“It’s been interesting,” Quentin murmured.
“I’ll bet it has. But you should worry about the moment your usefulness to them ends.”
Darcy cut raw steak into bite-sized cubes, enjoying the sharp crack of her cleaver as it met the cutting board.
Emmy busied herself with washing potatoes and popping them in the microwave.
“My guy’s Irish,” she said. “Strictly a meat and potatoes kind of guy.”
“So, you two are married?”
Hack!
“Last night,” Emmy replied happily.
The woman was unaware Darcy was glaring holes in her back. Hack!
“It’s so hard to believe. Just a couple of weeks ago, I was a bookkeeper and had sworn off men forever, and then, there was Dylan. Don’t you find vampire men impossible to resist?”
“Nope. The only thing I find hard to resist is slipping a stake through their hearts.”
Hack!
“Oh.” Emmy’s eyes rounded as she turned to watch Darcy. “Oh! You saw me sitting on Quentin’s lap. That was nothing. Quentin’s just a tease. A little jealousy goes a long way in the bedroom, if you know what I mean.” She smiled. “Dylan will be reasserting his mastery when he drags me to a bed. There’s never been anything between Quentin and me, so you don’t have to worry.”
“I wasn’t worried.” Darcy’s words were clipped. “I don’t give a rat’s a—”
“Although, he has seen me naked,” Emmy continued in a rush of words. “Actually, he’s watched Dylan and I having sex several times.”
Hack!
“Not that he did it on purpose, I’m sure. Dylan and I tend to get carried away and can never make it to a bed.” A frown marred her forehead. “You’re not jealous, are you?”
Hack!
“Of course not. What’s it to me who he watches having sex?”
“Oh. I thought you two were…involved. You seemed to be enjoying yourself earlier. Sorry about walking in on you and all. Are you mad about that?”
Darcy slid the meat off the cutting board onto a platter and handed it to Emmy. She turned her back to wash her hands at the sink.
“You know, you aren’t at all who I expected Quentin to fall for.”
Darcy’s hand stilled as she dried them off. Emmy’s comment mirrored her own thoughts. After seeing Quentin’s hands curled around Emmy’s abundant curves, she’d felt distinctly sexless.
“I never would have expected him to have such good taste. Dylan tells me he’s strictly a munchable man. Any port in a storm. But you’re not like that. You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”
Startled, Darcy let Emmy see her torment. “I’m not in love with him,” she lied.
“Of course you are,” Emmy said softly. “Who wouldn’t be? He’s an honorable, sexy guy. You know, he saved my life.”
Darcy shook her head. “What we have is just sex.”
“Keep telling yourself that,” Emmy said with a slow smile. “I did. I thought there was no way Dylan would ever fall in love with me. I was too fat, too ordinary.”
Anger melted beneath Emmy’s thoughtful gaze. Emmy was as insecure about her body as Darcy was. And that was a very human emotion. She snorted. “Ordinary? You’re beautiful. Any man would appreciate your curves. I feel like a stick-girl standing next to you.”
Emmy blinked. “Well, thanks, but you’re wrong. Men were not beating down my door. Only Dylan ever appreciated my big ass. And if I’m sexy now, it’s because Dylan makes me feel that way.” She set down the platter and stepped closer to Darcy. She reached to smooth Darcy’s drying hair away from her face. “I can see why Quentin would fall for you. You have beautiful, expressive brown eyes.” Her hand cupped her cheek. “And soft skin. And a willowy, yet strong, body.”
“No boobs,” Darcy said with a crooked smile. Emmy really was harmless. And funny.
Emmy lifted an eyebrow in challenge and cupped Darcy’s breast.
Darcy sucked air into her lungs, shocked by the intimacy of the caress.
“You have lovely, small, round breasts—with very, very responsive nipples. I’d do you.”
Darcy blushed and pushed away Emmy’s hand.
Emmy’s expression grew serious. “You’re not what I would have expected for Quentin. You’re much better.”
Desperate to change the subject, Darcy asked, “I take it you haven’t been a vampire long?”
“No. Dylan was dead-set against turning me, but Nicky Powell nearly killed me. Dylan had to turn me to save my life.”
Darcy chewed her lip. “Do you…like being a vampire?”
Quick as the flip of a light switch, Emmy beamed. “It’s incredible. Every sensation is more intense. I can see in the dark. My hearing is keener. Scents are richer, fuller. Oh my God, food tastes better—and my lust!” Her laughter sounded like tinkling bells. “I’m insatiable! Poor Dylan thinks he has to follow me around everywhere I go, because I want sex all the time.”
Amen! “I’m not a vampire, but I want it all the time with Quentin,” Darcy admitted.
“So, are you thinking about turning?”
Biting her lip, Darcy nodded. “He’s asked me.”
“I’m surprised. Turning is very dangerous. Think long and hard about it.”
A blush heated her cheeks. She gave Emmy a sheepish look. “It’s the long and hard part of him that nearly has me convinced!”
The two women giggled.
Emmy’s smile was deeply curved and coy. “So, is Quentin as good as he looks?”
“Better! But he always has to be in charge.”
“Sounds like Dylan. They’re both arrogant bastards, but I’ll tell you a secret. Dylan loves it when I turn the tables on him. A little aggression—and a lot of up close and personal attention to his cock, and he’s putty in my hands.” Emmy picked up the platter. “Let’s go feed these guys. They’re going to need their strength.”
*
Darcy stripped in front of the bathroom mirror. So, I’m willowy. She tweaked her nipples until they reddened and stretched to points Quentin couldn’t help but notice.
She rummaged through the cabinet beneath her sink and found a tube of rose-scented cream, squeezed a generous amount onto her palm, and then smoothed it over her hips, belly, and thighs. Next she found a tube of lip-gloss, cinnamon-flavored, and slicked her lips with the pink gel. She wanted him to pay special attention to her mouth. Then she searched for the perfume her mother had given her the previous Christmas. Tuscany. She pulled the cap off the bottle and inhaled the fragrance—floral, spicy, with a tinge of musk. A couple of squirts on her wrists and she was ready to go.
Pulling open the bathroom door, she found Quentin had already divested the bed of its covers and was sprawled in the center, two pillows behind his head. Both lamps on either side of the bed illuminated his body. He smiled and patted the mattress beside him.
The man was entirely too smug. This was going to be so much fun. She sauntered toward the bed to join him.
Quentin’s hot gaze traveled from her face to her breasts, and his chest rose.
When it slipped lower, Darcy increased the sway of her hips.
His cock pulsed against his belly.
She climbed onto the bed from the end, crawling between his outstretched legs until her knee nudged his sac and her hands were planted on either side of his hips.
“Come over me,” he commanded.
Darcy shook her head. Instead, she stared down at his cock for a long moment, and then looked at him from beneath the fan of her eyelashes. “Seems to me, someone’s been neglected.”
“Darcy?” His voice rose in warning.
She leaned down and opened her mouth. Her tongue darted out to lick a path from the base of his shaft to the tip. “I’m in charge this time, Albermarle.”
His eyes narrowed, and a flush painted his cheeks red.
She scraped a fingernail up the inside of one thigh. “You can’t move. You can’t touch me. If you do, I’ll punish you.�
� She delivered a slap to his inner thigh, near his balls.
His leg flinched, and his jaw hardened.
His gaze promised retribution. God, she hoped so. She licked his lightly-furred thighs, her mouth moving ever closer to his groin. She felt the tension building in his legs. When she reached his smooth sac, she mouthed his balls, smearing the cinnamon-gel over them.
His breath hissed. “What burns?”
Again, she slapped his thighs. “I’ll just have to lick off the cinnamon, won’t I?” She sucked first one, then the other ball into her mouth, laving his tender flesh with her tongue. Suctioning gently, she tugged and licked—swirling her tongue, mouthing him with her lips.
His breath grew ragged and his hips lifted, a shallow thrust that reminded her so much more could be explored. Darcy felt an answering twinge of desire tighten her vagina. One last lap, and she lifted her head. “All better?”
His chest rose and fell rapidly, but he didn’t speak.
Darcy grinned and hoped he was getting nervous. She walked her fingers up his cock and it pulsed. She tapped the engorged head. “Uh huh! Bad boy. Not yet.”
Sliding her body over his groin, she decided to make a detour. When her face was level with his, she widened her legs and placed her knees on either side of his hips. Her open slit centered on his erection, and she rocked to caress the tip wetly with her labia.
His eyes were open and glaring directly into hers.
Darcy leaned down and sucked his lower lip into her mouth. Then she slid her lips over his, smearing the last of the gel.
His tongue darted out and licked her, and then he nudged her face with his nose to push her back. With slow kisses, he proceeded to remove every last trace of the gel from her mouth. “Mmmm,” he groaned appreciatively.
Darcy held herself still over him, savoring the sensations. Her breasts speared his chest, her hips slid her open cunt over his cock, and she felt the rising tide of an orgasm. She gasped and drew away.
His expression was triumphant as his hands clamped over her ass to hold her close, pushing and pulling her hips faster, increasing the friction that was quickly building a fire in her loins. He’d turned the tables.
Darcy fought for control, but his body rocked beneath her spread legs and pushed his cock harder against her pussy. She shoved against his chest, but that move only succeeded in increasing the pressure at the apex of her thighs. Her orgasm blossomed, taking her breath, tightening her thighs around him.
“Yes, baby. Come for me.”
She shouted, jerking her hips faster, wanting to prolong the fractured ecstasy. Then the sensation passed, and her movements slowed. His hands continued to caress her buttocks. Then one slid to her chest, and he fondled her breast as her heart slowed its rapid beating. Darcy drew a deep breath and opened her eyes.
Quentin’s calculating gaze held hers, and he pinched her nipple—hard.
“Thanks,” she said, her voice rasping. “I needed that to help me keep control.”
A single eyebrow rose. He twisted her nipple then scraped his fingernail over the sensitive peak. “Why would you want control?”
“I want you to beg,” she whispered.
“That will never happen.”
“Watch me.” She pressed his hands to the pillow beside his head and scooted down his body, pausing to suckle his flat brown nipples until their tiny points ruched.
Her tongue swirled over the hair that covered his abdomen, and she smiled when his muscles tightened. A gasp sounded when the point of her tongue dipped into his belly button and fluttered.
Lower, she slid down his sweat-moistened flesh, licking the soft skin of his belly. She nudged aside his cock with her nose and applied small, sharp bites on his muscled abdomen that caused his penis to jump and pulse.
Cupping his sac with one hand, she smoothed her cheek over the length of his shaft. It smelled of her release and his own musk. But she wasn’t ready to give him the ultimate kiss. She slid lower and tongued his balls, sweeping below the sac to follow the line to his asshole.
“Sweet Jesus!” he muttered.
Shoving at his legs, she urged him to raise his knees and widen them. Now, he was at her mercy.
She tongued the tight ring and gloried in the sharp hiss of his gasp. She circled his asshole, lapped it with the flat of her tongue, and then used the tip to tickle the center.
“Enough, Darcy!”
Oh, she loved the desperate tone in his voice. “Not nearly enough. Have you ever been fucked here, Quentin?”
“No!”
“Then let me be the first.”
Quentin started to sweat in earnest. Part of him wanted to wrest control from the vixen, the other part was dying to see where her curiosity would lead next. Would she really…
She did! One slender finger pressed inward where none had ever dared enter before. He squeezed his buttocks, resisting, but she was relentless. Finally, he felt the tight ring give, and she was inside.
“So tight,” she murmured. “I believe you.” She swirled her finger and watched his face, no doubt to gauge his reaction.
He fought to school his features into a mask, but she touched something inside him that had his hips jerking off the bed. “Darcy!” he warned. He didn’t dare move again, his arse burned already, his balls had tightened to stones, and his dick felt ready to burst. But he couldn’t give her this victory.
“Poor baby. You look worried,” she said, and rose on her knees, her face poised above his aching rod. “Will you beg me, now?”
Gritting his teeth, he refused to give her an answer, but his body spoke for him. His hips pumped, nudging his wayward little man against her lips.
Her mouth opened, and she took the head of his cock into her warm, wet mouth. Her teeth nibbled on the crown—tiny, sharp bites that sent electric shocks throughout his body, and he bit back a moan.
God, he needed her to take him into her throat. He pressed upward, hoping to gain deeper access.
But she drew back. “Tell me what you want.”
Quentin stared into her eyes. They glittered with triumph. The witch knew how close he was to exploding, but she denied him. He closed his eyes and willed his flesh to resist her lure, but he’d already lost. He’d die if she didn’t take him now. “Please, Darcy. Suck my cock.”
“Oh baby, you’ve made me so happy. But I don’t think you’re ready.”
Surprise rocketed through him. His eyes slammed open, and he glared.
Her smile promised unimaginable torments, and Quentin cursed. With her finger up his arse, he was shackled to her whim.
Her pink tongue lapped a lazy circle around the root of his cock, rising ever higher until she reached the head. He panted, hoping now she’d sink her mouth over him, but she pressed the tip of her wicked tongue into the small opening at the top, coaxing a drop of pre-cum.
She groaned and slid her mouth down his shaft, the sound vibrating on his swollen flesh.
His hips pumped upward in shallow, short thrusts that frustrated him. He craved her warm mouth, needed her deep, wet throat to swallow all of his length.
Her free hand encircled him at the base, and she scraped her teeth along the rigid pole of his sex.
Silently, he promised revenge. Promised to drive her mad with his tongue and cock. Until she begged for forgiveness for making him plead. “Darcy, give me release. Take me, baby. Fuck me.”
A second slender finger slid inside him, and he couldn’t hold back his shout. Pain and ecstasy warred. Then she moved her fingers, in and out, while she fluttered her tongue along his raging erection. His cries ripped from the back of his throat. Suddenly, she stopped all movement. He watched her, his body tensing to resist her next assault.
Her expression wasn’t gloating as he’d expected. Her cheeks flamed, her chest rose and fell with each ragged breath. She was as seduced by her actions as he was. Her mouth closed over him, and she sank on his cock until his head bumped against the opening of her throat. Then she opened her jaws
wider and sank deeper still.
He heard a lusty, hoarse shout, and then he was driving his hips upward, slamming into her depths. When he came, his cries grew strangled, and finally, his balls exploded and cum jetted into her throat—long, hot streams of liquid fire. When he’d shot his load, he lay there, spent, allowing her to soothe him with her tongue and mouth, her low murmurs gentling his flesh.
He’d get his revenge the little witch. But later—after he’d recovered from the greatest orgasm he’d ever experienced.
Chapter Ten
‡
Darcy yawned and stretched, easing the pleasant aches in her muscles, only to discover something impeded the movement of her arms. Her eyes shot open. Her wrists were wrapped in pink cotton—her shredded panties, she realized, and they were tied to the headboard.
“Finally, you’re awake,” Quentin purred. He lay on his side, his head propped on one hand.
He had the look of a man who wasn’t in any hurry.
And why should he be? she silently grumbled. He’d come, roaring like a freight train, then promptly fell asleep. Darcy had lain at his side, frustrated and hurting for what seemed like hours afterward. She’d had her way with him, but her victory had backfired.
Now her body remembered where she’d left off. Every swollen, achy point throbbed with her heartbeat.
She groaned inwardly. He would make her pay. He’d torture her with the sweet, sliding promise of his cock, fingers, and mouth until she begged as loudly as he had. A plea she’d forced. She winced. Perhaps, she’d taken things a little far. Maybe he’d accept an apology. “Quentin?”
“Yes, love?” His voice was mild—with a hint of amusement.
Shit! Shit! Shit! What does he want to hear?
His body was stretched beside hers, but not touching. The heat from his skin burned her. His mouth curved only slightly, and his gaze never left her face.
His stillness made her nervous as hell.
“You know, everything you’re thinking is written on your face, darling. It’s really quite remarkable.”
Truly, Madly...Deadly (a vampire romance) (Night Fall Book 2) Page 11
