Darcy wished she could school her features into a careless expression, but all her energies were spent holding her hips still. She clamped her thighs tightly and fought the quiver of arousal that threatened to shake her belly. Where will he start? With my breasts, or my pussy? Oh God, will he take my ass?
She gave up pretending fearlessness and glared. “Will you just get it over with? What do you want me to say? I’ll say it.” Her voice rose. “Do you want to spank me? I’ll take it. Just get it over with, so you can fuck me.”
Quentin’s smile broadened. “What an imagination you have! Did I leave you in a bad way, sweetheart?”
“Yes!” Now she really would wail. “Touch me, please!” She rolled her hips toward him, pressing her thighs against his.
He settled a hand on her stomach and pushed her back.
“Are you going to leave me, again?” A sick, panicked feeling made her stomach roil. “Will you make me wait? Because if you are, I’ll scream so loud the whole neighborhood will think I’m dying. And I won’t be so discriminating about who I beg to help me.”
His gaze narrowed, his eyes glittering dangerously. “I told you. You will not take another lover. Never again. I watched while your partner pounded away at you. I won’t share you again.”
She thrilled at the possessive note in his voice. “Then fuck me. Make me yours. I’ll be yours as long as you want me.”
His hand hovered over one breast then settled, warm and heavy. “And if I want forever?”
The nerve ending in her nipple fired, shooting a curling desire into her belly. She swallowed past the lump that lodged in her throat. “I’ll give it to you.”
“You’d give me your life for a fucking?” he asked.
His voice was casual, but his expression was alert. She raised an eyebrow. “You are an extraordinary fuck.”
He gave her a cocky grin. “What makes me special? How can I know you aren’t simply saying what I want to hear?”
Can he read my mind? “Baby,” she moaned, “I love the way you smell—of the sea and warm musk.”
He raised a single eyebrow.
He wasn’t impressed. “You only have to look at me, and I melt. Your mouth torments me.” She writhed and arched her back to raise her breasts. “My tits are so tight and hard, they’re begging for your kisses.”
“Huh!” he grunted, but he molded her breast with his palm.
She raised her knees and let them fall open.
His gaze zeroed in on her moist slit.
“I need your mouth and your huge cock. Take me.”
His jaw rippled as he clamped his teeth tightly. “Tell me about my cock.”
Was his voice hoarse? “You fill me to bursting. When you’re crammed up inside me so tight I can’t breathe, I don’t ever want to let you go.”
Heat was in his gaze, and he flared his nostrils. “There’s the little matter of what you did to me tonight.”
“I’m sorry. I took it too far. I know I did. But you were so wonderfully responsive. I felt powerful, and so goddamned turned on. Then you fell asleep…”
“Did I leave you wanting?”
She stared deep into his eyes. “Yes!”
“Good.” He reached over her and released the knots that bound her wrists.
“That’s it?”
“I find I can’t prolong your punishment. I’m hard as oak, and I haven’t had the pleasure of your warm solace this evening.”
Darcy opened her arms joyously.
Quentin lowered himself over her, pressing her deep into the mattress from her shoulders to her toes.
“I’m going to fuck you until you shout the roof off the house.” He pushed her hands onto the pillow and clamped his thighs around hers, trapping them closed.
Eager to begin, Darcy wriggled beneath him, wanting her legs free to clasp his hips, but he wouldn’t allow it.
His cock nudged between her thighs, poking against her soaking slit.
Darcy’s made a little space between her legs, just enough so he slipped between her thighs and pressed against her slick folds.
Quentin’s jaw clenched, and he drove his hips forward, pushing past her labia, into her channel, all the way inside her until he butted her womb. He released a groan.
Darcy echoed it.
But he didn’t move again. “Well, here we are.”
Darcy waited for the storm to erupt, but he remained still. Her eyes narrowed. She knew he’d conceded too quickly. He intended to torture her. She tugged her hands from beneath his and traced the center of his spine, lightly, teasingly.
“Darcy,” he growled, “You’re not wresting control from me.”
Oh yeah? I know your hot buttons, baby. She dug her nails into his back and scraped them down to the top of his buttocks, feeling the ripple of his response.
“Witch.” His mouth descended, and he circled his lips over hers.
She tempted him with her tongue, reaching out to lick his closed lips, stabbing at the seam.
He resisted her invitation.
But, she’d just started. Her hands glided lower, and she cupped his firm ass, giving him a squeeze.
His cock pulsed, but he didn’t move inside her. He dragged his lips from hers. “Have you no patience? Is it not enough that I’m inside you, filling you? It is for me. Your cunt is hot and moist, and your lust is fragrant.”
Darcy glared upward. The bastard intended to make her wait. This was almost more diabolical than her last “lesson.” He was there! All the way up her. How could he resist their combined heat? Her hips longed to squirm and flex, but his weight trapped her movements.
But, he’d forgotten about one set of muscles over which he had no control. As she glared defiantly, she tightened her pussy and released, tightened and released.
And her hands were free. She reached until her fingers found the crease of his ass and trailed downward to press against his tightly furled anus. Grinning, she said, “Can you resist, love? Hmmm?” She circled one finger and felt his thighs tremble atop hers.
Leaning upward, she bit his lower lip and dragged his mouth down to hers, sucking his lip inside her mouth, while her hands continued their torture below.
Sweat broke out on his face and chest, his arms began to shake, and his dick moved an inch deeper.
With a hoarse cry, he rammed a knee between her legs, shoving her thighs wide, and pulled out of her entirely.
Darcy moaned a protest and pressed her finger into his ass.
Holding himself above her on his arms, he released a deep rumble that built from the back of his throat.
Darcy chuckled and poked her finger in and out. The man did love a finger-fuck. “What’s it gonna be, Bat-boy?”
Quentin broke into a full-fledged growl, and Darcy knew she’d won.
He grabbed her and rolled her roughly onto her stomach. Then he pulled up her hips and drove his cock straight into her, cramming himself inside her body.
Darcy yelped and rose on her hands—the better to meet his powerful thrusts.
Each forward drive jerked her entire body until she grasped the headboard to brace herself.
The moves were almost too much—too deep, too hard, too fast. He gripped her ass cheeks and rammed forward as far as he could go, grinding himself inside her, lifting and lowering her hips to increase the friction where her pussy met the crisp, wiry hairs at his groin.
Darcy hung onto the bars, her hips jolting, until her orgasm hit—an explosion of sensation that tightened her vagina and seared the breath in her lungs.
Quentin was right there with her, his steel rod pistoning, hips slamming against her buttocks, his hands squeezing her ass in a bruising grip—and then he released a roar that should have rattled the windows.
Feeling him slow, Darcy gasped, her breath hitching on a burst of laughter. “I’ll have to check the shingles on the roof in the morning.”
Quentin collapsed against her back, taking them both to the mattress. “Madam, will you ever let me have th
e last word?”
*
Quentin stirred three teaspoons of sugar into his tea and ignored the amused smiles from his two companions.
Seated around the kitchen table, the three vampires took turns yawning sleepily.
Emmy stretched her arms above her head and giggled. “Well, I’m going to say it. No, Dylan, I know you think it’s impolite to comment, but I swear Quentin shouted loud enough to wake the dead last night.” She ignored Quentin’s scathing glance. “What on earth did she do to you? I think I could use some pointers.”
Quentin remained tight-lipped. His dignity demanded he keep mum. After all, Darcy’s “pointers” were the culprits.
Dylan cleared his throat. “Speaking of your tormentor, where’s Darcy gone off to?”
“She left a note. Said she’d stop by the house after dark and give us the scoop.” He didn’t add that he’d been too caught up in sex-play the evening before to let Darcy tell him the latest developments in the case. How the woman managed to distract him was too bruising to his ego.
“Quentin…”
Emmy’s voice held a tentative note that snagged Quentin’s attention from his cup.
“Darcy told me last night that she’s thinking of becoming one of us.”
Quentin’s chest warmed at the thought that Darcy was seeking advice. It meant she was seriously considering his offer. “I’ve asked her to think about it.”
“It’s not a good idea,” she said quietly.
“I know the procedure is dangerous, but I have done it before. If she wants it enough, I’ll do it for her.”
“You mean if she wants you enough,” Dylan murmured.
“Well that, too.”
“I think you should wait,” Emmy whispered, her face reflecting sympathy.
Quentin stared. Something was wrong. “Was your experience so terrible?”
“You know I didn’t have a choice, but no, it was less frightening than the alternative. But that’s not why I’m asking you to wait.”
A sick feeling of dread descended, weighing on his muscles. “Well then, out with it, Emmy.”
“You can’t turn Darcy. She’s pregnant.”
*
It was early evening, and the sun still winked on the edge of the horizon. At the gate guard’s direction, Captain Springer, Max, and Darcy exited their unmarked squad car.
“I have to take your weapons,” he said, his expression unapologetic. “Mr. King’s orders.”
At the captain’s nod, Darcy reached beneath her jacket for the Beretta holstered at the small of her back and handed it to the guard.
Max pulled a gun from his ankle holster, but merely shrugged. “I knew he’d shake us down.”
They were instructed to leave their car inside the gate and walk to the front door. The house was split-level and long. The grounds were lush with vegetation. A flagstone path led to the front door where another guard held it open for them to pass. “Go straight back to Mr. King’s office.”
The interior of the house was more impressive than the exterior, if the long corridor they traversed was any indication of the rest of the house. Dark wood floors, white stucco walls, and high ceilings were enhanced by a large, heavy oak armoire and high-backed leather chairs. At the end of the corridor was an open door.
“Drugs sure pay good,” Max said beneath his breath, halting in front of a large display case filled with baseball memorabilia. “Damn, he’s got a signed Sosa game ball.”
Darcy gave him a gentle shove to keep him moving toward Rupe King’s office. As they neared the door, a large man with the shoulders of a linebacker held it for them, indicating they should pass. After they filed in, he stepped out and closed the door behind him. Darcy had no doubts the bodyguard would remain just outside the door in case Mr. King needed him, and the bulge she’d detected beneath his vanilla-colored suit jacket had certainly been a gun.
“Come in, come in,” a low, melodic voice, with a hint of Jamaican accent, beckoned them deeper into the room.
Darcy turned to see a tall, thin man wearing a long-sleeved linen shirt rise from behind his desk. His hair was close-cropped, his face a dark ebony, his mouth wide, and his dark brown eyes were wary.
“Mr. King?” the captain said.
“Indeed.” His gaze swept over the three before resting on Darcy. “You and your people may take a seat here.” He indicated a brightly upholstered couch and two armchairs before a large picture window that looked out into the tall pines in the back yard.
Her two associates took the armchairs, which left Darcy sitting on the sofa with Rupe King.
A long silence passed, and then Captain Springer cleared his throat. “Mr. King, you contacted our department regarding a man who approached you with a business proposition.”
“A vampire!” Rupe King’s lip curled in a sneer. “A goddamn vampire wants a share in my operation. I’d as soon fuck with the devil himself.”
“This particular vampire is of interest to us. He’s responsible for numerous deaths of young people here and in Seattle, where his string of murders originated.”
“His name be Nicolas Powell.” Rupe all but spat the name. “And I, too, have particular interest in this vampire.”
The captain’s expression became intent. “I understand you recently lost your brother.”
“Yes. One of Nicky’s minions devoured him before his companions’ eyes.” Rupe King’s eyes held a bitter rage. “I will see my brother avenged, whatever the cost.”
“We had a confrontation with him a couple of nights ago. We took out his followers, but Nicky gave us the slip. He’s wary of us now. We need a way to set a trap.”
The Jamaican’s eyes glittered with interest. “I must admit that while I have a well-trained staff, I do not feel they are adequate for this challenge.”
Captain Springer’s chin lifted toward Darcy and Max. “My unit’s been hunting killers like these for four years. We have the experience.”
Rupe King gave Darcy an assessing glance.
Darcy kept her expression impassive.
“Will I be left alone, if I help you get him?” the wily drug lord asked.
“For the duration of the op, yes.”
Rupe King relaxed against the sofa. “I will sacrifice the shipment that arrives tonight. Two of my trusted men will be aboard the boat to act as the deliverymen—they must be mine, or the vamp will smell a double-cross.”
Captain Springer nodded. “Just tell me the dock. Also, I have a vampire of my own who will help with the sting. No harm must come to him.”
“Three actually, sir,” Darcy murmured. “Two more came in from Seattle last night to help. Friends of Quentin’s.”
Captain Springer shot her a startled glance, and then quickly recovered. “The three who work for me will not be harmed.”
Rupe King did not look pleased.
Obviously to him, the only good vampire was a dead one. Only a week ago, Darcy would have agreed.
But, the drug runner wanted one particular vampire very badly. “So be it,” he said with a nod.
While she heard Rupe and the captain finalizing the details, Darcy’s tension grew. Things were heating up fast. Tonight, they’d trap a killer, and Quentin’s mission would be over. And she still had a choice to make. Leave the life she’d built for herself, or join with Quentin as his companion of the night.
On one hand, she had a career. And she’d worked damn hard to be accepted by the guys, even earning a good measure of their respect for her fighting skills and dead aim. Although of late she’d taken hits due to her liaison with the vamp, she took great pride in what she’d accomplished.
On the other hand, outside of her work she had no life—and no one to share what she had built.
Quentin offered her an eternity of companionship and love—oh, and mind-blowing sex. Although he drove her nuts with his insistence over being the master of their relationship, she relished the challenge of shaking him up. Last night’s victory still had her grinn
ing. If only inwardly.
“You will not see me again.” Rupe King’s voice drew her attention back. “My operation has been compromised by this business. Gentlemen, and lady, I wish you good luck this evening.” He rose, signaling the end of their interview.
She stood and passed Captain Springer, but he captured her elbow and ushered her out of the room.
When they were out of earshot of King and his associates, he leaned toward her. “Do you think you can keep your mind on the operation, or do I need to replace you on this mission?”
Darcy’s cheeks flamed. “I’m in, sir. I won’t let you down.”
“Inside the car, you’ll have to tell me how we acquired two new team members,” he said, his voice huffy.
Darcy gulped. He really was pissed. Quentin was a distraction she could ill-afford in her line of work. After tonight, whichever way she chose, she wouldn’t endanger others by her inattention.
The three retrieved their weapons at the gatehouse and headed away from Rupe’s estate.
Darcy sat in the back seat, aware of Max’s accusing glare in the rearview mirror. He continued to disapprove of her actions, and being in disfavor hurt her more than she was willing to admit. Max needed to get over it.
Darcy ignored him, and instead, filled in the captain on what she knew about Emmy and Dylan, which was embarrassingly little considering the two knew a whole lot about her—like what she sounded like when she came, and the exact shade of pink her nipples were.
“We’ll head straight to Darcy’s, Max. The team will be gathering. Is the van loaded up?”
“Yes, Captain,” Max replied.
“Well, let’s go nail this devil!”
Chapter Eleven
‡
Quentin sat quietly while the team entered Darcy’s home.
Emmy took care of the introductions and charmed the pants off the hard-nosed bunch.
Dressed in her version of night camouflage—a wrap-around black T-shirt that exposed her deep cleavage and black jeans that hugged her fleshy derriere—Emmy drew every male eye in the room. No one seemed immune to her artless manner.
No one, that is, except Max Weir. The muscle-bound man watched her with a cynical eye. While he appeared resigned to the fact that three vamps were part of this operation, Quentin doubted Max would ever let go of his deep-seated prejudice.
Truly, Madly...Deadly (a vampire romance) (Night Fall Book 2) Page 12
