Fixed 01 - Fantasy Fix (14 page)

Regina sent a last glare at Ava and let Dmitri urge her toward the door. “Maybe you’re right, Dmitri. We can leave if you’re ready.”

Ava nearly screamed. “And maybe you’re out of your mind! Listen to yourself, will you? You sound like the sort of empty-headed twit you’ve always hated. You’ve known this man for twenty-four hours and already you’re letting him control you as if you can’t think for yourself! What is your problem?”

Regina ignored her friend and walked calmly toward the door without glancing back. Dmitri guided her with his hand on her hip, but he didn’t quite have her self-control. Just before they stepped down from the bar area, he looked back over his shoulder at Ava. Very consciously, he let his mask of polite control slip and showed her a glimpse of the things he kept inside.

He didn’t think she’d confront him again.

* * * * *

Reggie never did get around to lecturing Dmitri on his mental snooping or his dictatorial tendencies. Three minutes after they returned to her apartment he had her stripped, spread and draped face-down over the side of her mattress while he tortured her with teasing, shallow thrusts of his fingers into her wet heat. At that point, telling him she didn’t like it when he tried to control her seemed a bit hypocritical. She almost hated herself for the way he could make her pant.

“Misha!” She gasped his name like a magic word and braced her hands against the bed, shoving her hips back against him. The hand that rested in the small of her back and held her in place pressed firmly to keep her still.

What do you want,
dushka?

She heard his voice, no matter how hard she tried to block him out. She could surround her thoughts with mental barbed wire, but somehow Dmitri could cut right through it and never feel a scratch. Her defenses became meaningless around him, and the thought terrified her. What if Ava had been right? Could she just lie back and let Dmitri turn her into a mindless little sex toy?

He pulled his hand free of her clinging heat, and she whimpered.

Tell me,
milaya.
I want to hear you tell me.

He wanted to make her beg, and part of Reggie screamed in protest, but the demanding flesh between her legs drowned out the rebellion.

“You, Misha. I want you.”

Her whisper became a shocked hiss and then a moan of pleasure when Dmitri rewarded her confession with the hot stroke of his tongue between her thighs. She trembled and had to lock her knees to keep herself upright. Dmitri had slipped to kneel behind her, and he clamped his hands on her hips, pinning them firmly to the bed while he drove her slowly out of her mind.

You taste so sweet,
dushka.
Sweet and spicy and delicious.

It felt a thousand times more intense than his phantom touch at the bar, and it almost killed her to hear him speaking in his black magic voice while his tongue lapped wantonly at her pussy and drew tight little circles around her clit. Her breath came in helpless pants. She arched her back uncontrollably, tilting her hips to give him better access to her aching flesh.

That’s right. Such a good girl.
He crooned to her, his hands slipping from her hips to her thighs, gripping them and forcing them wider apart. His tongue pressed her more firmly, and he kept his hands clamped just above her knees, holding her open as securely as a spreader bar.

Reggie pressed her forehead to the mattress and squeezed her eyes shut. She wanted to get closer, wanted to get away. His mouth fed at her, drank her sweetness and pressed her faster and faster toward her climax. He seemed to sense exactly the moment when his teasing licks became unbearable, and his tongue pressed harder against her. He nuzzled lower and found her clit. Greeting the swollen nub with quick flick of his tongue, he drew it gently between his teeth and suckled. The sensation robbed her of the ability to reason, the ability to stand. Her body went limp and trembled. Dmitri gripped her legs and braced his shoulders against the back of her knees, pinning her upright against the bed.

She tried to beg him to fuck her, to come inside her and ride her hard, but she couldn’t speak. All she could do was moan and gasp and pray for mercy. He gave her none.

He nipped lightly at her clit, sending a bolt of pleasure-pain coursing through her. She screamed, the sound little more than a shrill exhalation of air.

Tell me,
dushka.

She couldn’t speak, could barely think, but Dmitri would hear her.
I need you to fuck me. Please fuck me, Misha!

He nipped her again, soothed the sting with his clever tongue.
No. Tell me who you belong to. Tell me you are mine. Tell me no other man will touch you.

Yes! God, yes! No one else. I’m yours. I belong to you, Misha!

Dmitri growled his satisfaction and thrust three, long fingers deep into her grasping cunt. It was all Reggie needed.

She came, her entire body clenched and trembling. Her back arched, and her hips pressed high against him and her mind went blank and empty. She knew nothing but Dmitri and the pleasure that coursed through her. She didn’t even know the sharp sting of his fangs or his harsh growl of pleasure when her blood mingled with her juices and slid sweetly down his throat.

Chapter Ten

Reggie woke the next morning already brooding.

Dmitri had kept her way too busy last night for her to think about the things Ava had said at the bar, but she remembered them now. In fact, they were the first thoughts in her head when her eyes opened and squinted against the late morning sunshine. When he wasn’t there to cloud her thoughts with lust, Reggie could admit she did seem to act differently around Dmitri. Somehow he brought things out of her she’d been trying really hard to pretend weren’t inside her to begin with.

Reggie considered herself a strong, independent women. She supported herself, thought for herself, acted for herself. She believed women should have the same rights and opportunities as men and should never allow themselves to be treated as if they didn’t. If pressed, she would have called herself a modern feminist, a woman who appreciated men, but didn’t need them to complete her or guide her or tell her what to do.

So why did it feel so good when Dmitri took control? It freaked her out that his assumption of command and dictatorial tendencies made her feel so safe and cherished. She should be railing against his attitude, not sighing with contentment when he took charge and arranged her and her life to suit him. When she felt his body against hers, it all made perfect sense, but now, in the bright light of day, she had to think Ava might have a point. Maybe she should be suspicious of Dmitri’s autocratic personality.

She mulled it over while she dragged herself out of bed and pulled on her bathrobe. Once again, her muscles ached in a graphic reminder of the previous night, though this time she could add lack of sleep to her problem. Not only had Dmitri’s demanding appetite kept her up way past her bedtime, but once he had let her sleep, she’d drifted into some really disturbing dreams.

She’d imagined they were back at the Mausoleum, only this time they danced together, completely naked on the crowded dance floor. The dream had been so real she’d felt the texture of his skin against hers, the cool surface of the wooden floor beneath her feet.

In her dream he surrounded and overwhelmed her, a lot like he did in real life. They had swayed to a slow, hypnotic rhythm, while the people around them continued to mosh to the frantic, industrial music she couldn’t hear. They had ignored everyone else, totally wrapped up in each other while they danced. But the dancing had changed, and in the metamorphic way of dreams, in the next instant he had been pressing inside her.

They made love there on the dance floor. She’d felt Misha’s hands slide down to cup her ass and lift her, and she’d wrapped her legs around his waist and lowered herself onto his waiting cock.

No one in the dream paid any attention while Reggie and Dmitri made love in their midst. The club patrons had swirled around the couple in a sea of heat and color, but all Reggie had really been able to focus on had been Misha’s deep, black eyes. She’d stared into them while he thrust in and out of her until she’d gotten dizzy and hot and trembled on the edge of orgasm. In her dream, she’d continued to stare until he opened his mouth, and she could see his canine teeth elongate and sharpen until they’d become fangs. When he lowered his head and sank his teeth into her throat, the hot, piercing pain had tumbled her over the edge, and she’d come, her cunt greedily drinking his semen while his mouth greedily consumed her blood.

The dream had faded slowly, just like the orgasm, but the images lingered with her all night. Even after she woke, she could still feel his mouth drawing at her throat and his teeth holding her in place while he fed.

That’s what she got for going to Goth clubs and fantasizing about vampires, she scolded herself, heading into the kitchen for breakfast. A shrink would probably love a transcript of that dream, but Reggie chalked it up to a late night, exhausting sex and the lingering tension from her confrontation with Ava. Apparently her subconscious thought there might be some truth to her friend’s accusation that Dmitri’s control of her might be unhealthy instead of just unbelievable.

She popped a bagel into the toaster and was measuring grounds into the coffeemaker when someone banged vigorously on her front door. Frowning, she slid the automatic drip basket into place, pushed the button and crossed to the door. Checking the peephole, she sighed and leaned her forehead against the cool wood. The Inquisition had arrived.

She opened the door and stepped aside to let her friends into the living room. She was on her way to the bedroom before the door closed behind them. “Coffee is on, and there are bagels in the freezer. If I’m getting the third degree, I’m damned well not going to do it naked.”

“But I’m betting you ended up naked last night!” Danice’s quip and the sound of laughter followed her all the way down the hall.

When she reemerged from the bedroom, still barefoot, but now dressed in worn jeans and a red knit top, her apartment smelled like a Jewish deli and sounded like a Chippendale’s review.

Her friends had nixed the tiny kitchen and spread out coffee, fruit and bagels on her coffee table. Someone had dug out butter, cream cheese and two flavors of jam, and Missy was just setting down a skillet full of scrambled eggs when she looked up and caught sight of Reggie. “Somebody looks well-exercised.” She grinned.

Corinne placed a serving of eggs on a plate, added half the bagel Reggie had toasted and handed it to her. “Sit. Eat. Talk.”

“With my mouth full?”

“Don’t be smart with us, Miss Thang,” Danice warned. “You have a story to tell us and we are not going away until we hear it.”

Reggie wasn’t sure she wanted to talk about Dmitri right now. Heaving a theatrical sigh, she took a seat in an armchair and balanced the plate on her lap. “Once upon a time—”

She ducked just before a slice of orange would have bounced off her forehead.

“Try again, Reg. And this time skip straight to the hot monkey sex.”

Corinne’s order defeated the smart-ass strategy, but Reggie didn’t want to share the details of the previous two nights with her friends, especially not with Ava. No matter how close they all were, she couldn’t feel comfortable with painting them a picture of the most erotic experiences of her life.

And she still didn’t want to open up the discussion with Ava about her actions around Dmitri. Instead of answering, she shrugged and pushed the eggs around on her plate. “That’s pretty much it. We had hot monkey sex. He went home.”

A chorus of groans and grumbles echoed through the apartment.

“A less than rousing tale.” Ava leaned against the arm of her chair, directly opposite Reggie’s, and cradled a coffee mug in her manicured hands. “We’ve all spoken about seeing you and your Dmitri together the last two days. I believe we were looking for a bit more detail about your…relationship, Regina dear—names, positions, dimensions.”

Did two nights of amazing sex equal a relationship?

The others laughed, and Reggie blushed as red as her shirt, but she still managed a respectably convincing scowl. “If you want details, call a nine-hundred number.”

“Why should we do that when we have you right here? For free, rather than five-ninety-nine a minute.”

“But I’m not here to satisfy your prurient interests.”

“Of course you are.” Ava sipped her coffee and eyed Reggie over the rim. Her gaze locked on the side of Reggie’s neck, and her eyes narrowed. “What’s that on your neck, Regina?”

“What’s what?”

Reggie’s hand went reflexively to the spot that captured Ava’s interest, but she didn’t feel anything.

“Well, that’s what I call evidence.” Danice wanted to see and jumped up to brush Reggie’s hand away. She stared at her friend’s neck so long and so intently that Corinne laughed.

“What are you looking for?”

“Fang marks,” Danice answered, grinning. “I wanted to see if Reggie maybe landed herself a real vampire.”

Reggie blushed when she remembered her dream. “Don’t be a jerk,” she muttered, pushing her friend away.

“Looks like a garden variety hickey to me,” Missy said. “Not exactly sophisticated, but I’m sure it added to the moment. Right, Reg?”

Reggie shifted uncomfortably and clamped her hand over the bruise. She’d noticed the mark yesterday morning when she dressed, which was odd, because she couldn’t remember when Dmitri had marked her. She still might have to tell him to lay off the vampire act, especially after her dream. “Well, that’s why we went there, right? I was supposed to get a Fix with a vampire-type guy. I did, and it’s done. Who’s up next?”

“Not so fast, Reg,” Danice said, raising an eyebrow and crossing her arms over her chest. “You aren’t getting off that easy. Part of the Fix is sharing the news with your friends, and providing a full evaluation. We still want details.”

“I don’t think Regina has to tell us anything she doesn’t want to,” Ava broke in. She surprised Reggie with her defense, but at that point, Reggie would have been glad for help from Genghis Khan and the Mongol hoards.