by Lea Kirk
“Now, spread yourself for me.” His voice sounded rough, but damned if he cared. Watching her touch the parts of herself he yearned to feel around him riveted him in place. “Show me how you pleasure yourself.”
She did, slowly. The musky scent of her arousal reached his nose, intoxicating. She moaned, and the tempo of her fingers increased, rubbing and circling her clit faster and faster.
“Stop.”
She did, but narrowed a glare at him as she panted. He stifled a chuckle at her unspoken annoyance. Turnabout was indeed fair play. He toed off his shoes, then reached for the button of his pants, his gaze never leaving hers. He unfastened his pants, pushed them down his legs, and stepped out.
Her eyes widened and her tongue darted over her lips. “You…went commando.”
This time he did chuckle, but only for a brief moment before he reschooled his expression to seriousness.
“Touch yourself, inside…the way I will.” The words were a command, but their intensity revealed his unexpected vulnerability to this woman.
There was no hesitation. She spread her legs and dipped her fingers inside the bit of heaven that made her a woman. He gripped his shaft and stroked up and down in time with her rhythmic, rocking fingers.
She watched his movements with hooded eyes. A fine sheen of sweat glistened on her body, and her breathing turned more erratic. In and out, in and out. If he let her continue, she would find release without him. Somehow that bothered him. Her eyes closed and another moan escaped her parted lips.
Now.
He pounced.
~*~
There was something incredibly kinky, hot about touching herself for Mikhail. Correction, for naked Mikhail. She’d never done something so daring before. It’d seemed too embarrassing. But not with him. It was like he could see into her most secret fantasies and bring them to life. And the crazy part was that she was okay with it.
“Touch yourself,” he growled. “Inside. The way I will.”
Oh, god, yes. She moved her hand, pushed two fingers into her channel, and stroked as she teased her clit with her other hand. Mikhail closed one hand around himself, drawing her gaze to his thick hard-on. God, he was matching her rhythm like he was pumping into her and not his hand. Without shame. The first tingles of an impending orgasm shot through her, her body tensing for release. Faster, yes, like that. So close…. She closed her eyes and moaned.
Hands, his hands, closed around her waist and dragged her toward the edge of the bed. A small gasp escaped her and she opened in eyes. Mikhail lifted her bottom and lowered his head, his smoldering gaze on her. Oh, god. He speared his hot tongue into her, flicking it over her nub. Circling and sucking. Stroke, suck, nip. She dug her heels into the edge of the mattress, and he tightened his fingers against the soft skin of her buttocks as she lifted her hips.
“Mikhail….” A plea, but for what? Stop? Go? Faster? More? All the above? If he stopped now…if he stopped….
He sucked her nub, and her orgasm burst over her with the power of a small explosion. She pushed against him as a guttural cry burst from deep inside her. Shooting pinpoints of light filled her vision as Mikhail extended her pleasure, his mouth working her until she was a panting heap on top of his comforter.
“Holy…fuck.” That sounded totally cliché, but damn. What else could she say?
Mikhail’s cheek pressed against her trembling inner thigh, the roughness of his whiskers sending a fresh wave of desire through her.
Again! Oh, please, again.
“You smell delicious, love.” Mikhail’s nostrils flared as he inhaled her scent as if it was dinner. And maybe that’s what she was.
The memory of the New York alley rose up, and fear squeezed her heart. What if that’s all she was? All this was? Just a way to get her into his clutches for her blood. Would he go through all this effort, even for a small taste?
Mikhail sighed and moved up on the bed to lay next to her, not touching. “I will not take anything from you that is not given by your free will, Donnie. This I swear. If you want to leave now, I will not stop you.”
She met his gaze. Nothing but honesty showed in his dark eyes. There was no fuzzy sensation like when he’d tried to ensnare her before. He must be telling the truth. “You’d let me go? Just like that?”
“I would.” One corner of his mouth curved upward. “Honestly, I hope you will stay, though.”
“Are you sure you won’t bite me in the throes of passion?”
He reached toward the pillows, then held up a grapefruit. What was this? Some sort of kinky fetish?
“If, after you hear this, you want to stop, I shall honor your wish.” He took in a bracing breath. “Vampires do tend to bite and drink during the ‘throes of passion.’ I know how averse you are about being bitten, so I will sink my fangs into this instead of you. You need not worry, my aim is true. I will not bite you, even by accident.”
Relief flowed through her. There was a way, and Mikhail had planned ahead for it. Taken her comfort and safety into consideration before she’d known there was a problem. Where had this guy been all her life?
She reached out to cup his cheek. “Thank you, Mikhail.”
~*~
Those three words wrapped themselves around his heart. She chose to stay. She chose him.
He brushed his lips over her palm. Then he propped himself up with one arm and offered her the grapefruit. “Scoot up on the bed. Once you are comfortable, place this against the curve of your neck and shoulder.”
A few moments later, she met his gaze. Not a trace of fear showed in her eyes. “Like this?”
The pale, yellowish-pink fruit lay snug against her neck as she lay on her back, her dark hair fanned over the pillow around her head. “Yes, love. Like that.”
He lay on his side next to her and trailed his fingers over her soft belly. Shivers erupted across her skin, and a sense of possessive satisfaction encompassed him. He rolled her nipple between his thumb and forefinger for a moment before pinching it. Her sigh of pleasurable pain spurred him on. He covered her nipple with his mouth and laved it gently, sucking on it, then circling it with his tongue. The faint salty-sweet taste of her skin filled his senses.
He covered her with his body, settling between her legs. Dampness coated her curls, but rushing her could ruin the entire moment.
The pressure of her fingernails digging into his butt brought him up short.
“I need. You in me. Now,” Donnie ground out through her teeth.
Or, perhaps she was ready. In any case, who was he to argue? He reached for a foil packet, but it skittered and fell over the edge of the night stand. “Damn.”
“Got one,” Donnie said. She ripped it open with her teeth. “Up, up, up.”
He used his vampire speed to kneel between her legs. She touched him, rolled the condom over his shaft, and the room seemed to waver. As long as he kept his mouth closed, she would not see his fangs. The truth was he needed to be inside her as much as she needed him.
“Okay,” she whispered.
He pressed his tip against her entrance, and thrust into her heat. The beast surged with an internal roar of possession, struggled with his consciousness for control. His fangs pricked the inside of his lower lip. Gods, stars, and darkness. Donnie was…everything. His past, present, and future. His joy and his sorrow. His pleasure and his pain.
His one mate.
Every vampire had one, but not all were lucky enough to find them. He had been made for her, preserved for centuries until her time arrived. But, would she recognize it?
“Mikhail,” she gasped. “What is…I’ve never…oh, god. Move now or I’m going to die.”
Perhaps she did realize, but speculation could wait. He pulled out almost all the way and sank back into her welcoming softness over and over, setting a steady rhythm.
“Yes, Mikhail.” Donnie’s words and little moans of desire washed over him and his testicles tightened.
He stroked himself against her nub and s
he met him each time, her face flushed as she approached fulfillment. He grasped her ankle, brought her bent leg up until her knee was almost touched her shoulder, opening her to deeper penetration. He pumped his hips, moving deliberately so that he stroked her nub with every pass.
Her channel tightened around him, and her scream echoed through the room. The scent of her climax and the blood flowing through her wrapped around him. Sweet, enticing, irresistible. His fangs ached.
Don’t bite her. Don’t bite her.
He slammed into her again and his body stiffened as he poured not only his essence into her, but his soul. It was no use to resist the need to bite and drink. Now the dark beast within owned him. He lowered his head to her neck and sank his teeth into the first thing he encountered: the thick peel of the fruit. The taste of citrus filled his mouth, running down his chin as he drank its bittersweet juice. The beast snarled, its frustration shaking him to the core. But that did not matter. The only thing that mattered was that Donnie was safe.
And he was hers.
Chapter Twelve
Donnie woke to rosy sunlight and the scent of grapefruit and sex. The last two were now synonymous. Talk about an unusual trigger. She grinned up at the ceiling. One night, and Mikhail had ruined her for all other men. And what a night it had been. He had “take me home to meet your mother” stamped all over him. How had that happened?
She stretched, and turned her head to watch Mikhail sleeping next to her. The early morning light glowed around the cracks between the now-closed shutters. His long eyelashes brushed his cheeks. There were women in the world who’d kill for lashes like his. And hair as soft and silky. Who knew seventeenth-century guys were so handsome? At least, he was. Being in the antiquities business, she’d seen her share of portraits from that era, and not a single one matched up to her vampire. And for an old guy, he sure had stamina. Four times in one night.
A sense of wonder filled her. Good lord, she’d slept with a man who was close to four hundred years old. And he’d been the most attentive and tender lover she’d had in her life. This was new and different, a beautiful treasure. It was as if she was connected to him somehow. Bonded.
She reached up and adjusted her pendant, then touched her fingers to her chest and neck. Still sticky. Yet another opportunity for Mikhail to lick her some more. Her channel tightened. Oh, yeah, that was so going to happen. Where was that grapefruit anyway? She felt the sheets near her shoulder and her hand brushed the shriveled lump of fruit skin. She lifted it from where it lay next to her shoulder. Sucked dry, its flesh shredded. A vivid reminder of what he was.
The staple ingredient of a vampire diet didn’t seem so terrible now. Not as much as his immortality, at any rate. He’d been alive for centuries before she was born, and would live for centuries after she died. He would lose her like he’d lost his father and daughter. How could she do this to him? If she left him now, would it be easier for him?
“You are thinking so loudly I fear you may have regrets.” Mikhail’s voice was early-morning rough.
She rolled onto her side, propped herself on her elbow. Her pendant rolled across her breast and bumped against her shoulder. “No regrets at all. You?”
“Never, love.” He reached up and ran one finger along the silver chain. “I am curious. Where did you get this? It is quite lovely.”
“My mother gave it to me on my eighteenth birthday.” She took the stone between her thumb and forefinger. “Some sort of family heirloom, she said.” Too bad none of the research leads had panned out.
“A beautiful gift for a beautiful daughter.” Mikhail seemed transfixed by the emerald.
After the night they’d just shared, it was silly that her cheeks were heating now. “Thanks.” She rolled onto her back. Yep, silly.
Mikhail now propped himself up next to her. “Is there a problem, Donnie?”
She met his gaze. “You told me yesterday that you’d give anything to be human again.”
“Almost anything.”
“Right, almost.” There was no good way to ask. “Is there a way to do that?”
He stilled. It didn’t even look like he was breathing. There was no way this could mean good news, and bad news—
“There is a way.”
She blinked up at him. “Really? How”
“It is an impossible scenario, Donnie. Do not pin your hopes on it happening.”
“Chivalrous of you, but why don’t you let me worry about my feelings? Spill it, vampire.”
He pushed himself up to sit. The expanse of his muscled shoulders hunched forward. “It requires the blood of a Fae.”
“You mean, you just drink a little faerie blood and, poof, you’re human again?”
“There’s no ‘poof’ about it. Transformation is a painful process.” He scrubbed his hands over his face. “And it requires more than a sip. A vampire would have to drain a Fae of his blood to achieve the required results.”
Donnie’s heart sank to the pit of her belly. Mikhail would never drain anyone if he could help it. She pushed herself upright next to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. “I’m sorry, Mikhail.”
There was nothing she could do to help him, which sucked.
He slipped his arm across her shoulders and drew her against his warm body. “Do not grieve, Donnie. I have learned to live in the moment, and I hope to have many more moments with you.”
“Me too.” She snuggled in his embrace and didn’t fight the smile. They had this moment, and the next, and the next, for however long they could keep going. That would have to be good enough.
His kiss on top of her head was tender, then he pulled back. “As much as I would appreciate spending the day lost within you, the sun has risen and we have a guide to locate for your dagger. If I were Fae, I’d appreciate it if my quarry showed herself before the heat becomes unbearable.”
“Hm. Good point.” She leaned down and brushed her lips over his. “Raincheck?”
“But, of course.” Mikhail’s vampire accent was excellent.
“Good one.” She pushed up to a sitting position. “I’ll meet you downstairs.”
~*~
Mikhail sat shoulder-to-shoulder with Donnie on a blanket under one of the cottonwood trees in the park. Why did it seem as if everyone within a fifty-mile radius of Magic was here today for the Play in the Park? It was an amateur production of The Princess and the Frog, not a Broadway show. No matter how long he lived, he would never understand the tourist mentality.
He adjusted his sunglasses and scrutinized each face in the crowd. It was an almost equal mix of humans and paranormal beings, but not one of those paranormals was a faerie.
And speaking of which, how in the blazes had Donnie’s mother come into the possession of a Fae amulet? The smooth, blemish-free polish of the emerald alone was not something that could be achieved in the human realm. Not that he was aware of, at least. Could it truly be a family heirloom? Why would a human family even have such a treasure?
He glanced down at the backpack, containing another Fae “treasure”, between him and Donnie. A more appropriate description of the dagger hidden within would be pain-in-the—
“I am sorry for making you cry, Sir Frog.” The exaggerated tone from the princess on stage cut through his musings.
“Then kiss me,” the frog said.
Mikhail rolled his eyes skyward. Where had the park department found this troupe?
Donnie leaned close to his ear. “Stop that.”
“I will! I will!” The princess got down on her hands and knees and kissed the top of the frog’s head.
Poof!
A handsome young man in somewhat princely garb appeared. Donnie gasped, and her face lit up with a smile. Mikhail could not look away. This alone made the last forty-five minutes worthwhile.
“Now, Princess, let us live happily ever after.”
Around them, the audience clapped and the actors took their bows.
“Okay,” Donnie said. “Give it up. How
did he change into a prince?”
Mikhail gave her a grin. “Frog shifter.”
“Oh.” She frowned as though she listened intently to the inner workings of her body. “Nope. I’m not surprised at all. Are you ready to go?”
“I am.” He reached for the back pack between them, and it vibrated. The cursed glorified knife best not try to shock him again. Too bad that it did not want to be carried by him. Donnie certainly was not going to carry it. The pack might impede her if she needed to escape.
“Relax, Carnwennan,” Donnie murmured.
Moments later, he led Donnie along the sidewalk of downtown Magic. Was it possible that there were even more people out here than in the park?
“Stop looking around like you’re expecting an ambush,” Donnie said.
Mikhail glanced down at her. “But I do expect an ambush.” How could he not, with her at his side and Carnwennan on his back? There was no telling where Ash was now. And neither woman nor weapon had the luxury of Nonny’s spells to hide them while in town.
“Well, at least try not to be so obvious,” she chastised. “Try and pretend you’re having a good time.”
He draped his arm over her shoulders and made another visual sweep of the crowded street. “I am having the best time ever.”
It was the truth. He could not get enough of watching Donnie play tourist. She had been enamored with the statue outside the library, especially when the large metallic man winked at her. At the park, they had sat on the grass and munched on the fruit they had bought at the Thursday farmers’ market as they watched the play. Now, she slid her arm around his waist as they strolled along the main street window shopping. Despite the situation, life had never been so good.
“I need a shirt that says, ‘I went to Magic, New Mexico, and all I got was this lousy t-shirt’,” she announced.
“The kind of cheap touristy gift a relative buys for you?”
She laughed. “Yeah, but I doubt any of my relatives will ever come here. And if they did, they’d just get me a refrigerator magnet.”
He bent, and pressed his lips against her hair. “How about lunch?”
“Sure. The Krazy Kettles again?”
