Romance with a Bite

by Tamsin Baker

  He shook his head, as if admonishing a naughty kid. “No bullshit swings both ways, so here goes. I want more, Tiff.”

  “I don’t do more.”

  “Why?”

  “Stop asking me why and just accept that’s the way things are.”

  “What if I say no?”

  “Then I’ll say we’re done.”

  “No bullshit?”

  “No bullshit.”

  Still, he kept his distance, his gaze locked with mine, as if by doing so he could delve deep into my soul and see . . . what? I turned away, breaking whatever voodoo magic he was trying to weave.

  Why did everything have to be so fucking complicated?

  More sucked. More meant complications and problems and all that bullshit I never wanted.

  More meant one day things would turn to shit and I’d be less. Worthless. And a punching bag for the sonovabitch who convinced me that he wanted more and that more was good.

  It was hell.

  I didn’t trust more any more than I trusted the man who spouted its virtues.

  “And?”

  “And?”

  Would he stop repeating every goddam word I said and decide? I glared. Maybe looks were more effective than words.

  He sighed. “Fine.”

  “Fine?”

  “You want sex, no strings? Well, let’s try it your way and see where that leads us.”

  “Just to be clear, it won’t lead us anywhere but naked and fucking.”

  “We’ll see.” He had that smug “I’m in control” look on his face. The one he had that first day, when he walked into our meeting as if he owned it.

  I didn’t want smug, and I sure as hell didn’t want anyone thinking he owned me. I didn’t want him for any more than his cock. Time I made that clearer than mud.

  “So, what are you waiting for? Shut up, take me out of here and fuck me, or forever hold your peace.”

  *

  There were few fantasies remaining in which I hadn’t already indulged. One vaulted to mind with technicolor clarity as I wrapped my legs around Gideon’s Harley and my arms tight around his chest—a sexy motorcycle, an even sexier man and multiple, mind-blowing orgasms.

  Thankfully, I’d chosen my only ankle-length skirt with two side slits, allowing me to sit astride the bike with the barest semblance of modesty. A strip of fine silk lay between me and the leather seat, the cool air both teasing and tantalizing my pussy into hyperawareness.

  I was throbbing and wet even before I sat on his bike, and it was a distinct possibility that the thrum of the engine and the heat of my thoughts would send me tumbling over the edge before we ever reached our destination.

  He hadn’t shared where we were headed. Then again, I hadn’t asked. Talk had been pretty much nonexistent since I’d hit him with my ultimatum. Fine by me. I didn’t want him for his scintillating conversational skills.

  And I didn’t want to lose the control I’d regained. That meant controlling the here and now and keeping Gideon off-kilter.

  I tugged his jacket and yelled into his ear. “Turn here.” His delectable body stiffened and I yelled again. “Turn. Left. Here. I know a place.”

  To his credit, he listened. He even turned, his shoulders so ramrod straight, the tension all but oozed into my numb fingertips.

  “Next right.”

  The motorcycle dipped and we left the main highway for a gravel road. Five minutes and we’d arrive. My body hummed, so high from the promise of what was to come I could already feel the roll of an orgasm.

  I squinted. Would I even spot the path? Bald Cypress lined the road and the motorcycle’s headlights barely cut through the dark, winding road in front of us. Then the large information board glowed white in the hazy light and I knew we’d found it.

  “Turn right just after the sign.”

  The path was narrow and barely discernable to those unaware of its existence. Perfect for what I had in mind. I spotted the large, gnarly tree, its heart-shaped knot sending shivers of not so delicious memories up my spine. I pushed them back. No time for that bullshit now.

  “Stop.”

  The bike slid to a standstill, humming between my thighs. But now we’d arrived, it wasn’t enough. I wanted Gideon there, fucking me into oblivion.

  He cut the engine, engaged the stand and removed his helmet. I dismounted and did the same. The headlight cut through the dark until eventually swallowed by the night. The rush and bubble of the nearby brook cut through the quiet and rustling of the leaves above.

  “Where are we?”

  An owl announced his presence before swooping across our clearing from one tree to the next. “A place I come sometimes to think.”

  True. But I wouldn’t tell him the rest.

  He swung his leg up and off the bike, taking my helmet and setting it with his to hang from the handlebars.

  “Why are we here?”

  I shed my jacket. My breasts ached for his touch, my nipples tight, hard buds, rasping against my top, driving me insane with want.

  “To fulfil a fantasy.” I popped the button of my skirt and slowly released the zipper. His gaze slid down to watch as the fabric puddled at my feet. I straddled the bike and leaned back against the storage compartment, lifting my leg, resting the arch of one foot on the gas tank. The other I rested on the ground.

  I barely contemplated what would happen if the bike toppled over. Luckily, Gideon stepped forward, supporting the chassis.

  I felt decadent. So fucking hot I could combust any moment.

  I shed my top. No mean feat, but I made it without any major hiccups.

  Gideon’s gaze seemed riveted to my every move. My hands skimmed upward, from my knees, over my thighs, then beneath the soaked fabric to the throbbing folds beneath. I’d never considered myself an exhibitionist, but Gideon watching as my fingertips taunted the tight bud of nerves, his deep growl as I slowly entered my slick folds was the biggest turn-on, ever.

  My free hand pulled the cups of my bra down, releasing my breasts, pushing them up and outward, freeing them to the cold night air.

  Gideon swallowed, the bob of his Adam’s apple drying my throat.

  My gaze dropped from his almost black eyes to the unmistakable bulge in his jeans.

  Fuck. Just thinking about his cock sliding inside, slow and thick, hard and deep . . . my breathing came faster, my fingers mimicking those actions.

  “Take off your pants.”

  His gaze darted back to mine, his expression inscrutable in the muted light. His hands dropped from the bike to the belt at his waist. With excruciating slowness, he released the buckle, popped the button, then dragged open his fly. Black briefs enclosed his thick, aroused flesh and my mouth watered.

  “I want to see you.”

  He barely hesitated before kicking off his boots, shedding his jeans and underwear.

  “All of you.”

  His jacket slid off his shoulders and his biceps bulged with swoon-worthy splendor as he pulled his shirt forward and over his head.

  “Come here.”

  He came, every fucking gorgeous inch of him, doing my bidding, making me so fucking crazy-hot I didn’t know what I wanted most. I wanted to come, over and over, from my touch, from his, with his cock deep in my pussy, with his mouth sucking and fucking me till I couldn’t remember my name or where the hell I was.

  “Touch yourself.”

  That big, firm hand wrapped around his beautiful cock and he groaned. Not once did his gaze stray from mine.

  Something splintered in my chest. Something unfathomable.

  That rawness, that connection. It was too much.

  I brought my fingers to my mouth and licked, tasting my arousal, watching his. Then slowly, I slid my hand back down to my throbbing flesh. His gaze followed its descent, accompanied by the rapid bob of his Adam’s apple.

  Much better.

  “Pump and squeeze.”

  He did, sliding his hand balls to tip then straight back down again as I
dipped two fingers then three into my wet-as-fuck pussy, imagining they were his, his mouth on my clit, his tongue entering me, twirling and sucking and fucking me halfway across the universe and back.

  I felt the spiral, the heightening of my senses, the rush of my blood.

  My body tensed, the edge of my climax so close I could taste it.

  “I’m coming.”

  He didn’t comment, just kept pumping, squeezing, sliding his hand up and down that delicious organ while I tumbled into orgasm, my pussy pulling and clenching my fingers as if they were his cock.

  My hand slumped against my thigh, my body heavy and satisfied until my gaze lifted to Gideon’s. He watched me, his massive body just inches from mine, his barely restrained control almost at breaking point.

  I could see he wanted to touch me, to fuck me, and hell, I wanted that too.

  Barely down from one orgasm, I was looking to the next.

  I dragged my hand up over my hip, across my tummy, brushing and circling my breast as he watched, hungry, waiting for my command.

  This massive, muscle-bound man, mine for the taking. Mine for the commanding. There was nothing on this planet more shit-hot than that.

  Chapter 16

  Gideon

  “Taste me, Gideon.”

  Fuck.

  I’d watched Tiff pleasure herself on my ride, wild, abandoned, sexy-as-all-hell. My balls were rocks, my cock so goddam hard it could obliterate boulders.

  Yet, this was her fantasy and now it had become mine.

  More than my next breath, more than my mortality and everything that went along with it, I wanted to taste her. My fangs threatened to descend and it took every ounce of my control to stop them.

  She squeezed her nipples, two cherries beckoning for me to feast.

  Until now, Tiff had commanded the show, but now it was my turn.

  I stepped in and my fingers joined hers. She let her hand drop as I plumped her breasts, tweaking and twisting the taut buds until she writhed, bucking her hips, demanding fulfillment.

  “Your mouth,” she rasped. “I want your mouth.”

  That I could do. I took her lips, hard, uncompromising, groaning as they opened, allowing my tongue to plunder her sweet depths. Her tongue tangled with mine, her mouth giving and taking with unrestrained abandon.

  Her hand wrapped around my cock and squeezed.

  Fuck me.

  Her thumb swept over the precum, slicking her palm before she squeezed again and worked my shaft like a stick shift in the frigging NASCAR series.

  I broke the kiss. My hand squeezed her breast, my mouth sucking and swirling her nipple, harder and faster in response to her breathy moans. I reached between her thighs, slicking my thumb across her clit as I drove one, then two fingers into her pussy.

  So. Fucking. Wet. So. Fucking. Hot.

  I wanted inside her, to sink into her body and never come out.

  Instead, I worked her clit, milking her pussy with my fingers, supporting the bike with my other hand, until she screamed my name.

  “Fuck me. Gideon. Please.”

  I didn’t need a second invitation.

  It took ten fumbled seconds to locate a condom in my jacket and roll it on.

  I slid my hands up her thighs, helping her lift her legs to reveal her sexy ass and the slick, moist folds just begging for me to fuck them. I straddled the bike and she dropped her legs onto my shoulders, her passion-ridden gaze locking with mine.

  I lowered her legs and dropped my mouth to her throat, to the hot, pulsing flow of blood just below the skin. I licked, sucked, tasting her. So close. Fulfilment beat less than an inch from my grasp. My cock throbbed just shy of her folds and I nudged closer, drawing on her throat, awakening my taste buds with the promise of satisfaction.

  “Bite me!”

  I stilled. Somewhere in the recesses of my mind I acknowledged what she wanted and how her command translated to me were eons apart, yet I couldn’t stop.

  My fangs descended, my nostrils drowning with her scent. Arousal. The life force rushing through her veins. I bucked, pushing into her with one swift motion, my fangs piercing her skin as I withdrew and thrust again.

  Her gaze widened, her dilated pupils transforming her eyes to black. Short, sharp gasps escaped her parted lips, her hands frantically clutching my ass, pulling me in deeper, harder, faster.

  The condom ensured we both experienced the connection without consummating the mating. Blood flowed across my tongue, awakening my taste buds, igniting my body. She tasted sweet, succulent, alive.

  My balls clenched, so goddam tight, my cock so frigging hot, it burned like fire. I released her neck, licking the wound, thrusting harder, higher, building her orgasm as I stoked mine.

  She moaned, mewled, panted, begged. I lifted her legs higher onto my shoulders, watching my cock enter and leave her pussy as my thumb flicked her clit, once, twice, circling and toying, making her arch and writhe and crazy.

  One more flick and her nails cut into my ass. She screamed, pussy pulsing, pulling my cock into orgasm. I arched and unleashed, losing myself in the clench and grab of her flesh, leaving this world, this moment, my mind filled with everything and nothing all at once. Dark and light filled my vision, and her—blonde curls in disarray, cheeks cherry red, lips swollen and full.

  Mine.

  Possession billowed in my chest as if we’d mated and completed the ritual, when in reality we’d done all but the final, fundamental step—exchange essences, linking our souls to become one.

  My cock was still buried deep in her body, my mind protesting over thoughts of breaking the bond. I dropped my forehead to hers, calming my breathing, relishing her uncontrolled panting and the rampant beat of her heart.

  I felt peace and disquiet all at once.

  And home.

  I curved my palm around her jaw, brushing her cheek with my thumb. Our gazes locked, as tight as our bodies. Something brimmed in those hazy, blue depths—a fragility I’d never seen in her before now.

  “Moja láska.” I whispered the ancient words before I had the brain function to call them back.

  Tiff blinked, and a shutter slid over her expression. She moved beneath me, wriggling, suddenly frantic to break free.

  I pulled out and pushed up, bracing my thighs to keep the Harley from tumbling to the ground, searching her expression to glean what had suddenly changed. “You okay?”

  She nodded, expression firmly closed. “Just a little cold.” She shivered, as if to prove her point. More than “just cold” was responsible for obliterating her expression.

  I shot her a grin. “I could warm you again.”

  Her palm connected with my chest, and at first I thought she’d pull me back down, but then she pushed and sat up. Her legs dropped down and I pulled my mind away from the sight of my motorcycle tucked tight between her thighs.

  Her hand rubbed at her neck. “What the fuck just happened?”

  I stood and stepped off the bike, gripping the handlebars, struggling for nonchalance. She scrambled off the seat, stumbling backwards in an effort to increase the distance between us. And here began the conversation I’d both anticipated and dreaded. “The best orgasm ever?”

  That threw her, and I could see in her eyes it was true. I’d like to say modesty was one of my better qualities, but that’d be a lie. My ego swelled.

  “What’s this?” Trembling fingers pushed back her curls revealing the twin marks on her skin.

  It was a discussion we needed, but not naked. I scouted around for my briefs. Luckily my better-than-mortal night vision located both them and her panties easily.

  She’d already tucked her delicious breasts back into the lace that had only seconds ago plumped them up, ripe and ready for my enjoyment.

  I dragged my thoughts away from that visual and back to the angry frown on Tiff’s face. “You won’t believe me if I tell you.”

  “Try me.” The arch of her brows screamed “pull the other one,” as if I were stringing he
r a line that was thin and tenuous at best. She’d soon discover I wasn’t.

  “Let’s get dressed and go somewhere for you to warm up and I promise I’ll tell you all.” Or almost all. I ignored the twist in my gut. With more than our union at stake, there were some facts I had no authority to share.

  “Just tell me.”

  “It’s not that simple and you’re cold.” Her body shivered again and I handed across her skirt, leaning in to help with her shirt buttons.

  She pushed my hand away, her icy fingers fumbling to secure them.

  I slipped into my jeans and shirt, holding out my jacket. “Here, take this.”

  “I don’t need it.” Her teeth began to chatter.

  “Fuck it, Tiff. Stop being so goddam stubborn. Take the jacket before you catch the death of a cold.”

  I wrapped it round her body, ignoring the way she shrank away from my touch. It was impossible to equate this woman with the one who’d so brazenly ordered me to fuck her. I dropped the leather onto her shoulders and stepped back, relieved when she slipped her hands through the arms.

  With jerky movements, she yanked up the zipper. “You’re not the boss of me.”

  “You’re right. But I do care about you. Would it surprise you so much that I don’t want you to get sick?”

  She opened her mouth then clamped it. She didn’t have to voice the denial, it was written all over her face.

  What the hell had happened between her need for me, her orgasm and this moment? Something had changed, some flick of a switch making her glare at me like I was the devil. Not a great start to a conversation that would see her view of me forever changed.

  I handed her a helmet.

  She took it, holding it away from her body as if it were infectious. “Where are we going?”

  “Somewhere warm.”

  Uncertainty laced her expression. Damn, the woman could fuck me but she still didn’t trust me. That she had good reason—considering I’d just bitten her without giving her the all-important heads up that I was a vamp—didn’t factor. And I wasn’t even going near the fact that I’d used her to access the flu antidote and cure.