Nightfall (5 page)

“This isn’t really the greatest place to take a lady,” he
began. “We can—”

“All I want is you, right now, right here. And shut up.”
Even though she liked the masculine rumble of his voice, she wanted to hear it
strained by harsh groans, punctuated with fierce, fervent oaths as she did
everything she wanted to him. She moved to the bed, lifting a hand to stop him
when he followed right behind her, hands reaching for her.

“I know you’re a cowboy, so you probably come with your own
whip. But now I’m in charge. Take off your clothes. Slow. I want to savor.”

His lips twisted at that. She could tell he knew women found
him pleasing in all the right ways, a matter-of-fact thing helpful to get
between their legs but sometimes maybe a pain in the ass to him when he wanted
something more. She stretched out on the bed, leaning back on her elbows.
Though she was conscious of the heat of his gaze on her, she lifted a brow
expectantly.

He slid open the buttons of his shirt, keeping to a gradual
pace to suit her demands. Maybe he didn’t do it in a striptease fashion, but he
wasn’t that type of man. She didn’t mind that about him.

He had a gorgeous upper body, layered with a working man’s
musculature, marked with some scars. He’d worked shirtless enough that there
wasn’t much of a tan line between his exposed neck and forearms and the rest of
him. She loved the look of a shirtless man in jeans and boots. When he sat down
on the end of the bed to pull his boots off, she shifted and closed the
distance between them, kneeling up behind him on her knees to slide her palms
over his shoulders and back, feeling the way the muscles rolled as he performed
the simple action. As he stood to slip the button of the jeans, he turned to
face her, and she sat back on her heels, watching attentively.

“I’m used to girls talking when I do this. You don’t talk.”

“Why would I talk when that takes attention away from what
matters?” She met his gaze, then lowered it pointedly, a nonverbal message.
Get
on with it.

An attractive quirk of his lips, and he pulled the jeans
open, the zipper making its pleasing
tick-tick
noise. He wore basic
cotton boxers, nothing fancy, and he took them down with the jeans, removing
socks so the whole man stood before her.

He was tough and lean from head to toe, and sporting a cock
stand that made her pussy even wetter just to look at it. Sliding off the other
side of the bed, she gestured to the mattress. “On your back, cowboy. Legs
shoulder length apart. I want to be able to see everything I intend to touch,
lick, suck and taste.”

“Jesus.” He paused, giving her a once-over. “You’re a little
overdressed.”

“That’ll change when I’m ready. I gave you an order.”

She was testing him. If she’d put a little flirt into it,
she knew it would give him an out. He could laugh it off and rationalize that
it was silly sex games, nothing serious, but she wasn’t in the mood to give him
that much mental lubrication. She was going to be honest with this man from the
very beginning and all the way through. Maybe because she sensed the yearning
in him to cut through a world of bullshit and find something real, something
solid, that she’d always needed herself.

Selene, this really might be a mistake.

Their gazes held. “Trust me, Quinn,” she said. “If only for
this.”

Another weighted moment and then he moved to the bed. She
wished she could be inside his mind, hearing every turn in the decision wheel that
brought him to the mattress, but pleasure surged through her at the end result.
He stretched out that long, powerful body, linking his fingers behind his head
in a pose of deceptive casualness, even as his brown gaze stayed locked on her
expectantly.

Moving to the end of the bed where he’d dropped his jeans,
she picked them up. Sliding her hand inside the seat, she enjoyed the warmth of
where his ass had been. Then she stripped the belt out of the loops. It still
carried the heat of his body as well. She came to the head of the bed, leaned
over him. He watched her as she curled fingers around his wrist, tugging so she
guided his hand to the iron rails of the headboard. She brought the other there
too, making him cross his wrists before she looped the belt in a figure eight
around them, cinching and doing a tie that would hold them unless he gave
serious effort to getting loose. He didn’t look as if he had that plan.

Instead, his breath had stilled, then become a little
shallow, even as the pulse in his throat jumped, increasing her blood hunger.
His lips parted, tongue wetting them, an unconscious act of anticipation or
anxiety.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” she said.

He swallowed, eyes staying on her, jaw tight. “Don’t know.”

“What a strong man says when the answer is yes, but he
doesn’t know how that reflects upon his masculinity. Grip the rails of the
headboard,” she said. “Don’t let go.”

Keeping an eye to the lower latitudes, she saw his cock
surge again as she gave the order, as she cinched the belt and did a loose loop
around the rails to reinforce the hold of his fingers. She heard the expulsion
of breath, saw the glitter in his eyes. Yeah, he liked this, even as she saw
him continue the internal war over it. “Big, tough cowboy,” she said quietly,
running a nail over his sternum, circling his nipple, biting into it with the
edge. “Always in control. In control of your men, your ranch, this place, with
women. But there’s a different kind of male power, Quinn. One that you’ve
always known is waiting for you, waiting to serve a woman if she knows where to
look for that treasure.”

He swallowed again, but he didn’t speak. Didn’t deny it. He
was listening, learning about himself. About her. She could see all the wheels
going in his head. He didn’t know what to say. He’d think about all of it later
and they’d probably hit a few bumps as a result when he tried to backpedal.
That was part of the pleasure. For now, it was all reaction, and she was fine
with that. Very fine.

She stepped away, stood by the bed as she began to lift the
hem of her knit shirt. “Close your eyes.”

“No.” His voice was hoarse. “Hell no.”

She stopped, gave him a leisurely once-over. “You can look
at me, or you can feel me. Which would you prefer?”

“You get both. Why can’t I?”

“Because you get what I give you. No more and no less.”

“What if I’m not willing to give you…everything you want?”

A smart question, and one he didn’t realize had gone beyond
his control the minute a vampire walked into his bar and decided she wanted
him. Correction. It was beyond his control if she embraced the whole
humans-are-inferior-and-ours-to-use-however-we-want vampire credo. And if she
decided she wanted everything from him.

No. Forty years ago, she’d been human herself. Albeit
sometimes she felt like she was clinging to a mortal conscience by her
fingernails, she still made the effort. Beyond that, she couldn’t want
everything from him. She wouldn’t be able to stay here that long.

Wanting everything meant making him her fully marked human
servant, and she’d not yet taken that step with any human. Female vampires were
choosier, usually taking that step as they drew closer to the century mark,
whereas male vampires might do it before hitting fifty. But looking at him,
restrained by his belt and their mutual desires, she felt a clenching in her
lower belly that was part sex, part need, part longing.

God, Selene. Shut up and fuck him already.

She hadn’t answered his question, too busy wrestling with
her own, but now she summoned a smile. “If you close your eyes, you’ll find out
if you’re willing to give me everything I want.”

He sighed, hard, but shut his eyes, probably not realizing
his fingers clenched as he did it, a quiver running through all those
impressive muscles. His cock just got thicker, standing up tall and eager. She
removed the shirt, shimmied out of boots and jeans, leaving on the dark-blue
silky bra and matching lace panties. Then she leaned over him, sliding a hand
over his biceps on the far side, pressing her breasts to his chest. She blew on
his lashes, making him frown and then smile.

“You
want
to give me everything I want, Quinn, but
you think you need to fight about it. I like a fight, for the right reasons.
This is not that moment. Let yourself feel. Let me enjoy you.”

She straddled him then, and he groaned as she rubbed her
lace-clad pussy, the crotch already soaked through, against the length of his
cock. Reaching behind her, she cupped his ball sac, a nice weight in her hand,
as she rotated her hips on him. “Feel how wet I am?”

“Yeah. Fuck yes. Want your panties off. Want to feel your
cunt.”

“Then ask me for that. Nicely. Remember ‘please’?”

“Please.”

“Please what?”

“I want to feel your cunt against my cock. Please.”

“Very nice.” She stood up, removed her bra and dropped it on
the floor. Then she shimmied out of the panties. When she sat back down upon
him, she draped them over his face, pushing the crotch against his lips.
“Taste, Quinn.”

He licked, then his lips closed over the fabric, giving it a
gentle suck. She took her hand away, leaving the sheer garment spread over his
face like a veil. His nostrils flared beneath thin lace.

“That’s all for you, Quinn. When you had Artie shoved
against the wall, and I reached out and touched you, I wanted your cock right
then. I wanted us to fuck right up against that worthless piece of shit like he
didn’t matter at all.”

She also wanted to rip into Artie’s throat, make him howl in
pain and gush blood for stealing from Quinn, for feeling like he had a right to
take advantage of her cowboy. But she’d save that vicious tidbit. The sex side
of being a vampire was overwhelming enough to humans.

“God…” His hips twitched, pressing his cock up against her
labia.

“Easy there, bronc,” she said breathlessly, tightening her
thighs on him. “Keep it in the chute right now.”

She reached between them, gripped him. Yeah, he was thick as
a tree branch, and when she squeezed and stroked, his thigh and biceps muscles
bunched, body straining to stay still. She let him go, stroked her pussy along
his length, working him with the moisture between her slick lips as she leaned
down and began to taste his chest, his nipples, his shoulders, moving back
toward his throat. His fingers stayed clenched around the headboard. He was
fighting the restraint, but the arousal was also intensifying because of it.

As she reached the carotid, her fangs lengthened, not to be
denied this time. So hungry. She turned her head, lifted it enough to see his
eyes open beneath the lace, staring at her through that hazy barrier. His lips
parted, seeking air, seeking her. She rose up over him, let him see her body
arch as she gripped him once more, guided him into her, controlling the pace,
the descent.

“Condom…” He had the presence of mind to protect them both,
but she shook her head.

“Not needed, cowboy. Promise. That’s the one way you’re
totally safe with me.”

Maybe the only way.

She was sure he wasn’t naïve enough to let that pass, not
normally, but this wasn’t normal. That was obvious from how she could feel his
passion unfolding beneath her, reckless, uncertain, wild. It was what she’d
meant when she’d said if he ever unleashed it for the right woman, his response
would overwhelm them both in a way he wouldn’t anticipate.

But he wasn’t the only one taken unawares by that. As she
descended, inch by inch, feeling his cock stretch her, slide in deep, her eyes
were caught by his behind that barrier. She should tell him to close his eyes
again, but it was as if that lock held them over a chasm. Neither one looking
away, knowing to do so would be to fall. The worst part wouldn’t be the tumble,
but falling alone.

“Free yourself,” she whispered.

It took him a couple minutes. He twisted his hands in his
bonds, pushed and pulled, strained, while she rode him like she might a
cantering horse, enjoying the unexpected thrusts, slides and angles of his cock
inside her. He was a good-sized man, filling her in a way that had her pussy
spasming, clutching him hard. When he finally got one hand free, that took care
of the other. He surged up from the bed, banding his arms around her to drive
her down hard and snug on his loins, ripping a cry from her. She bowed back in
his hold, gasping as his lips clamped over her right nipple. Gripping his hair,
she worked her hips on him in a circular rhythm as he sucked, drawing deep.

“So fucking good,” he muttered. “Want to taste your cunt.
Taste all of you.”

He thrust with the skill of a man who knew how to bring a
woman’s body to pleasure, and the first orgasm took her fast and quick. Her
clit swelled and hardened, pussy gushing over him. She cried out again, digging
her nails into his back. It had been too long since she’d gone this route to
feed and she didn’t know her own strength. She raked hard enough to draw four
furrows of blood.

Blood.
The scent filled her nose, and she brought her
fingers to her lips, tasting what she’d taken from him. He flipped them then,
all effortless strength. She was always an on-top girl, so it surprised her how
much she welcomed the feel of him on her like this. She gazed up at him as he
pressed her into the quilt, kept thrusting, giving her searing aftershocks that
had her moaning, holding onto him, taking full pleasure in the ride. Since she
stared into his face as he stared into hers, she saw that rigid state that took
over right before climax, knew when his body was gathering. She reared up, slid
her arms around him. When he thought he couldn’t hold out any longer, she spoke
against his ear.

“Hold out for me, Quinn. Not until I say. Ssshh, cowboy.
Hold…”

He groaned against her temple, kept thrusting, but she felt
his body taut as a bowstring, obeying her. It was a drug all its own, none like
it.