by Trisha Baker
"I don't care if you wish to talk or not—you better answer my questions," Meghann said and slapped his roving hands away, sitting up indignantly when she looked at the glowing candles she hadn't lit since Simon left. Sure of himself, wasn't he, that he'd prepare the bedroom for a seduction he never thought she might resist. "You can't drag me along the astral plane and pin me to the bed without so much as a by your leave! You're going to tell me why my son isn't here and you're going to do it before ... Simon!"
"Hush up, girl," Simon whispered before bending his head to continue tonguing the oversensitive red peaks of her nipples.
"Simon," Meghann protested weakly, feeling her will to resist fade as Simon divided his attention equally between both breasts, his hands and tongue waging a sensuous assault that filled her with a dull, heavy ache that made her moan in capitulation.
At her strangled whimper, Simon immediately withdrew his attention, capturing with one hand the hands that tried unsuccessfully to guide his head back into place.
"Lie still," Simon ordered and Meghann obeyed immediately, willing as always to do anything Simon ordered in bed, anything to receive the pleasure it was within his power to give or deny, depending on how much she pleased him.
Simon rewarded her submission by reopening the punctures in her neck, drinking from her until she lay weak and panting with desire beneath him, then securely tied her hands and feet to the four corners of the bed with black silk scarves. Drained of blood as she was, Meghann couldn't break the bonds. This was one of Simon's favorite games, for Meghann to lie open and helpless before her master.
Simon gave her a smirk of victory before rubbing the head of his long, thick penis against the blood still pouring from her neck.
'Please me," he ordered, putting the blood-covered organ to her mouth. Meghann suckled and licked with all the skill at her disposal, eager to prove herself worthy of satisfaction. A part of her, as always, was outraged by her compliance in this degrading game. Meghann had no idea why she gave in to Simon so easily for she'd rfever allowed any of her other lovers to dominate her mind and body as he did. Maybe she gave in to Simon because he'd never asked her permission, simply took and then gave back in such an abundance Meghann felt only a brief distress at her meek behavior.
You were made for this, Simon thought at her as he grew larger and harder within her mouth, one hand straying down to play with the overstimulated flesh between her legs.
Meghann felt the hidden bud of her sex grow dense and swollen beneath his knowing fingers and thrashed about as much as the restraints would allow, delighting in the pleasure Simon gave her while the small bit of blood on his penis restored some of her strength.
"No," Meghann cried when Simon withdrew completely, glaring down at her supine form as he stood by the bed. "Don't stop."
"Order me again, Meghann ... tell me what I must do." Simon smiled cruelly at her dismay.
Meghann bit back a harsh retort and instead smiled invitingly, saying, "I want to do whatever you want to do ... Master."
"You always were quick to understand," Simon said and plunged deep within her spread-eagled, waiting body.
That's right, Meghann thought, take me. She'd find a way to get even with Simon for his high-handed, controlling, but oh so pleasurable behavior later... much, much later. Later, she'd make him tell her why he became so upset whenever Mikal's name came up. For now, she only wanted to take from him all the satisfaction she could as they made love in the house by the sea where they'd spent some of their best times together.
Three
"Face it, Ellie. Mickey's a dud. Cut him loose and find someone who knows what he's doing."
Meryl Greenblauei*, Ellie's girlfriend, spoke these words of wisdom as they chased their margaritas with shots of Cuervo Gold at Jet East. Though neither girl was twenty-one, getting into the trendy nightclub and buying drinks wasn't a problem—Meryl was going out with one of the bouncers.
"What if I'm the one that doesn't know what to do?" Maybe she shouldn't have done that shot—Ellie was starting to feel awfully lightheaded.
Meryl rolled her eyes and lit a cigarette. "Ellie, you can only go so far in technique when you've got a lousy teacher. It's time to try other guys. You weren't planning to marry Mickey, were you?"
"Of course not But I can't start sleeping around.. Ellie hesitated, not wanting to offend Meryl, who was already on her seventh lover even though she and Ellie were the same age. But Ellie just couldn't see sleeping with men she hardly knew . .. not after her upbringing.
It wasn't like her mother raised her to be a prude or fed her any of that good girls wait till their wedding garbage the Christian Right was trying to push. No, Meghann had been honest with Ellie, telling her she'd been promiscuous and wanted Ellie to learn from her mistakes that sex without love was cheap and for the most part, unsatisfactory. Then there was Uncle Lee harping on diseases and unplanned pregnancy, reminding Ellie that even the best-made condoms had been known to break from time to time. With all that in her head, Ellie just couldn't see herself in a one-night stand.
"Who said anything about sleeping around?" Meryl protested. "But you need to get off this monogamy thing. You don't think Mickey sleeps with your pictures under his pillow when he leaves New York, do you? Come on, let's pick up some guys tonight."
What about Carl?" Carl was Meryl's bouncer flame.
"He's not on tonight." Out of sight was apparently out of mind for Meryl.
"I can't tonight." Ellie had to touch base with her mother before sunrise and she certainly wanted to spend more time with her father. She'd only come out with Meryl to wish her a happy birthday, have a few drinks, and give her parents some time alone together. That reminded her—she had to swallow some coffee and buy gum before she went home. Ellie didn't know if the subterfuge would work against her parent's keen senses but it was worth a shot.
"Why not? How about the ones at the end of the bar?" Meryl sent a coy smile of thanks down to the two men at the other end of the bar who had sent over fresh margaritas.
"Boring," Ellie pronounced at the blond, bland, preppy clones flashing identical WASPy smiles. Nothing turned her off more than the drip-dry, permanent press monotony of the Ivy League with their button- downs, carefully pressed chinos and pastel sweaters worn over the shoulders. To Ellie, they all looked like they were conceived on the golf course, reared in prep schools and finished out their lives in one investment bank/law firm or another.
"God, Ellie, what is with you and those scruffy rejects you're so into?" Meryl complained. "If they don't have long hair and look like they need a bath, you're not interested."
"Tha's not true," Ellie heard herself slur and pushed her margarita away. Damn, she hadn't meant to get drunk—she couldn't go home like this! Mom didn't mind her having a drink or two, but coming home tipsy ... Mom would kill her, wouldn't even trust her enough to leave the house to walk the dogs!
"It is true," Meryl replied, oblivious to her friend's predicament as she continued flirting with the WASPs. Pink Sweater and Green Sweater (the only differences Ellie could perceive in their appearances) caught her signals and started walking over. "Why don't you hit on that one over there—he looks like Peter Fonda in those old biker movies."
Ellie followed Meryl's finger and felt her heart do a minor flip-flop at the tall man with dark-brown hair styled in a wild duck's-ass that made him look like a deranged porcupine or Elvis Presley on speed. He had his back to Ellie so she couldn't make out his features but she was already deeply impressed with his lean, sinewy arms, sleeveless black leather vest and skintight jeans. This guy could definitely get her mind off Mickey if he was interested.
With an aggressive confidence borne of tequila, Ellie fished a twenty out of her purse and motioned to the bartender. "Buy that guy in the vest whatever he's drinking and tell him it's from me."
"Ellie!" Meryl hissed. She'd already claimed Pink Sweater and now Green Sweater watched uncertainly as his designated date tried to pick up another
man.
"I was just kidding. You can't come on to that! He looks ... sleazy!"
"Lighten up, Meryl." If anyone's a sleaze, it's you— playing musical beds. Did Meryl think her behavior was somehow elevated from the average bimbo because of the bank accounts and clothes of the guys she favored? Ellie had to make new friends.
Ellie watched the waitress bring the man a beer. He accepted the drink, then turned around to thank his buyer, and in the next second all hell broke loose as his scandalized eyes met Elbe's panic-stricken ones.
"Oh, no!" Ellie moaned, burying her flaming face in her hands.
"What's wrong with you?" Meryl asked.
"I'm such an idiot," Ellie cried as Jimmy Delacroix stalked over to her. Only an idiot would attempt to pick up one of her mother's best friends in a bar she wasn't even supposed to be in. Jimmy wouldn't tell Mom, would he?
"What the hell are you doing here, Ellie?" Jimmy demanded.
"What are you doing here?" Ellie countered, though as an adult (albeit a vampire one) Jimmy had far more right to be here than she did. 'Tour last letter said you'd be home next week."
"Got done earlier than I expected. I'm here for exactly what this WASP asshole sniffing around you is here for . . . and he'd better back away before I kick his Chiclets teeth down his throat." Green Sweater tried to look unaffected by Jimmy's threat but a definite trepidation settled over his face.
Jimmy leaned in closer to Ellie, sniffing suspiciously, and then his gray-blue eyes glared down at her like the wrath of God. "Have you been drinking?"
"A little," Ellie said weakly, shocked into sobriety. "You, urn, cut your hair."
It was all the hair's fault, Ellie thought in an agony of humiliation. All her life Jimmy Delacroix had worn his hair in a ponytail. If he hadn't cut it, Ellie would have recognized him immediately and never felt that inexplicable rush of lust that was bothering her more than whatever consequences she might face at home if Jimmy told her mother about this.
"Come on, "Jimmy said brusquely and dragged her off the barstool. "This is no place for you."
"Now, wait a minute ..." Green Sweater put a restraining hand on Jimmy's shoulder and Jimmy grabbed the offending appendage in a grip that made the preppie blanch and clench the perfect teeth Jimmy had threatened to part him from.
"Can't you see she's jailbait, you asshole?"Jimmy snapped, not even looking at Meryl or her date. "Get the flick out of my way."
The preppie hastened to please, stepping well out of Jimmy's path.
Jimmy muttered not a word to Ellie as they cut through the thick crowd in the bar and stepped into the relative quiet of the parking lot
"Put this on, "Jimmy barked when they reached his 1947 Indian Chief and handed her a helmet.
Ellie nodded meekly and buckled the riding helmet beneath her chin before climbing behind Jimmy.
Jimmy took off in a cloud of gravel and dust, shifting into first as they left the parking lot. Ellie felt some of her anxiety and mortification dissipate as the bike roared through Conscience Point and Shinnecock, leaving a trail of envious drivers stuck in the thick town traffic. Ellie had ridden on this bike since she was seven, clutching Jimmy's waist and laughing at the exhilarating speed. It felt like she was flying, that was the only way Ellie could describe the dull roar in her ears and scenery whizzing past her almost before it registered on her senses.
Unfortunately, the ride was over all too quickly as Jimmy pulled up at the guesthouse and cut the engine.
"What the hell are you wearing?"Jimmy snapped when she hopped off the bike and he took his first good look at her.
"Don't you like the color?" Ellie knew very well what Jimmy didn't like about her pink tank dress— she'd deliberately shrunk it two sizes too small.
"What I like about the dress isn't the problem," Jimmy growled and hauled her inside the house. "It's what those two creeps at the bar were going to like that's the problem. Ellie, if you wear a dress like that and accept free drinks, you're sending out a very clear message. Do I need to spell out what that is?"
"No," Ellie muttered, thankful that Jimmy at least wasn't saying anything about her attempt to pick him up. Ellie felt her cheeks flame and a curious tension rush through her body when she remembered the perfect line of his lean, rangy shoulders and arms as she stared unknowingly at one of her childhood uncles.
"Is that message what you want to send out?" Jimmy demanded. "That all a guy has to do to get under your too-tight skirt is buy you a drink?"
"It wasn't supposed to be like that," Ellie explained, though now that Jimmy had put it so baldly, Ellie wondered how she could have thought it would have been anything else. "Meryl and I were just going to have a few drinks..."
"You're only seventeen!"
"And I suppose at seventeen you were just drinking ice cream sodas?" Ellie questioned sarcastically, seizing the offensive. If Jimmy dared give her that what-I-did-isn't-the-issue-drivel. . .
'That's different," Jimmy said instead. "I'm a man."
"Don't get all huffy on me for saying the truth," Jimmy said at her narrow eyes and indignant glare. "Look, a guy can go to a bar and drink till he's shit- faced because he doesn't have to worry about some dirty sonofabitch trying to take advantage of him ... which is what would have happened-to you tonight. Is that what you wanted, Ellie—to wind up in that asshole's Jag or Porsche with your dress around your face?" . , .
"I just wanted to have fun. You know, a few drinks, dance maybe ..."
"If you want fun, do it someplace else .. . and with someone else. I don't like that girl you were with.. .just another rich, spoiled nympho. She's a bad influence."
"Meryl's okay," Ellie asserted, though she had been tiring of her friend. Meryl did like to drink too much and lately she'd started snorting coke, something Ellie was definitely not into. All she'd have to do is come home with cocaine whirling around her bloodstream—Mom would have her head on a platter. "You know it's hard for me to make friends."
"Friends like that you don't need," Jimmy responded with finality. "Look, here's the deal—you promise me you won't hang out with that girl anymore and I won't tell Maggie what happened tonight. Agreed?"
Ellie nodded, trying to look put out but secretly relieved she had a valid reason to brush Meryl off. "So who am I supposed to hang out with?"
"Hang out with me,"Jimmy said, giving Ellie a light- hearted grin that changed to concern when Ellie sagged against the couch. "Hey, are you okay?"
"I'm fine," Ellie managed to say though she felt anything but fine—more like deeply embarrassed and horrified because Jimmy's easy smile brought every pang of interest and desire she'd felt in the bar rushing back to the fore. What was the matter with her? How could she be lusting after Jimmy Delacroix—her mother's former lover?
In a daze, Ellie got up off the couch, not sure where she was going except she wanted to get away from Jimmy before he guessed the preposterous thoughts whirling through her mind that she thought couldn't be more obvious if she tattooed them on her forehead.
"Whoa," Jimmy said in concern when Ellie stumbled and tripped on a lamp wire, nearly bringing the lamp and herself down to the floor.
"Easy, kid," Jimmy said and put his arms around her waist to steady her. "How much did you have to drink?"
"Only one margarita and a shot of tequila," Ellie managed to say, feeling a strange tightening in her chest at Jimmy's warm hands on her. Thank God he was blaming her weird behavior on the tequila and not this sudden, bizarre attraction stronger than anything she'd felt for anyone—including Mickey. Even when they'd had sex, Ellie hadn't felt her bones turning to jelly the way they did when Jimmy simply smiled at her, let alone touched her.
"That's plenty," Jimmy sniffed disapprovingly and released Ellie. "When's the last time you ate?"
Ellie scrunched her face up, trying to remember. "I had a bran muffin around ten this morning ..."
"Jesus," Jimmy muttered in amused disgust. "No wonder you're drunk, dopey. You can't go out drinking un
less you have some food in your stomach. I'm gonna start cooking before you faint. While I rusde up some food, why don't you change into something that doesn't look painted on?"
"Sure." Ellie made it to the bedroom without further incident, shutting the door behind her and examining the hectic flush in her face that could have been booze or sunburn instead of the rising passion Ellie knew it for.
What was the matter with her? She absolutely could not have a crush on Jimmy Delacroix. This was the stuff sleazy talk shows were made of. . . Men Passed From Generation to Generation .. von the Next Jerry Springer.
This wasn't simply depraved; it was impossible. No way would anything ever come of this. Even if Ellie was fool enough to tell Jimmy her feelings, he wouldn't go near her with a ten-foot pole. In his mind, she was Meghann's little girl; Ellie could tell that from his friendly palling around with her that had nothing in it of a man's attraction for a desirable woman. If Ellie tried to flirt with Jimmy, he'd simply laugh at her. No, that wasn't right—Jimmy would never be cruel like that. He wouldn't laugh but neither would he consider her as anything but sweet little Ellie, the child he'd known from infancy.
Unless she did something to make him see her in a different light—oh, God, what was she thinking? Ellie must be out of her mind to contemplate seducing Jimmy Delacroix. Ellie couldn't even imagine what her mother or Uncle Charles or Uncle Lee would think of her ... or of Jimmy if he responded to her.
"Dinner's ready,"Jimmy called.
"Coming," Ellie called back and frantically inspected her clothes. At first, her eyes strayed toward the leather mini's, stretch pants, and low-cut tops but that was too obvious. And anyway, she wasn't trying to interest Jimmy, was she?
"Smells good," Ellie said, entering the kitchen in an ancient pair of jeans that showed off her long, slender legs and a red cotton shirt with scalloped sleeves and a scooped neck ... an attractive look but nothing so over the top Jimmy would know in an instant what her intentions were.
But she wasn't going to have intentions, Ellie told herself firmly, miserably picking at Jimmy's sole culinary achievement, a Denver omelet.
