Delilah Devlin - Sm{B}itten (Night Fall #1)

by Unknown

  Emmy took in her friend’s appearance and frowned. “Your fangs look pretty darn good, up close. But your blue jeans and tank are the absolute scariest,” Emmy grumbled. Then she realized Monica hadn’t even bothered changing what she’d worn at lunch before coming to the club. Monica must have been in a hurry. Must be a new man.

  “Come,” Monica said, grabbing her hand and pulling her toward a dark corner. “Now that you’re finally here, I have friends I want you to meet.”

  Tensing, Emmy tried to dig in her heels. “When you say friends, you mean guys, don’t you? Monica, I don’t think I’m ready for this whole getting-back-up-on-the-horse-that-kicked-you thing.”

  “Shut up, Emmy. My friends will love you.”

  “I’m sure they will with my boobs pushed up to my chin and this tourniquet squeezing my waist to nothing. By now, I’ve lost a few brain cells to asphyxiation.” Emmy tugged, trying to free her hand, but Monica continued to pull her toward the corner. Her grip was surprisingly strong. “You should rethink this whole blind date thing. Your friends aren’t going to meet the real me. When they see me in daylight, they’ll think I exploded.”

  Monica looked over her shoulder and gave her a lazy smile. “Trust me. That will never happen.”

  Before Emmy could utter another protest, she bumped into Monica who halted in front of a group of young men. Emmy’s heart sank. “You know I almost thought this might be the night, but Monica—” she pulled her friend close enough to hiss into her ear, “Are you out of you mind? They’re teenagers! What are you going to do, introduce me as Auntie Em?”

  “Not them, silly. Him.” Monica placed a hand in the middle of her back and shoved.

  Startled, Emmy had only a moment to take notice of a black leather jacket that clothed a tall, lean frame, and then she was hugging it to keep her balance. “Sorry, that was awfully clumsy of—” She looked up into a cold, harshly sculpted face framed by dark hair that brushed the shoulders of the jacket and swallowed hard. “—My friend.”

  “What have you brought me, Monica?” the man asked.

  The smile playing at the corner of his lips didn’t relieve Emmy’s sense of unease.

  “An appetizer,” Monica drawled, and then giggled.

  “You know, I’m not the least bit hungry,” Emmy said, hoping to lighten the atmosphere that had suddenly grown dense as mud.

  “I almost always am.” The man looked down at Emmy, and then leaned forward.

  She screwed her eyes closed and sucked in her lips. No way is he going to kiss me. Monica, what were you thinking?

  Instead of a kiss, he licked the side of her face.

  What? Her eyes flew open. “I think I’m coming down with a bug.” Not averse to licking, but concerned they hadn’t been introduced, Emmy couldn’t stop her nervous prattle. “Licking me could be hazardous to your health. I might have Monkey Pox. I should go home and call the CDC.”

  Before she could back away, she was wrapped in an embrace like a vise. “Then again,” she said, pushing against his shoulders, “maybe I should just introduce myself since Monica hasn’t seen fit.” She strained to look behind her, but her friend was nowhere to be seen. “Typical,” she muttered.

  She turned back to the instant sensation of the man nuzzling her neck and emitting a growl that would have sounded incredibly sexy, except that it tickled the side of her neck. “Stop that!” Tilting her head to close access to that particular avenue of attack, she squealed when he hoisted her high in his arms.

  His mouth was now level with the exposed flesh of her breasts, and there was too much breast, thanks to Monica’s bustier. Her creamy flesh was a beacon for perverts to feast on.

  Only this perv wasn’t getting any. “Oh no. No breast-licking. I mean it. Or my boyfriend is going to—”

  “Join us?”

  Despite the deep shadows, Emmy detected amusement in the man’s expression as he gazed upward into her eyes. “Not likely,” she said, lifting her chin and sniffing. “He doesn’t like to share.”

  “Is that right?” A smile stretched across his face, his teeth flashing brightly. “Tell me about him. I’d like to know my competition.”

  “Well, I’m sure he doesn’t have nice pointy teeth like yours, but he’s big as a bear and jealous.” Emmy had a stray thought that she sounded like Little Red Riding Hood describing the wolf. She almost laughed, but her predicament was getting less funny by the moment. The predatory gleam in her captor’s eyes was making her nervous. “You don’t want to upset him by being here when he arrives.”

  “What does he look like? I’ll be sure to call him over.”

  Her last boyfriend had been an unimpressive shrimp. And he never could never have hefted her up as easily as the man holding her now. “Well, he’s big. And dark. Darker than you. His hair has a little wave, and it’s…longish. And green eyes.” She’d always wished for a boyfriend with friendly green eyes.

  “Is there more?”

  “That’s it.” She bit her lip and glanced toward the dance floor before reconnecting with his gaze. “D-did I tell you he’s big?”

  The eyes of the devil who held her narrowed above his crocodile smile. “You know, I don’t think you have a boyfriend, least not one who sounds like he’ll give me any trouble.” His voice dropped to a sexy rasp. “You’ll have to convince me you aren’t just delaying the edible here.”

  “The inevitable, don’t you mean?” Emmy blinked and almost lost the thread of the conversation when he laved his tongue along the side of her neck. “Oh, I wouldn’t try to delay anything—if you were my boyfriend, that is. Although I must say, if I didn’t have a boyfriend,” she said, her voice rising with panic, “which I may or may not have, I’d probably still not want to date you.”

  “I think you would,” he whispered in her ear. “A woman who wears an outfit like this is dying for a walk on the wild side.”

  A shiver of awareness crept along her spine. Alarmed because she was responding to his seduction, she tried one last time to deny him. “I’d never go out with you. You’re the dark and brooding type. And a girl knows there’s no future in a relationship with a dangerous man. I may not be the best judge of men, but even I know that.”

  “Good God, does the chit ever come up for air?”

  Emmy jerked toward the accented voice that sounded behind her. Craning her neck, she saw it belonged to a man who was gorgeous in a proper, stiff-upper-lip sort of way. A white dress shirt tucked into gray slacks clothed a long, lean frame—rakish, and he was blond with his long hair pulled back in a ponytail.

  Now the man standing next to him could have been tailor-made for the role of her boyfriend, because he was everything she’d described and so much more. Tall for one. Nicely muscled, if his bare arms were any hint of the corded sinew beneath his clothing. Broader—filled out in all the manly places Emmy liked to have filled out. And more dangerous looking than the scrawny ape licking the tops of her breasts. He’d do.

  She smiled brightly. “Darling!”

  Chapter Two

  ‡

  Momentarily stunned by her exuberant greeting, Dylan stared at the woman Nicky was about to ravage. With her body crushed against his nemesis, Dylan had an excellent view of the lush curve of her waist which blended into wide hips—and an ass a man would die to pump against. To his photosensitive eyes, her hair reflected the radiance of a sun in its blonde strands. The skin of her shoulders, rosy with blushes, made his mouth water.

  His cock twitched behind the fly of his blue jeans.

  Quentin coughed, breaking the spell the woman’s brilliant smile had cast.

  “Nicky. You know the house rules,” Dylan said, his voice roughened by his instant attraction to the woman. “No civilians.”

  “I like this one. So refreshing.” Nicky nuzzled her neck and grinned lazily from half-masted eyes. “She’s a meal and a half. We could share.”

  Eyes wide, the woman slapped Nicky’s shoulder. “Oh no. I don’t go for that kinky stuff.” />
  “Put her down. Now.” Dylan glared daggers at the younger vamp, even as he wondered at his sudden urge to rip off Nicky’s arms.

  Nicky returned his glare, appearing nonchalant about raising Dylan’s ire. “Keep your knickers on—as you Brits say.”

  “You damn well know, I’m Irish. No insult intended,” he said over his shoulder to Quentin.

  “None taken.”

  Nicky shrugged. “I was only having a bit of fun.” He lowered the woman to the floor.

  Unsteady, she grabbed Nicky’s arm for just a second, and then smiled thinly at Dylan. “Well, that was entertaining. I think I’ll go find my girlfriend, Monica.”

  As she walked past Dylan, he snaked an arm around her waist, pulling her to his side. “Are you talking about Monica with the brown hair and blue eyes?”

  “Oh.” She tried to shrug out of his embrace, but only managed to set the fleshy tops of her luscious tits jiggling. “Are we doing this again? I’m tired of the game. And I won’t be surprised if you both haven’t left bruises. You guys must be doing some serious steroids.”

  Dylan’s gaze lifted to her face. “You aren’t going to find Monica.”

  Her wide hazel eyes met his gaze for the first time. Despite the sexy dress and the thick makeup on her eyes and mouth, there was a lively intelligence reflected in her gaze. And she was an innocent. She hadn’t a clue about the smoldering fire she’d lit in his loins.

  “Why?” A frown creased her brow. “Has she already left?”

  Dylan resisted the urge to draw a deep breath and bathe his hypersensitive sense of smell in her scent. “Listen, Monica is no longer your friend.”

  The sound of Nicky’s mocking laughter angered Dylan. To him, everything was a joke. Human life was cheap.

  “Like I’m going to listen to you.” Again, she struggled against his embrace then frowned when he didn’t let her go. “She’s been my friend forever.”

  “Right now, she’s only thinking about her hunger.” He knew—his hunger had hardened his dick to stone, and his fangs inched down from his gums.

  “You know, you’re right.” Her gaze narrowed. “Why whenever we have lunch together, she doesn’t go on and on about her boyfriends or her bad Brazilian wax job while she plays with her salad. No, she goes straight for the breadsticks!”

  The urge to shake her until her teeth rattled warred with the need to take her, on the floor and right this moment. Dylan realized she was aggravating the shit out of him, but he wasn’t bored. And there was only one way he could think of to make her shut up. Ignoring Nicky’s avid stare, he leaned down and kissed her.

  For him, the contact was electric. Her lips were soft and lush. Her breath sweet and minty. Her tongue hesitantly traced the fangs on either side of his mouth, and he thought he’d never been so hard.

  Perhaps the kiss was just as shattering for her, because when he lifted his head, her eyelids remained dipped dreamily downward.

  He retracted his teeth. He wanted to savor her innocence, not her viscous essence.

  “Nothing like broadcasting your interest to the world,” Quentin mumbled beside him.

  From the corner of his eyes, he watched Nicky walk away. He pulled back from the woman and glared down at her while he spoke to his friend. “You didn’t see me from the front, Quent. There’s no way he missed this hard-on.”

  The woman’s mouth gaped, and her eyes flew open, her glance falling to his groin.

  “Good work shutting her up.” Quentin’s expression was once again irritatingly droll.

  “Just make sure Nicky doesn’t get up to any more mischief tonight,” Dylan said. “He’s already staked a claim.”

  “Righto. I suppose you’ll be looking after the girl?” Quentin drawled. “About bloody time.”

  “Sod off,” Dylan snarled.

  “Hello. I’m here,” the woman said, waving her hand between them. “I don’t know why men think they can talk over a woman’s head just because she’s blonde.”

  Quentin’s gaze was alight with humor.

  Dylan sighed. He supposed Quentin was right. She wasn’t safe—especially now that he’d shown his interest. “You’ve better things to do, Quent. Get lost.” To the woman, Dylan said, “You’re coming with me.”

  “Now, look here,” she said, pushing against the arm that anchored her to his side, “I don’t know you from Adam. I don’t even know your name. Why the hell would I go anywhere with you?”

  “Name’s Dylan O’Hara,” he said flatly, then lifted her by the waist and headed toward the stairs.

  “Wait a minute. Where are you taking me?” Her legs scissored, and the sharp spike of a high heel found his shin.

  Exasperated, he put her down, crossed his arms over his chest, and glowered. “Dammit. I’m rescuing you.”

  Her cornflower blue gaze narrowed and gave his frame a rake that said she didn’t think so highly of him. “You think you’re saving me from the bad guy?”

  He stepped close, forcing her to look up at him. “I’m saving you from a badder guy.”

  “Oh!” Her eyelids dipped, lashes concealing the thoughts her eyes easily betrayed. “You really think he would have hurt me?”

  Touching a finger to her soft cheek, he said, “He wanted more than just your sweet neck, sweetheart. You wouldn’t have been able to stop him.” He slid the finger down to the side of her throat and felt her blood thrum as her heart beat faster.

  “That’s an odd way to put it. Can I stop you?” she asked, her breath shallow and rapid.

  From her heightening scent, he knew she was growing aroused. Was it due to the kiss? Or did she like having two virile men sparring over her? “You can stop me anytime you want. But you have to tell me you don’t want me.”

  Her gaze lifted to his face. Fear and excitement warred in her expression. “I’m Emmaline Harris. Emmy, if you like.” A quick smile flashed.

  Noting she hadn’t said she didn’t want him, he slid his hand behind her head. He combed his fingers through her hair then clutched it to tilt back her face. “Tell me to stop, Emmy.”

  Her lips parted as though waiting for another, deeper kiss. “This is crazy. I just swore off men,” she whispered. “I didn’t want this.”

  His lips hovered an inch above hers, giving her time to change her mind. “Didn’t want what, Emmy?”

  A blush stained her cheeks. She swallowed hard, but kept her gaze locked with his, a hint of challenge sparkling there. “I didn’t want to fuck.”

  Shock at her bluntness shot straight to his groin. “Bloody hell.” Dylan clenched his jaw and willed himself not to pounce. His cock had been painfully hard before—now his balls felt ready to burst. And he’d thought she would be safer with him?

  “Was I wrong?” she asked. The uncertainty in her voice produced a slight quaver. “I thought you wanted me, too. It’s like I conjured you. You’re everything I ever wanted, and there you were. Just for me. Just in time.”

  He liked the way she talked, the cadence of her voice, her airless sentences strung one after the other. Trying to follow them made him dizzy. “What a coincidence. I thought you’d been made for me.” Dylan’s hand fisted in her hair. “I may hurt you.”

  A sweet, seductive smile tilted the corners of her mouth. “I’m counting on that fact. Seriously, if what’s pushing against my belly is any indication, I think you’re going to ruin me for any other man.”

  He almost laughed, but shook his head as he stared down into her eyes. “You should run, little girl.”

  “I’m not little,” she said, her eyes narrowing.

  “Then come upstairs with me.” He released her hair and moved away. “It’s your choice.” He held his breath, wondering if she’d have the nerve. Whether the curiosity and arousal lighting her eyes would overcome her sense of self-preservation. He knew some of the dark, dangerous thoughts he was thinking had to be there in his expression.

  Apparently, lust won out. With a slow rub of her hip against his cock, she stepped p
ast him and climbed the stairs.

  Nearly growling, he was right behind her with the sway of her hips, from side to side, the sole focus of his attention. Black velvet hugged her bottom as she climbed, revealing the faint indentation of her panties. Each step produced a tiny jiggle of her ass, sending a jolt of awareness right to his cock.

  Before they reached the top of the stairs, Dylan adjusted himself to let his length rise along the zipper of his jeans. For relief, he popped the snap at the top. Thankfully, his leather vest covered the head of his penis.

  Near the top, he brushed by her to unlock the door, welcoming the darkness inside the room. He became aware of her clutching the back of his vest, so he reached for the blinds and rolled them, letting in the now strobing light from the dance floor.

  When the door closed behind them, silence fell over the space.

  Emmy walked to the window. “Can they see us?”

  “No. It’s one-way glass.”

  She pulled up the blinds, exposing the entire window. “I didn’t realize so many people were here. Can they hear us?”

  He wondered about her questions and whether she’d already surmised he intended to have her. “No more than you can hear them. The room’s soundproof.”

  She looked over her shoulder, her gaze locking with his for a long moment. “Dylan, lock the door.”

  With his heart pounding in anticipation, he complied. When he turned back, he found her standing in front of the window, peeling down the top of her bustier. His throat tightened. Her breasts sprang from their confinement, milky-white globes crowned by large rosy areolas. As he walked toward her, he noted the large circles were dimpled and the tips tightly beaded.

  Emmy gave him a small gamine smile then turned and leaned forward to press her breasts to the glass. She raised her arms and flattened the rest of her upper torso against it. “Oh, it’s so deliciously cool. You’re sure no one can see me?”

  Her lack of inhibition was exhilarating. She seemed without guile. So naturally beautiful and joyful, she made his teeth ache. Dylan closed the distance to stand just behind her. With his nose pressed to her apple-scented hair, he widened his legs and pressed his cock to her backside. “No one can see us. Is this how you want it?”