Must Love Vampires (11 page)

He covered her mouth with his own, kissing her, teasing her for a long, drawn-out moment. Trailing his lips along the line of her jaw, he murmured, “I’m going to be gentle. Then I’m going to be rough—and everything in between.”

Her body jerked beneath him. Hiding his smile in the curve of her neck, he continued to suckle. Every once in a while, he nipped with his teeth, let the sharp tips of his fangs graze her soft, pale flesh and delighted in the shivers his attentions caused.

He kissed her throat, the dip at the very base when she swallowed, traced the sharp line of each collar bone with his tongue. Crossing her chest, he began showering attention on her breasts. First one and then the other, first pressing light butterfly kisses all around and then firmer, tighter ones as he neared the areolas and nipples.

“So what kind of name is Lamoreaux?” he asked against her skin, knowing his voice would vibrate through his lips, causing even greater sensation.

Chuck’s slightly arched back fell and she blinked slowly, like an owl coming groggily awake.

“What?” she asked, her tone making it clear she thought he was crazy for wanting to discuss such a thing
now
.

“Your name,” he commented, keeping his voice as lazy as his slow licks and kisses. “It’s rather unusual. I’m wondering at its origins.”

He ran his flattened tongue straight over one puckered nipple and her breath left her lungs in a long hiss.

“I can’t believe you want to talk about this now,” she panted.

“Hmmmm.” He rolled the sound up from deep in his throat, but didn’t stop licking.

“French, I think. Don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Plumping her breast with one hand to bring it closer to his mouth, he let her hear his amusement.

She groaned, wriggling under him, which only lifted her closer to his ministrations. “My sister and I made it up. Real name is Monroe, but we both”—another moan, followed by a small whimper—“wanted to work under a fake name.”

So their real names were Charlotte and Chloe Monroe. That explained why he hadn’t been able to learn much about her sister when Aidan had first started talking about her. He wondered what he would find now if he did a search under their real names.

Both of them.

His initial concern had been only for Chloe—the sister he’d
thought
he’d brought up to his penthouse this evening. How was he to know she was a twin, and that he’d inadvertently ended up with the best of the pair?

That was speculation, of course, but considering the
other
sister was the one sprawled naked beneath him right now . . . the one he was most attracted to, most intrigued by . . . he was almost certain he’d gotten the better end of the deal.

“Lamoreaux has a nice ring to it. Very romantic. Excellent for both a dancer and a writer like yourself.”

He was at the underside of her breast now, laving the soft cushion with his tongue while at the same time using his thumb and forefinger to toy with the nipple of the opposite breast.

Without warning, his ears were pinched and his head was yanked up. Chuck held him by the hair, her own head tipped down so that she could meet his gaze straight on.

“Why are we talking about this now?” she demanded, giving him a little shake of frustration.

He liked it, this forceful side of her, but didn’t think he should tell her as much. He also didn’t think he should admit that he suddenly found himself wanting to know everything about her.

Big or small, important or trivial, he vowed to discover it all. And if that took the next four hundred years of his life . . . well, that was a prospect he thought he might just be more than looking forward to.

“Sorry,” he said, though they both knew he didn’t really mean it. “I guess I should find something better to do with my mouth.”

Without giving her time to respond, he slid down the rest of her body and hiked her legs up over his shoulders. She gave a short gasp of surprise that turned into a long moan of pleasure as he parted her folds and ran two fingers along her damp slit, just grazing her over-sensitized clitoris.

She was amazingly responsive; his every touch had her twisting, wriggling, purring low in her throat and biting her bottom lip with her perfect white teeth. And he hadn’t even gotten started yet.

His fingers played through the crisp, dark curls covering her mound—a bit of a novelty for him; so many of Vegas’s modern lovelies were into waxing these days that he was usually met with “airstrips,” cutesy decorative designs, or nothing but smooth, hairless skin of the so-called Brazilian variety. And that was nice, but the natural look was good, too.

He took his time, blowing gently on the swollen tissue, teasing her opening with the tip of one finger, using his tongue to taste everywhere but where he knew she needed it most. Her hands clutched the sheets on either side of her hips, her heels digging into his back.

“Se-bas-tian,”
she panted, dragging his name out to three distinctive syllables.

She was close . . . and so was he. The scent of her arousal, the feel of her pressing against him, shivering beneath him, made him want to bury himself inside her and come as much as she did. But he wanted to do something for her first.

Focusing his efforts, he filled her with two wide fingers, encouraged when her soft inner muscles stretched and then rippled around them. With his tongue, he stroked her silken labia and circled the tiny nub of her clit.

Her hips shot off the bed and then began a steady rocking motion as he drove her higher and higher with his lips, his tongue, and occasionally his teeth. All of them. She made tiny mewling sounds and murmured a litany of incoherent speech that he took to be,
Oh, God . . . yes, yes . . . no more . . . I can’t . . . please . . . oh, yes, yes,
yes!

She came with a scream that nearly peeled the paint from the walls. Her head shot back, her spine bowed, and she bucked against his face as the orgasm shuddered through her. It seemed to last forever while he gripped her hips with strong hands and continued to lap at her juices, gentling his touch until she settled.

When she was completely wrung out, lying limp and boneless in his arms, he crawled up the length of her body to cradle her close. Her lashes fluttered as she struggled to open her eyes, and he smiled at how well he’d managed to wear her out in just a matter of minutes. Wait until she discovered how much more pleasure he had planned for her. For both of them.

“Wow,” she breathed when she finally managed to open her eyes all the way. They were languid and unfocused, but glimmering with the after effects of sexual fulfillment.

“I take it you enjoyed yourself,” he said with no small amount of smug satisfaction.

She gave an unladylike snort. And then, “Why did you do that?”

He quirked a brow. “You
didn’t
like?” he asked, waffling between umbrage and disbelief.

She snorted again, this time adding a light slap to his bare shoulder. “Don’t be obtuse. ‘Like’ isn’t a big enough word for how good that was. But why would you bother when you could have just as easily gone straight to the main event and enjoyed yourself just as much?”

“My poor, beautiful,
obtuse
darling,” he murmured, punctuating the words with a kiss to her temple, her nose, the corner of her rosebud mouth. “It’s called foreplay. And in case you didn’t notice, I enjoyed it
quite
as much as you did.”

Her hair was a mass of chestnut curls splayed out across his bedspread, and he couldn’t resist running his fingers through the silken strands. “I love your fragrance, and your flavor, and how you respond to my every touch.”

He wouldn’t have thought it possible after what they’d so recently shared, but she blushed. Two bright spots of scarlet actually bloomed on her cheeks, and her gaze skittered away, as though she could hide from him even while being pinned securely under his significant bulk.

“You don’t believe me?” he pressed.

Lightly gripping her chin, he tipped her face back to his and forced her to meet his eyes. Lifting his other hand, he brushed the knuckles of two fingers—the same two that had been so deeply inside her—across her lips.

“Taste,” he told her. “Then maybe you’ll understand.”

He continued to brush his fingers against her lips, then added his mouth, knowing her juices still coated him there, as well. Whether she responded to his prompting or simply the desire to accept his kiss, her lips parted and allowed his tongue to enter. He kissed her long and thoroughly until they were both breathless and the room filled once again with burgeoning passion.

Of course, his passion had never actually subsided. He was still as hard as a spike, grinding against the soft cushion of her lower abdomen. But her pleasure was more important to him, and he wanted to make sure her first experience with sex after so long without was everything she’d thought, dreamed, expected, and more.

“I want this to be good for you,” he told her, smoothing the hair away from her face as she stretched like a cat beneath him. “Better than good.”

A small smile raised her lips. “I don’t think you have to worry. I’m like a sexual camel. I can live on that one orgasm for another ten years, easy.”

Sebastian burst out laughing. His chest rumbled and he buried his face in the hollow of her throat until the chuckles subsided.

“I’m very glad to hear that,” he managed after a moment, “but that won’t be necessary, believe me. I intend to give you many more before the night is through.”

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she flashed him a bright smile. “Oh, goody. I’ll store them up for my next extended drought.”

Slipping his own arms under her back and pulling her flat to his chest, he bit back a growl of feral possession. “Maybe there won’t be a next time.”

She didn’t say anything, but he could see her thoughts flitting through her eyes like a movie on the big screen. She was thinking that he was a vampire—a real, live (ha! well, you know . . .) vampire—when she hadn’t really believed they existed . . . that this was all moving way too fast . . . she didn’t know him, he didn’t know her . . . maybe it was just a dream, and she would soon wake up to a much more boring and much less pleasurable reality. . . .

All the same thoughts were ticking through his mind, and though he never would have expected to feel so strongly about a mortal woman in such a short amount of time . . . the fact was, he did. He was thinking forever, here, and for him, that was a very long time. It could be for her, too.

But that discussion would come later. At the moment, he had more pleasuring to do. For both of them.

Four of a Kind

“I don’t have condoms on hand,” Sebastian said. “I can get them, if it will make you feel better, but just so you know, I’m clean. Extremely so. Vampires—”

“Hey,” Chuck interrupted, rolling her eyes even as she rubbed her leg lazily up and down his hairy calf. “This is not some run-of-the-mill Vegas chippy you’re talking to. Or even a run-of-the-mill tabloid reporter. I’ve done my homework. Vampires can’t carry blood-borne human diseases or transmit them to others. And pregnancy is a non-issue.”

He looked both amused and impressed by her recitation of vampire factoids. Oh, yes, she was an ace reporter, all right. And when all of this was over, if he left her so much as a shred of her memories, she was going to write the mother of all exposés about spending the night with him. She would title it
I Slept with a Vampire
or
In Bed with a Bloodsucker
, or maybe
The Richest Vampire in Vegas
.

What a shock it would be for the world to find out that the owner of one of the busiest, most successful casinos on The Strip was really a lord-knew-how-old immortal who drank the blood of innocents to survive. Well, okay, maybe not innocents. She wasn’t exactly sure what—or who—he “ate.” They hadn’t gotten that far yet, but she certainly intended to ask at the first nonsexual opportunity.

“Actually,” he intoned, splaying his fingers behind her back to casually stroke the slope of her spine, “that last isn’t entirely true. We have been known to reproduce. Rarely, and under very precise circumstances, but it can happen.”

She raised a brow, her investigative instincts kicking in. Where was a notepad when she needed one?

“Really?” she asked, not bothering to hide her curiosity.

“Yes, really,” he said with a grin, obviously enjoying her keen interest. “I’ll explain it to you sometime. But
not
. . .
now
.”

Faster than she could blink, he had her up and over him, and he was flat on his back. His knees cushioned her bottom, his erection pressing eagerly between them.

Staring down at him through the curtain of her hair as it cascaded around her face, she did blink then. She wasn’t even shocked by the move, by the suddenness of being horizontal one second and vertical the next. If anything, these little superpowers of his were growing on her, and she found them both fascinating and convenient.

“That was quick,” she said. “I just hope being fast on the draw doesn’t translate to
everything
you do.”

He canted his pelvis, driving his arousal even higher against her. “Oh, I can go slow, believe me. And if you’re not satisfied when I’m finished, I guess I’ll just have to start over.”

She envisioned his doing just that, and a shiver rolled through her. She could imagine him doing slow things and fast things and everything in between, and she wanted them all.

A tiny cheerleader inside of her that she’d never known existed gave her pom-poms a shake and whooped, “You go, girl!” Quite a switch from the bookish, four-eyed president of the debate club she’d been living with for the past ten years.

But if she was going to kiss her celibacy goodbye, she might as well do it in a big way. And doing the nasty with a hot, sexy vampire with wicked-sharp fangs and superhuman strength was about as big as it got.

Leaning down, she let her hair fall around them while she kissed him with every ounce of pent-up passion she hadn’t let loose with anyone else in a very long time. Her palms rested flat on his broad chest, feeling the warmth of his skin—were vampires normally warm-blooded, or did that mean he’d recently fed? Ick, better not to think about that right now—and the play of his sleek, hard muscles beneath her fingertips.