Fallen Star (50 page)

She jerked back her head, glaring at him. “If I'm really free to act, you won't be tasting me ... or anything else.” With an exaggerated motion, she swiped at the spot he had licked with the back of her hand. “You disgust me.”

A low chuckle escaped him. “And that's why the scent of your arousal hangs heavy in the air, why your nipples are hard, and why you came just from dry humping Foster a few minutes ago? Because we disgust you.” His voice lowered to a purr. “I'd love to see what you do when you really hate someone.”

“That.” She pointed to the scratch on his cheek that was already closed over and starting to disappear. “Come near me again, and I'll do worse --” She broke off with a cry of outrage when Foster came up behind her, scooping her into his arms without effort to carry her to the tub. She was screeching and fighting him, and the hot water surprised her. Shaun froze for a second, letting the warmth seep into her. It was heavenly, and a sigh of contentment escaped her.

Foster and Armand knelt on the floor in front of the tub, both armed with natural sponges and a bar of French milled soap waiting to be unwrapped resting on the lip of the tub. The smell of mulberry reached her, and her quickened breath involuntarily revealed a spark of pleasure at the scent. Her favorite. Had they known? She dismissed the thought with a shake of her head. They couldn't have. It was just a coincidence.

Foster unwrapped the soap quickly, tossing the expensive tissue paper into the trashcan. With a slow smile that turned the pit of her stomach into a molten volcano, he dipped the sponge into the water, brushing his hand against her thigh. She swallowed at the brief contact, telling herself there hadn't been time to push him away before his hand left. She hadn't wanted him to keep touching her. Definitely not -- had she?

Her mind was clear, and she believed Armand had released her from the thrall. If he honored his words, she only had to endure the bath before having the opportunity to reject them. When they realized she didn't desire them, they would be forced to leave her alone ... at least sexually. He hadn't promised not to drain her blood, after all.

In slow circles, Foster rubbed the bar of soap over the sponge, until a thick lather covered it. As he passed the soap to Armand, he brought the cleanser closer to her. Shaun tensed as it neared her chest, and then gasped with surprise when Foster's other hand dipped into the tub to splash water across her bared breasts. Her stomach clenched when the rough texture swabbed across a sensitive nipple, and she balled her hands into fists, pressing them against her thighs in an attempt to hide her reaction.

Armand joined in, choosing to focus his implement first on her neck and shoulders, where he massaged with firm strokes. The abrasive surface was just enough to heighten her senses, making each brush of their hands against her flesh that much more arousing. How in the world was she supposed to resist this when it felt so good?

Foster trailed it across the valley of her small breasts to seek out the neglected one. At the same time, Armand brought the other sponge down her arm, deliberately rubbing it against the side of her breast, before going lower to rub soapy circles on her stomach. The water gently lapped with each movement of the sponge, sending swirls of lather into the water. They resembled milky semen, and her mind instantly supplied an image of the three of them in the bathtub, her mouth and pussy filled with their cocks, bringing all of them to satisfaction.

She wanted to believe one of them had planted the thought in her psyche, but knew that wasn't possible. Necros could sense and suggest emotions in humans' minds, but they couldn't read thoughts or implant ideas. No, her own fevered brain had produced the image and accompanying surge of arousal that had her core convulsing with need.

Foster lifted one of her breasts to wash under it as Armand's hand plunged lower, guiding the abrasive thing to her folds. Without thought, Shaun parted her legs in invitation, groaning with frustration when he detoured to wash her thigh instead. With gritted teeth, she endured the scrape of the sponge down her leg, across her foot, and over to the other, where he worked his way slowly up again.

Again, she tensed with anticipation when the implement neared her pussy, and he perturbed her once more by lifting the sponge from the water. Grasping the soap in his hand, he said, “Time for more lather.” She didn't think she imagined the hint of teasing in his voice, nor the sparkle in his eyes.

With diligent care, Foster had washed her breasts thoroughly, rubbing them into a state of raw awareness. He lightly squeezed a nipple between his thumb and forefinger, inciting a dart of electricity that shot through her.

* * * * *

What people are saying about

Hunter’s Prey

Starting out with an adrenaline packed scene,
Hunter's Prey
kicks off with a bang and keeps running right until the end ... I found
Hunter's Prey
to be an interesting peek into a new vampire world and hope to see more work by this accomplished author.

-- Francesca Hayne,
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I was riveted from the first exciting page and closed the file with a satisfied smile.

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A riveting tale from beginning to end. Ms. Tunstall definitely proves that three's company in this steamy romance.

-- Eve Vaughn, author of
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