He observed more than he talked during dinner. He and Sidonie’s mother discussed her tapestry work, and he gave vague assurances that he’d let her see the tapestry Sidonie had spoken of, the one that had hung in his private room when she’d met him. It hung on the wall of their sitting room now, the outer room of the private suite he shared with Sidonie. In the basement of their big house. The only person allowed in there, besides Sidonie and him, was the vampire housekeeper he’d hired upon becoming Lord of the Midwest. He’d have to move the damn tapestry to an upstairs room if Sidonie insisted on showing it to her family.
“Are you going to eat that?”
Sidonie’s whisper broke into his thoughts, and he glanced down to see her eyeing his dessert. It was something dark and chocolatey. His Sidonie loved chocolate. He switched plates without a word, replacing her empty one with his. “I’ll have my dessert later,” he whispered against her ear, smiling when he felt the heat of her blush.
The blush didn’t stop her from eating the cake, however. The sounds of pleasure she made with each bite were very familiar to him. Familiar enough that he might be claiming his dessert sooner than he’d thought. Sex in a helicopter could be exciting.
Fortunately, the evening ended soon after that. There was coffee and a very fine cognac, kisses all around, including a cheek kiss for Aden from Sidonie’s mother. But it was handshakes from the men, even her father, and then they finally escaped the house, into the cold air, down the walkway to the limousine, where Bastien stood, holding the door open.
“Sidonie,” Bastien said, giving her a smile as she bent into the limo. His smile widened into a grin when he met Aden’s gaze. “My lord.”
Aden scowled. The bastard could barely keep from laughing.
“I trust you had a pleasant evening?”
“Don’t push it,” Aden growled, and slid in to sit next to Sidonie. He didn’t fully relax until they’d left the gates of the private enclave behind and were heading for the parking lot of the local high school, which was serving as a helipad for the night. The suburb didn’t have an actual helipad, other than the roof of the hospital. And that wasn’t for rent. Aden wouldn’t have considered it anyway. Logistically, it couldn’t be made secure.
Sidonie leaned into him with a sigh. “Was it terrible?”
“No night with you could be terrible.”
She linked her fingers with his where his hand lay across her thighs, much as it had all through dinner. Aden liked to keep her close. He also liked to make his claim clear.
“You’re sweet,” she murmured.
Sweet?
“But how bad was it?” she persisted. “On a scale of one to ten?”
“Which is best, the one or the ten?”
“Ten.”
“Hmm. I’ll go with five.”
“A five is totally neutral. That’s like not saying anything at all.”
Aden looked at her.
“Yeah, yeah, okay. I’ll take what I can get.”
“Helicopter’s in sight, boss.” Bastien did a poor job of hiding his amusement.
BACK IN CHICAGO, Aden’s arms closed around her the minute the door to their private quarters closed behind them.
“You owe me a dessert,” he murmured in that deep voice that vibrated all the way to her soul.
She turned in his arms, pressing her breasts against his hard chest and sliding her arms around his neck, as she raised her face for a kiss. He obliged. He always did. Her Aden loved to kiss. At least he loved to kiss her, which was all she cared about. His kiss was deep and commanding, an invasion of teeth and tongue as he claimed her mouth as his. He was a possessive bastard. Every time they made love, he claimed her body all over again, marking her in ways that sometimes were for others to see, and other times were simply to remind her that she belonged to him and no one else.
Sidonie didn’t need the reminders. He was so deep in her heart that she could dig for years and never uncover all the ways he’d claimed her. All the ways she’d let herself be claimed.
“I love you,” she whispered. Tears filled her eyes. She loved him so much. More than she could ever say.
“I know, habibi,” he said softly. “I understand. Don’t cry.”
She pulled back with a laugh that was at least half sobbing. “Easy for you to say.”
He held her in place, suddenly serious. “Do you think so? Do you think I love you any less?”
Her lower lip quivered as a fresh wave of emotion overwhelmed her. She shook her head. “No,” she managed to say, as tears rolled down her cheeks.
Aden hugged her close, one big hand cradling the back of her head as he pressed her into his shoulder. “What kind of dessert is this?” he teased, swaying from side to side.
She laughed and punched his stomach. But carefully, since she was more likely to hurt her own hand than his rock-hard gut. “Let me change clothes.”
He growled. “Not a chance. This is my dessert. I make the rules.”
She sucked in a worried breath, even as her pussy clenched in anticipation. Aden had lots of rules. Sometimes he told her what they were in advance, and sometimes not. He wanted her to break the rules, so he could punish her. Aden was very creative when it came to punishments.
He pulled her arms away and set her in front of him. “Take off the coat.”
Sid slid out of the winter coat and tossed it on a nearby couch. She stared up at him, studying his gorgeous face for some clue, and feeling suddenly very vulnerable. Her dress was sexy, but perfectly acceptable for a family dinner, and she was wearing far more than usual in the way of undergarments. Both a bra and panties, as he well knew.
It was a fact he proved a moment later when he slid his rough fingers up her thighs, beneath the material of her dress, until he met the silk of her panties. Meeting her eyes with a lazy grin, he gave a hard tug and tore the delicate fabric on both sides. Holding her gaze, he slid the silk slowly between her thighs, gliding it through her wet pussy, tugging hard so that it dug between her pussy lips, every sodden inch of it rubbing against her swollen clit.
Pulling what was left of the sodden panties out from under her skirt, he held it to her nose, his gaze heating as she inhaled the scent of her own arousal. He raised the silk to his own nose and inhaled deeply, then tossed the useless fabric away.
Sid could feel the slick heat of her arousal, wanted to rub her thighs together to relieve some of the unbearable need in her pussy. She could feel the weight of Aden’s stare. He was just waiting for her to do something like that, to ease her own sexual hunger. That was one rule that never changed. Her pussy belonged to him, just like her mouth and every other part of her body. She considered doing it anyway, because she liked his punishments, and besides, he needed to be challenged sometimes. But Aden’s growl stopped her. He swore he didn’t read her mind, but sometimes . . .
He bared his teeth at her. A promise of things to come. She shivered, and his big hands closed over her naked butt, squeezing both cheeks as he raised her skirt to her waist and spun her around so her back faced him. One of his hands left her butt, and she tensed. Aden loved to pink her pale skin, especially the cheeks of her ass. But instead, his hand came up and unzipped the back of her dress, his fingers trailing over her skin all the way down, until she felt the relatively cooler air of the room hit her bare skin. Aden kissed the back of her neck as he slid the dress off her shoulders and down over her arms, letting it fall to pool around her ankles.
“Step,” he ordered. And she did, lifting one high-heeled foot and then the other, until Aden kicked the dress across the floor, as if it was useless fabric instead of an elegant bit of designer creativity. He unhooked her strapless bra, and she was naked, except for her heels and black thigh-high stockings. One of his hands slid down her thigh to rub against the top of her stocking. “These stay on.”
>
Sidonie shivered again at the rough dominance of that command. He pulled her back, until she hit his big, hard body, and she realized he was still fully clothed. If she looked, she knew she’d find he hadn’t even loosened his tie. The bastard. He loved to do this to her. To enhance her vulnerability by stripping her bare, while he remained dressed, secure in the uniform of civility. She pressed her hand against his thigh, sliding upward. She barely brushed the bulge of his cock before he grabbed both her hands and leaned in to sink his teeth into the junction between her neck and shoulder.
Sid cried out, but the pain was drowned in the rush of arousal that shook her narrow frame, a full body shudder that left her breasts straining for his touch, her nipples hard and swollen, her thighs sticky with liquid heat as they clenched around her aching pussy.
His tongue rasped over the bite, sending fresh jolts of desire coursing through her body. She wanted his hands on her breasts, wanted his fingers dipping between the silky, swollen folds of her sex, to plunge into her body, gliding on the slick cream of her arousal. But more than anything, she wanted his cock.
She clenched her butt and pushed back, rubbing herself against the growing thickness of his cock. He growled, then lifted her off her feet, walked the short distance to their bed, until her knees hit the mattress. He let her slide down his body until her feet hit the ground, then bent her over the bed with her butt in the air facing him. He kicked her legs apart, baring her sex, her ass, opening her to whatever he wanted to do.
Sid moaned softly and arched her back, offering herself to whatever wicked plans he had. Her entire body craved his touch, lusted after the pleasure, the release, that only he could give her.
His hand stroked down the line of her spine, trailing one finger between her butt cheeks, teasing the rosebud of her ass, before dropping lower to dip into the slick cream of her pussy.
“So wet, habibi,” he murmured. Sid felt her cheeks flush in embarrassment. It was stupid. This was Aden. He’d seen and licked every inch of her up close, had fucked her every way possible. But she couldn’t help it. She was bent over a bed with her ass in the air, her pussy dripping with arousal, begging to be fucked. She was completely vulnerable. For a woman who prided herself on a take-no-prisoners attitude toward life, it was embarrassing. And it turned her on so hard, she thought she’d climax before his cock so much as touched her.
Aden chuckled, low and dark. He knew what he did to her, what he made her feel. The beautiful bastard. His hand brushed against her ass, and then it was his cock, hard and thick and long, sliding between the cheeks of her ass, gliding in the cream of her arousal, pushing between the swollen lips of her pussy, shoving into the tight channel of her sheath. His hands gripped her hips, holding her in place as he slammed deep into her body, pulling out and plunging back in until his groin slapped her ass with every thrust.
Sidonie knew she wouldn’t last. She felt the heat of his cock as it rubbed along her inner walls, scraping over tiny nerves and muscles, the grip of his fingers digging into her hips, the deep rasp of his breath. She clutched the thick comforter, fighting against the scream clogging her throat, wanting the sensuality of this moment to last, but Aden had other plans.
Sliding one hand over her belly and down between her legs, he stroked his fingers once over the engorged nub of her clit, making Sid cry out, pleading for release. Or was it more pleasure? She didn’t know. But then he took the decision away from her. Leaning down, he sank his teeth into her vein, releasing the euphoric in his bite, even as he pinched her clit between thumb and forefinger. She screamed as every nerve came alive, every muscle clenched. The comforter was like steel wool against her swollen and hypersensitive nipples, Aden’s cock stretching her impossibly wide as her sheath clamped down on his thickness.
His hand closed over her pussy, claiming it for his own, as he slammed his cock as deep as it could go and stayed there. He snarled as the wet heat of his climax filled her, his cock flexing and jerking inside her as he ground his body against hers until the orgasm finally released them both and he collapsed against her back.
ADEN SLID HIS fangs slowly out of Sidonie’s plump vein and licked up the last few drops. Her blood was like honey, addictive and delicious. And all his. He wrapped an arm around her, his hand flat against her belly as he scooted them both up onto the bed. He was still fully dressed, but unwilling to release her soft, sweet body long enough to get rid of his clothes. Her pussy was rippling around his cock, still warm, and wet, and trembling. He kissed the back of her neck, tasting salty sweat.
“You with me?” he murmured against her soft ear. She gave a little moan that might have contained some words. He smiled and said, “The best dessert ever.”
The End
Vampire Vignette #17
Dear Diary
Two Months after LUCIFER, Book Eleven
Houston, TX, present day
NATALIE SLIPPED OUT of the room she shared with Christian. It was late afternoon, which meant he was still sleeping soundly and wouldn’t stir for a few hours yet. Usually, she slept with him, although sometimes she read or worked in bed. It depended on how tired she was, and how many hours the sun’s presence in the sky would keep him asleep. Summer was the worst, with its long days and short nights. She shook her head at the thought. Most people loved summertime. She had, too, once upon a time, but now it was a pain in the ass. She missed him.
Fortunately, the fall season was well and truly upon them, with the days growing steadily shorter. Christian would sleep only a few more hours, but she was hungry now. Last night had been busy, with plans for the new house that needed to be checked over and approved, and lots of hush-hush conference calls with Raphael and the other vampire lords. As Cyn would say, it was a bunch of super-secret vampire shit. Natalie hadn’t been in the room for those, but the minute Christian was off the phone, he’d called a meeting of his own, with her, his lieutenant, Marc, and his security chief, Alon. Alon was a newish vamp. Less than a year away from his turning, he’d been Natalie’s friend and dojo master. In fact, she’d introduced Alon to Christian. Not as a potential recruit, but as an instructor. She’d also been there the night Alon had been shot in a fight with rival vampires—the same night Christian had saved Alon’s life by making him a vampire. It was unusual, but there was no question of consent. Alon had spoken to Christian when they’d first met about his desire to become a vampire.
These thoughts filled her head as she passed through the house’s small command center, with its state-of-the-art tech and security system. She checked each system carefully, scanning the feed from the various cameras, both outdoor and indoor. Vampires were not universally beloved. There were hate groups who thought nothing of burning down a house full of sleeping vampires, persisting in the superstitious belief that vampires were undead, like the zombies on TV.
But while they might be idiots, it didn’t take much of an IQ to throw a Molotov cocktail through a window. Of course, the windows on this house were covered in hurricane-tested shutters. The doors, too. When they moved to the new house, they’d have a full, daytime, security force. But Christian had decided against bringing on the extra people before then. Their current house was in an upscale, suburban neighborhood. Having a cordon of armed guards lurking in the daytime would only serve to draw attention to the fact that vampires lived here.
Natalie wasn’t sure she agreed with that reasoning, but she’d been outvoted by the three vampires who shared the house with her. They couldn’t stop her from scanning every single security feed, however. Nor could they stop her from carrying a gun whenever she left the basement sleeping quarters.
Satisfied with what she saw on the security monitors, Natalie entered the code on the vault door to the stairway. After closing that door behind her, she climbed the stairs to a second vault door and entered a different code. That door swung open to the main hallway of their house. Passing the unused be
drooms, she entered the state-of-the art kitchen, which was dominated by Christian’s elaborate espresso machine. Her vampire had a coffee fetish. It was the first thing he did every night after rising. Well, actually, the first thing he did was make love to her. She smiled. But coffee was his first thought after that. He and the others made quite the fuss over it, with Marc demanding his caramel macchiato, and Alon joining Christian in preferring small cups of thick, rich espresso.
Natalie would have liked a pumpkin spice latte, but she’d wait until Christian woke for the night. The gleaming machine was his baby. He wouldn’t say a word to her, but he’d mutter beneath his breath while cleaning every inch of it. Sometimes, she made herself a latte, or even worse, a plain hot chocolate, just to watch him fuss afterward.
But not today. She was too hungry. Pulling open the refrigerator door, she checked out the possibilities. The guys didn’t eat, but she did, and she made weekly runs to the grocery store to be sure there was always food on hand. After checking to be sure she had fresh bread, she made herself a turkey and Swiss sandwich, then grabbed a bag of greasy potato chips. The best kind.
She was reaching for a plate when she saw a leather-bound book sitting on the counter. The word “Journal” was stamped into the leather, and she could tell from the condition of the pages that some of them had been written on. Curious about whose it was, she brought it to the counter along with her sandwich and a diet Coke, then flipped open the first page.
A single glance told her the journal belonged to Alon. He had a unique slant to his writing that she’d always attributed to the fact that Hebrew, with its right to left alignment, was his first language. The writing was as bold as he was, utterly self-assured.
Vampires in America Page 10
