well, it’s not,” he replied curtly. “More often than not, the person dies before she can be turned.”
“She?”
He didn’t answer, just trailed his fingers through her hair.
Emmy laid her cheek flat on his chest and smoothed her hands over his pecs. “I’m glad you didn’t die.”
Dylan waited, hoping she wouldn’t ask about his little slip of the tongue. He never spoke about her.
“Are you very old?”
With a wry smile, he replied, “I’m one hundred and eighty-six.”
“Wow! That’s old enough to be my great, great, great—”
> “Old enough. Let’s leave it at that.”
“How did it happen for you, Dylan?” she asked quietly.
Miss Twenty Questions would drive him mad. But he supposed he’d have to tell his story sooner or later. He sighed, and she must have sensed his sadness because her hand pressed against his until he enfolded her and gave her a squeeze.
“My wife and I were starving to death,” Dylan began, dryness attacking his throat.
Emmy raised her head, her eyes full of questions.
Dylan plucked a strand of hair from her cheek and rubbed it between his fingers. “First, we lost the potatoes—the only crop we were permitted to keep. Then our rent was increased. When I couldn’t pay it, we were forced out of our home by the magistrate, and our cottage was burned to the ground.
“I looked for work, but so many people were displaced—just like we were. Everyone was starving. I stole food when I could find it. Took charity when it was offered.
“Then we heard the Brits were offering free passage to America—a chance for a new start. Breda’s health was already failing. She looked like a wraith. But we had to try.”
Dylan closed his eyes. The picture he’d carried in his heart for so long was finally fading. Red hair, soft brown eyes. “She suffered terribly from seasickness. Many did. We were housed in the hold of the ship. Bunks four-deep. Stacked like cords of wood. The smell of vomit and the dying was often more than I could bear. At night, I’d escape to the deck. The captain didn’t mind, because his first-class passengers were usually in their cabins.”
Emmy touched his face. “You don’t have to go on, if you don’t want to.”
Dylan opened his eyes and shook his head. “One night, I met a man walking near the railing. A storm was picking up, the sea was battering against the hull. Weak as I was, I could barely keep my footing and had decided to go below. Then I saw his face. He was staring, and his eyes were glowing in the dark. I thought I was seeing things. He introduced himself. His name was Navarro.
“He asked me if my woman was dying. I wondered how he knew. I’d never seen him before. How could he know my circumstance? He said he could smell her on me.” Dylan licked his lips, pausing. Doing his best not to be pulled again into the misery of the memory.
“Then he told me there was a way to save her. But there must be a sacrifice. I told him, whatever it was, I’d gladly pay.”
“He was a vampire,” Emmy breathed.
“I gave him my life’s blood. When I awoke, I lay on the deck. I felt powerful, strong. I could see in the dark. Every darkened shadow was as bright as daylight. My sense of smell identified every deckhand. But my hunger was incredible.
“Navarro warned me not to act on the feeling. That he would guide me, but first, I must bring him my wife.
“I carried her to his cabin. She was delirious, but I followed his instructions. While I drank from her, sating my hunger, I felt her life passing, ebbing away like a wave. When it was time to feed her with my blood, she was too weak to drink.” Dylan paused, his voice feeling rusty, his tongue thick. “She died in my arms. I killed her.”
Gasping, Emmy spread her arms across his chest, hugging him tightly.
Dylan drew her up, his arms encircling her, and he pressed his face into the corner of her shoulder. “I’ll not attempt to turn another,” he said, his words muffled against her neck.
Emmy’s shoulders shook. Her tears wet his chest. She cried while he couldn’t. “I don’t think you killed her, Dylan. She was already gone. You acted with good intention and love.” Her head raised and her eyes were bright with tears. “So, tell me how you came to have a Brit for a best friend.”
Dylan laughed, a joyous, freeing laugh, and he rolled Emmy beneath him. “That is a tale for another day. For now, let me come inside you.”
Immediately, Emmy’s legs parted, her knees rising to either side of his hips. Her tentative smile turned to a gasp as he pushed deep inside.
“Stay with me, Emmy.” He drove into her, long powerful thrusts, bathing his cock in her creamy channel, seeking absolution for his sins in the goodness of her human soul. “Be mine, Emmy.”
Emmy’s hand clutched his hips, her fingers digging into his buttocks, encouraging him to propel faster, deeper. “I’ll stay,” she said. “I’ll stay.”
Dylan slowed his pace and leaned back to hook his hands beneath her knees, lifting her buttocks off the bed. “Be warned. I won’t let you change your mind.”
He pumped into her, controlling the depth, pressing deep, then short, deep, short—until she writhed on the bed, her hands on her breasts, twisting her nipples, begging for release.
“Say it. Say you won’t leave.” He swirled his hips to rub the crisp hairs at the base of his cock against her clitoris.
“I promise.” Emmy’s head thrashed upon the pillow. “I won’t leave you. Just fuck me, Dylan. Fuck me.”
Dylan slammed into her, faster and faster, until his hips jack-hammered into her tender channel.
Emmy bucked, her legs straightening, rising higher, sobs erupting from her throat the closer she raised toward the summit. Then her body stiffened, and she cried out.
Dylan continued to pound into her, and then his teeth glided downward. He quickly withdrew, draped her knees over his shoulders, and sank his teeth into her dripping cunt. Her orgasm pulsed against his mouth, around his teeth, trickling blood onto his tongue, and he roared as his cock pressed into the bedding beneath them and exploded.
Afterward, he drew her into his arms, her back to his chest. Their bodies slid together, slick with sweat. Lying on their sides, he drew her upper thigh over his and pressed his cock into her vagina to glove him while they slept.
Emmy murmured as she ran her fingers over his forearm, “What will I do if I wake up horny, and you’re sleeping like the dead?”
“Whatever your heart desires. Have you ever heard of morning wood?”
Emmy snickered. “Then you’ll have a stake between your legs, just for me?”
Tightening his embrace, Dylan grimaced. “A stake anywhere near my person doesn’t engender pleasant thoughts.”
“Even when you are the stake?” She looked over her shoulder and circled her lips with her tongue in a slow tease. “Then how about a pole?”
“I’ve got a bloody pole for you now, witch.”
“But I want to have my wicked way with you while you sleep. I bet you won’t even know it.”
“I will. It’ll be the perfect wet dream.”
*
Emmy woke well past noon. Her inner clock was quickly aligning with Dylan’s, she mused. Stretching like a cat, she rubbed her buttocks against Dylan’s groin. Sure enough, his cock had plenty of starch. She made a space between her thighs and tightened around him, flexing her hips to make him slide along her cunt.
Liquid pooled between her thighs. Her lover was her very own anatomically amazing Dyl-do. The thought made her smile, and she decided she’d tell him that when he woke. He’d laugh, and his laughter would be its own reward. She sensed he’d been tormented for a long time and closed off from deep emotions. But no more. She’d see to his happiness.
Emmy rolled over. Dylan lay on his side, fast asleep, his dark hair spilling across his face.
Her fingers smoothed away the locks, and she leaned close to kiss his lips. Not an eyelash fluttered. She sighed. Sex was so much more fun when he participated.
She pushed him onto his back, and he rolled easily, settling with his legs spread wide.
“How convenient.” He was all hers to explore. She reached for the lamp on the bedside table and flicked it on, tilting the shade to bathe his body in the golden glow.
She straddled his hips, teasing her cunt with a glide over his rigid pole, and leaned down to begin her exploration.
The flat, brown disks on his chest drew her like a magnet. She tongued them, savoring the velvet skin, and then drew the tips between her teeth. As she sucked, they hardened to tiny, beaded points. She wet her fingertips and g
lided them over the tips of her own breasts, tugging the nipples until they grew rigid, then she palmed the sides of her breasts and guided them to rub her nipples against his.
Her breath quickened and her pussy moistened. She drew her bottom lip between her teeth and flexed her hips for another, wetter glide over his cock.
Combing her fingers in the hair on his chest, she raked through it, enjoying its soft, silky texture. She followed the dark arrow of hair down his belly and scooted further down his body. His cock sprang skyward, fuller, redder than before.
She tapped the swollen head. “You’d better be dreaming of me.”
Wrapping her hand around him, she was thrilled her fingers didn’t meet. Then both hands encircled him and she squeezed, pushing downward. Lowering her head, she licked down the length of him, then up the other side. His flesh was satiny-smooth and invited a more thorough examination.
Dylan’s head rolled on the pillow, and he murmured. But still, he slept.
“Oh, Dylan,” she whispered through a wide smile. “I’m going to be a very naughty girl.” And she’d give Dylan the sexiest, wettest dream he’d ever have.
Emmy spit into her hand and rubbed it over the head of his cock. Then she rose on her knees, and with one hand guiding him to her asshole, and the other spreading her cheeks, she sank down on him, gasping when the blunt round head breached her tight ring, and he glided inside.
At first, her tender inner flesh resisted the intrusion, but she screwed down him, pushed down and levered up, then down again, reveling in the painful fullness. Again, she wet her fingertips and sought her clitoris, already swelling with arousal, and swirled her fingers over it, rubbing harder as she picked up the pace, pumping her ass on his cock.
Her climax built gradually, and she closed her eyes, arching her back as it burst over her. She groaned loudly, her hips jerking until she couldn’t move again.
With a sigh, she collapsed onto his chest and rubbed her face in his hair. “Baby, if you only knew how bad I really am.”
Emmy eased off him and retrieved a washcloth from the bathroom. As she cleansed his body, she admitted a possessive streak she’d never known. He was hers. Every sexy, rigid inch of this man.