by Cat Marsters
Wimp.
I am no such thing.
Lazily, he dipped a finger in and out of her hot pussy, enjoying the way she tightened around him. Sure? He feathered a light kiss on her clit, making her shake.
That I’m not a wimp?
You’ll have to prove it to me, he told her, sucking her labia into his mouth. She really did taste delicious. His fingers caressed the sweet curve of her thigh where it turned into her buttock. She was completely luscious.
I -- she gasped -- I guess I could.
He dipped his tongue inside her. Atta girl.
Her skin was so velvety soft. In the darkness, deprived of sight, he felt everything else so much more keenly. Tasted the salty sweetness of her, heard every tiny gasp, grew mildly addicted to the slide of her damp skin against his.
Her fingers tangled in his hair and she bucked her hips against him. Ground her pussy into his mouth. With every lick and bite he felt the tension in her wind higher, felt the muscles quiver beneath her skin as he cupped her glorious round behind. She gasped, moaned, and if she hadn’t been a vampire he’d have been worried about her ability to breathe.
She was just about to come when he lifted his head and stopped. For a second she froze, then her heel dug into his back and she tried to push him back down again.
But Ruarc didn’t want her to come just yet. He wanted to feel those sweet, tight pussy muscles convulsing around him. Wanted to bury his rock-hard, aching cock in her slick heat. Wanted to hold her against him as she shuddered to another climax.
He slid up her body, dragging himself against her wet pussy, rubbing his skin against her sensitized flesh. She whimpered. Writhed. He kissed her breast, made a little diversion to suck on her nipple, then moved up to her neck, licking the sweat from her skin.
Her thigh slid against his hip. She grasped his buttocks, pulling him closer, pressing her slippery folds against him. Tempting him with her heat.
Ruarc rested there a moment, his cheek against hers, his cock about to push inside her, just savoring the moment. The anticipation. Feeling her body beneath his, the rise and fall of her perfect breasts, the impatient shimmy of her hips.
Then she bucked and the head of his cock slipped inside her, and he was lost. He thrust hard and deep, taking her completely, drowning himself in her wet heat.
She gasped beneath him, and he wondered for a terrible second if he’d hurt her, but then she flexed and wrapped her legs tight around him, her lips on his neck. Her body stretched, arching against him like a cat, and he swore he heard her purring inside his head.
More, she told him, and more was what he gave her. He thrust hard, fast, each slide of her slick flesh against his driving him higher. Her fingers dug in his back, her nails scoring his skin. Her teeth nipped at his neck, but she never bit him. Never took blood. Ruarc figured she didn’t need to: both of them were crazy enough as it was. Every clench of her tight muscles around him made him hotter; every deep slide inside her made her shake.
Her body tensed, every possible part of her wrapped tight around him, and as he thrust deep one last time he felt the ripple of her muscles around him, felt her convulse, tighten, and finally shatter in his arms.
He felt her come apart, felt every ripple and shudder, heard every gasp and tiny cry, and then her pleasure overloaded his senses, hijacked his mind, and he came too, a long, blinding moment of breathless perfection.
Chapter Six
Ruarc woke to find the apartment dark and silent. His bed was empty of any red-hot vampires.
But he felt her presence, out in the living room, and when he stumbled to the landing and looked down at the sofa, there she was, curled under the sheet she’d taken from his bed. It had slid down, exposing her breasts, and despite the mind-blowing orgasm he’d just had in dreamtime, his cock got hard again.
She was beautiful in sleep, her dark hair tangled around her shoulders, her lashes making shadows on her cheeks. Her nipples were plump, soft and dark, and he ached to feel them under his fingers again, suck them into his mouth.
But if he went down there now and did just that, she’d probably kill him.
Swallowing hard, he went into the bathroom and turned on the shower. He needed to get rid of this hard-on, rid of this temporary obsession with the succulent vampire sleeping downstairs. He had bigger things to worry about now. A business to run. A goblin attack to unravel.
But all he wanted to do was bury himself in her delicious pussy and thrust until he came so hard he couldn’t see. Again.
He soaped himself, imagining her here with him. Imagining running the bar of soap over her full, round breasts, feeling her nipples pucker under his touch. Thought about how that silky soft skin would feel with water running over it.
Remembered her soft lips on his, imagined them parted, swollen from his kisses, as she knelt on the shower floor. Gave into his imagination and fisted his cock, pretending she was there sucking him, swallowing him, taking every inch of him as he thrust between those sinful lips.
He stroked his balls, pretending his fingers were hers. Slicked one finger and rimmed his own ass, leaning back against the cool shower wall, his eyes closed.
He wanted to bend over and thrust into that tight pussy from behind. Wanted to stretch out on his back and watch her ride him. Wanted to shove her up against the wall and take her hard and fast, over and over.
Dammit, he thought as he spilled his seed into his own hand, he just wanted her.
The ringing phone yanked Maria from sleep. Hell, but she’d been having sweet dreams. The first time in seventy years she’d not woken angry and miserable from a remembrance of her turning.
A smile curved her lips. The mind-bending eroticism of said dream might have had something to do with that.
She stretched, wondering if the faery was going to answer his phone. The ringing was coming from a console on a table a few feet away, but he was nowhere in sight.
Then, suddenly, he was. With a fluttering sound, a blur of movement just outside her vision, he suddenly appeared and grabbed the phone, glaring at the handset.
“Chloe?”
Maria stared. He was totally naked, and dripping wet. Strong, lean thighs, a perfectly chiseled butt, tight and curved in all the right places, a back thick with gleaming pale muscles leading up to broad shoulders, stiff with tension.
A droplet of water trickled down his spine and trembled on his buttocks. Maria caught herself licking her lips as she watched it.
“Yes, I wanted to know if they could lend us anyone. But the girl who answered the phone is… well, she doesn’t like faeries.”
Then she’s an idiot, Maria thought, and the faery in question spun around to pin her with his gaze.
Oh, my. Okay, so she’d seen him naked before, but… heavens. She hadn’t really had time to look. It wasn’t just the defined pecs, the toned belly, thick cock hanging between his legs. It was the sharp relief of his collarbone, the slope of his hipbones and the narrow line of hair pointing south.
His skin gleamed with an unearthly paleness, his hair darker than midnight, tousled and wet about his neck. His strong jaw was shadowed with stubble. His eyes flashed with blue sparks. On his hip, a dark scar gleamed, matching the one on his cheek. There were smaller ones on his chest, his shoulders, his arms, faded scars. Somehow they made him look more perfect.
Maria’s hand curled into a fist, her nails denting her palm. It was just because she’d had such a spicy dream, she told herself. She couldn’t help waking up hot. And he was beautiful, even if he was also a bastard fae. She could objectively appreciate his beauty. Like appreciating a painting.
Yes. Just a painting.
He looked angry about something. “For Christ’s sake, Chloe, how could you forget to tell me that? Did you at least book them a hotel?”
Evidently her answer was in the negative, as he kicked the side of the sofa and scowled.
“I’d ask if you could put them up but you’re probably too busy shagging. When do they ge
t in?” He grabbed a pen and notepad and scribbled something down. “Right, and I don’t suppose you have a contact number? Halle-bloody-lujah.” He wrote that down too, then paused, listening.
Maria found herself staring at the dip in the side of each perfect buttock, and shook herself.
The faery sighed. “It’s all right. At least you told me eventually. Chloe, don’t cry --” he broke off, wincing, and rubbed a hand over his face. “Just… go home, take a bath or whatever. Eat someone. You’ll feel better.”
When he put the phone down he turned back to Maria, still scowling. It suited him unfairly well.
“Eat someone?” she said.
“Siren.”
“Ah.”
“You don’t want a job as secretary, do you?”
“A faery offering a job to a vampire?” Maria said scathingly, not allowing herself to believe for a second he might actually mean it. A job with Sundown would be the answer to a lot of her problems.
“You couldn’t be worse than Chloe. She’s usually too busy having sex to answer the phone and when she does, she never remembers to pass messages on. They arranged this weeks ago. I wish she’d goddamned told me.”
“Chloe… from the…?”
“Yeah.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “She’s not that bad, really,” he acknowledged. “And to be fair, she’s not supposed to be answering the phone.”
“Then why are you mad at her?”
“Because she’s just informed me I have three vampires flying in from Rome in --” he glanced at a clock on the far wall, “about ten minutes, actually. And they have nowhere to stay. So, unless I can find a vampire-friendly hotel within a couple of hours, they’re probably going to be staying here.”
Maria blinked.
“Yeah,” he said sourly. “A house-full of vampires. You can’t imagine the total lack of joy this fills me with.”
She watched him stomp up the stairs, still magnificently naked, and wondered why, if he hated vampires so much, he kept inviting them into his house.
The intercom buzzed five minutes after Ruarc got in, having spent the afternoon trawling the city for a vampire-friendly hotel. Since he couldn’t see himself getting a sincere answer to the question, “Do you cater for creatures of the night?” he’d ended up visiting them each in turn and asking to see their premier suites. Chloe had informed him that one of the visiting vampires was a Master, and therefore not likely to be happy with a standard room.
Plus, he was bringing two minions with him. Ruarc didn’t expect a standard bed would be big enough.
Tired, frustrated, and more than a little angry that the task had fallen to him when he’d really rather be in Faery, finding out why a goblin had tried to kill him, he slammed the door and shoved past Maria, who was flicking through a magazine and looking mutinous.
“Why don’t you have a TV?”
“Because I can’t work one.” He trudged up the stairs without looking at her. If he looked at her, he might either kill her or fuck her into the ground, and right now neither was preferable.
“What do you mean, you can’t work one?” She sounded incredulous. “You press a button and it comes on. Press another button and it changes the station. Even I know that, and I was locked in a harem for seventy year --”
She broke off abruptly, and Ruarc stilled.
“You should have a TV,” she covered, lamely.
He turned.
“I meant seventy days,” she said, fingers tight on the magazine. “Months. Yes. Five years. Six. My English. Not so good.”
“Seventy years,” Ruarc said. He didn’t need to be a telepath to know that was what she’d meant.
“No! Months. English not my first language, habla Espanola?”
“Yes, but we don’t need to since your English is perfect.”
“No, no, I lived in Mexico until I was ten --”
“Seventy years ago? Eighty?” He cocked his head. “How old are you, Maria?”
“Eighteen,” she said too quickly.
“Not human years. I meant --”
The intercom buzzed. Ruarc swore.
“Later,” he said, pointing a finger at Maria. “You will tell me later.”
“I don’t have to tell you anything.”
He saw her gaze dart to the windows. The sun was dipping in the sky. Dammit, as soon as it got dark she’d be gone, and then he’d never know. Seventy years? She couldn’t have been. Starne wasn’t more than forty years old, tops, and he’d owned the place.
Had someone else owned it before him?
The intercom buzzed again. Ruarc punched the button, still scowling. “Yes?”
There was a slight pause. “This is Jamie Greenwood, from Sundown in Rome.” He had an English accent and sounded tired. “I’m looking for Ruarc.”
“That’s me.” He sighed. “Come on up. Top floor.”
Maria watched him warily as he went into the kitchen, kicking the door as he did. Fucking vampires.
“I have nothing to offer them,” he called through to her. “Where d’you get blood from?”
“People.”
“Excellent.” He stuck his head back out. “I am not a buffet.”
She gave him a smile. It showed her fangs, but went nowhere near her eyes. “You’re not people, either.”
His scowl deepened. He poured water from the tap into a glass, eyeing his expensive coffee-maker balefully. Chloe had given it to him, but he had no idea how to use the thing. Why were people so obsessed with technology?
A knock sounded as he drained the glass. Showtime. He found a smile from somewhere, strode back through the apartment and paused. Maria had stood up, and now he could see what she was wearing -- or not wearing. One of his shirts, which covered her to about three inches below that hot pussy -- and nothing else.
Great. Now he had a hard-on. How professional.
He yanked the door open, smiling insincerely. “Hi. You must be…”
He trailed off. There were two men and a woman standing there, but he only sensed two vampires. A dark-skinned male. Vampire. Old. Powerful. A blonde female. Young. Fledgling. His gaze fixed on the third figure, a tanned young man.
“… human,” he finished.
“Where does it show?”
“Jamie,” the woman admonished.
“I’m sorry. I’m just tired,” he said to Ruarc. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to hail a cab when your companions are wearing bedsheets?”
“It’s not a bedsheet, it’s a burqa, and would you rather I fried to a crisp?”
“It’s not even all that sunny!”
“I’ll still fry!”
“Children,” said the male vampire, dark eyes flashing.
“Don’t you ‘children’ me,” the female snapped back. She had pink lips, pale skin, and shadows under her eyes. “I’m not your child.”
“Yes, you are.”
“Not that kind of child.” She rolled her eyes and held out her hand to Ruarc. “I’m sorry. I’ve been trapped in a tin can with these two for hour upon cranky hour. I’m Paige.”
Ruarc stared at her hand for a long moment before he realized he was being rude, and shook it. Her touch was cool.
“This is my boyfriend, Jamie, and my sire, Rafa. Rafael.”
Jamie, the young human, held out his hand for Ruarc to shake. Rafa did not.
“Ruarc of the Unseelie,” Ruarc said. “Come in.”
He stepped back, and after a second’s hesitation, they did. “I’m afraid I don’t have any… food in the house,” he said. “Maria might be able to help you with that.”
All eyes swiveled to Maria, who stood looking uncomfortable, tugging her shirt down over her thighs. She gave an unconvincing smile. “I can’t go outside,” she said. “Not yet.”
Jamie’s head tilted. “You’re a vampire,” he said.
“You’re in top form today,” Rafa rumbled. Then he froze, and sniffed the air.
Paige sniffed too. A grin tugged at the corner of he
r mouth. Maria looked like a deer trapped in headlights. “Oh my God,” Paige cried. “You’re sleeping with him!”
A blush stained Maria’s cheeks. “Slept,” she corrected hastily. “Once.”
“You can smell that?” Ruarc said.
“Charming, isn’t it?” Jamie made a face.
“Not only slept with him…” Rafa began, his dark gaze switching between Maria and Ruarc, then back again. Ruarc tensed.
“You are so not getting any tonight,” Paige told Jamie, who scowled.
“What’d I do?”
“You have done nothing but complain since we left Rome! What else did they do?” Paige added to Rafa.
He grinned.
Maria swallowed.
“What’s faery blood taste like?” Rafa asked, and Paige’s hand flew to her mouth.
“No!”
“No way,” Jamie said, and they all stared at Maria, who backed up a step.
“How can they even tell?” Ruarc asked Jamie.
“It was only a little,” Maria said.
“Liar, it got you totally high.”
“It gets you high?” Paige looked delighted.
“They smell it or something,” Jamie told Ruarc. “Or maybe it’s ESP. They always know who’s been biting who.”
“How high?” Rafa wanted to know.
“Uh,” Maria’s gaze darted to Ruarc, who was starting to feel a little like the evening meal. “Not very.”
“Your pulse is racing,” Paige said. She turned to Rafa. “See, she still has a pulse. You said I didn’t need one.”
“It’s optional.” He didn’t look impressed with Maria. “Is that why you fucked him? Bloodlust?”
“Sure.” She lifted her chin, looking a little relieved.
“Oh, cheers,” Ruarc said.
“Why else would she fuck a faerie?” Rafa sneered.
“You’re not getting any either,” Paige informed him. She turned to Ruarc. “He’s just being cruel. I’d totally do you.”
“I’m standing right here!” Jamie protested.
“What do you mean, I’m not getting any?” Rafa looked furious.
“That was so rude! How do you not get that that was rude?”
