Rafe glides forward in the tub, wrapping strong arms around me and pulling me close. He wants me to feel exactly how happy he is that this whole mess is over and we’re finally alone.
“You became exactly what I need.” Rafe whispers his answer to me. “You are my life.” His arousal presses into my middle.
I open my legs to straddle his lap. Eager hands lift me into position. I tilt my head at a slight angle to press my mouth to his. Our kiss deepens in intensity while the tip of him pushes at my entrance.
“Mmmm…” I pull back to speak. “To think that ten minutes ago, I was too tired to think straight. Amazing what some cold air, hot water, and a hard man can do to change that.”
The sound of a throat clearing brings both of us whipping around.
Asa looks uncomfortable standing about ten feet from the stairs. “I… uh… umm. A call came in right after you left. Miranda put it through to me in your absence.”
My look could cut steel right now. This better be quick.
“Yes? Get on with it? We’re kind of in the middle of something.”
Asa manages to stare at a point about six feet above our heads. “Yes, ma’am. Unbeknownst to me, Drew took it upon himself to call the tribunal and report his kill.”
“Damn fool!”
I push slightly away from Rafe in my anger. No need to ruin the moment completely by dragging him down too.
“I was planning on being with him when he made the call. Jesus, couldn’t he wait a few damn hours?”
Asa doesn’t answer my rhetorical question. Points go to him for biting his tongue on that one.
“Rolando called to confirm the details, which I was able to do.” He continues to stare off above us, not meeting my eyes. “They want your corroborating statement as well and request that you call them back before daybreak.”
“Fine,” I check my ever-present watch. “We have plenty of time for that. Anything else?”
“Yes. The guests enjoyed themselves so much they’ve been asking if we would consider holding a real hunt here.”
“Real? As opposed to what?” I allow my irritation to come through. “The fake one we had this week with a murdered body?”
Asa rushes to explain. “No, no, not calling this week anything. But they’re asking if they could somehow come back and do it again. Have you arrange it all.”
Crap! Now why in the hell would I want to do that? Who would want their property destroyed and worry about getting their employees killed? I shake my head.
“Tell them I doubt it.”
“Wait,” Rafe says. “You still have an enemy on the tribunal we need to ferret out.” He rises up out of the tub a bit, drawing my eyes to the water cascading off his chest. “Perhaps they’d agree to send condemned rogue vampires up here for a fee. With expenses in Argentina so high, that group always has an open hand out.”
He smiles a rakish grin at me. He’s aware that I’m not even looking at his face and really didn’t pay much attention to what he said.
“You never know,” he continues. “It might help flush out whomever has an axe to grind with you.”
“Hmm?” I look away from Rafe’s perky nipples and to try to form a coherent thought.
It takes me a minute, but I’m able to piece together the meaning of his suggestion by playing it back in my head.
“Okay. The idea’s sound. But let’s talk about it later, when we have clothes on.” I address Asa again. “Anything else?”
“Nope.”
“Would you mind leaving then?”
“Oh, uh… sure.” Asa high-tails it back into the building as though he’s got an angry band of villagers at his back.
Rafe laughs gently and draws me back into his arms. “Now, where were we?”
I’m happy to feel his arousal hasn’t lessened, even with the interruption. I open myself up mentally, ready to allow his body to drive every care from my mind. One last thought occurs to me before he slides in.
Did I just say I’d seriously consider having a Formal Hunt, like from old times past, here at The V V Inn?
** Please turn the page for a sneak peek of The Hunt, set to release in June 2011.
The Hunt
Chapter One
Vivian
As I lie here, curled around my husband’s firm body, I begin to wonder: Am I crazy? What in the hell made me think organizing a hunt here at our hotel would be a good idea? Over a dozen supernatural predators are flying in from all over the world, ones who’ve paid an exorbitant price for the privilege of removing their everyday masks and killing one of their own kind. I must be crazy.
I have a feeling this week is going to turn out to be more than any of us bargained for. Self-doubt plagues me as I rise from the warmth of the bed and stroll naked to my closet. The artificial glow of the landscape lighting beams in through the windows, indicating with the changing gradient it’s probably mid-day here above the Arctic Circle.
Part of my nervous edge could be associated with learning to trust the new members of our seethe. The vampires appear upfront and honest, as much as a pack of bloodsuckers can be, but my old habits of non-trust have kept me around for a long time.
The two months since November's tracking and killing of Ivan have been a trial for me. This upcoming hunt week has been a long time in the planning, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it. Having anyone from the Tribunal of Ancients on our property sucks, especially when I have no idea who they’re sending.
Grabbing the clothes I set out in the wee hours of the morning, I head to the shower in our private suite.
The hot water cascading over me fills my mind with horrible memories of my own first hunt. The group of vampires wore cloth-lined silver skull-caps to thwart my unique vampire-to-vampire mind-controlling abilities. They had orchestrated a hunt to rid themselves of their “pet” manipulator. What started for the group as demented undead fun, ended with a young vampire who surprised them all with her ability to kill ruthlessly and without remorse.
The blood of my seethe-mates once covered my body, as the water does now. Later, I stacked their headless corpses in our old farmhouse before setting the structure on fire. Killing that sick group was the least I could do avenge the murders of my first and second husbands. After all I'd been through under their rule for twenty-six years, I let the bastards off easy. Thankfully, even a vampire can only die once—if it's done right.
The sound of Rafe stirring in the next room pulls me out of my dark thoughts and informs me he’s getting up as well.
“Good morning, sleepyhead,” I call out over the sound of the shower. “Get enough rest?”
“You mean after you ravaged me for hours? Oh yeah, I slept pretty damn sound.”
I turn the water off and wring out my long hair, before leaving the enclosure to reach for a towel. Rafe puts one in my hand before I have a chance to connect with the rack on the wall.
Smiling my thanks, I dry myself quickly. “We’re meeting with the whole seethe in about a half hour. Want me to call the kitchen to send you in something to eat?”
“Isn't Paul on cooking duty?” Rafe grimaces. “No thanks. I’ve got leftovers in our fridge. I’m good.”
“His cooking will get better. Give him some time. It’s been a hard adjustment since he’s turned and can’t sample his own cooking anymore.”
“Yeah, I know. But it’s a painful process waiting for him to re-learn.”
“That’s the easy part,” I snort. “The real challenge since he became a vampire is in trying to get him not to drain his family whenever he sees them.”
Rafe strips for his own shower and pats me on the bottom as he heads inside the enclosure. “With great power comes great responsibility.”
“Don’t get all philosophical on me. I may not have wanted four new members in our seethe, but I’ll manipulate and train the buggers as best I can.”
The water hisses back on and steam fills the room once more. A muted electronic ringing comes from the bedroom an
d I head in to answer it.
“Yes?”
Asa’s clipped tones greet me on the other end of the line, “Hey, Vivian.” He addresses me, like most everyone at the inn, by my nickname. “I heard water in the pipes. You almost ready for the meeting?”
The ex-military munitions-expert and fledgling vampire really enjoyed creating the Sensitive Compartmented Information Facility underground. Our new SCIF, or command center, is set up with video feeds and surveillance of the entire property, all fifteen square miles of it.
“I’ll be ready in ten minutes. Have you checked on the others?” I’m not too thrilled the SCIF is in this wing of the T-shaped hotel and right below our apartment, but I wasn’t willing to give up any guest rooms for it either.
“Drew is down here with me. Paul’s finished his shift in the kitchen and went to change clothes. Joanna’s still in her suite, and Jonathan’s already waiting for us in the conference room.”
Jonathan is our head groundskeeper and the only werewolf we have on the property as a permanent resident. The thought of his tasty, powerful blood sends a shiver of want through me.
“Have we heard from any of the pilots yet?”
“Affirmative. We’re staggering the landings. Passengers should begin arriving at five this evening, and a new batch will land every twenty minutes or so.”
“Have the dossiers come in on all the prospective hunters?”
“Cy emailed the last of his findings a few hours ago.”
Cy is a vampire contact of mine from New York and married to Asa's werewolf Aunt Cali. And he's the person responsible for sending Asa here this past fall.
“Good. Have the folders ready and call the kitchen for pots of blood coffee and regular coffee to be brought down as well. Great work, Asa.”
When we hang up, I pull on my undergarments then my clothes for the day: an emerald-green silk pantsuit. To add that little hint of sex appeal our guests have grown accustomed to, I forgo a blouse and button up the coat to form a plunging neckline. Pairing the ensemble with some four-inch spiked heels puts me a little closer to Rafe’s six-foot-two frame.
Speak of the devil, the scrumptious man himself walks out of the bathroom without even a towel on. The tight muscles of his upper body all seem to angle in a slight v-pattern, drawing my eyes down to the glorious perfection I worshipped so lovingly last night. Saliva fills my mouth at the mere thought of the acrobatics my tongue performed on certain parts of my husband’s anatomy.
“Dria? Darling? My eyes are up here, love.”
I break my stare from his nakedness and sure enough, there are his bright blue eyes.
“You look at me like that for too long and my pants will fit me funny when we meet the others.”
I glance longingly at the bed. “I’d much rather skip it all and stay in bed with you today.”
Rafe laughs, “And miss the crazies showing up for this circus? Not on your life.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
C.J. Ellisson lives in northern Virginia with her husband, two children, two Staffordshire Bull Terriers and a cat she’s newly allergic to. Vampire Vacation is her first novel. Her second novel, The Hunt, Book Two of The V V Inn, will be released in 2011. If you’d like to learn more about C.J., please go to her website (www.cjellisson.com) or visit her on Facebook at:
http://www.facebook.com/c.j.ellissonfanpage
If you cared for the sex scenes in this book and would like to try C.J.’s erotica, please keep reading. Two chapter excerpts from the eight-chapter novellas, Johnny Living Dangerously and More Than Tolerable, follow.
Book Description:
Johnny is lead singer in an all-girl, hot-pants-wearing band. Experience the sexy young man's conquests one summer as he sets out to bang each gorgeous band member.
Juanita, the hot-blooded drummer; Rachelle, the base guitarist with a secret; Ginger, the redheaded lead guitarist; and quiet Kimmie, the keyboardist who prefers girls.
Will he met his goal or will one or more of the ladies find out about his plans?
WARNING: This novella contains very explicit sex. For mature 18 and over readers only.
Erotica Categories: m/f/f, m/f, f/f, anal play, anal sex, sex toy use, masturbation, oral sex, light description of a m/m2f transsexual scene. Pretty much sex every few pages.
Johnny Living Dangerously
Chapter One
Johnny
Smoke and tired country music snake their way to me as I push open the back door of the bar. The dim light makes the hallway appear in twilight, even though it’s mid afternoon.
“Johnny, honey? Is that you?”
A cigarette-roughened voice calls to me from the manager’s open office door. Before I have a chance to respond, a bleached-blond head sticks out and a heavily made up woman scans me from head to toe.
“Hey, Carla.” I answer. “Yeah, I’m checking to make sure the equipment is set up right before our gig tonight.”
“Come on back and see me when you’re done, ‘kay?” She bats her black spiky eyelashes at me.
“Sure thing.” I walk past the owner and sure enough, her hand comes out to give me a light pat on the ass.
“Looking good, Johnny.”
There’s really nothing I can say to that which won’t make me sound arrogant, so I give her a smile over my shoulder and a mumbled thanks as I continue into the main bar area. The stage is off to the left, set only a foot or so higher than the main floor.
The drum set with the band’s name, Butt Boy and the Receptacles, painted in orange on the largest drum facing out, looks good. As does the wiring, cords, and connections to the two guitars and keyboard. Lead singer for an all-girl band wearing hot pants may sound like a joke, but I’m having the time of my life and hope the string of paying gigs doesn’t dry up anytime soon this summer. And since I don’t wear the hot pants, I’m cool with it.
By nine p.m. tonight, this run-down place will be hopping before the customers know what hit them. I wind my way through the tables, nodding to one or two die-hard afternoon drinkers on the way. Back to the narrow hallway and in a few steps, I’m next to the small office. There’s a beat-up leather couch, and a tired-looking desk with an armless chair in front for visitors. A tap on the doorframe brings Carla’s attention to me. I lean against the opening, waiting to hear what she needs.
“Come on in, darling. And shut the door.” She smiles at me as she stands, smoothing a short, black skirt over her rounded hips.
I do as she asks and head to her desk. “Having issues with tonight?”
She runs a manicured hand up the side of my arm and pats me on the shoulder. “No, no issues.” Warmth lingers in her blue eyes, a touch of mischief in their depths. “I was wondering how you came up with your band’s name?”
Uh-oh. The campy, tongue-in-cheek name was meant as a publicity stunt, but the expression on her oval-shaped face and the lingering touch on my arm tell me she’s interested. “It’s just for shits and giggles,” I answer.
Her resting hand curves over to my back and trails down to my denim clad butt. “Are you sure? You certainly have a nice ass.” She emphasizes the statement with another pat. “I couldn’t help noticing in these snug jeans.”
How far do I want to let this go? My secret desire may be to fuck every one of my gorgeous band members in the ass by the end of this summer, but I don’t want to mess up our jobs by dallying with an owner who employs us. Word could get out and then gigs may get cancelled.
“Umm... uh, thanks. The band name really was meant as a goof.” I stand perfectly still, wondering where she’s going to takes this. Her hand is no longer resting on my ass, but gently caressing, causing my cock to stir and take notice. After all, Carla has enough cleavage on display to tempt any sane man.
“Like what you see?” Her voice drops deeper as she presses one large, soft breast into my bicep.
“You’re a beautiful woman, how could I not?” I say.
She reaches out and grabs my left hand, bringing it up
to cup her gently. “Go ahead, baby. I’ve been dying to touch you since the second you came in asking to play.”
Well, this is certainly a first. I’m glad most of the other bar owners are guys or this could get really awkward. Her breast feels full and heavy in my palm, giving slightly as I press gently, searching for a nipple to tease with my thumb. My cock starts to lengthen and harden, wondering if it’s going to get to come out and play.
Carla rubs my growing firmness over the button-fly of my jeans. “These hug you like they were made to fit your cock.” She grabs the top edge and pulls the pants quickly, proving exactly why the button-fly is still my favorite jean of choice: quick release.
Cool air hits the heated skin of my dick as I spill out of my pants.
“Oh, no underwear—you bad boy. You must have been hoping this would happen.” She takes a firm grip on my woody, like she’s afraid it will run away or something.
Secretly, I’ve been hoping to bang Ginger, the spicy, redheaded guitarist that joined the group last week. Fumbling to escape boxers or briefs can ruin a moment. But I always go with no underwear on a day I’m scheduled to perform. Makes me sit up and take notice of the girls in the audience more.
Carla starts to stroke my cock in slow motions. “Ever hopeful,” I say before a sigh escapes. “That’s me.” Reaching up a few inches, I peel the clingy red top away from her lush curves, exposing one lacey bra-encased pert nipple.
I tweak her extended tip, twisting a little bit to test. Some women like things rough, some like them gentle, some like me to lead, some want to be dominated and others still...well they want to “seduce” the young twenty-four year old musician and hope to teach him a thing or two. I never know which one I’m going to be with next and have a repertoire of skills to pull out when needed.
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