Netherworld: Drop Dead Sexy (14 page)

“Actually, staking a vampire through
the heart does little more than piss him off.”

“Language,” I warned.

I felt something inside me melt as he
smiled an apology. “I’m sorry for cursing. Did we not go over this?
The purpose of staking a vampire is to pin him helpless to the
ground while you cut off his head or burn him to ashes using fire
or sunlight.”

“
Yuck.”

Tristan’s smile grew, increasing his
good looks exponentially. My insides turned to runny butter. I
hoped he didn’t notice.

If he did, he gave no sign. “Yuck
indeed. If you stake one of us without pinning us down to the
ground, the damage is only temporary. After all, our hearts don’t
actually beat. It heals like any other injury we’d
sustain.”

I thought about it. Vampire biology. We
sure didn’t get that in tenth grade science. “I see. And if a
vampire’s body is killed while he’s in ghost form, instead of
returning to the body at nightfall, he simply disappears. Do I have
it?”

“Correct to the letter.”

“Where do dead vampire souls disappear
to?”

Tristan shrugged, the motion a violent
jerk. I could tell the conversation made him uncomfortable.
“Unknown. No vampire to my knowledge has ever returned as a ghost
once its body has been destroyed by beheading or
burning.”

No wonder he wasn’t smiling anymore.
Grim stuff. “Doesn’t that scare you when the sun sets, to not know
if you’ll be coming back?”

Tristan shrugged again. “Vampires keep
their day resting places well hidden, even from each other.” He
abruptly changed the topic. “How are you getting along with
Dan?”

I knew when to let a subject go. With a
smile I said, “Dan’s a peach.”

“I think he likes you too. He was
staring daggers at me when I brought you in here. He must think I
plan to have my way with you.”

Tristan’s observation about Dan marred
my enjoyment of the old-fashioned phrasing. So I hadn’t imagined
that flash of jealousy. My defenses went up. “I don’t like getting
tangled up in relationships. If he’s looking for his one-and-only,
he hasn’t found her yet.”

Tristan leaned close, putting his hand
over mine. “Someone hurt you.” It was a statement, not a
question.

“You could say that.” I moved forward
in my chair bringing me closer to the vampire. I liked Dan, but he
wasn’t going to trap me. Better he find out now than get too
invested and be hurt later.

To Tristan I said, “I find I prefer
grazing at the buffet over ordering and getting stuck with a
particular meal.”

He chuckled. “I’ve never heard it put
quite that way before. So you’re open to the affections of more
than one man?”

He didn’t wait for an answer. Instead,
he leaned over to kiss me long, slow, and deep, igniting every inch
of my body with his lips and tongue alone. Man, Tristan sure could
kiss with that curl-the-toes kind of passion every girl
loves.

His lips moved over mine, tasting me
thoroughly. One hand cupped my jaw and the other wrapped
possessively around the back of my head. With that kiss, he had the
liquid of my insides bubbling at full boil. Good golly, Miss
Molly.

My hands slid over his suddenly naked
chest, enjoying the smoothness of his skin that stretched over hard
muscled planes. I’d never had a preference for hairy versus smooth
chests. I admire and enjoy the many different ways a man could be.
Right now, the silky clean lines of Tristan’s torso were very much
to my liking.

“Don’t wish your clothes away,” Tristan
whispered when he finally lifted those too-talented lips from mine.
“I want to undress you slowly.”

I nodded. I wasn’t sure if I had a
voice or if it had gone on vacation.

Tristan slid the spaghetti straps of my
sundress down my shoulders, baring them and the tops of my breasts.
His lips and tongue were velvety soft as they traveled down my chin
to my throat. He paused at the hollow at the bottom of the column,
sending trembles dancing down my body as he kissed me there. He
slowly moved across the line

of my left collarbone, kissing his way
to my shoulder. He gently bit the rounded muscle there before
reversing his course, traveling oh so slowly to the other
shoulder.

I sat in a puddle on my chair. He
hadn’t touched any naughty bits yet, but I gushed like a sponge
being wrung out. The man was way too talented.

He got to my girl parts soon enough.
Tristan cupped my still-mostly covered breasts, lifting them up for
his attention. He nuzzled the bared tops, kissing and nibbling. His
thumbs rubbed my nipples through the soft material, bringing them
to nubby peaks. I moaned in encouragement. He delved deep into my
cleavage, his chin pushing the fabric down as he licked a hot, wet
path in that valley.

He went to his knees in front of my
chair, his body pushing my legs apart. My fingers traced the divots
and creases that outlined his muscular shoulders. I watched his
dark head just below my chin with half-lidded eyes as he moved up
and down, now kissing the inner curves of my breasts.

Tristan clutched the top of my dress in
his fists, and I expected him to rip it down. Instead, he gradually
uncovered my breasts, the bodice slipping down to expose my rosy
nipples in increments. The slow undressing made my insides roil. I
didn’t think I’d ever been so turned on, and he hadn’t even done
much to me yet. Heck, he hadn’t even gone Dom on me, but I was as
goose-pimpled as any sub strapped to a St. Andrew’s cross and
waiting for the first thud of a paddle.

He licked the index finger and thumb of
one hand. His gifted mouth closed on one taut nipple while he used
his spit-slicked fingers on the other. He licked and rubbed, sucked
and tweaked, nipped and pinched. My happy flesh swelled and
reddened under his care and something down below flexed hard.
Heaven help me, I thought I might come just from the attention he
bestowed on my chest. Tristan Keith wasn’t simply gifted in
pleasuring a girl. He was an absolute genius.

I lost track of the time he spent
playing with my breasts. He was wonderfully thorough, even taking
time to lick the creases separating breasts from ribcage. My flesh
pulsed and ached. One moment gentle, the next rough, he gave me
every pleasure possible from the fleshy mounds. I shuddered,
sighed, moaned and sobbed as he took me to heights I’d not believed
possible through breast play.

Once he had me shaking all over, he
continued his downward journey, baring my flat belly. He kissed the
soft skin, and I discovered erogenous zones I didn’t know I had.
Between each rib and the line running straight down to my belly
button were gut-trembling surprises of sensation. Oh! And the cup
of my navel, where his tongue dipped and swirled … who knew the
electric zingies that could produce? I wriggled so hard in my chair
that he had to hold my hips tight to keep me down. My reaction
spurred him to keep at the sensitive spot until I cried for
mercy.

“You’re killing me, Tristan,” I
groaned.

“Too late for that,” he teased me. But
his assault on my belly button ceased.

The bodice of my sundress was probably
stretchy enough to slide over my hips, but Tristan chose to start
from the bottom and work his way up. He snagged one of my ankles
and slid my sandal off. He kissed the bottom of my foot, starting
from my heel, licking over the arch, and gently biting just below
my big toe.

I’d never been one for foot play. In
fact, my feet kind of embarrassed me. They were long with perfectly
straight toes and slender. They were also size 8 ½. Okay, closer to
9.

Fine. I have skinny, 9 ½ sized feet. I
could go skiing without strapping skis on. Insert Bigfoot jokes
here.

Tristan didn’t seem put off by my
not-so dainty base. He sucked in my fire-engine red polished big
toe and I swear I almost swooned from the pleasure of his warm, wet
mouth. His thumbs rubbed my arch at the same time, and the pressure
relaxed even as his tongue and lips excited. Good God up in heaven,
I could learn to enjoy this.

He bestowed the same attention on the
other foot. I’d become complete goo now. I couldn’t have stood even
with the support of a bicycle kickstand attached to my rear. In
Tristan’s possession, I was a complete goner.

He placed my feet on the desk behind
him, splaying me wide apart. His mouth and hands moved up my
calves, spent time tickling the backs of my knees, then started a
slow but determined path up my inner thighs, pushing up the skirt
of my dress as he went. I trembled as he traveled upwards, the fine
tremors growing to near quaking. He darted a look up at my face,
his expression pure deviltry that made my insides knot tight in
anticipation. As he closed in on the apex of my thighs, I couldn’t
contain the wavering whimper that fell from my lips.

Tristan pushed the skirt up so that my
entire dress wadded at my waist. He eyed my sex like a gourmand
contemplating a particularly tasty dish.

“You’re beautiful, Brandilynn,” he
said. He stroked the soft skin of my hairless mound with one hand
while carefully spreading me open with the other. “Every inch of
you is sweeter than the last.”

I couldn’t respond. He’d left me in an
agony of desire and anticipation.

He smiled and slowly lowered his face.
His light kiss on my straining clit sent sizzling sparkles through
me. My hands slammed down on the wooden armrests of my chair to
clench in white-knuckled response. For such a light touch to bring
me to the brink of climax showed just how adept Tristan
was.

The tip of his tongue barely touching,
he lightly traced down the lips of my sex. The pressure was as
light as a butterfly’s wing, but it made me writhe. Down one side,
up the other, a quick flick on the sensitive nub to make me squeal,
and then doing it all over again.

Next his wicked flesh ran straight up
the center, and my legs involuntarily closed to squeeze his head.
With a chuckle, Tristan flattened his hands against the insides of
my thighs, opening me again. “Hold still, girl, or I’ll have to tie
you down.”

“Please, Tristan,” I groaned, fighting
to form the words.

“In a moment. You taste too good to
rush.”

I sighed in surrender as he bent to his
work once more. He fed with languorous strokes, licking and sucking
my flesh, making every minute touch exquisite torture. He avoided
my clit though, and I was desperate for him to touch me there.
Tristan only snickered at my efforts to draw his mouth to that
distended nub.

“So swollen and red. You’re looking
very needy, my girl.”

“Dang you,” I grated between clenched
teeth.

“Hmm. Rather ungrateful for all the
attention I’m paying you. Should I stop?”

I wailed in response to the threat. My
hips thrust towards his face.

Instead of returning to his sensuous
feasting, Tristan stood. He was naked, and I reached greedily for
the jutting organ with the idea I’d torture him for
awhile.

Tristan slapped my hands away, then
bent and gripped me about the waist. Picking me up from the chair,
he swung me around to perch me on the desktop. I had a moment to be
amazed at his strength before he situated my buttocks at the edge
of the surface and made ready to thrust into me.

After the long lead up, I was more than
ready to be taken hard and fast. Instead, he crept into me so
slowly that I squalled in protest. Wrapping my legs around his
buttocks, I tried to pull him in, demanding he quench the burning
need eating me up. His hand twisted painfully in my hair, and he
pulled my head back to meet his gaze.

“You will stop now,” he said, his voice
deep with command.

I whined, but under that stern gaze a
switch flipped and I immediately submitted. He grabbed the back of
my knees, forcing them up and tilting my hips. The position forced
me to brace myself on my hands.

Watching Tristan slowly enveloped
himself in me made me shudder with need. Had I ever known such an
overwhelming urge to be possessed? If I had, I sure couldn’t
remember it now. And he drove me crazy with the slow impaling,
making me feel every tiny increment of his gradual progression.
Feeling him creep deeper and deeper, his thick penetration
stretching me wonderfully, I hovered so close to the pinnacle of
ecstasy. It wouldn’t take much to carry me over, and I think
Tristan knew that. I could complain and whine all I wanted, but it
was up to him to allow me the explosion my body begged for. For
now, he chose to torment me.

He was careful to not let his groin
meet mine, denying that tantalizing brush of his body with my clit
that would shoot me into paradise. With exquisite precision,
Tristan rocked his hips back and forth, coming so close until his
crinkly pubic hair came in the lightest contact with my straining
bud, and then backed away again. His lovemaking was slow and
gentle. He used it to show what a sadistic brute he truly
was.

“Please,” I whined.

He smiled down at me. “I love hearing
you beg. Tell me how much you want me.”

“I do, Tristan. I want you so bad. I
want you to take me, make me come. Please, let me come.”