The Mammoth Book of Hot Romance

by Sonia Florens

  Or at least, it could not have been its allure before he followed me to a deserted car park, on a rainy autumn night.

  “What is so very pretty about it?” I ask.

  He doesn’t hesitate. “You don’t know? There’s nothing like a bare pussy. Especially not when it’s so soft and plump and like a mouth. Just makes you want to kiss it. And look how wet you are – you’re such a tough cookie and yet you’re soaking and I can see how stiff and swollen your clit is. I bet you want me to lick it, right? I bet you’re just gagging for me to lick it.”

  I have a vague idea of what he’s talking about. Though my overriding concern is for the heat that’s pulsing through my body, and the ache that’s in my gums. I’m not going to make it to the end of whatever he is about to do.

  And for one of the few times in my long life, I regret that. I regret what I am.

  It’s lucky, really, that he has mercy on me. He spreads his big hands over my thighs, thumbs digging into a place I didn’t even know was sensitive – those sweet hollows just before the swell of my sex – and then he simply leans forwards and licks the entire length of my slit.

  I let my head go back, for that.

  I clamp my teeth together against the rising ache in my gums, when he opens that slit up with the next swipe of his tongue. That little bead at the apex of my sex – he almost grazes it. Almost, but wretchedly not quite.

  My back arches. My body is entirely not my own now, it seems.

  “You like that?” he asks, before the next teasing lick. “You like my mouth on your pussy? Tell me you like it. Tell me you want me to lick and lick your clit until you come all over my face.”

  I do. I know what he means and I do want it. I want to rise up on a wave of pleasure like the one that comes when blood first bursts into my mouth. I think I remember it being more than that, however – so much more that it’s now making me tense with expectation to think on it.

  Can it have been? Why is it that I have forgotten such a thing?

  Because Tommy is gone, I think, and then I arch again to feel his mouth on me. The hot gust of his breath and the teasing flick of his tongue and, oh please, just go on. Devour me, please.

  When he finally licks my clit, I am not ashamed of the noise that comes out of me. It’s a gasping sigh of the sort he offered me the night before, and he rewards me for it with another lap at that little bead. I can feel a pulse beating in it and the pulse gets faster and harder to ignore the more attention he pays it, until all my blood and every sensation in me seems centred right there.

  I arch on the bed, twisting the sheets into angry knots with hands that are almost claws, clamping down hard on the ache in my gums but knowing I won’t succeed. He is going to bring it out of me – and I know it even better when he finds my wet and grasping hole with two thick fingers, and pushes them into me.

  Now his tongue lies flat over my clit, rubbing and working at me while his fingers thrust just as his prick might do. I can’t recall if this is exactly how it feels to be filled by a man’s sex, but I am sure it isn’t far away. All this urgency, this pleasure.

  And then he stops, and the pleasure is no more.

  I snarl at him before I can stop myself, but he only sits back on his heels and looks down on me. Smug, I think. All human men are smug. I snarl again, and this time I don’t want to stop myself.

  He licks his gleaming lips, as he snatches his jeans up from the floor. Out of his pocket he takes a little square thing – one that I only understand when he strips it open and smoothes a disgusting layer of rubber over his delicious-smelling prick.

  I almost stop him. I could thrall him, and stop him – he would forget all about getting me with child or catching diseases or whatever other sort of thing he’s thinking of. But of course, there is one disease that I can give him, and though him tasting my cunt and fucking into me might not turn him …

  It also might. It definitely will if I lose control and bite him in the middle of him being in me and feeling all of my liquid close around his bare flesh. With my taste still in his mouth. With my saliva in his body from having his cock in my mouth.

  So I don’t stop him.

  “Jesus, I can’t wait to be in that tight little pussy,” he groans, and my hips jerk up to him. My body sobs with a desire I shouldn’t feel. When he spreads himself over me, it’s as though his heat fills me up before his prick does.

  I strain towards my end.

  “It’s OK, it’s OK, shhh,” he says, as though calming me. And perhaps he is. His hand strokes over my hip before his prick slides into me and, when the very tip of him grazes my clit, that same hand keeps me still.

  The idea of keeping him still sings through me. Oh, the things I could do with him. The pleasures I could show him, how I could train him – it wouldn’t go wrong as it did with Tommy. I swear it wouldn’t, only let me, let me!

  I turn my face away from his eager open one, furious with him. Furious with him for tempting me.

  But then he slides that solid length of red-hot heat into me, and I can’t feel anything at all, pleasure aside. I gasp and for a second I am certain I have bared my teeth to him, that they’re out and he can see them.

  A second that soon dies, when he shoves in hard and lets his expression go slack with bliss.

  He gets up on his arms over me, working in slow at first but quickly building to something more. Soon, his prick is surging in and out of me in a way I can barely process, his hips rolling against mine and his groans filling my ears.

  His hands go all over me, here and there. His fingers skitter over the tight-pursed buds of my nipples, sometimes pinching, sometimes not. When he bends to lick one of them, I fight and squirm against him, desperate to escape these torturous sensations.

  But he knows the real score.

  “Do you like that?” he asks, but I can’t answer. I have to control myself. I have to keep my eyes closed and not think about him jerking against me.

  When his hand slides between our bodies to touch my little bud, I think water spills from my eyes.

  “You do, don’t you? Ah, look how wet you are,” he says. “Tell me you want me – God, I want you. You feel so good, baby, so good.”

  I wish I could tell him how good he feels to me. So solid inside me, waking nerves I didn’t realize I had. I cry out, and feel my cunt clench around his prick like a clamping mouth – and, oh, he likes that. Do that again, he begs me, before his expression and his voice are lost in pleasure.

  He circles his finger quick on my clit. Tells me hurry, hurry.

  He’s going to spend, soon. He has no control – his hips are churning and his prick is swelling and he moans my name, over and over. But it’s OK, because I have no control, either. When he opens those eyes I know what he’s going to see – and I don’t wish to hide it any more.

  He can look his fill and then run, as his kind always do. I will let him run away, before this pleasure overwhelms me.

  Though it washes over me strongly when he finally does open his eyes. I smell the fear immediately spiking through him before anything else, and then he jerks, as though struck. He jerks, but he doesn’t try to get away from me. Though his eyes widen and his mouth opens, he doesn’t stop driving into me.

  In fact, if anything his movements become even more frantic and erratic. He tries to say something, but I honestly cannot imagine what words are going to come out of his mouth. Are there going to be terrified questions, horrified screams?

  Humans are so tiresomely predictable.

  When he isn’t predictable at all, I become the frightened one.

  “Oh my God,” he says. “What are you?”

  But he doesn’t say it in a terrified sort of way. He breathes it, in the same way I heard him breathe his desire for me. His eyes are lit with a strange sort of light – a liquid fascination that he can’t deny.

  It isn’t like the drooling imbecilic wannabes, however. It’s a glorious, breathtaking thing.

  “You’re a vampire,
aren’t you? I knew. I knew you were something. I felt it, inside me.”

  With such words washing over me, it isn’t so difficult to show him my pleasure. I let him see what he is doing to me, in return for his words – I lift my hips to meet his, sheathing him to the hilt in my slippery sex. I tremble for him, all over.

  He seems to appreciate both things. His eyes flutter closed, and then open again as though he has to keep drinking me in. My difference swamps him, I know. It swamps him, but in a way I’ve never seen before.

  It is a pleasure to him. It’s easy enough to see when I part and then close my lips, part and then close my lips – almost like a bite, taken out of nothing but thin air – and he responds in kind.

  He actually leans down to me and makes a little biting gesture, in return!

  I wish I could tell him what that means to me. But it is unnecessary, because he then goes one better.

  “Oh God,” he moans. “Are you going to turn me? Are you going to make me what you are?”

  And even worse, he turns his face to one side and bares his throat to me. He shakes, as he does it. He shakes, and not just with fear – I think it may be that the act of giving himself to me actually brings him pleasure. So much so that he suddenly gasps, and starts to fall over the edge into his climax.

  I can’t blame him. His words, his desire for me – even knowing what I am – they send me over the edge, too. Before I can gather my wits or think about restraint or hate him for bringing me to this, my body goes rigid. Great waves of sensation pour through me, pulling me apart and apart and never letting me come together again, as I once was.

  My clit jumps against his still rubbing finger. My sex flutters around his swelling prick, over and over. I call out his name, as he shakes and spills inside me. He is still moaning and shuddering, when I decide. It will be different this time, I know, because no pleasure can come from something wretched and broken.

  He will not be broken by me.

  As the pleasure ebbs, I let my truest self come out. He keeps his face turned away – so easily submissive! – as I snap my head up, and sink my teeth into his perfect ivory throat.

  Three

  When he wakes up, he does not look as Tommy did. He doesn’t look scared, though I suppose he must be, somewhere inside. He has the advantage of foreknowledge, however – he knew what was coming to him and embraced it.

  Perhaps that will make a difference. That, and the fact that I won’t make the same mistakes as I did with Tommy. I will be patient with Nick. I will not be impatient with his desires or angry because I cannot understand them. I do understand them now.

  He has shown me what my body is, and all of the pleasures it had forgotten.

  He strains against the bonds I have fixed around his wrists, but not with any fear. He moves as though sensation is surging up and down his naked body – which I suppose it is. The smell of my blood, the beat of my heart – all will be new and rich to him.

  And yet I still don’t expect the words he says: “Thank you,” he tells me, as his glorious ivory body stretched and relaxes, stretches and relaxes. “Thank you for making me what you are.”

  Warmth floods through me to hear him say such things. I sit on the edge of the bed beside him, and he cannot resist snapping his new pin-sharp teeth at me. Just a little – just playful. Though with a hint of menace lurking in the background.

  He would if he could. But he can’t, because I am going to show him the wa. Control first, then play. If you do not learn control when first turned, you’re likely to go mad.

  And then I would have to kill you. I would have to put my hands about your neck, and squeeze the life out of you until there is nothing left, nothing left of my beloved.

  “What happens now?” he asks, between straining breaths. “Why have you tied me up like this?”

  I stroke his smooth flanks. Smooth the hair from his brow.

  “Now I’m going to teach you,” I say, and he smiles. He is lovely when he smiles. “You taught me how to remember pleasure, so in return … in return I am going to teach you something.”

  He raises one eyebrow, lips curling – still himself even with the hunger upon him. “And what might that be?” he asks, as I lean down for a kiss he’s going to have to plead and beg and work himself into knots for. After all, it’s the only way he’ll learn. You have to be cruel to be kind.

  “Why, how to be a vampire, darling boy,” I reply. “I’m going to teach you how to be a vampire.”

  Rogue Heart

  Sasha White

  One

  Miranda Grey glanced at the lone body in the pub when she came out of the office after locking everything up. The Zodiac was closed for the night, and she was finally alone with the man who’d been driving her crazy for the past two months.

  Ex-military man turned pub cook Jake Wolf was the sexiest guy she’d ever met. Blond hair, blue eyes and muscles that bulged even when he was at rest made heat curl low in her belly every time she looked at him. During the past couple of months, the man had made her realize just how hot desire could burn.

  More importantly, Jake was the man who made her want to toss aside all the nice girl rules she’d grown up with and become the bold bad girl it would take to tame him. The question was, was she brave enough to actually go for it now that she had him alone?

  Damn right she was.

  Straightening her spine and pushing out her breasts the way she’d seen so many other women do, she ran a trembling hand over her hair, licked her lips and sauntered towards him. He kept his eyes on the pool table as he lined up a shot then sent the last coloured ball into a pocket.

  “Alone at last,” she said in what she hoped was a sultry voice. Yes, it was a cheesy line, but it was all she could think of. She wasn’t exactly used to making the first move.

  Jake’s lips tilted up at one corner. “Finally decided to go for it, huh, darlin’?”

  Damn it! Was she that obvious?

  He’d been using casual touches and seductive smiles to taunt her sensually since the first day they met two months earlier. It was time to turn the tables on him.

  Heart pounding, Miranda cocked a hip and studied him, unsure of exactly how to move forwards without looking like the inexperienced idiot she felt like. She’d only had three lovers in her life, and none had gotten her as turned on as she was just standing there with Jake. Lord, how she wanted to get him naked and lick him all over. The heat in his eyes, and the butterflies that swarmed in her stomach every time he looked at her promised that he would open up a whole new world for her.

  As if he could read her mind, he set the pool cue on top of the table and turned to face her completely. “Well,” he said, holding his hands out, palms up. “Are you going to stand there all night, or are you going to take a taste?”

  His challenge sent a ripple of pure hunger through her. Miranda stepped forwards until there were mere inches between them, then stood on her tiptoes, braced her hands on his shoulders and kissed him.

  He stood still, his lips surprisingly soft and supple … and unmoving beneath hers. Heat built within as she rubbed and nuzzled at his closed mouth until, with a final frustrated growl, she slid her hands into his hair to hold him and thrust her tongue between his lips hungrily. The instant her tongue touched his, Jake came alive.

  Firm hands circled her waist and pulled her flush against him as he pressed back and took control of the kiss … and of her heart rate.

  Fire coursed through her veins and only his touch could put it out. Her sighs turned to moans then to growls as she rubbed and pressed against him. Miranda revelled in the hardness of his cock against her belly as her pulse raced and her insides trembled with her need. She’d done that. She’d made him hard with desire.

  Jake pulled back, panting, and stared deep into her eyes. “Are you sure you want this, darlin’? I can’t promise you anything.”

  “Can you promise me an orgasm?”

  His lips twitched. “Yeah, I can promise you that.”


  She slid her hands across his shoulders and pulled him against her again. “Then I’m sure.”

  With a soft groan and a small shake of his head he kissed her again. Jake’s hands splayed across her back then moved up to cup her face as he deepened the kiss. But it wasn’t enough; he was going too slow, being too gentle. The fire in her blood demanded more from him.

  Tearing her mouth out from under his, she spoke before she thought. “Touch me, Jake,” she ordered as she met his heated gaze. Covering his hand with hers, she led it to her aching breast. “Stop treating me like a damn virgin, and touch me like a woman.”

  His eyes widened for a split second then his lips curled into a devilish grin. “Yes, ma’am,” he said before he gripped her hips in both hands and lifted her on to the pool table. Stepping between her spread thighs he proceeded to do exactly that.

  Three months later.

  Gentle but firm hands stroked down Miranda’s back, leaving a trail of tingling flesh in their wake. She moaned softly as she slowly eased from deep sleep to semi-consciousness. “Did you have a good night?” she mumbled to the man who’d just crawled into bed with her.

  “Busy,” Jake said as his lips trailed over her shoulder to her neck. “You’ll be happy when you do the cash.”

  She rolled on to her back and tilted her head to give him better access, sighing as his soft lips caressed her neck, finding that sensitive spot just behind her ear that made her shiver and bite her lip to keep from begging for more.

  “And you?” she asked teasingly, as her hands wandered between them to the hot hardness poking against her hip. “What’s made you so happy?”

  “You. In my bed when I get home from work.”

  A large hand skimmed over Miranda’s ribs and cupped a breast through the silk of her short nightie, and she couldn’t stop another moan from escaping. She loved the way Jake touched her. Her body came alive under his hands in a way that continued to surprise her.