by Tina Donahue
She leaned down.
He pulled her back up, scooted away, and tore off his shoes.
They sailed past her. His socks followed. He stripped his jeans and underwear off faster than she’d even done with her panels on stage.
Carnal sin flared in his eyes. He crawled across the bed to her, pushed her to the mattress, and entered her swiftly and deeply, leaving niceness behind.
Her heart pounded and her breath caught. God this was epic.
His slow, easy slide within her channel coordinated with his lazy kiss, his tongue sweeping her teeth and inner cheeks.
She gripped his biceps and hung on for a ride like no other. His tenderness and respect for her not only enhanced the passion, the sweet emotions turned simple fucking into more than wicked good. The act became sacred. One heart and soul touching another. To her, he still had both. To hell with his vampire state. Even being damned hadn’t changed the man he’d always be.
He doubled his pace and stroked her clit.
She shivered. Indescribable delight exploded within her and whizzed everywhere, making her more alive than she’d ever been. The squeaking mattress and bouncing bed sounded louder than earlier, the air smelled richer, his scent deeper.
If she had her way, she’d smell like him from this moment forward so he’d always be with her. Never had she wanted forever with anyone else. The walls she’d built around her were crumbling too fast, her protection almost gone. Alarms sounded.
She ignored them and indulged.
With each stroke he gave to her sensitive nub, her pussy tightened around his cock. To enhance the friction, she squeezed her sheath.
He pulled his mouth free, his hair bouncing from his ardent thrusts, perspiration dotting his face. If he clenched his teeth any harder, he’d break a few.
Bad girl that she was, she reached around his leg and fondled his balls.
He roared and gripped her wrists, using his strength to hold them to the bed as he pumped.
She broke free easily, given her new power, and clasped his biceps, taking care not to hurt him.
He lowered his face. Sweat dripped from his nose. He pumped at top speed and rubbed her clit forcefully and fast.
Her climax slashed through her harder than Dimitri’s curse had. Her heart stopped beating then sputtered back to life and slammed against her chest.
Roman made pained sounds.
She guessed he was trying to hold off.
He slowed his pace then quickened it. His face turned redder than the T-shirt she’d worn. He whimpered.
“Come, dammit.” Still panting, she shook him. “Don’t kill yourself.”
“Not possi—” He tensed, eyes googled, then bellowed.
Her pulsating core pulled him in deeper as he spilled his cum. As a vampire, he had no need for a rubber since he was shooting blanks and couldn’t contract an STD any more than she could. Perks for being paras.
She gathered him close, her embrace tender, betraying the affection she felt. With him, she couldn’t pretend or lie. She didn’t want to.
*****
Roman hadn’t intended to take Wren as quickly and savagely as he had. He’d wanted to romance her as the vamps had done with their babes in the novels he’d read.
Too late now. He was a selfish prick, taking too much, not giving back as he should. Despite the sorry truth, he wanted more. Being caressed by her warmth and softness had no equal. Her scent made living worthwhile, giving him hope, brightening his sorry existence.
Winded, he gulped air, swallowed, and shuddered.
“Doing okay?” She explored the furrow between his ass cheeks. “Need to rest?”
When he’d had his powers, sleep wouldn’t come no matter how hard he tried to relax or get drunk. With her stuff flowing through him, his lids grew heavy and his limbs wanted to give out. “No.”
If he fell asleep, she might start craving blood again. Not wanting her to hurt, he sank down and rolled them over until she was on top. “I’d like you to do the work this time. If you don’t mind.”
“Gladly.” She scrambled off him, leaving his cock limp and lonely.
He tugged her hair to ease her closer. “We’re not going to make love?”
“I am. With my mouth.” She swatted his hand away, lifted his flaccid shaft, and tongued his hairy balls.
Pleasure darted through him, lingered then grew, stealing his remaining breath until he feared he might burst. Every inch he owned was uber sensitive, and she wasn’t helping matters.
She eased his ball into her mouth.
Overwhelming arousal and heat slammed into him. He would have shrieked if he’d been able to manage a sound. As it was, he’d become as helpless as when he’d crashed his cycle the first time. Whatever her plans for him, he couldn’t stop her.
Didn’t want to. Ever.
She licked his nut, stroked his cock, and explored his anus.
God, God, God.
This was exquisite torture no mortal could have withstood. As a para, he wasn’t fairing much better. He squeezed his fists, clenched his teeth, curled his toes, and still couldn’t manage the fierce delight she created within him.
Finished with his first ball, she tended the other, her hot, wet tongue enhancing the delight.
The room lurched. He gripped the gold-and-black comforter to anchor himself. No good. He still dipped and swayed.
She released his testicle and took his cock fully into her mouth, the head touching her tonsils.
He nearly screamed his approval. There’d been many women in his life but none like her. She was a good heart wrapped in beauty and wanton seduction. Lloyd’s of London should have insured her tongue against harm; it was that precious and unique.
After she worked her mouth up and down his length, she lapped the area behind his crown, where nature had hoarded a man’s pleasure.
Her first lick had him squirming. During the second, he yanked the comfortable so hard the end flew up and landed on her.
She brushed it aside, took his shaft in as deep as possible, caressed his balls, and probed his anus.
He came before he could stop himself, his cum spurting into her mouth, and was too enraptured to ease back and spare her. Fuck, what am I doing? She deserved better than a thoughtless prick. “Sorry.”
“I’m not.” She swallowed his cum and licked the remaining traces off his cock and sac. “What for?”
She was speaking cryptically again, giving him no chance to follow. Still gasping, he rested his arm over his eyes. When he’d been fully vamp, even artificial light had begun to bother him. Now, he simply preferred darkness and a ten-minute nap with her at his side. “Huh?”
“What?”
“Let’s start over.” He smacked his lips. “You asked ‘what for?’ I don’t know what you meant.”
“Oh, you said you were sorry. Concerning what?” She fell quiet then made a distressed sound. “I hope not about what we just did.”
“Are you kidding? Never.” An electric jolt couldn’t have revived him faster than her dejection or sad comment. He sat up and gathered her close. “I was talking about coming in your mouth. I should have moved back.”
“Why? You taste good.” She licked her lips. “Want a taste?” She brushed her mouth over his.
They necked leisurely as if they had all the time in the world, which they did. Finished, they simply looked at each other and smiled.
She rubbed his stomach. “Hungry? I’ll bring the pizza in here for you. I also have some steaks I could cook.”
“I’m fine.” He stroked her cheek. “You?”
Worry touched her eyes. She rushed the emotion away, hiding it beneath a broad smile. “I could do you again.”
He wasn’t certain whether she offered because he turned her on more than other men had or she needed sex as a distraction against her lust for blood. “Do you want to? I mean, really?”
Indignation tightened her features. She shoved him to the bed.
Given her new stren
gth, he hit hard. “Jesus.”
“Oh my God, I’m sorry.” She leaned over him. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t, did I?”
“No, but—”
“Quiet.” She covered his mouth as he’d done to her when Dimitri was harassing them. “My turn to talk. You’re as bad as I am, thinking I’m only doing this to spare myself. I’m not. I want you because you’re who you are. Surely, you must know as much unless you’re blind, deaf, and dumb.”
“Can I talk now?” He mumbled beneath her hand.
She removed it and sat on her heels. “Go on.”
“Thanks.” He pushed to his elbows. “I’m here with you because I want to be, not from guilt, honor, or anything else. I want you. I like you, even though you make it hard at times.”
She gave him a look.
He grinned. “You’re so cute when you’re annoyed.”
“Uh-huh.” She cupped his face. “Are you okay, really? Did I hurt you when I pushed too hard?”
“I’m fine. How about you?” Her complexion had pinked up nicely from their bed play. There wasn’t anything better in life than her tangled hair, proving she’d had fun. “You doing okay? Are you…?”
He couldn’t finish, not wanting to voice their problem.
She traced his fingers. “The craving has subsided. How long does the inner peace usually last?”
“I don’t know. It only happened tonight when I was with you. But tell you what, we’ll stay in here and play every time you feel the urge coming on…also during those times you’re not.”
Her laughter peeled through the room. “And here, I thought you didn’t have any lines.”
“Seriously.” He brushed her hair aside. “Tell me if you need me to help you endure.”
“You mean wake you up? You look beat.”
His missed sleep was catching up with him again. His orgasms exacerbated his fatigue. “While I take a nap, stay in here with me. Please.”
“Of course.” She eased him to the comforter and crawled on top. “How’s this?”
Using his remaining strength, he rolled them over until she was beneath him but propped himself up to avoid crushing her. “I like this better.”
His cock was snuggled between her puffy folds, exactly as nature intended. He flexed it.
Her smile was quick but disappeared fast. “Do you prefer this way because I can’t slip out without you knowing it?”
She was too direct and wouldn’t accept a lie. “I want what’s best for both of us. I promise not to let anything bad happen to you. I’ll fix this.”
Somehow.
With his promise hanging between them, he kissed her lightly then rested his face against her neck.
Everything went black.
Chapter Four
Despite Roman’s determination to love Wren endlessly in bed, the shower, on the kitchen table, and everywhere else in her house, he lost steam during their third day together. For the first time, he actually missed his vampire prowess. The one thing to keep him going like a romance novel hero high on performance-enhancing drugs.
Sprawled on the sheepskin rug in her living room, he struggled to speak between his strained breaths. “Give me a sec and I’ll be good to go for the next round.”
Deep in thought, she paced. When she reached the wall, she crawled up it and across the ceiling, her hair dangling down.
He wanted to tell her not to worry but figured he wouldn’t be convincing. They couldn’t go on like this forever. Already they’d torn apart her place looking for her magic books and found nada. He’d suggested checking her computer hard drive or the Cloud. No luck in either spot. Since she feared her increasing thirst for blood, she’d canceled her meetings with the teen girls she mentored and hadn’t been back to the club for her shifts.
Surely, Dimitri knew he’d forced her into hiding here and likely celebrated his victory by being a dick to someone else.
This had to stop. Only how? Outside of Lael, Roman didn’t know any witches other than Wren.
He ground his fists into his eyes, stifled another yawn, then bolted to a sitting position. “Shit. That’s it.”
She halted mid-crawl then fell to the floor on her naked feet, boobs bouncing. “That’s what?”
Hopefully, the end to her misery and his worry over her. “I know you said your witch friends can’t match Dimitri’s power, but which ones have the most? And please tell me you guys aren’t on the outs, like you are with your family, given how you feel about your heritage.”
“Of course we’re not. They know my beliefs and love me for who I am. Why are you asking?”
“They have magic books like you do, right? Ones you can borrow and use to relearn this stuff?” Damn, he couldn’t believe he hadn’t considered this before. It was so easy. Possibly too much so, but also represented a chance.
Although sleep deprivation had put dark shadows beneath her eyes, her beautiful face lit up. “Yeah, they do have volumes. I could scour them to find something to defeat Dimitri.”
“We can. I’m in this with you the entire way.” It was only right, though he didn’t dare suggest she help him hone his feeble skills. Curious about them, he’d used magic to turn on a burner to make omelets for breakfast but set a plant on fire instead. His efforts to get the water temperature right in the bathroom had melted the sink. Never would he have guessed this shit was so hard. “Call them now. Please.”
“On it.” During her conversation with each woman, she dashed around the room, her hope returned, her form a blur.
Trish arrived first. Busty with auburn hair and a penchant for beaded vintage clothing, she hugged Wren and wiggled her fingers at Roman. “Hey.”
“Hi.” He lifted his hand in greeting and planted the other one on his junk. In his excitement over the new plan, he’d forgotten he was naked. “Be back in a sec.” Still facing her, he exited the room and padded down the hall.
By the time he’d tugged on his jeans and returned with Wren’s robe, Sabrina had popped in. Tallish, she’d donned a tank top and short-shorts, wore her black hair in a boyish cut shorter than his had ever been, and was as slender as a prepubescent girl. She, Wren, and Trish stopped gabbing long enough for Sabrina to hug him. “Hey. Nice to meet you.”
“Same here. Thanks for coming.”
“For Wren? Anything. Always.”
He was glad she had such a devoted posse.
Cassie rounded out the group, arriving in a puff of black smoke, her Goth makeup and clothing as dramatic as her entrance and platinum hair. She embraced her friends then pointed at his tat. “Nice. The rest of you isn’t too bad either.” She took him in slowly then grinned at Wren. “You lucky dog.”
The ladies giggled.
While they got down to business, conjuring up enough magic volumes to cover both chairs, the cocktail table, and the rug, he retreated to the kitchen. “Would you ladies like something to drink? Eat?”
“Sounds good.” Trish waved her hand. Pizzas, chips, dip, soft drinks, beer, and salads appeared on tables that hadn’t been here a second earlier.
Wren elbowed her. “Roman likes pepper poppers.”
“His craving is my command.” A new table appeared, appetizers heaped on top.
This was great, except for one thing he’d just considered. “I hate to put a damper on this gathering, but will Dimitri be able to overhear what you’re talking about and planning?” He spoke to Wren. “I’m guessing he knows where you live, as a good stalker should, right?”
She slumped.
Sabrina, Trish, and Cassie exchanged a glance. Trish spoke first. “We need to leave now.”
“Hold on.” Roman rushed to her. “Wren needs your help. You can’t cut out before you’ve taught her how to do magic.”
Trish made a face. “Who said we’re abandoning her. Hang on.” She tapped her chin.
In a flash, Wren’s house disappeared, replaced by a mansion he’d never seen before. He and the others were outside by the Olympic-sized pool, the wate
r sparking, the air heated, the sun intense.
Wren blinked repeatedly, shaded her eyes, and shrank back.
He grabbed a towel from a chaise lounge and draped it over her head. “Can you ladies do something to fix her sensitivity so she can enjoy the day like everyone else?”
Wren gripped his wrist. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not.” He spoke to her friends. “Please?”
“Of course.” Sabrina waved her hands. Within seconds, Wren’s skin shone, a transparent lotion coating it. She sported sunglasses and a hot-pink bikini rather than the towel and her robe.
“My sunscreen won’t let one ray through.” Sabrina grinned. “Promise.”
Wren regarded her arms. “Thanks. Is this waterproof, too?”
“What else? But we need to tutor you before anyone plays.”
Dutifully, Wren sank to a chaise near the others. The magic books and food surrounded them. Each young woman had switched to swimwear, Cassie’s a black bikini, Sabrina’s a blue one-piece, Trish’s also a bikini, but green and sparkly from beads.
Behind them, the mansion loomed, three stories high and stucco, a Spanish design. Roman scratched his bristly cheek. “Are we still in Vegas?”
Cassie spoke around a chip in her mouth. “Yep.”
He didn’t like her answer. “Won’t Dimitri find this place like he did the club and Wren’s house?”
Trish shook her head, bit into her pizza wedge, and chewed. “We put up a force field to hide it from him.”
“Great.” Who knew witches could be so handy. “Is this your place?”
Sabrina finished her soda. “Belongs to a mortal. He’s away for a month. The Feds are questioning him about something. You know what they say: behind every great fortune is a great crime. Anyway, he’ll never know we’ve been here. Music guys?”
They nodded.
Kelly Clarkson’s “Heartbeat Song” filled the air.
Everyone tapped their fingers to the peppy tune, except for Wren. She flipped pages in the magic book resting on her lap, face tight in concentration.
Roman sat next to her. The sunscreen smelled like coconut and peaches. He liked her natural fragrance better. “Anything coming back?”
