I line myself up with her still pulsing pussy and enter her in one hard thrust, pulling her ass back until my cock is buried to the hilt. I begin to move, and Maitlin meets me thrust for thrust. It only takes a matter of minutes before I feel my release beginning to build.
My fangs are fully exposed, and I know my skin now holds the tall-tale signature of a Blood Angel, with its translucent hue and a sinister red glow to my eyes. I’m the thing of nightmares. The nearly insatiable need to pierce her skin is so intense I’m sure I’m not going to be able to resist it.
I pull her up and press her back against my chest as my finger teases her clit, and my other hand pinches her nipple.
“Come for me, Maitlin.” She moans my name and pushes back, her inner walls spasming around me. I hold her tightly against me and yell out her name before my mouth comes down on her neck, and I suck, careful not to break her skin. The internal war is raging in me, but I will only drink from her if it’s freely offered.
The most powerful orgasm of my life rips through my body, and I empty everything into her.
I hold her to me, nuzzling my head against her neck and shoulder to keep her from turning around until I have myself under control. Panting, we both fight to catch our breath, and when I feel like a man again, I kiss her bruised neck.
MAITLIN
Jaxon holds me to him for what seems like an eternity, until he kisses my neck and goes to discard the condom. The moment he leaves me, I feel empty, not just between my legs, but in my soul. I watch his perfect naked, tattooed body walk out of the room.
The ink adorning his chest and back that he hides under his tailored suits is a perfect metaphor for this complicated man. He’s two sides of the same coin. When I first met him, I thought he was a straight-laced asshole, just another uptight suit. But there is something dark lurking inside him, something he fights. I can’t explain it even if I try, but I want to know both. He’s unlike any other man I’ve ever met. From the first moment at Rise I've felt drawn to him, and I think it’s the darkness I’m drawn to even more.
I lay back on the chaise and throw my arm dramatically over my eyes, Hollywood starlet style. I’m sure if Jaxon were to walk in now, I’d look like some nineteen-forties actress strewn across the chair. But in reality, I’m about to spiral into a whirlwind of self-doubt and panic.
Despite wanting to know everything about him, he’s still technically my boss… and I just fucked him. In his closet, no less.
Oh, God. The mortification of my actions begins to seep into my head. I need to figure out my next move, mainly how am I going to get out of this apartment and the Lenox without anyone, especially Jaxon, seeing me.
“You need to get out of your own head.”
I hear Jaxon’s deep, sexy voice as he comes back into the room. When I peek out through my arm, I see the man that makes the sore muscles between my legs clench. Jaxon stands in the center of his massive closet, pulling on a pair of black boxer briefs, his impressive cock still hard and ready.
His body is all hard muscle and ink. Intricate designs are covering his entire torso, arms, and back. This man, this Jaxon staring at me with lust-filled eyes, is a complete one-eighty from the man I met the other night.
Sitting up, I toss my naked legs over the side of the chaise and get up to retrieve my dress from the other room. “I should go,” I say, my voice barely a whisper as I pass, trying not to make eye contact.
I don’t make it three steps before his arms wrap around me and he pulls me into him. “I told you to get out of your own head. You should stay,” he whispers into my ear, kissing my shoulder softly, his breath warm against my cooling skin.
I turn and raise on my tippy toes and give him a tender kiss on the lips. “I’ll be right back. I’m just going to wash up.”
Grabbing my dress and clutch from the mirrored vanity, I head into the luxurious bathroom. Leaning over the cold marble sinks, the woman in the reflection has seen better days. My hair is a disheveled mess, but realistically I didn’t expect anything less after our enthusiastic joining. I run my fingers over my lips. They’re puffy and swollen from our fevered kisses.
Turning my head, I notice a significant red mark marring the skin between my neck and shoulder. “Son of a bitch.” It has been a good decade since I’ve had a hickey on my neck, especially one that cannot be hidden.
I take my time washing my face, fixing my hair, and getting dressed — sans my panties, which I can’t find. I don’t want to lie to Jaxon, but I can’t stay here. Not that I don’t want to, but he isn’t the type of man who cuddles after sex. No, he sends women off in the middle of the night after he gets what he wants. Remembering the angry brunette from the lobby, I’ll save him the conversation.
I can play this off as nothing more than a casual, orgasm-filled encounter. I straighten my spine, pull on my proverbial big girl panties, and march out of the bathroom. I have every intention of telling him I am leaving when I walk back in, until I see him laid out on the chaise, sound asleep, a soft snore coming from him.
“Oh, thank God,” I whisper and drop my confident persona.
Moving quickly and as quietly as I can, I leave his fantastic apartment. Walking out the front door of the Lenox, I make sure to move quickly and keep my head down. I purposely decided to not go to the employee locker room and change into my work clothes from the night before to avoid anyone seeing me. My attire alone makes me the poster child for the morning after “walk of shame,” so evading people I work with is crucial.
I decide that walking home will do my mind and sore body some good. Besides, the hot summer air hasn’t quite settled into the city yet at this time in the morning.
I don’t want to walk in on Shellie if she has finally remedied her dry streak, so I grab my phone and shoot her a quick text.
Me: On my way home. We still on for lunch?
The little dots begin jumping almost immediately.
Shellie: You bet!
Shellie: Why did you leave?
Shellie: Was Jaxon’s secret lair not enough for you?
I contemplate my response and, in the end, decide to keep my answer truthful, yet vague.
Me: I have some things to do this morning.
Me: We’ll talk at lunch.
Besides, it isn’t like she won’t notice the giant hickey on my neck. It’s not like I can wear a turtleneck in the middle of summer.
Shellie: TALK…OMG, WHAT DID YOU DO???
Shellie: or rather who ;-)
Me: I’m ignoring you now
Me: Are you home?
Shellie: Nope.
Me: Where are you? Who are you with?
Shellie: We’ll “TALK” at lunch.
Shellie: Byeeeeeeee
Me: Slut
Rounding the corner to our apartment, I am surprised to see that the crime scene from yesterday morning is gone. Not a trace remains. That is until I notice the unmarked black SUV parked across the street.
I slow my pace and glance inside, and I am pleasantly surprised to see Mason, or rather, Detective Stone, sitting, staring back at me. I give him a tentative wave and stand motionless as he exits his vehicle and jogs across the street.
I pat down my black cocktail dress in a feeble attempt to not look like I just rolled out of bed. I also pull my hair to the side to hide the hickey I am sporting. I can only hope he won’t state the obvious that I am just now getting home. I’m not that lucky.
“Morning, Maitlin.” He gives me the once-over before a knowing smirk spreads across his otherwise handsome face. “Rough night?”
I let out a frustrated sigh. “Yeah, you could say that. What are you doing here?”
His eyes narrow, and he glances over my shoulder, looking down the street. His eyes dart around as if he is suddenly on high alert, scanning the area for dangerous predators.
“Is something wrong?” His actions are making me nervous. Looking behind me, I continue, “Is someone following me?”
He takes a few tentative
steps toward me and seems to be sniffing the air. Not understanding what he might smell, I also take a deep inhale in and let the New York morning air coat my lungs. The scent of New York isn’t always pleasant, but this morning all I can smell are the fresh baked goods from the bakery at the corner. Nothing out of the ordinary for a Sunday morning.
He inhales again, this time deeper. I watch as his entire demeanor changes before my eyes. The man that seemed happy to see me now glares his disdain at me and curls his upper lip. If I didn’t know any better, I would say he let out a low hiss.
“You were with Jaxon this morning.”
It isn’t a question that he asks, it’s a statement of fact. He knows. I don’t know how, but he does. And something about the look he’s giving me tells me that when he asked if I was with Jaxon, he meant with Jaxon, and not for coffee and scones, either.
I choose to ignore his statement and its apparent implication. “I…I don’t have any other information for you if that's why you’re here,” I spit out suddenly, very defensive about my morning and the activities therein.
“No, actually, Leif was concerned about you when you left Rise last night. So I… He asked if I could come and keep an eye out for anything strange and to make sure you were safe.”
I didn’t even realize the detectives went upstairs to speak with Leif after they left Jaxon’s office. But of course, it made sense since the man that they found outside our apartment was at Rise earlier in the week.
“Did you find anything strange, Detective?”
Mason stands glaring at me for what seems like an eternity. I look down at my phone. I have a little over an hour to take a shower and meet up with Shellie.
“Well, if you need anything, I guess you know where I live and work. I need to go. I’m meeting a friend in an hour.” I attempt to sidestep him, but he stops me with a hand on my arm. His touch is non-threatening, and his eyes hold a bit of concern.
“Ms. Addams, how well do you know Jaxon Krieger?
Oh, its Ms. Addams now, is it? I pull my arm away and return his glower. Is he fucking kidding me with his little fishing expedition?
“Have you and he been intimate?” He deadpans, not a hint of remorse for his wildly inappropriate question.
I feel my skin heat and anger course through my veins at his unwarranted and odd, yet correct line of questioning. “I’m sorry, how is that any of your business?”
“He’s a person of interest concerning an ongoing investigation.”
I’m sure the look on my face doesn’t hide my confusion. “I’m sorry, are you insinuating that Jaxon… the man who owns half of New York City, is somehow involved in your investigation? And if by some completely improbable scenario he is, why would my relationship with him be of any concern?”
His hands are quick as he brushes my hair away from my neck where Jaxon had left his mark in the form of a reddish-purple hickey. I swat him away and cover my neck with my hand.
“I think we’re done here.” I move quickly to my stairs, fumbling to get my keys out of my clutch.
Detective Stone stands watching me on the sidewalk, looking up, his expression hard to read. “He’s a dangerous man, Maitlin, and not the person you think he is.”
I only spare him a glance as I push the front door open and step inside. Slamming the door, I spin to watch him through the peephole. He kicks the last stair and turns on his heel, heading back across the street, leaving me to wonder if he intends to sit there all day as he must have all night.
I’m in desperate need of a hot shower, and is it too early for a glass of wine? It seems as if everyone I know has completely lost their fucking minds in the last twenty-four hours, myself included.
The only thing I can hope for now is that the shower somehow relaxes my aching body. Don’t get me wrong, it’s sore in all the right places, but for all the very wrong reasons. Sleeping with Jaxon was a mistake. One I have every intention of not making again, no matter how sexy he is.
Tossing Shellie's dress onto the bathroom floor, I step into the shower to let the hot water embrace my skin and wash away my lingering regret.
Closing my eyes, I tilt my face up into the water and let it cascade down my body. The droplets of water that should feel relaxing and calming hit my skin like needles over my sensitive nipples. Memories of Jaxon’s lips surrounding each peak flood my mind, and I replay every touch he bestowed upon me.
I want to stand under the warm spray until it runs cold, but I need to meet up with Shellie and spill my guts. Between the two of us, I have usually been the sensible one, the proverbial voice of reason. But where Jaxon is concerned, I know I am useless. I barely know him, yet I’ve already made questionable decisions where he is involved.
I hear the buzz of my phone that I tossed onto the bathroom vanity. I know it’s Shellie, and I’m probably already late.
Reluctantly I get out of my warm oasis, wrapping a towel around me and check my phone.. I have one missed text, and the box sends an instant smile to my face. It isn’t Shellie. An unknown number stares back at me.
Unknown: I woke up alone L
I don’t want to smile.
I don’t want to answer him back.
But I can’t help myself.
I can’t contain the smile that spreads across my face, knowing that Jaxon is thinking about me. I let out a deep sigh, frustrated with myself for being such a teenage girl. I can’t remember that last time a boy, never mind a man like Jaxon, made my heart skip a beat and my pulse race like he does.
I will not be that woman—the one who reads way too much into a one-night stand and suddenly becomes a stage-four clinger. But I have been out of the dating scene for more than a few years and as flirty and fun as I can be at work when it gets me higher tips, flirting, in general, isn’t my forte’.
I lean against the sink, smiling down at my phone and type the only thing I can think of.
Me: Who is this?
Unknown: Ouch! Way to make a guy feel memorable.
I don’t need to ask who it is, I know it’s Jaxon. I add him to my contacts with a cute little vampire emoji next to his name, thanks to the teenage neck-sucking and the deep purple mark he left. I squeeze my thighs together. I’ll be feeling him for days. There is no way I won’t remember him and the way he worked my body so skillfully.
Me: How did you get my number?
Jaxon: Lucky guess?
Me: Not likely.
Jaxon: Come back, you clearly weren’t worn out enough, or you wouldn't have left.
Me: I have lunch plans this afternoon
The dots jump, then stop then jump again.
Jaxon: Another man?
Hmmm, maybe he’s jealous. Or, more likely, I’m reading too much into this text conversation.
Me: Is that jealousy?
Jaxon: Maybe.
That keeps the smile on my face as does this new playful Jaxon. He’s full of all sorts of surprises this morning.
Me: Seriously, how did you get my number?
Jaxon: If I tell you, will you come back?
My cheeks heat. He wants me to come back. I look at my reflection in the mirror. “Don’t read too much into this,” I tell the woman staring back at me.
Me: Maybe, but I can’t until later.
Jaxon: You need to change your lock screen photo. And no password? I expected a bit more of a challenge.
Me: You stole my phone while I slept!!!!!
Jaxon: Maybe.
Jaxon: You should come here and find out in person.
Me: Later, vampire.
Jaxon: What…
I snap a quick pic of the hickey he left on my neck and send it over to him.
Jaxon: I’m sorry. I tried not to bite you, but you just looked so tasty I couldn’t help myself.
Me: I have to get ready.
Me: Talk to you later.
Jaxon: In person?
Me: Fine.
I tighten my towel around me and go to get changed to meet up with Shellie, but
my thoughts are now focused on meeting back up with Jaxon after. The voice behind me shakes me to the core.
“Hello, Maitlin.”
I spin to see Neil sitting across my room, his arms crossed over his chest, legs resting atop a stool, looking as casual as if he belongs here in my space. Although, the expression across his face—the same one I was once ready to spend forever with—is not one familiar to me.
For the first time since I’ve met him, I am scared.
MAITLIN
My heart races as my fight or flight instincts kick in, and it says only one thing… to run. I take a few tentative steps back toward the bathroom. In all the years we dated and throughout our engagement, I never once saw the man sitting across the room. He looks at me with evil intent in his eyes—eyes I once adored.
“How did you get in here, Neil?” My voice shakes with fear as I speak. I look away from him only for a moment as I spot my cell phone laying on the sink in the room behind me.
“Where were you last night?” His voice is cold, devoid of any emotion. As I stand motionless, I watch as he leans forward and rests his arms on his legs — a deep audible sigh escaping him as the tension in the room grows more palpable by the heartbeat.
“I waited here all night for you.” I can hear the anger growing in his voice.
I force my legs to move and take another small step backward, my heel hitting the cold tile of the bathroom, and safety. All I have to do is turn, run inside and slam the door behind me, and I’ll be safe.
Jaxon (Blood Angel Chronicles Book 1) Page 13
