by Sotia Lazu
“Can you stick around until I’m back?” he asked.
I raised my gaze to him. Why did he have to look so adorable, looking at the floor, his hands deep in his pockets?
“Alex—” I wanted to say how bad an idea that would be.
“You know—so nobody robs the place? Of course, I won’t be able to put in the new lock till morning. I’ll need better light.” He looked like the cat that swallowed the canary. The porch light was probably as bright as the sun. “You could spend the night. Stay here for backup if Willoughby returns. And we can talk about the case. See how to proceed with it.”
Bad, bad idea, but I couldn’t think of why. I wasn’t wiping him yet, and he already knew we existed, so one more night wouldn’t be a problem. “Sure.” I tried to sound disinterested, though the thought of being with him a bit longer made me giddy. “I’ll crash in the basement.”
“Good. That couch turns into a double bed, so we can both sleep there.”
I was torn between feeling stupid for not figuring that out, or giddy because he was suggesting we spend the rest of the night in bed together.
“You can—” He cleared his throat. “You can drink from me again if you need to.”
As if his initial offer wasn’t alluring enough. My mouth watered.
“I don’t have to go in tomorrow, so we can stay here during the day too.” He rubbed his chin. A day’s stubble gave him a more rugged look.
Okay, okay—I was sold. “You’ll have to get me something to wear. I’m not sleeping in leather again,” I said, trying not to sound suggestive.
“I’m on it.” Waggling his eyebrows, he moved toward the door. “I’ll be right back. Feel free to start tidying up,” he said over his shoulder as he crossed the threshold.
I called his name, but he ignored me. I hoped he’d be careful and stay safe. Willoughby wouldn’t be going after him again so soon—not without backup, since he knew Alex had me to help him—but caution is always a good thing.
A door was shut between us once more, and I hadn’t been the one doing the shutting. Still, I felt oddly optimistic as I skipped down the steps to the basement, to get the vacuum cleaner. I’d met an incredibly hot man with whom I’d had incredible sex, and he hadn’t wanted me out of his life the moment he found out I was undead. For the first time since Constantine, I felt warm inside.
Vampires are not supposed to feel warm.
Chapter Four
ALEX TOOK A BIT MORE than an hour to get back, which left me with plenty of time to kill, after the fifteen minutes it took me to clean up in vamp speed. Impressed? If the vacuum sucked harder, it’d take even less.
I was in the shower but clearly made out his footsteps on the stairs, even under the running water.
“Honey, I’m home,” he called out.
I knew he was joking, yet the relentless romantic hidden deep inside me let out a woot. I opened the glass pane so he’d hear me. “I’m in here.”
I didn’t get to tell him I’d be right out, because he came right in. He wore the clothes he had on since last night, shirt untucked, and he was barefoot. He had beautiful feet, I noticed. Big, male feet with long, straight toes.
I had to get a grip.
Hiding my body seemed silly after we had sex, so I didn’t. Not that he looked.
He dropped a duffel bag by the sink. “Thought you’d want clean clothes as soon as you were dry. Got a couple tees and sweatpants from my place. They’ll be too big for you, but the pants have drawstrings. Should be good for the night.”
Then he pulled his shirt over his head.
If I were human, the water filling my mouth and clogging my throat while I gaped at him would have drowned me. As things were, I was grateful I’d opened the shower stall door and could enjoy the view.
Most people look better when they’re dressed than when they’re out of their clothes. There are always flaws. Something that needs covering up—a jutting stomach, love handles, scars, pimples. Something.
To me, Alex was perfect.
I ran my fingers down his chest and abs last night, but seeing the smooth, flawless skin stretch over rippling muscle made me ache to caress it. His shoulders were wide. I knew that already, but the way they rounded, leading to his flexing biceps, was a sight to behold. And that was what I did. I beheld, wishing he was closer, so I could press my breasts against his chest and see goose bumps rise.
I’d have kept staring at his six-pack for much longer if his fingers hadn’t gotten in the way. Splayed across his abdomen and ghosting their way down to the front of his pants, they touched what I longed for. I wanted to lick my way along the trail of fine hair beneath his navel that disappeared inside his waistband. I sucked in a breath when he undid the button and another when he lowered the zipper to allow his slacks to fall to the teal tiled floor.
I followed them with my gaze, until he stepped out of the pooled fabric and toward the shower stall.
Toward me.
I bit my lip, barely registering the pain as I took in the muscled calves, the strong thighs, and finally his magnificent cock. He was inside me last night, but our hurry and my position above him didn’t allow me to fully appreciate his... assets.
I did now. Springing from a nest of trimmed black curls, hard, darker than the rest of his body, long and thick and slightly curved to the right, Alex’s cock beckoned with every step he took.
I was more than ready to respond to its beckoning when he joined me under the water jet.
Like staying here again became a good idea and telling Alex about vampires seemed preferable to making him forget he ever met one, having sex with him one more time now struck me as the only viable scenario.
I didn’t care how he’d take me; he could press my face against the glass door, my back against the tiles, or have me on all fours. I just wanted him inside me. I tried to wrap my arms around his neck, but he got hold of my wrists, stopping me.
My face must have shown my confusion, because he smiled. “The water is cold,” he said.
“Don’t like it much hotter than this.” Ignore what you read in most books. Vampire body temperature makes us sensitive to heat, not cold. For him, I turned the faucet a bit to the left.
He turned the water off altogether. “That’s better.”
I watched, mesmerized, while he took his time uncapping the shower gel, pouring some of it in his palm, and capping the bottle again.
He put it back in its place and rubbed his hands together until they were covered in foam. “Turn around. I’ll do you first.”
Oh, the innuendo in that last sentence.
Uncaring that I’d lathered and rinsed, I turned my back to him.
“Pull your hair up,” he said.
I twirled my red tresses into one thick curl and tucked it at the side of my neck.
It wasn’t enough. “Hold it up with both hands and don’t let go.” His voice brooked no argument, and I was more than excited with his take-control attitude.
I did what he asked, trembling only slightly when he closed big, strong hands over my shoulders and massaged the lather onto my skin. He pressed his thumbs against the back of my neck, digging his fingers rhythmically into the muscle and releasing knots I didn’t know were there.
Moaning my approval, I let my head fall forward. His hands went to my shoulder blades, spreading the foam there before moving to my back. He followed the line of my spine, his palms and knuckles taking turns in working my flesh. I barely kept my footing as he slowly stroked his way down to my ass before kneeling behind me.
He ran a finger between my ass cheeks and chuckled when I reflexively clenched. He pressed a finger lightly against my asshole. “Don’t worry. I’m not going here—today.”
I wanted to come up with some smart retort, but he began massaging my inner thighs. His thumbs almost touched my pussy. I jerked back toward him, trying to rub against them. I craved his touch a bit higher. Just a bit...
Argh. He moved on to the backs of my knees, which
nearly buckled, and then to my calves. I was wet, and not just from the shower. His touch set my skin on fire, and I squeezed my thighs together, needing friction to ease my need. It wasn’t enough. It felt like nothing but Alex would be enough ever again.
When I couldn’t take more teasing, he stood and ordered me to face him. His voice sounded husky and strained. Thinking I would finally get what I wanted, I complied eagerly.
Alex had something else in mind.
He prepared more lather and rubbed my throat. The pressure from his hand combined with the silkiness of the foam to make me light-headed. He was so close, his breath warmed my skin. I tried to lower my arms and grab him—wanted to smash my lips against his, climb him and impale myself on him—but a shake of his head told me not to.
“Trust me,” he said.
“Why should I?” Despite my flippant answer, I knew that frighteningly, inexplicably, I did. I would angst over that later, once I was satisfied and had the luxury to worry about my budding feelings for a mere mortal.
“Because I know how to make your body sing.” Cocky, but a proven fact. “Now no more talking.”
Nodding sapped my strength. My entire being felt tense, not from the strain he chased away with his magic touch, but with anticipation of what would happen next. Where would his hands go after my collarbone? I couldn’t believe I stood there while he made my body react any way he pleased. It had been a long time since I granted anyone control over me, and I found it hard to do so now. Then again, it was so long since anyone evoked such lust in me, since I enjoyed anyone’s attentions like I did Alex’s, that I couldn’t find it in me to be anything except passive.
That would change if he took much longer.
He feathered the heels of his palms over my nipples, making them rise in hardened peaks.
I arched my back, pressing my breasts against his palms, and reveled when I realized his hands trembled. His heart thundered, and his jaw was clenched. It took as much effort on his side as it did on mine, to maintain the slow pace he’d imposed.
Good.
Gaze on mine, he cupped my breasts and kneaded them. He rolled the nipples between his fingers. His breathing sounded labored, but his movements weren’t rushed. He lowered his hands to my stomach and got on his knees once more, this time in front of me, to soap my belly and thighs.
I pushed my hips forward, craving his touch on my pussy. He didn’t disappoint. He snaked his hand between my legs and glided it back and forth. His touch didn’t linger, but it didn’t have to. Each stroke raised my temperature and made me rub against him. My legs trembled. I felt empty. I needed him to fill me and soothe the ache in me.
He massaged my clit with his thumb and slid it inside me, but not deep enough. I let go of my hair and placed both hands on his head, trying to stay upright, as well as hoping he’d use more than his fingers on me. Instead he withdrew and finished lathering the front of my legs. Then he rose and reached behind me for the shampoo.
“You shouldn’t have let go of your hair,” he said. “Now it needs washing too.”
He kept his lower body away from mine till now, not letting me feel him. When his hard cock brushed my stomach, I hissed. He seemed unaffected, fully focused on making lather of the jasmine-scented liquid.
He proceeded to work the shampoo into my hair, and I couldn’t help but look down at him. Our bodies touched, his length rubbing against me at the same time his arms moved so he could massage my scalp. I wanted to drop down onto my knees and take him in my mouth.
Too suddenly, he stopped and took a step back. “My turn.”
I thought he meant I should treat him to the same pampering he treated me to. Wrong again. When he held me at arm’s length and poured shower gel down his body, frustration made me see red.
He washed himself fast, with not even half the care with which he’d washed me, yet his hands caressing all of him was the most erotic thing I’d ever seen. Tan skin gleamed against white foam and made me lick my lips.
He closed his fist around his shaft. In a circular motion, he coiled it from the tip to the base of his cock once, twice, before returning to his abdomen. A groan escaped me.
I think it was what finally made him break. Or maybe it was his plan from the start to do things the way he did next. He turned the water on, folded one arm around my waist, and cupped my neck with his other hand, to bring me to him. I stumbled and clung to his biceps, to keep my balance. They were made of steel. Once I was flush against him under the jet, he lowered his face to mine for a kiss.
His posture held such urgency, I expected him to devour my mouth, yet his kiss was gentle. Almost timid. He brushed his lips against mine with tenderness, before tracing their seam with his tongue. I opened for him, meaning to deepen the kiss, but he wouldn’t be hurried. Suds and water cascaded down my face, getting in my eyes and mouth, but I couldn’t have cared less. Alex gasped for breath, but he wouldn’t stop kissing me. He leisurely explored my mouth until I felt like my feet didn’t touch the ground.
And then they no longer did.
Alex lifted me in his arms and turned the water off with a nudge of his elbow. I don’t know what he was about to do next, but I didn’t wait to find out. As he maneuvered me in his arms, I lifted my legs, wrapped them around his hips, and let myself sink on his dick.
“Cherry—” He lost his footing but regained his balance and turned so I was pressed between him and the glass wall. “You really shouldn’t have done that.” His eyes glinted with mischief.
“Um, if it’s about the condom thing, can’t get pregnant and not carrying any nasty germs.” I moved against him.
He chuckled and grabbed my ass with both hands, stilling me. “I thought we could use a bed this time.”
I tightened my inner muscles’ grip on his shaft. “Beds are overrated.”
His body tensed, his grip on my ass becoming punishing. I must have made some sound, because he relaxed his hands and whispered an apology before claiming my lips. This time his kiss was hungry, demanding. He bit my lips like he was trying to devour me, and began driving his cock in and out of me.
Water didn’t make for the best lubricant, but I liked the friction. I loved being sandwiched between a hot man and a cool glass pane and being thoroughly fucked.
Only it didn’t feel like mere fucking.
Alex was rambling. I wasn’t sure he knew what came out of his mouth, but I heard it all. I was beautiful, perfect to him. He never wanted to hurt me. The openness and honesty of his face, the awe in his eyes as he sank and withdrew from my body was overwhelming. For the second time in as many days, he offered me much more than just sex. He offered me companionship. Comfort. He promised me a tomorrow.
I wasn’t sure I deserved it. I knew I couldn’t handle it.
I leaned my head back and cried.
There were no sobs, only tears falling down my cheeks, pooling at my neck. Tears that seemed to cleanse me of all the bad that had accumulated inside through the years.
He noticed, despite my already wet skin, and ceased his movements. He caressed my cheek and asked if something was wrong. I wanted to ease the worry in his voice but could do nothing other than shake my head and rock my pelvis, urging him on. I couldn’t tell him he’d touched me deeper than anyone else. I didn’t know why I was crying. I only knew I was happy and terrified at the same time.
He took my hint and started fucking—no, making love to—me again. He lifted one of my legs higher and plunged inside me faster. His mouth found mine, and he swallowed the choked mewls that escaped my lips.
He was deeper than before, but that wasn’t enough. “More.”
My wet back made funny sounds against the glass, but the only sound I cared about was Alex’s heartbeat.
He panted into my mouth, slamming his hips against mine. He hit all the right places with every move of his pelvis. That was all that mattered.
“Come for me, baby,” he whispered. His breath quickened.
I was close. All I need
ed was...
Not losing a beat, he slid his hand down the length of my body, all the way to where we were joined. “Come for me,” he said again, pressing down on my clit with his thumb. “Now, Cherry.”
The earth-shattering pleasure seemed to short-circuit my brain, white fire bursting through my veins. I locked him in place with arms and legs while I rode out my orgasm. My legs shook and my hands trembled, while my body convulsed against him. Stars blossomed behind my closed eyelids, as rapture washed over me.
His thrusts, rhythmic until then, became erratic, jerky, when he gave in and let go. He came inside me, the heat of his cum making me shudder one last time, but he didn’t stop moving until his cock was half erect and his heartbeat had slowed to normal.
I have no clue where he found the strength to remain standing, but he toed the stall’s door open and carried me out of the bathroom and into the next room, where a large double bed took up most of the space. The rest held a desk and a bookshelf in one corner, the latter decorated with pictures of a young boy. Alex. “Your old room.”
He nodded and laid me gently on the bed before collapsing next to me. “Gimme twenty minutes, and we’ll show this room things it never saw before.”
My lips were too numb to form a coherent reply. I giggled.
Swallowing a gulp of air, he looked at me, head tilted to one side. “Something funny?”
I shrugged, still laughing.
His eyes glinted. He shook his head. “As soon as I regain feeling in my legs, I’ll show you it’s not nice to laugh at people.”
I silenced him with kisses. Tried to, at least.
Before dawn, he carried me to the basement, where we spent more time exploring each other’s bodies. I fed, but only after he reminded me I hadn’t in more than twenty-four hours. He insisted he’d had something to eat while he’d been out.
When I drifted off this time, I knew I was safe in Alex’s arms, the rise and fall of his chest soothing against my back.
I also knew another thing—I was falling hard.
