Charlotte

by Mima

  She smiled, shaking her head. “I’ve never been compared to moonlight. I’m a bit hefty for the thought.”

  “Don’t tell me you’ve bought into that fashion crap. Who wants to enjoy a skeleton?”

  She looked out at the ocean, still and vast. “It’s not crap. Women like the ones you were with in the club are beautiful.”

  “Sylphs.” He snorted and jumped down. “It takes an orgy for a quintet to manifest, and pleasing five fairies is more than even I can handle.” Wrapping his hand around hers, he brought her bottle up to his mouth and took a drink.

  Then he drove his hand into her braid and drew her forward, kissing her with a gush of wine. Swallowing on a moan, Charlotte dropped her head back into his hold and leaned into him.

  Again, his skin was cool for the tropical night, but he was shirtless after all. She sent her arms around him, clasping his back, pulling him into her heat.

  “Mon Dieu, you’re fine.” He flexed his arm and changed the angle of her head. His mouth breathed over her ear. “Warm, open, and fucking fine.” He sucked on her earlobe. “Tell me what you want.”

  She shivered. “I want to see you naked.” She didn’t even stutter on the word. But she did hold her breath.

  His mouth traveled up to her temple, his teeth scraping, his lips feathering down her cheek. “Okay.”

  The bubbling sexuality eating at her flashed into steam. Her whole body flushed, high on success. That means you’ll have to get naked, too, her inner self shrieked.

  Okay. Ryder’s easy answer didn’t come as easily to her, but it was there.

  He kissed her again. Harder, stronger, deeper.

  It seemed a pretty good motto. But he was a stranger, and she was taking a big risk. She found the will to speak. “But we need to go to a neutral place. Not my room, not yours.”

  “Is a bed required?” He winked.

  She blushed. And shook her head.

  He stepped back, threading their free hands together. “I have an idea.” He tugged on her hand, leading her.

  His legs opened up into a faster gait, and then he started to skip. She laughed, bobbing behind, and joined him. She hadn’t known she still knew how to skip. The flex of his back mesmerized her.

  The wine sloshed in both their bottles.

  “Oh!” she cried out, lifting hers.

  Ryder just gestured wider with his arm, sending an arc of ruby over the banister into the sea. He started to sing a boisterous song . . . in French. They danced down the walk, waltzing and swinging.

  Tugging her forward, he lifted their hands and twisted, drawing her into a spin. Pulling her back against his front, his legs thrust against hers, forcing her to walk with giant steps in time with him.

  Breathless now, her laughter turning raucous as it deepened into her belly, she tipped her bottle up to drink from it, and it sloshed all down her front. All the night was delight. The scent of salt and grapes, the private spotlight of the moon, and this wild man wrapped around her. It filled up her belly, her head, her blood.

  She pulled from his grip and held the bottle to his mouth, cutting off his song. The wine flowed over his chest, and he ducked his head, mouth open to catch it as if snapping a pea out of the air. Red painted the lower half of his face.

  He knocked the bottle aside and lifted his own toward her face. The previous splash was erased in a torrent of cold wine across her breasts, plastering the fabric to her stomach.

  Shrieking, she turned, running from him. An iron fence loomed in front of her, a neon teal pool glowing with underwater lights in the center of an abandoned ring of chaise lounges. The gate was closed, the square pool clearly closed for the night.

  Spinning, she slammed up against the gate, holding her hands out. “You tie-dyed my shirt!” She plucked it from her body, laughing. “Do I look like the tie-dye type to you? No!”

  He fell against her, kissing and licking across her face. Her laughter faded quickly, turning to throaty moans. She’d never moaned in her life. Not like this. It felt good. Her bottle clattered to the deck but didn’t shatter. She grabbed at the back of his head, daring to nip his sumptuous lip. His hair was thick and soft in her grip.

  “Is this spot all right?”

  She blinked up at him, lost.

  “The pool. Shall we enjoy each other here?”

  She turned her head. The water looked so inviting, like a jewel. “Anyone could walk by.”

  “True. That could be nice. Or I’ll open an umbrella and put it in the corner to block us.”

  She licked her lips. His chest worked as hard as hers, but he was still cool under her touch at his nape. Power surged through her. “But it’s closed.”

  His hand flashed past her, and a horrible screech rent the air. The gate swung away.

  She stumbled, but he grabbed her, holding her up. “Next?”

  Her skin itched. Somewhere in the distance, an ethereal song lowered from the stars, moonlight tumbling as powerfully as a visible waterfall. She wanted him. “Take your clothes off.”

  His hands went to his waist. He opened a button, then unzipped. Her jaw hung open to see his erection lift from soft black hair. No granny undies for him! He shoved the pants over sculpted hips and they fell to the deck with a slither. He toed off his boots and kicked free.

  He groaned. “You commanded me. You’re such a sexy pixie, Charlotte.”

  She tore her sticky tee off, turning and stalking toward the pool. “Get the umbrella, please.” She palmed the condom out of her pocket.

  Sucking in a bold breath, she kept her eyes on the water. Her bra fell, and then her skirt. Her slip, then her underwear; one shoe took a moment to untie, and then the other. He appeared at her side with a huge square canvas umbrella, holding it like a broom. He propped it across the corner of the pool so that it formed a screen against the deck. She stood next to it, in plain sight, nude curves bulging every which way beside the honed, taut strength of Ryder.

  For a moment they stood, her breath rasping harsh. She knew he waited for her. Aware she had her arms crossed over her chest, she licked her lips and tasted desire. She wanted more.

  Rotating to face him, she balanced on the pebbled stone edge. He was just a few inches taller, his shoulders broad, his hips nearly half the width of hers.

  Hands at his sides, he studied her. “What are you?”

  Smiling slow and satisfied, she murmured, “Prepared. I have a condom.” Now. Go for it. Stretching her arms up over her head, she played her fingers across the face of the moon. The foil square waved from her fingertips. “Take it.”

  He checked a sudden movement and stopped. “I’m a vampire. We don’t need them. And you commanded me again. Stop that.”

  Screw modesty and hesitation. She wanted to get laid, by Ryder, now. She held it out to him. “Please?”

  He cursed in what sounded like Russian as he took up the small silver square, then threw it into the water. It floated. How clever of him.

  Sitting on the side, the water felt like a cloud around her feet, warm and silken. “I’ve never gone skinny-dipping before.”

  “You’re kidding. That’s so sad.” He jumped in, submerging and rising with textbook sex-bomb poise, hands sleeking his hair back from his upturned face. His features seemed more dangerous all of a sudden.

  The water came to his sternum, but the submerged lights lit up all of him. His erection bobbed. The waving water interfered with a sense of how big he was, but her tummy still flipped at the strange length of flesh. She saw his balls, dark and pillowy. Her nipples, already tight from the open air, went diamond hard. Her hands locked to the edge of the pool.

  Last chance. If she got in, she knew to her bones she’d lose her virginity. If she got in, Ryder would be her lover. It didn’t mean anything to him, this night, this touch. But he clearly wanted her, and that was rare enough to matter t
o her.

  Ryder swept his palms across the top of the water. “Don’t be nervous now, pixie mine. I will tend your pleasure.”

  He had such a strange way of speaking sometimes, more formal than his brash rock star ways.

  She sucked in a breath. “I’mavirgin.”

  His head lifted. His hands fell still. “While I’m honored to be chosen and assure you of my skill, I think I must insist you tell me what you are. Such occasions have import for many among us.”

  Frowning, she kicked her feet. “I’m a horny woman. A nursing student. A grieving granddaughter. What the hell do you mean, ‘What am I?’ ” The water sprayed around her, muttering, angry.

  Ryder folded his arms. It didn’t look remotely protective. He looked like a commander. “What did you think I meant when I told you I am a vampire?”

  She shrugged. “You’re wild?”

  He pursed his lips. “Charlotte, you were not at the ball. How did you find your way to this deck level today?”

  Uneasiness wound through her enough to curl her toes. She’d gotten a pedi, and they were a pretty copper since most pinks and reds clashed with her hair. “I just explored. There weren’t any privacy signs or anything. The grand staircase led right to it.”

  Ryder pushed through the water until he stood at her knees. He put a hand on each of her thighs. “Look at me.”

  She looked. He opened his mouth and four giant, pointy canines thrust up behind his normal teeth. She didn’t see any plastic base. It looked like they came right out of his skin. He held his mouth open, lifted his tongue, and jabbed it against one of them. Blood burst, bright on his lip.

  He licked it away. “I tell you again. I am a vampire. And you are on The Annual Gathering of Fantastical Singles cruise. You have found your way to a deck that exists only for fantasticals, so you must be magical yourself. My guess is you are a moon spirit of some sort. With your ability to coerce and command, I’m guessing a will-o’-the-wisp or succubus.

  “If you are the latter, I am an excellent choice for a first partner, because I am old enough to counter your feeding during your first orgasm. A wisp doesn’t have any particular needs during her first time, so we should be fine.”

  Charlotte stared at him. Her heart stopped, surged with a thud, and took off racing. He was telling the truth. She sat before a fairy-tale creature. A hundred memories of Gram’s magical stories swamped her. “Gram would have told me. If we were special.”

  Ryder shrugged. “Lost fantasticals as strong as you are rare. If you stayed away from sex, your powers as succubus would stay dormant. If you stayed away from water—”

  “Yes!” Charlotte covered his hands with hers, squeezing. “Gram always told me about the promise her grandfather had insisted on when she was a girl, that she never ride a boat or learn to swim!”

  Ryder smiled. “My first instincts were correct. Charlotte, you are a delightful member of the fairy family, a being who can draw from water and the night and call to others, sharing your own desires.”

  His hands on her waist were hard and strong. He jerked her down into the water. She gasped at the press of it. Her breasts rested along the surface. Looking down to see them lit with the blue light made it seem as if she were glowing herself. A bountiful fairy.

  Ryder’s hands rose and began to undo her French braid. “We’ll register you later. After you’ve learned some new lessons in pleasure, you can learn some new lessons in magic.” His chest was very close to her, his collarbone, his throat.

  “My first taste of sex has broken my mind,” she whispered. “Or I’m sloshed on fancy wine.” But she didn’t really believe that, she just felt compelled to resist life for a moment.

  “You’re not crazy. This isn’t a dream.” He felt real enough and all male.

  She blinked up at him, struggling with the cool water against her hot folds, her bobbing breasts, and his words.

  He pulled her hair, a sharp tug that rocked her neck. “Don’t worry, I can fuck the disbelief out of you.”

  She laughed. “Will you suck my blood?” How stupid that she wasn’t afraid of him, just the world he’d announced.

  He froze, then finished combing his fingers through the loosened strands. “I drink from humans only, of which there are none on this deck.”

  She stepped into him, flattening her breasts, driving her hard nipples into his soft chest hair. “What if I want you to?” She’d never really thought much about vampires before. She knew they were a hot thing in books and movies, and suddenly she saw the allure.

  Ryder wasn’t just sexy, he was powerful, strange and amazing. She wanted to touch his magic, experience it. All her inhibitions loosened, and it was surprisingly easy to let go of disbelief and fear when she stood naked with a man for the first time.

  He shook his head, his fingers tracing prickles down her spine. “I am forbidden to feed on fantasticals. My kind become quite irritable.” Palming her ass cheeks in each hand, he squeezed, taking her breath. “I promise you will still find sex lovely, my daring wisp.”

  Her hands rolled over the ball of each shoulder. She studied him, heart still racing.

  He smiled, sweet and slow. “Such mercury eyes, freshly polished. I wonder if I can make them glow.”

  She nodded. “Let’s find out.” Learning about her own powers could wait. She wanted to learn everything about men and touching.

  They kissed again, and within moments all thoughts of magic flew out of her head. A man was in her arms, and it was, as he would say, fucking fantastical. Her lips escaped his to taste his jaw. His fingers retaliated by roaming her crack south. Her tongue worked over his neck.

  He growled, leaning back. “My throat is not what new pixies want to play with.” And he responded by thrusting into her folds, flexible strong fingers stroking delicate tissue while he hissed and jerked at her kisses. “Don’t provoke me.” They rotated in the water, the liquid brushing her, making all of her alive with sensation. Her lips tasted his collarbone, then her teeth tested the firmness of his chest. His thumb found her clit. She squirmed, twining one leg around his hip, her mouth sucking at his small nipple. Her blood pounded thick and slow while a barrage of desires swamped her. His fingers thrust into her, and she cried out against his heart. He answered her on the second thrust, hoarse and rough.

  Her head lifted. She stared at his stark face, skin tight with desire, mouth slack and vampire teeth glinting in the cavern. A wave of heat roared straight through her from the tips of his buried fingers up to the crown of her head.

  His erection lay like a silken bar against one hip. She hadn’t even touched him yet, and wanted to desperately. With a hop, she could open herself against him, thighs locked around his hips. But at the same time, she needed to slow this down, to savor and explore so much more, so much longer.

  He dipped his head and took her earlobe in his mouth. Knowing how close the ball of flesh was to his teeth made her moan again. She pressed close, fingers digging into the backs of his shoulders.

  “What do you want, Charlotte?” His dark whisper lifted the fine hairs on the back of her neck. “How would you like to touch me?”

  Oh, he was good. He was pure sex and she was happy, drunk on this moment. She shoved him, and he landed with a small slosh against the pool edge. The canvas was dim behind him, his stark face lit from below by the pool lights.

  Where would she go next? Would she try to provoke the vampire’s senses with more kisses on his gorgeous corded throat, or would she slide her hand down and palm the thick prize of a cock she’d dreamed of?

  The beauty of the amber flute was rare and elegant . . . so not her. And Charlotte was dedicating herself to being so not herself tonight. Why shouldn’t practical, big-boned, plain Charlotte hold this delicate beauty? She smiled up at Ivor, swinging the glass from an upturned wrist, as a lady of the manor might if she’d been holding such art all her li
fe.

  Ivor lifted one brow as he gestured at her glass with his meat-stick. “A powerful drink for my powerful partner.”

  Wrinkling her nose, she gave it a cautious sniff. “I actually don’t drink much. What is it?” It smelled good but definitely alcoholic.

  A loud metallic clatter surprised her enough that the drink spilled over her hand. A tall woman in green silk landed beside Ivor. She had dragonfly wings, nearly as wide as she was tall. The veins were a delicate, mazelike tracery.

  She scowled at the flute in Charlotte’s hand. “The future is nothing to toy with. I hate that they put out the milk of Anyanwu every year.” Her wings clattered.

  Charlotte moved back. Nothing the woman said made sense.

  Ivor angled himself between them. “How unfortunate you are not in charge of refreshments, Yossev.”

  The woman cocked her pointed chin at him. Her eyes were as green as her skirt. When she narrowed them at Ivor, they looked poisonous. But then her gaze swept down Ivor’s form. Charlotte tightened her grip on the flared crystal. This woman wanted her date. She stepped up next to Ivor.

  The woman sighed. “Good night, Wolf Prince.” Without even a jump, her wings lifted her up and off, the sound harsh over the orchestra.

  Ivor relaxed. He considered Charlotte for a moment. Feeling self-conscious, she stared back. He smiled slowly. She answered with a shy grin of her own. He nibbled his meat, and her nipples went hard again. Raising the glass, she went to take a sip but stopped. “Milk of Woowoo?”

  Ivor chuckled that low male laugh. “Perhaps you’ll get flashes, but not everyone does.”

  “Flashes? Of what?”

  “The future.” He scanned the crowd, one hand raised to a tall man in a tuxedo.

  Contemplating the lovely glass and liquid doubtfully, Charlotte refused to continue parroting him. The man came over and Ivor bent down to whisper to her, “Excuse me, for just one moment.”