Thunder and Lightning

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Thunder and Lightning Page 8

by Calista Fox


  Giving a slight nod of her head, she said, “I don’t want to waste a second with you either.” Her eyes opened as she added, “I want you to touch me and taste me and love me too. And you can’t even imagine how I intend to reciprocate.”

  He groaned. Then his lips pressed to hers and everything seemed right again. She could let the inevitable fall by the wayside tonight. What mattered most was the time they had together.

  She kissed him in return, passionately. Giving herself to him as though they had an eternity to love each other. She wouldn’t hold back. If one night was all they could share, then she intended to make the most of it.

  When he leaned against her, pressing his front to her back, she inched toward the mattress. Still partially on her side, not quite on her stomach, she allowed him full access to her body. One hand slid around the side of her that hovered over the mattress and cupped her breast. The other hand moved between her legs, fingering her in the way that drove her wild. Teasing her clit with a slow, circular motion, then delving deep into her wet pussy.

  “I want you to come again,” he mumbled into her ear. “And again. And—”

  “And you know what I want.”

  He chuckled. “Baby, I’ll give you whatever you want. But first—”

  “First,” she said as her hand slid between them and she wrapped her fingers around his thick erection. “Let’s see how hard I can make you.”

  He groaned. Or snarled. It was hard to tell, the sound was so carnal and primal. And so damned erotic.

  “Not sure you can top this.”

  True, his cock was full and steel-rod hard. She could push him to the edge, though.

  She stroked him from base to tip. In response, he went back to her clit, applied a little more pressure. Rubbed a little faster. Made her so much hotter.

  Her pulse kicked into high gear. “Battle of wills,” she whispered, suddenly feeling playful.

  “You really think you can win this one, sweetheart?” Three fingers filled her and she gasped as the sweet invasion made her shiver from head to toe.

  “You’ve clearly got some tricks up your sleeves,” she said when the wave of breathlessness subsided. Sort of.

  “I’m not wearing sleeves.”

  “Oh yeah. Naked is damned good.”

  “You’re damned good,” he said. And stroked her a little harder, a little faster. “Better than that.” His voice was getting gruffer, more strained.

  She resisted the urge to gloat. Instead she cupped his balls, gave a gentle tug and said, “We still haven’t gotten to the fire-extinguisher sex.”

  He grunted. “Goddamn. You’re pushing limits now.”

  “Isn’t that the point?”

  “I’m about to skip fancy stuff.”

  She smiled. “By all means, skip. Go straight to—”

  He nearly toppled her. Bev let out a laugh. His muscular body was half on top of hers and she was sprawled across the bed. The tip of his cock nudged her ass, then moved lower as he shifted into place. Pressing against her opening, but not yet indulging their darkest desires.

  Looking at him over her shoulder again, she said, “I don’t need all the bells and whistles. I just need you.”

  Something carnal and hot flashed in his black eyes. “You have me.”

  Her heart jumped into her throat. She squeezed her eyes shut. She wanted him. In every way imaginable. “We already established that’s not possible.” Her eyes flicked open and met his intense gaze once more.

  “Just say what you want, baby.” His throat looked tight, his eyes burned with desire.

  It was so simple this time. “You.”

  “There you have it.”

  And then he leaned forward and his cock pressed into her from behind. Not filling her. Teasing her.

  She let out a low moan.

  His hands seemed to be everywhere at once. On her shoulders, her breasts, her belly, her clit.

  Losing herself in the sexual abyss, she let him push her to all new, dizzying heights. When she could stand no more, she whispered, “Inside me. Please. Now.”

  He drove deep. Made her cry out from the beautiful, hot, erotic invasion.

  “I love how you feel inside me.” The words tumbled from her mouth. Not the smartest thing to say, but she couldn’t help it. She spoke the truth. Wanted him to know it.

  He pushed deeper. His smooth, rigid chest pressed to her back, his lower body melding to hers. They became one. She’d felt that earlier, on the second floor landing, when he’d made love to her with such a fevered pitch it was a wonder the storm outside hadn’t shattered the windows.

  It was so much more intense now. And she couldn’t escape the eroticism of the moment. The sensuality. The passion. The intensity. Both physical and emotional.

  He moved inside her with full, confident strokes. Once again, one hand cupped a breast, the other teased her clit until she couldn’t fight the sensations closing in on her. She let them take over and called out his name as she came. But he didn’t stop or let up. He pushed deeper inside her and she responded to him. Wanting more.

  She could barely breathe. It didn’t matter.

  She reached for the intricately designed wrought-iron headboard and wrapped her fingers around the smooth, cool metal. Held on tight.

  His body was pressed against hers. She wanted more. Impossible, but damn it. She wanted more.

  “Fuck me,” she said.

  He was already thrusting deep into her. Yet somehow managed to rush them toward a frenzied crescendo. Her grip tightened on the iron design her fingers were wrapped around as she demanded more from him.

  He whispered in her ear, “Careful.”

  “No,” she shot back. “Not this time.”

  She wanted everything he had to give.

  “Bev.” His strained voice issued a warning.

  “Come inside me. You know it’s what I want. What you want. Do it.”

  He moved even quicker inside her. A frantic pace that had her clutching the headboard and all but screaming erotic words she’d never uttered before. Her entire body turned molten and pliable, putty in his very capable hands. She didn’t sound the least bit coherent even to herself, but it didn’t matter. The way he hammered into her, pleasured her, gave her all of him…

  “Oh god, yes!” The first wave slammed over her, only to be followed by a tsunami of sensations as he fucked her harder, faster.

  She screamed. To hell with the neighbors. She clutched the wrought iron, clung to it, holding on for dear life as he took her over and over again. There was really no beginning and no end. Her pleasure went on and on and on. And it was so much more exquisite than anything she’d ever imagined possible.

  Six-hundred-plus years. And she was finally deliriously happy. Sated. Content.

  And then the oddest thing happened. A sharp scrape across her shoulder. A deep growl. The feel of blood trickling along her skin. And then…

  Nothing.

  Chapter Eight

  The sound of the drywall caving against his weight as his shoulder slammed into the wall across the room echoed in his ears, along with the erratic pounding of Bev’s heart.

  The taste of her blood lingered on his tongue. One small bead remained on his bottom lip.

  Something’s not right. Aside from the fact he’d accidentally lacerated her skin with his teeth.

  Unintentional.

  He’d opened his mouth to let loose a sound welling within him that bordered on a roar of erotic pleasure. He’d been wild with ecstasy, so close to his own completion yet still wanting to give her more.

  She’d moved unexpectedly, practically clawing her way up the wall as he’d pushed her higher and higher. Making her scream and moan and come. Repeatedly.

  And his sharp teeth had sliced her skin.

  Jesus, he’d been damned close to losing it completely this time. He’d never known such passion and excitement. Such erotic intimacy. Such sexual exhilaration.

  But as soon as he’d gotten
his first taste of her, everything had changed.

  He’d forced himself away from her. Was shocked he’d found the resolve.

  Then again…not so much.

  Because something wasn’t right.

  The notion had registered with lightning-quick speed in his mind, flashing like the biggest, brightest beacon. And it still haunted him.

  Something’s not right!

  His gaze landed on Bev, curled up in the middle of the bed, breathing heavily, her chest rising and falling in staccato beats. Her eyes were wild with orgasmic delight yet tinged with confusion and uncertainty. Perhaps even a hint of fear. She stared at him like he was some untamable, rabid animal.

  And in some ways, he was.

  But no… He wasn’t advancing on her, wasn’t even remotely close to attacking her. Ravaging her. Draining her.

  Because something most definitely was not right!

  “Cane?” Her tone was soft, tentative. So as to not startle him? No sudden movements and all that?

  He almost laughed, but this situation was much too serious to be comical. He had no intention of hurting her.

  “You’re safe,” he said to placate her, calm her.

  She shifted on the bed, came up slowly on her knees. Her eyes were glued to his as though she were afraid to look away for even the briefest of moments.

  Shit, the last thing he wanted to do was scare her.

  “I told you I wouldn’t hurt you. I’m sorry about the teeth… It was an accident, I swear.”

  Her eyes narrowed on him. “It’s nothing, Cane. Just a scratch. I wouldn’t have even noticed if you hadn’t…flown across my bedroom.”

  And that’s when it all fell into place for her.

  He could see the dramatic change in her pale eyes. The realization, the shock, the…acceptance? No, that couldn’t be right.

  He shook his head. “Bev—”

  “You’re not…normal,” she said, her voice tentative again, though it held a hint of something akin to excitement. Again, that couldn’t be right.

  What the fuck was going on here?

  She climbed off the bed. Still moving warily. Still on guard, preparing herself in the event he advanced on her.

  Stepping around the tall metal post on one side of the footboard, she said, “Your skin, your eyes, your strength, your reaction to my blood. Everything about you is…different.”

  “Bev,” he tried again.

  “It’s okay,” she said. “Really. I understand.”

  “I don’t think you do.”

  “You’re a vampire.” Her tone was bold and confident now.

  Cane’s mind reeled.

  How the hell…?

  And what did it matter how she’d figured it out? All that mattered was that she knew.

  Holy fuck.

  “Look, you’re—”

  “It’s okay,” she repeated. “Let’s just…let it lie. Your secret is safe with me. Really.”

  And he could see in her eyes that was the truth. Acceptance shone through, bright and undeniable.

  But…how? Why wasn’t she terrified? Why wasn’t she running for the hills, screaming bloody murder?

  Why—

  I could hurt you. He’d warned her.

  No… You can’t. She’d said. You won’t. Trust me.

  And that’s when it all fell into place for him!

  The smell of her blood was intoxicating. It stirred his soul as much as her beauty did. But the taste of it…wasn’t…right.

  “Shit,” he whispered. The tip of his tongue swiped at the bead that had lingered on his bottom lip and he paid close attention to the taste and texture of her blood.

  Nothing.

  Absolutely nothing.

  There was no sticky, coppery flavor. There was nothing about her blood that reminded him of the human blood he’d sampled his first few decades as a vampire, before he’d banned himself from indulging in that insanity and had found other ways in which to satiate his need and sustain his existence.

  She didn’t taste like a human. Or a mortal. Her bland blood didn’t match the aromatic bouquet that had filled his nose all week.

  And she knew about him.

  Knew about vampires.

  Immortals.

  Because she is one.

  The realization slammed into him as hard as he’d hit the wall.

  “Bev,” he said, an elation he’d never known before gripping him tightly, exciting him.

  Because this meant so much!

  It was true! He couldn’t hurt her. Ever!

  And he didn’t have to hold her at arm’s length after all they’d experienced tonight. There was no longer a need to worry about her reaction to his secret. No need to fear he’d kill her if he lost full control with her. No need to agonize over living the rest of his eternity without her!

  “You’re—”

  “No!” she shrieked, cutting him off. Her eyes popped open, wider than ever. Her hands flew into the air, releasing the sheet so it fell to the ground. Momentarily distracting him. But then she rushed on. “Don’t say anything else. Just leave it like this. Please, I’m begging you, don’t—”

  “But you’re immortal too!”

  “No! Oh god, no!” She turned away from him, made a strange, strangled sound and then sank to her knees.

  “Bev!” He rushed to her side. “Sweetheart…it’s okay. Everything’s okay.”

  Isn’t it?

  Her head shook violently from side to side, sending long strands of dark auburn hair flying in all directions. “No, no, no!” Her long arms wrapped around her waist and she hugged herself tightly.

  Cane’s panic welled within him. “Bev…please.” He tried to gently coax her to unravel herself and look at him. She refused.

  “Oh damn it,” she moaned. In pain.

  Alarm replaced his panic. “Bev, for god’s sake. Tell me what the hell is happening!”

  When a scream of sheer agony tore from her lips, it tore him apart.

  “Bevelyn!”

  “I can’t…stop it.” Terror and pain were wrapped around each word. “No!” she cried out as one hand finally released her side and slapped against the hardwood floor, only to cause her to scream again from the obvious sting.

  He was frantic now. It was like some unforeseeable evil had been unleashed within her body and was taking over.

  Hurting her.

  Killing her!

  Cane’s hands gripped her shoulders as she began to shake. Her sobs, her grief, her agony were nearly the death of him. He felt helpless…couldn’t help her because he had no fucking idea what the hell was happening to her!

  “Bev, please,” he begged, his voice as tight as his coiled nerves. “Tell me where it hurts.”

  “Everywhere!”

  But how? She was immortal!

  He knew it beyond a shadow of a doubt. So what was happening to her?

  “Not…supposed…to…know…” She sounded as though a million daggers were spearing her at once. “It’s gone!”

  What the fuck?

  “Damn it!” he roared. “I don’t know what you’re saying! I don’t know what’s happening to you. I don’t know how to help you, Bev!”

  And that made him half out of his mind with worry and fear and the kind of pain he’d never experienced before. Sharp, acute. Full of hopelessness and dread and despair.

  Holy hell! It wasn’t like he could call 9-1-1. She was immortal—no doctor could save her!

  Finally, her hand shot out and gripped his wrist. Weakly. Lacking all the strength she’d possessed before.

  Her head lifted, her eyes watery and full of grief. Tears streamed down her face. Nothing short of pure torture twisted her once-breathtaking face into something agonizing to look at.

  Rage ripped through him at this unknown evil that was eating her alive, causing her so much pain.

  “Bev.” His voice was but a whisper. He wanted to tear apart whatever it was that possessed her. With his bare hands, his teeth.


  He wanted to shred it, torture it, make it pay for every ounce of torment he caused her.

  And then suddenly, she collapsed against him. As though the demon had left her body. Drained her completely, leaving her limp and nearly lifeless in his arms.

  “Bevelyn,” he said in a soft, albeit tortured, tone. “Sweetheart… Say something.”

  “It’s gone.” Her voice was hoarse and there was a note of defeat that perplexed him.

  If she truly had been possessed and that demon had been exorcized, why the hell was she now just a shell of her former self?

  “I’m dying,” she said. Answering his unspoken question.

  And his gut twisted so tight he really could take on a legion of demons at this very moment and tear every single one of them to pieces. His fury raged within him, bright and voracious.

  “I don’t understand,” he said. Feeling helpless all over again. None of this made sense to him.

  “You weren’t supposed to know,” she said, still whispering as though there weren’t enough umph left in her to give him anything more. “No one was supposed to know. And now…” She sighed in obvious despair. “It’s gone.”

  “What’s gone?” he asked in a quiet voice, trying to not overwhelm her. Trying to tamp down all the emotions consuming him.

  “Immortality,” she said and glanced up him. Then she winced. “Oh!” Her head ducked into his armpit and she shuddered in his arms.

  “Bev.” His insides twisted tighter. “Tell me exactly where it hurts.”

  “I did.” She eased away from him but didn’t make it far. Her eyes bulged in their sockets as she stared at her naked body. “Everywhere.”

  Cane leapt to his feet and swore a blue streak. He paced in short, quick patterns and then swore some more.

  “Not your fault,” she said.

  He stared down at her body. Where had all those bruises come from? Just an hour ago, she’d been in top form—perfect and lovely. Exquisite in every way.

  Now…

  “Goddamn.” He swiped a hand over his face. “Bev.”

  “It’s just because I’m not immortal anymore.” Her voice was still weak. Still filled with fear and uncertainty.

  Cane didn’t understand. What the hell had happened tonight?

 

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