by amy o'connor
He’d behaved towards her the same way he would have any one of the experienced high-society women he could pick up so easily. They were little better than expensive whores — buy them an over-priced bauble or two and they’d happily let him take them however he liked.
Not that she hadn’t been willing…
Todd lowered his head onto hers, inhaling the scent of her hair. Damn but she smelled good!
He pulled his hand carefully out from underneath her, and stalked around the car to the drivers side. She grumbled in her sleep at the disturbance, then turned away, curling her legs up underneath her.
How old was he? He thumped a fist on the steering wheel. Too old to be making baby mistakes like that! Dammit! He wanted her blood, and he wanted it right now. And he was going to have to wait.
Todd let his head fall back onto the seat, and tried to get comfortable. Much as he wanted to, he was not going to rip her panties off her and fuck her in the back seat of his car. He was more mature than that.
Hell, he was uncomfortable! The drive home had never looked longer.
* * * *
Gwen awoke with a crick in her neck. She stretched luxuriously, her head filled with thoughts of what she’d just done. She was vaguely aware of the thrum of the tires on the road and the gentle motion of the car but, overall, she felt good. Satisfied. Happy.
Could sex do so much, she wondered, swiveling her head from side to side in a careful attempt to loosen her joints. As she twisted, she caught a glimpse of Todd.
He looked relaxed, but his dark glasses hid his eyes. It was more in the way he guided the car so effortlessly through the mid-morning traffic, seemingly totally unaware of the chaos outside the car. The air conditioner was on, cool air blew gently around them, and soft music wafted from the CD player.
He glanced sideways, a slow, sexy smile softening his face before he returned his attention to the road. “Hullo again.”
Gwen blushed. She could actually feel the heat as the pink tinge raced upwards. “Hi.” She sounded shy, and turned a deeper shade of red as she realized. He was going to think she was totally inexperienced.
His voice interrupted her thoughts. “We’re nearly there.” He waved a hand in the direction of a tall building directly ahead of the car.
The apartment building soared upwards, seemingly emerging right out of the harbor behind it. If it wasn’t for the brilliant green foliage all around it’s base, the swath of well-watered lawn, and bed after bed of carefully tended spring flowers, it would have been easy to imagine it as some weirdly-proportioned ship that happened to be moored right there in front of them.
She’d seen pictures of the building soon after it was built, and had heard all the hype. The architect had been roundly criticized for letting his imagination run away with him — one newspaper had been cruel enough to suggest he’d simply lost his mind — but he’d created a very different, and strangely beautiful building, right on the harbor forefront. He’d said he’d been influenced by the old timber warships of the 1400’s, yet he’d designed the building entirely in steel and glass. There wasn’t a ‘ship’ in sight. Not even a porthole. But he had managed to capture the rounded lines, and the building somehow gave the impression of bobbing on the water behind it.
If she’d chosen to live here in town, it was the sort of building she’d have liked to live in. It was also very expensive and a one bedroom condo would have cost her a small fortune. After casually bidding $20,000 for her, she’d known Todd Martin was rich, but she hadn’t realized quite how rich until she saw where he lived.
She was still mulling over the fact that they had such similar tastes when he ushered her inside. The similarities stopped right there. While her cottage wasn’t exactly chintzy, it was well lived-in and very, very comfortable. She was by no means a neat-freak. Todd, however, appeared to be the opposite and his condo was unashamedly modern. It wasn’t quite the uncluttered white minimalist look of the decorator magazines, but it wasn’t so far off it either.
The inside was as spectacular as the building itself, and it was absolutely enormous. He pointed out the guest bathroom, and deposited her bag on the bed in the room next door; nothing personal on the dresser she noted with relief — a guest room. Then she was hustled back to the living area, where she found herself seated on the couch, a cold drink being pressed into her hands.
Gwen stared out the floor-to-ceiling glass windows, her eyes absently following the movements of a solitary yacht far below. The cushions shifted under her, and she snapped her head around. The glass was plucked neatly out of her fingers as she jumped.
He smiled, and handed it back. “Don’t spill it.”
Todd had seated himself beside her, and a few inches still separated them. He was no closer than he had been in the car, but it felt closer. There was no stick shift separating them, and there was something terribly predatory about his smile. In some ways it was no different to before but, without his glasses, she could see his eyes. She could get trapped in his eyes…
Gwen shook her head slowly, shocked by how hard it was to drag her eyes away from his gaze. She could feel his body heat, could almost feel the magnetic pull that had her swaying towards him. And his scent. He was one hundred per cent pure, hungry male. Captivating…
Sitting so close to him was driving her insane — what else could account for the way she could literally feel her blood warming up? And the rush of desire, of need. This time, she knew exactly what it was that she wanted. No, she knew what she needed.
His head lowered, and she stared in fascination as his eyes glazed, their pupils growing until the black nearly swallowed the beautiful deep green. He bent lower, whispering in a language she didn’t know, and nuzzled at her neck. Her eyes closed and she relaxed back against the cushions in helpless surrender. Who cared that he was almost a stranger? All that mattered right this minute was that he was going to kiss her.
Warm breath feathered on her neck. The glass slipped from her nerveless fingers. She tensed, waiting, her muscles clenched in anticipation. The delay was heaven — and hell. Her tension was spiraling, his face was so close, yet he still wasn’t touching her. It was almost like he was… sniffing her?
Her blood pounded, every beat of her heart heavier than the last as the anticipation stretched. She couldn’t stand it any more and reached out to him in sheer frustration, twined her fingers in his hair and dragged him closer.
Finally, his lips met hers. Ever so gently he kissed her, a teasingly chaste closed-mouth kiss, the pressure of his lips on hers so soft it was almost imaginary. Her breath left her in a sigh as she slumped deeper into the cushions. His teeth nipped at her lower lip. The erotic little movement sent shivers racing through her tummy.
“Mine for the weekend, hmm?” His voice was a sinful whisper against her mouth. Then his tongue traced the crease of her lips. “Open for me.”
Helplessly — willingly — she obeyed.
As she did he leaned closer, crowding her into the sofa. Once again she was trapped under him, and the memory of what he’d done to her last time sent moisture pooling between her legs. She squirmed, embarrassed by her easy capitulation. His lips creased and his eyes crinkled, the deep green once again visible.
Half disgusted with her own lack of self-control, half totally impatient for him to get on with it, Gwen closed her eyes. She didn’t want to see as that knowing male smile played across his face. She just wanted to feel again, to feel the freedom of doing what she wanted with someone she was unlikely to ever meet again after this one weekend. For once, she’d do what she wanted, and consequences be damned.
He leant back and, for an instant, she was bereft. Then his hands were at her buttons and within moments the soft fabric of her blouse was draped open, exposing her bra.
She moistened her lips, suddenly unsure. Her hands fluttered upwards, uncertain about the ‘rules’ of seduction, and he caught her wrists between strong fingers and pressed them back against the cool leather.
&
nbsp; “Shhh. Trust me.”
Trust him?
In the background, the air conditioner hummed. She could even hear the way the wind rushed around the outside of the building. It was peaceful. Non-threatening. And he was just waiting there, her hands grasped lightly in his.
She wasn’t used to hesitating. To go ahead, or not? Now was obviously her chance if she was going to cry off. A stray tendril of hair tickled her nose and she blew upwards in exasperation.
Then she nodded.
His weight was still pressing in on her, a soothing mass, rather than a confining one, yet she doubted she could move away if she wanted to. Almost like he was reading her mind, he pressed his chest more firmly against hers, and his buttons rubbed roughly against her nearly naked chest. The scrap of dark green lace she’d chosen this morning may have given her inner self-confidence when she was standing on the stage, but it wasn’t much protection against a large, aroused man.
And he was definitely aroused. His body rubbed slowly, continually, against hers, up and down, as sveltely sensual as an over-sized tabby cat. She couldn’t mistake the hard bulge in his trousers.
Her hands were still trapped in his, his weight even heavier as he leaned impossibly closer. Her breath caught in her throat, and for an instant she forgot to breathe. Then his mouth was back on her neck again, his teeth scraping erotically back and forth over her skin. His tongue traced a lazy route up towards her ear, then swiped its way back down until he was nuzzling between her breasts. The damp trail he left behind was at first cool, but gradually seemed to sizzle with an eerie heat. His mouth moved lower, licking at her skin through the lace, then slowly, languidly, he sucked one nipple deep into his mouth.
No, not a tabby cat, she realized through a distant haze. He couldn’t be anything so tame. A panther. Definitely a panther.
She shuddered, mindlessly trying to lift her hands to his head. To hold him closer? To push him away? She didn’t know, couldn’t divert her attention from the way he’d curled his tongue around the nipple and was slowly drawing it further into his mouth, apparently oblivious to the lace between them.
“Mine,” he murmured, and nipped down, mildly punishing.
Silenced by his unexpected possessiveness, she didn’t even stir as he released her hands. His groin rubbed suggestively against her, catching her attention, then her breasts were bared. For a second his mouth left her nipple, she felt him tug her strapless brassiere loose, then there was a vague impression of it sailing past her ear and landing on the timber boards in a slither of silk.
Before she could think, his mouth was back on her breast, suckling appreciatively. A moment’s exposure to the cooler air made his mouth feel hotter than ever, his deft fingers partially distracting her from the fact she was exposed from the waist up and he was still fully dressed. His hands and mouth seemed to be everywhere at once, and her skin was taking on a life of its own. The fabrics she’d thought were so soft when she chose them had become coarse and abraded her over-sensitized skin.
Even as she thought it, as she wriggled under the itchy fabric, he was stripping off the rest of her clothes. Her arms were raised as he unthreaded them simultaneously from her jacket and blouse, first one then another, each arm falling limply back to her side. His hands slid under her bottom, strong fingers digging into her buttocks as he shifted her forward on the seat until her legs draped over the edge. A swift tug and her skirt puddled around her ankles, the fabric sliding sensuously over her silk stockings.
Gwen squirmed more urgently as Todd took advantage of her sensitivity, his fingers gliding lightly over the silk, tracing patterns on her legs that swept oh-so-close to her panties before gliding tantalizingly away. She was going to go mad if he didn’t touch her soon.
The blood had gathered between her legs, she could feel every heart beat throbbing out her need. Yet still he teased, pushing her gradually higher and higher until she was biting her lip to keep from crying out.
Finally, his fingers grasped her panties, one thumb hooked under each edge, the width of his hands forcing her thighs to splay wide. She lifted her hips, hoping he’d yank the damn things off. He paused — a heartbeat that stretched to an eternity — then tugged hard.
Gwen bit her lip as they gave at the sides leaving her completely nude, exposed, his hands still wedging her thighs apart. The fact she was still wearing her lace-topped stockings only made her feel more naked, not less. The sensual fog he’d so effortlessly wrapped her in was thinning but it hadn’t quite evaporated. The rougher skin on the pads of his thumbs snagged on the lace as he swirled slow, mesmerizing patterns and, almost against her will, she forced her eyes open.
Todd was hunkered down between her spread legs, his eyes hungry as he stared at what he’d revealed. Somehow, he’d managed to strip her naked without a single token protest — she had vague memories of actually helping him — and he’d left her sprawled wantonly across his black leather sofa, her skin shockingly white in contrast.
Suddenly, she was aware that he was still fully dressed, he hadn’t even kicked off his shoes. She blushed, fascinated by the way the flush of pink slowly tinged her entire body.
Automatically, she started to pull her legs together, only to find his hands immovable between her spread legs. His eyes traced a slow route up her body, lingering at her wet pussy. Gwen wriggled, unable to stay still under his scrutiny. No one had ever looked at her quite like that. He looked like he intended to feast — on her — and the way he kept looking at her embarrassingly dripping pussy sent her tummy into an uncomfortable free-fall.
Though maybe ‘uncomfortable’ wasn’t quite the right word…
He licked his lips, the message clear, then raised his head, his eyes boring into hers. The green had disappeared again, and the predator was back. She shivered, a primordial response, then shook her head to clear away the silliness. He was just a man. Nothing special. Nothing threatening.
Then why did she feel quite so… targeted??
“Put your hands above your head,” he ordered, his eyes never leaving hers. She hesitated, before shrugging it off. He knew what he was doing, didn’t he?
“Now,” his voice rumbled against her thighs as he slid lower, “time to taste you.”
“I don’t think — “ She struggled briefly, finding it nearly impossible to sit up from her precarious position teetering on the edge of the sofa.
He buried his head between her thighs. The first long lick of his tongue left a wet line between her lips. Against her will, her eyes closed, and she gave up, letting herself collapse back into the sofa, her arms still draped obediently above her head.
Her body had melted. Her muscles were on holiday. She just couldn’t move as fire flashed through her, every nibble, every lick setting off a fresh lightning storm in her bloodstream. Her hips jerked mindlessly into his mouth, her fists screwed closed. And his tongue kept torturing her, edging her closer and closer to that cliff she’d experienced so recently.
Skating so long on the edge was driving her insane. She could hear herself moaning, begging, pleading for something. His answer was muffled between her legs, his tongue barely pausing as he delved and harried her until she was mewling, no longer able to put two cohesive thoughts together. His mouth was hot, burning her, and still he didn’t stop.
She felt him move, his face bumped against her clit. He bit down hard. Her scream of pain turned into one of pleasure as the lightning lanced through her, tossing her heavenwards. His mouth continued to work at her pussy, suckling and slurping, milking every possible drop of pleasure.
* * * *
God, she tasted good!
Feeding wasn’t exactly a chore, but it was usually a lot less enjoyable. He’d figured she’d be tasty — she’d smelled so good even across a crowded room — yet when he actually got close enough to lick and nibble his way down her body…
What was her name? Gwyneth. For some reason it seemed important to remember that. She wasn’t just ‘dinner’, she wasn’t ‘ho
ney’, she was ‘Gwyneth’.
He picked himself up wearily, and sprawled across the sofa beside her. Damn, she’d been nice. His fangs had lowered before he’d even got his head between her legs, and the smell of her juices soaking into her panties had been the most amazing starter to a seriously good meal.
The taste of her cream… He licked his lips at the pleasurable memory. He’d have to see if he could make her come even harder next time. It would be all the more enjoyable for him.
He smiled. Au naturel Gwyneth was a hell of a lot better than all the expensive haute cuisine women he’d been dining on recently. He licked a stray drop of her blood from his mouth and twisted to look at her more closely.
She was sprawled where he’d dropped her, her eyes closed and her skin pale. It had been too tempting to drink deeply, so he’d stopped sooner than usual. There was still at least one more good solid meal in her before he did any damage, and maybe a couple of spare snacks. Her blood was thick and rich, made especially for him.
Her heart beat rapidly, from exertion rather than blood loss, and he smiled in satisfaction. Obviously, he still had it. Not only had he made sure she enjoyed the experience, but he’d obviously managed to control her mind as he fed, despite the fact he couldn’t read her thoughts. And taking the blood directly from her swollen cunt, well… There was nothing like it.
A stray hair lay across her face, and he reached out to brush it from her eyes. She stirred, a contented smile softening her face before she dropped back into a deeper sleep.
Head cocked, he watched her sleep. Her pulse still fluttered in her throat, but his attention was caught by her face, so vulnerable when her eyes were closed. He wasn’t really sure why, but he wasn’t quite comfortable. Normally, he’d leave the woman to sleep it off at this point, maybe throw together a quick meal before sending her home. It didn’t feel right, though.
He gnawed his lip thoughtfully, before jerking upright, exasperated with himself. Since when did he start getting maudlin over a meal?