Red Knight Box Set (Books 1,2,3): Contemporary Vampire Romance

by L. C White

  Chapter 22: Riding High

  Maeve

  With the palms of my hands pressed into the mattress, sitting on the edge of the bed, I peer over my shoulder to find the bed empty. I shudder away my grogginess, looking at the small oval carriage clock on top of the wrought iron open fire. It’s midday, bright outside, and the drafty autumn temperature sends a chill down my spine. I know I should be wondering where Daniel is, but I’m not really a morning person. In fact, without at least two strong coffees in me, I’m best avoided.

  I stand up with a stretch, rub my tangled hair, and pull the sheet from the bed to cloak around my shoulders.

  With my eyes half-closed, I plod my way down the stairs, and into the small country kitchen. It’s so damn bright in here. Shimmering particles of dust float around me, and I have to squint my eyes to see what is what.

  Coffee, coffee. Where’s the frigging coffee?

  I look around and spot a four ring wood burning range, with a copper kettle on top. A goddamn copper kettle I’m going to have to fill up, and wait for it to boil. Basically, I need to cook my wake-up brew, and I don’t have the flipping patience.

  I open the grey painted cupboard door next to the sink, and find myself a blue mug. My eyes scour the worktops. Thank the lord, there’s a canister of coffee. I remove the cork lid, and shake approximately two teaspoons into the cup. Then I see something that brightens my morning, a microwave. I fill the mug with water from the brass faucet, swirl the coffee around until it has dissolved, then bung it into the microwave on full power for one minute.

  I carry the steaming mug to the kitchen window. Taking a drink of the rancid coffee, I peer through the doily like net curtains, and see Daniel. He’s talking to someone on a cell phone as he casually kicks rocks across the ground. I tug the edges of the sheet together, and click the latch down to open the backdoor. He doesn’t spot me as I linger in the shade of the doorway, watching as he laughs. Whoever he’s chatting with, it seems a friendly discussion.

  He kicks another rock across the ground, and as he turns he sees me. Almost immediately his smile vanishes, like he’s been caught in some guilty act.

  “I’ve got to go.” He hangs-up and walks toward me.

  “Who was that?” I ask as he takes the coffee out of my hand.

  He doesn’t answer. He takes a swig of my brew and his face screws up.

  “That’s shit coffee.” He hands it back to me, wiping his lips on his wrist.

  I stand still, staring and blocking the doorway, wanting to know who he was on the phone with. In annoyance, he shakes his head at me.

  “It was Laurie.”

  I really don’t understand why he’s talking with him. He told me we’ve come here to get away from all that shit in London.

  “I don’t like him,” I blurt out.

  “No one likes him.”

  “Then why are you so chummy with him?” I ask. “Has he not messed things up enough?”

  “You know what they say about keeping your enemies close. He’s got information I need,” he explains.

  I frown deep with scepticism. “What kind of information?”

  “Jeez Maeve, you sound like Adrien,” he blows out. “It sounds stupid, but he’s the only one who has been honest. He doesn’t talk bullshit. And I need to know where this ends, for everyone’s sake. I can work him, I know I can. Now please stop this.”

  “Are you in trouble? Are we in danger?”

  “No,” he states clearly. “Look, he’s not going to call again. Watch.”

  He takes out his cell phone, drops it on the ground, and stamps his boot down on it. I gawp down at the expensive tech, smashed into pieces. His fingers come up to cradle the side of my face. I look up to his eyes. He’s so mesmerising, making my body sway back and forth, like he has mentally lassoed me. He compels me to be silent and trusting. He compels my body in mysterious ways.

  “There’s a pastry on the table. Go and eat, then shower,” he orders.

  I blink slowly as my socks turn on the floorboards, the fabric pops and pulls on the splinters. Frowning, I open the box containing a croissant, and take a small nibble. I struggle to swallow the small bite, and put it back into the box because I don’t want it. I’m feeling a little odd, and I’m unsure why.

  “Maeve, are you okay?” Daniel asks me in a confused tone.

  “Yeah… I’m just tired… I think.”

  He walks up to me and bends to kiss my lips, sweetly. A kiss that melts away the uncertainty of this morning’s encounter with him. His touch is gentle and I want more of it. I want it all over my body. I’ve never been brave in physical contact with a man, but he is changing that. I have to let him know exactly what I need. Fuck, I have to seduce him.

  The tempo of my lips on his quickens in deep movements. I slip out my tongue a little to provocatively brush against his top lip. I’m opening myself up to be taken by him. And I want to be taken, hard.

  His body angles back as he rips himself away from me. The sheet that covered my body drops to the floor. I’m panting with tempestuous eyes on him, as his observation lingers on my half-naked torso.

  “I didn’t want this… yet,” he says so deep as though it hurts, giving my naked flesh an extreme examining.

  “What?” I almost purr, my legs ready to leap around him.

  “I didn’t want to fuck you like this.”

  “And you still don’t?” I ask, with no inhibitions at all.

  He strides to me, taking my face in his hands. “Hell yeah,” he growls.

  He’s kissing me hard, and I can barely breathe through his greedy touch. His hands roam wildly over my body, then come down to yank at my trousers.

  My fingers comb his t-shirt, searching in a frenzy for the supple skin beneath, I’ve been craving. Suddenly, I find myself up in his arms. He plonks me down on the kitchen table, and takes a step back. As he tears his shirt over his head, I finger the buckle of his belt, but he doesn’t allow me to release, or touch him. He pushes me back so I’m lying on the hard pine, my chest vibrating sporadically.

  He stands between my open legs and removes my trousers and panties. Oh god. I need him inside me deep, the way he pleasured me before. I need to cross that line. I want him to be my scandal, my lover, my sexual master.

  His fingers claw down my neck, over my chest, and behind my arched spine. He flicks my bra open with ease. My nipples harden as the cool air and his slow erotic touch, provoke me. This is so tense. I’m wet and squirming as his lips and fingers tease me.

  I shut my eyes, my hands reaching above my head to grip the edge of the table. I hear him unfastening his belt and my hips hover up, ready for him. The sound of clothing leaving his body has my mouth watering, my heart pounding, and my sexual sighs increasing. I’m waiting on this table, and I need devouring like a dessert.

  “Maeve, one question.”

  “Yes… what?” Oh god, I nearly yelled at him.

  “Do you want to be mine?”

  What a fuckin bizarre question. I angle up a little to squint at his statue in the sun. So damning and beautiful. And his arousal, well, let’s just call it more than ready, it’s very distracting.

  “Do you mean in the vampire way?” I ask.

  “No, I mean my way.”

  He slowly crouches and breathes, tantalising my sex to the point of madness. I drop back, my head hitting the table hard.

  “Daniel… I don’t know what you mean,” I moan out.

  Again his warm breath drifts over my sex. It’s like he’s doing it purposely. Even though it’s such a turn on, I’d rather have something more substantial and solid. I’d rather have him. I’m going to climax on this table any second. He’s going to think I’m so fuckin easy to work. Please, please, hang on in there.

  My tense ass is hanging off the table. I can’t bring myself to look at him. I’m fighting to keep control, but I bet he can tell I’m failing miserably.

  I feel his hips brush against my thighs, and his naked warm flesh come
down on me. His fingers press into my cheeks, and his lips sweep across mine. His sex enters me, and makes me blow out in delight. I partially open my eyes as he draws out and inside me, slowly. Each pelvic thrust he makes, has me clawing, gripping, and kneading his back muscles.

  “Are you mine?” he grunts in my ear.

  “Yes,” I say, as he takes his hip lunges up a notch.

  The table legs slide against the floor, scraping so loud. In aggression, as he fills my wet sex with his, he slams the table against the kitchen cupboards.

  He stands up between my legs and takes a firm grip of my waist. He’s so hard. So ferocious. So what I need.

  “OH GOD!” My hands fly up and grip the edge of the table again, as I burst onto him. “Oh fuck!”

  I’m seeping and burning up in glee, securing him tightly between my thighs. This is nothing like when he took me before. I feel undone as the blood rushing around my body makes my head buzz, and ears ring.

  He pushes in me with one final plunge as I gasp out, smiling, and holding my waist tight against his.

  His body judders and his gorgeous features flash with release.

  “Shit, Maeve.” He rubs his hands up my waist, and pulls me up into his arms. “What the hell was that?” he asks with a sexy grin, brushing his nose against mine.

  All I can do is smile back, and hum in response to his question. I’m as soft as putty in his arms, and I’m kind of ashamed. I can’t explain it. It’s not that I regret my slutty actions. I just feel for the first time this hidden sexual creature in me, reared its curious head. I had no say in the matter, and Daniel saw it all. My cheeks burn as I burrow my head into his shoulder to hide. I feel his chest vibrate a giggle.

  “Don’t be embarrassed, Maeve.” He pushes me back, his hands running down my bare spine. “You can show me that side of you, anytime.”

  I bite my cheek as he pats my ass, pulling out of my sex. Now I feel foolish, sitting on the edge of the table in the sunlight, naked, and craving some form of coverage.

  Daniel’s agile body bends. He swoops the sheet and his jeans up from the floor. I cross my arms over my breasts, wondering where he got his confidence in nakedness from. He comes to stand between my legs again, and wraps the sheet around my shoulders.

  “Thank you,” I whisper and gulp at the same time.

  “No… thank you.” He beams a hot smile that’s contagious.

  Chapter 23: The Lesson

  Maeve

  I sit on an old broken wooden wheelbarrow, watching Daniel tinkering with the wires on the indicator of his bike. At some point of the journey, travelling from the UK to France, a stone must have bounced up from the back wheel, and knocked out the light. His reaction I couldn’t help but laugh at. You’d think his bike was a living thing the way he panicked over it. He pulled out every drawer in the kitchen, rooting for a screwdriver, wittering under his breath. I just stood there holding in the hysterics. His bike is his baby.

  I’m wearing a floral dress I found upstairs in the wardrobe, waiting for my clothes to dry on the line. I hate it. It’s really old fashioned, and I look like some vintage French throwback from the forties. But I can’t continue to walk around the house in nothing but a bed sheet, even though Daniel would probably love that. So I’ve scrubbed my clothes and panties in the sink downstairs, and I’m praying for the breeze to hurry up and dry them.

  We’ve been here for two days now, and it’s beginning to feel like a lifetime. I have to admit, it’s doing me good; a lifetime is needed to get my head around what happened in the UK. I’m in a state of vacancy, and find myself reflecting every now and again when alone. I’ve not shown my emotions in front of Daniel. I don’t want him to remember what he is. Here it is as though he’s forgotten, and I’m getting to know the real him.

  He bounces up, absorbed in his task, and tweaks the indicator to see if it works. I watch his concentration as he marches to the back, and claps his hands together because he’s succeeded.

  Everything has been so normal. He hasn’t once gone all red eyed demon while we’ve been here. He’s slept with me in his arms each night. We’ve talked and laughed. And not once has the topic of why we are here, been brought up. I’ve discovered that he has a talent for bike tricks, and yesterday I was treated to a private show. I sat on this same wheelbarrow with my heart pounding so fast, watching as he performed wheelies, mid-air spins, and flips. He’s also learnt about my passions, that I don’t just produce erotic drawings, but also love to sculpture out of anything I can get my hands on. He likes Italian food. His favourite drink is a whisky sour. His favourite music is rock, but also anything with meaning. Now he’s so much more than just an unexplainable sensation to me. He’s claiming my heart.

  “Right, come on,” he wiggles his fingers at me. “I said I was going to teach you how to ride.”

  I laugh out and nearly choke. Yes, he told me yesterday he would show me how to ride his bike, but I thought it was just the beer talking. I let it go right over my head at the time. There is no way on this earth, I’m riding that bike.

  I shake my head at him. He marches before me and takes my hand to pull me up to my feet. I lumber behind him as he tugs me toward the handlebars.

  “No, I can’t,” I squeal.

  “Yes you can.” He slaps my ass and his sexy green eyes widen on me. “Have you forgot to put your pants on?” He ogles my crotch.

  I slap his chest playfully. “They’re on the line.”

  He looks over his shoulder, and becomes entranced by my cotton smalls blowing in the wind.

  “Anyway,” he says, sharp. “You can; it’s easy.”

  “I don’t want to.”

  “You told me you wanted to.”

  “Daniel, I was a little fresh,” I say. “Plus, I’m wearing this god awful dress. It’s just not suitable.” My fingers clutch the sides of the skirt.

  “Please, just get on the bike,” he says, annoyed. “You’ll have fun, promise.”

  I shut my eyes as my chin falls to my chest. I can’t believe I’m actually considering this, and with no underwear on.

  “I tell you what, for today, I’ll be right behind you,” he says. “All you have to do is steer.” He straddles the bike, leaving room before the handlebars for me. “Come on,” he insists with a very convincing smile.

  I huff out a nervous breath, holding the skirt of the dress. I sit between his open thighs, tucking the dress under my legs and ass, so it doesn’t fly over my head when we move. This is so stupid.

  His hands reach around me to take mine. He wraps them around the handles. My chest leans forward with him.

  “No helmet?” I ask in a quivering tone.

  “We’ll be going five miles an hour, Maeve.” His hand rubs slightly over my knuckles. “I think you can handle that. Plus, you need to be able to hear me.”

  “I don’t feel comfortable with this.” I blow out nervously.

  “You’ll be fine.” His hands move away from mine. “This is the ignition switch.” He points to a small green flip switch under the handlebar. “This is the break.” His fingers wrap around the right handle to pump the break in and out. “This side,” he goes on to pump the handle on the left, “is the clutch. And this is the throttle.” His hand twists back on the right handle. “Forward, is flight, and backward is release. Got that?”

  What the fuck has he just explained to me? None of his instructions have sunk in. It’s gone to the part of my mind for irrelevant information.

  I remain silent, watching his hands.

  “Okay,” he chuckles. “We’ll just get you used to being up front. You steer, and I’ll do everything else.”

  “Don’t blame me if we crash,” I utter, hating every second of this.

  He turns a key at the centre of the handlebars. Immediately, my hands grip tightly as he revs the engine. I’m absolutely shitting myself. My heart is going to break through my ribs like a jackhammer, any second.

  I shut my eyes and lift my pumps up, placing them on t
he foot pedals. I’m squeezing the bars so tight my palms burn. He twists the throttle and the noise makes me jump up between his legs.

  “Calm down,” he laughs. “Remember, you’re steering.”

  We’re moving very slowly across the dry dirt. Squeals exit my mouth in every panicky breath I exhale. I have my eyes closed tight, too afraid to look.

  “Maeve,” Daniel’s voice hollers in my ear. “Steer!”

  My eyes spark open to see we’re heading right toward the farmhouse. FUCK. I turn the handlebars to the left, listening to tiny rocks crunch under the wheels. We continue to move forward and I begin to calm a little. I’m just about managing to steer us around in a circle. Daniel is probably bored with this speed, but snail pace is fine by me.

  I grin, kind of pleased with myself. Perhaps one day, in the distant future, once I’ve sussed out all the fiddly buttons and knobs, I might get myself a bike.

  “See, wasn’t too bad was it?” Daniel says, cutting out the engine, setting his boots down on the ground.

  “No. I might even let you give me another lesson tomorrow.”

  I peer over my shoulder at him. His grin straightens out at my answer. I was right, he got bored quickly with the idea.

  “Or not,” I giggle.

  I go to dismount the bike, keeping my bare ass covered, but find Daniel’s hands pushing down on my thighs, firm, and seductively. A sensual sigh escapes my mouth as his fingers creep to the hem of my skirt, to tease and stroke the skin above my knees. My pores swell at his provoking slight fingertip traces. My ass tenses as the urge to grip his wrist and slide his hand beneath my skirt, takes over all my rational thoughts. I’m straddled to this seat. But shit, right now, I want to be straddled hard around his sex.

  His chest leans against my back, and his deep purrs blow through the hair at the base of my neck. My torso fluctuates closer to him, as my eyelids scrunch in desire. As though gently pressing the keys on a piano, his fingers journey up to my mid-back. He presses his warm palm down, and angles me over so my breasts are flush with the handlebars. Wow, this is so wrong. We’re outside in broad daylight and I’m so horny, I feel like buffing my ass against this saddle. What the hell is he turning me into? I don’t do this kind of shit. I’m newly introduced to the wonderful world of sex. And here I am, like some slut, silently begging to be fucked.