by Tamsin Baker
His breath fanned my cheek, his hand dipping lower to cup my ass.
Fuck.
Was it bad I wanted to straddle him like a thoroughbred racehorse and ride his cock till his knees buckled and my body liquefied into a lusty puddle at his feet? Gideon had become my new favorite obsession, and I doubted I’d ever get tired. Sammy had well and truly retired to the back of my underwear drawer. I doubted he’d ever see the light of day again.
I lifted a leg—thankful for my sensible slacks and top combo—wrapping it around his thighs, pressing hard against his erection.
Holy fuck. He was big and firm and oh, so thick. And he wielded his cock like a warrior wields his sword.
I rubbed my pant-covered pussy up his length. Wet heat flooded the swollen folds, ready for him to fill me and make me whole. I kissed his neck, then his ear, laving and sucking him towards submission. “Fuck me, Gideon.”
He groaned, dropping his forehead to mine, his breathing just as ragged, his body just as ready. “What about my surprise?”
“I can feel it, all nine inches.”
His laughter rumbled through my flesh and I wanted to bottle it and keep it to remind me how good life could be.
Slowly, reluctantly, he dropped me down. “You have no idea how hard this is.”
I reached between us and cupped him through his cargos. “I have some idea.”
“Hold onto that thought.” His gaze turned gold as he peeled my hand from his cock. “Today is about firsts. Believe me, when it’s time, you’ll be glad we didn’t do this now.” He dropped a kiss to the tip of my nose. “It’ll be great, I promise.”
I wasn’t so sure that was true, but I had to trust him.
My heart flip-flopped in my chest.
Trust.
Since when did I link that word with any man?
Yet, here I was, ready to trust Gideon. The circumstances weren’t earth-shattering or world-changing. This was about his word. But since his whole vampire-reveal, he’d given me no reason to question. And if we were bound by fate until death do we part, shouldn’t I at least give him the benefit of the doubt?
Now seemed as good a time as any. “Fine. But just know, I’m so, so wet. All I can think about right now is your cock sliding into my pussy, deep and hard and over and over until I shake and shudder and scream out your name.”
His body trembled and I couldn’t help but smile. He was as insatiable as I. We wanted with the same ferocity, and we fucked with the same fire.
It wasn’t difficult to believe the universe deemed us a pair.
Something clicked when I was with Gideon. We made sense, we made sparks and a multitude of orgasms, which were endless and always, always better than the last.
He pulled back. “I haven’t got a cold shower but I have the next best thing.” He grinned as he led me into a large, open living space. He held up a wetsuit.
“We’re going swimming?”
“Nope. Water skiing.”
“And this is better than sex?”
“It’s the lead-up to sex. I won’t let you down.”
He hadn’t so far in that department. No reason to believe he’d do it now. “I’m holding you to that.”
His glorious lips twitched. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
I took the suit, not at all sure this day was going the way I’d planned. When he’d suggested we play hooky, I’d imagined sex, instead he was taking me skiing.
Ever tried to slip into a wetsuit when you’re horny as all hell? It’s about as difficult as squeezing a banana back into its unbroken skin. Gideon’s hands smoothed the rubber up and over my body—totally unhelpful. As was the glint in his eyes which said he was enjoying my discomfort way too much.
Then again, the wrap of wetsuit rubber around his groin said he was just as uncomfortable.
Next came the lessons.
First we practiced on the houseboat. I slipped into the skis, gripped an imaginary handle, squatted and braced. When he was convinced I’d mastered the technique, he unhooked a large cuddy cabin from behind The Merry Molly and we made for the middle of the lake.
It hadn’t seemed too hard back on solid—slightly swaying—ground.
Of course, that was before water resistance forced my legs to slide in opposite directions, planting my face flat in the path of the water spray.
Not. Much. Fun. If this was Gideon’s surprise, I was so not impressed.
It took thirteen tries before I skied for an entire six seconds without toppling head over ass. The triumph didn’t sway my relief when he announced it was time for lunch.
We moored just inside the mouth of Tchefuncte River, a peaceful, private setting that made me feel as if we were the last two people remaining in the world.
“Enjoy it?”
My thighs still ached and my knees still quivered. “Enjoy might be a stretch.”
He quirked a brow, placing container after container of food onto a rug on the floor of the cabin. First came mini muffulettas, each round sesame bread stuffed with olive salad and thick layers of cheeses and meats. “I thought you liked skiing.”
“Not without snow and a slope.”
He unpacked a small tray of beignets—their light, flaky pastry enticingly dusted with powdered sugar. Last came a selection of fresh fruits and nuts, some sodas and mineral water. “But you can water ski minus the cold.”
“Which just goes to show you can’t have everything.”
“Not quite true.”
The basket was empty but for one final container. He brandished it with a grin.
My heartbeat turned staccato, my body melting with mere thoughts of what Gideon had planned. “Caramel sauce?”
He waggled his brows. “With swirls of chocolate.”
“For me?”
“For both of us.”
“Would you be terribly upset if we skipped lunch and went straight to dessert?”
He flipped the lid and rich, decadent caramel filled my nostrils. “I thought you’d never ask.”
*
A little corner of my heart melted.
It wasn’t the drizzle of sauce over my skin. Or the play of Gideon’s tongue teasing my flesh towards ecstasy. It wasn’t the slow burn as he stoked the fire that roared through my blood as I climaxed not once, but thrice. It wasn’t even the reverence he bestowed while worshipping every quivering inch of my body.
No. It was none of that.
It was Gideon planning an entire day with the sole purpose of pleasing me.
The skiing—much as it involved water instead of snow—the picnic, the sauce. Gideon had heard—he’d listened—he’d taken note, and he’d acted. When had anyone gone to that much trouble, for me?
The ski boat—named The Dan, after his father—rolled and bucked with the waves. He pushed the food aside and lay me out on the rug like a feast he fully intended to ravage. I quivered at the thought. Damn, I hope so.
My body heated beneath his gaze, the sweep of a cool breeze tormenting my skin, plumping my breasts and peaking my nipples into tight, hungry buds.
Gideon kneeled beside me, his gaze a glittering gold. I now recognized the tight set of his jaw showed how much he fought the release of his vampire self.
My heart warmed with his care, even while part of me wanted his vampire to emerge, wanted his fangs to sink deep into my flesh, awakening the visions that had haunted and captivated me since that erotic, unforgettable night.
“The trick to creating the perfect dessert is all about design.” Gideon dipped his finger into the container, then brought the dripping sauce to his lips. My mouth watered.
He dipped again, this time rubbing the sauce along my lips until I opened my mouth and sucked away every last drop.
My gaze dropped to his cock, just inches from my face, the thick, hard tip tenting the fabric of his black board shorts. If I leaned over, I could open my mouth and take him inside, savoring the sweet and sour of his essence across my tongue.
“Placement
is the key.” His hand hovered above me and thick, cool liquid drizzled from his fingertip. My breath hitched, my body thrummed. My gaze riveted to that finger, that dripping sauce, my body waiting, craving, anticipating each and every drop.
I trembled.
Sauce dripped onto my skin, oozing out over my breasts. They swelled, heavy, achy, my already tight nipples constricting towards pain. Another scoop, and the cool trickle rolled over my belly, seeping down towards the V between my thighs. I parted my legs, tilting my hips, exposing my throbbing flesh to the cool breeze and a third scoop of gooey gloriousness. My pussy clenched. Empty. Grasping. Needy.
I moaned.
The spill and slide of the sauce was incredible, but I wanted—needed—more.
“Gideon.”
His gaze latched to mine. “Command me.”
Fuck.
He scooped up one final dollop and dropped it between my parted lips. It drizzled over my chin, down my neck, joining the sauce still taunting my breasts.
I swallowed, then pushed up, sliding my hand behind his head, pulling him down to meet me. His kiss was one of submission, yet he possessed me as sure as if he’d cast me with some spell. He drank from my mouth, our lips taking, our tongues dancing, his taste as decadent as the chocolate caramel he’d used to slake my hunger.
He pulled back. “Tell me what you want.”
My heart smacked against my ribs. His gaze glinted iridescent, pulling me under whatever voodoo magic he wove, stealing my breath and every thought bar one. “Eat me.”
Without a word he dipped his mouth to my breast and sucked.
Holy fuck.
The wet of the sauce and the pull of his mouth dragged at my pussy, liquefying every inch of my body. Every lick, every suck, every pull dragged me deeper into mindlessness, over the edge of reason to a place from which I could never return.
His tongue circled my belly button, sucking and fucking it until the flesh between my thighs cried out with jealousy. My pussy pulsed, avaricious, needy.
I slipped my hand across my thigh only to have it purposefully removed.
“Tell me what you want.”
My dry throat crackled, but I managed three words. “Eat my pussy.”
With a grin, he dropped his head and followed my bidding. He nipped and swirled, nibbled and tugged, his fingers stroking spots A through to G until I came in a thunderous rush, my body arched, cries of pleasure bursting through my lips.
Two times more, he stoked, he stroked and brought me to pleasure. Each time more thunderous, more earthshattering than the last. As my body arched one final time, his arm slid up and around my waist, easing my quivering frame down onto the rug.
I collapsed. Shattered. Sticky. Thoroughly satisfied. “Holy fuck.”
“I take it you appreciated my surprise?”
I could hear the smile in his voice and it flip-flopped my heart, even as my body continued to float on the post-climactic swirl of fluffy, white clouds. On a long exhale, I murmured my response. “Any time you feel compelled to surprise me again, go ahead. I am now officially, totally, irrevocably in love with surprises.”
“Good to know.” Gideon’s deep rumble floated through a haze bordering on wakefulness.
The boat’s dip and roll lulled me into lethargy.
My eyelids fluttered, my breath rolling out from somewhere deep in my chest. A wet cloth swept in small, circular strokes over my skin. My head lifted, then slowly lowered onto something soft and springy, and velvety warmth wrapped deliciously around my body.
Light receded into dark, and I tumbled into slumber, my last thoughts filled with the man who’d given me hopes for a future beyond my wildest imagination.
Chapter 28
Gideon
The Dan’s engine rumbled beneath my feet.
If I’d had a live, beating heart, it would have been hammering double time. As it was, my body thrummed with what could have been mistaken for life.
Love.
She’d said the word. Not quite in the way I’d hoped, but she’d still said it. She loved what I’d done. Could I stretch that to mean she loved me doing what I’d done? That maybe she’d come to love me in time, too?
I held onto that hope.
I steered the hull into the marina, slowing to allow old Hal passage in his battered black and blue catamaran. He blared the horn and waved as he passed.
The body beneath the blanket stirred. Indigo perfect eyes fluttered open, her pale pink lips slipping easily into a smile. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
She yawned and stretched. “I can’t believe I fell asleep. How long was I out?” Her fingertips reached high over her head, her toe tips extending just shy of the stern. The blanket slipped allowing the tips of her nipples to play peek-a-boo with my libido.
I dragged my attention back to the marina and to maneuvering The Dan safely into its moorings behind The Molly. “Not long. About an hour.”
“You wore me out.” She pushed up onto her elbows and the blanket fell away.
My cock stirred. “Is that a complaint?”
“Absolutely not!”
I cut the engine, wrapped the blanket round her body and pulled her up into my arms. I kissed the tip of her nose and resisted moving my kisses to her neck and down over her delectable breasts. “We should get some clothes on you and head back. I want to show you something on the way.”
She dressed and I helped. Or maybe I hindered. The process spanned over an hour and a couple of shared orgasms, instead of a few minutes. When we finally mounted my bike, luminous pink-purple rays stretched out across the darkening sky.
We left the causeway and turned onto Route 10.
In less than half an hour we rode past the cast iron archway of the cemetery towards an entrance only few knew existed.
I grabbed the picnic basket in one hand and Tiff’s hand in the other, leading her through the gap in the fence. It took only five minutes of weaving amidst rows of crumbling stone and tombs the size of beach boxes, the sweet tang of swamp ferns and wild violets rising up to greet us. Then we came to the spot.
My spot.
For years I’d visited alone, watching the number of graves grow, contemplating my life, the shit I’d been handed, a wayward gene that had ripped me from my world. It seemed fitting that the first person to share my sanctuary was the one who could save me from the horrors I sought to escape.
“What is this place?”
I dropped her hand to spread a new, non-caramel covered rug out over the grass verge within the heritage wrought iron fencing. The tomb rose up before us, lit by a dull green light from its base, the words ‘Amor in vita et morte’ carved above the large, weather-worn headstone.
Love in life and death. Fitting in so many ways.
I began unpacking the remnants of our uneaten lunch. “The last resting place of the Williams family.”
“You knew them?”
“Only in death.”
She dropped onto the rug wearing an are you nuts expression. “What does that mean?”
I passed her a muffuletta, taking one for myself, only to drop it back into the container. The thought of food made my normally robust stomach churn. “When I first discovered what I was, I ran from my life. I thought if I ran hard enough, fast enough, I could outrun reality, find some sense of peace and acceptance somewhere in the world. Surely it existed?” I glanced down at the white of my knuckles and forced my hand to unclench. “It took me over a century before I realized I couldn’t run from my fate. I returned to the US, and soon after I stumbled on the cemetery. I was still angry at the world, at fate, at the circumstances that had ended my life. Then I stumbled on this plot.”
Tiff devoured her sandwich without once shifting her gaze from me. She licked her lips and grabbed a beignet, digging in with unrestrained relish. Not surprising. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast. The last time I’d finished a meal with even a smidge of her satisfaction was too long in the past to recall how it felt. That I might
experience the feeling once again—and soon—made my head spin.
My gaze roamed, scanning the crumbling remains of nearby tombs, weeds and flowers alike, scrabbling for life amongst the paved pathways and centuries-worn cement. Time and the elements had been less than kind.
I grabbed a mineral water and chugged back the greater portion. “Back then there were fewer graves and even fewer visitors. The cemetery wasn’t the cash cow it is now.” I stared at the half empty bottle, watching the bubbles rise, scrabbling to escape their confinement. “The tomb was new, less than a week old. When I read the inscription, their tragedy spoke to mine. But where my family had been torn apart, they’d remained together, in both life and death, sharing their fate. The youngest, little Johnny, was six weeks old when the yellow fever took him. He’d barely lived before he died.”
“How sad.”
I nodded, a familiar weight slumping heavily in my chest. “I often sit here and pretend I’m a regular person, living a regular life, visiting my family’s grave. Not a vampire whose parents died centuries ago.”
It felt good to finally share a part of my existence I’d fearfully hidden from the world for so long.
Her hand covered mine with a warmth no fire could replicate. “I can’t imagine what that must be like. Never ageing. Outliving the people you love.”
I wrapped my fingers tightly around hers. “After a while, it was easier to shut off from the world rather than let others in. I’d only lose them in the end. It wasn’t as if I could explain why I didn’t wrinkle and gray over the years at the same rate they did.”
Her grip on my hand tightened. “Soon that part of your life will be over.”
“I’ve waited so long. Now the moment’s almost here, I can’t imagine what life will be like.”
“Don’t the visions tell you?”
I shook my head. “I’ve never had visions.”
“Never? Not even when you bit me and voodooed a vision into my brain?”
I grinned. “I didn’t ‘voodoo’ anything, and I definitely never had any visions.” She’d previously mentioned visions, but I’d never taken much notice before now. Partners pre-Tiff had never mentioned them. Then again, partners pre-Tiff weren’t part of The Prophesy and my soon-to-be mortal future. “What did you see?”
