Nightfall Page 4

  Though he was attracted to her, he hadn't let his wits drain all into his cock. Bad as Artie was, Quinn understood something was off about her. But, intriguingly enough, he gave off the vibe of a man who had the courage to find out if that was good or bad...and how he could help. Which meant she should be leaving tonight, not applying for a job. But she was just too damn hungry.

  He was tall, broad-shouldered, lean-hipped. She'd been told he was a rodeo cowboy, a rancher, and the rugged face and intimidating physique were silent proof he was the real thing. His misery being in the midst of all these people was as clear to her enhanced senses as a man with a flu virus. She'd already seen enough to know his sloppy hiring practices and the state of the bar had to do with an overworked, exhausted owner too used to having to take care of others. If he had a blind spot, it was that he didn't know when he needed help.

  There was a solid core to him like the stillness of a mountain. He didn't look at home here. She suspected if she saw him at his ranch, she'd see him where he was meant to be. She could help him with that.

  She wanted to see him looking a little more relaxed. Almost as much as she wanted to see the flip side of that. Him bound and stripped, all those muscles straining against restraints she'd put on him, so she could bite, suck and lick every inch of skin, tease every scar with her nails, impale herself on that impressive cock straining beneath worn denim. She'd made it test the limits of those fibers more than once tonight. He thought his untucked shirt concealed it, but arousal was as detectable to her senses as blood.

  Blood pulsing in his throat, beating strong through his heart in that wide chest. When she'd leaned close to him at the bar, her fangs had started to elongate. She wasn't one to deny herself long, not when it came to a human she wanted. A male like this.

  His warm brown eyes were framed by dark lashes, and his sable hair tempted touch. When Maria had woken him, Selene had been watching from the kitchen access. She'd imagined waking him by stroking her fingers through that hair, tugging lightly. Once those eyes opened, she'd tighten her grip. Yank. Make fire spark in that gaze the way it had behind the bar when he decided not to obey her command to release her wrist. Yeah, he wanted a woman's strong hand, but he was all male animal. He'd want to fight over it. He was itching for that fight, and so was she.

  When the meaning of her "third condition" sank in, she saw that spark again. His lips pressed together and he shifted on the chair, probably to give some relief to that erection that just wouldn't quit. You'll need my permission getting relief with that, baby, she thought. After I enjoy tormenting you a good, long time.

  Her fingers curled in on themselves where they rested with deceptive ease on the chair arm and her thigh. His gaze kept returning to her crossed legs, the way she was resting on one hip, the closer one turned up enough his gaze could trace the curve of the buttock.

  She rose. "Does the upstairs have a bed? One we can use right now to seal the deal?"

  His gaze snapped up to her. While New York didn't have a lot of rodeos, she'd picked up enough stories tonight to know about eager-to-please buckle bunnies. He'd be making a grave error if he lumped her in with those. She wasn't flirting, simpering or giggling. She was more than an alpha bitch. She was going to be the alpha, period.

  As that unspoken message registered, his expression said he was warring with uncomfortable feelings about it. He hadn't yet said yes, but this wasn't exactly a verbal kind of contract. Blood, sweat and some satisfying, sticky sex were going to be the signature on the dotted line. She was all too aware his unease was coming primarily from how she was turning him on. It was part of what she'd sensed, what had attracted her to him. This was a man who'd been required to be in control in all ways from the time he'd reached sexual maturity. His true power, all that delicious strength and sexual drive, would come to glorious, raging life with a different tactic.

  "As I said earlier," she said, "I'm not in the habit of repeating myself."

  She turned away and almost made it to the door. Because she could move far faster than a human, she was ready for him when he swiftly closed the distance between them. When he pushed her back against the wall, she ducked beneath his hold, reversed it, and put him against the wood paneling, holding him there with a hand curved around the base of his corded throat.

  His eyes widened. He'd put a defensive hand on her forearm, but his touch was gentle. He was gentle with women, even when he was demanding. He clearly knew how much stronger he was, and she expected he'd never hurt a girl. Well, not unless she enjoyed it. She saw that in him too, and wondered how many playful spankings he'd given. But had he ever had his own ass caned? Had a woman run her lips over every throbbing welt, her slim fingers gripping his ass cheeks, spreading them so she could play with his rim with her tongue? She bet he'd buck against the mattress, come, make a mess against his belly and the bedding.

  His touch became a little less gentle, testing her grip when he couldn't dislodge her. She constricted it enough to make him feel his breath labor in his windpipe. Though he didn't yet realize it, she had at least three times his strength. For a normal human male, the multiple might be more, but the man was tough as leather and powerful. She liked that.

  "I'm like a rodeo bull," she said, holding his gaze. "I can be ridden, but only if you respect how much stronger I am. And how easy it would be for me to crush you."

  He swallowed beneath her grip, but it wasn't nervousness. Not that kind. A different awareness came into his eyes. He had questions, yes, maybe, but something else took precedence. While she'd expected that reaction, seeing it come out the way it did was a lovely surprise.

  Reaching out, he hooked a finger in the vee of her shirt. Tugged lightly, encouraging her to come closer. She gave him a step, laying her other hand on his chest. That large finger caressed the valley between her breasts, found the edge of her lacy bra. He ran his knuckle over the rise of one curve, then down between again. The man had a nice, seductive touch, and she saw that awareness in his eyes, but he wasn't manipulating her. He just needed to touch her. He was hungry too.

  So she closed the last step, letting her hand slide from around his throat to behind his neck, finally indulging in a nice dive into those thick brown locks that curled over her knuckles. As she lifted up on her toes, he anticipated her mouth, but she nudged against his jaw, making him turn his head away. She traced his carotid with her tongue, her lips.

  He had his hands on her hips, gripping her belt loops, then he slid into her pockets, making the paper she'd put in there crinkle. His fingers curved, gripping toned flesh. She made an approving noise as she reached his ear, cruised across his cheek. He had his eyes closed. Her hand was tight in his hair, keeping his head still, a message that she was setting the pace.

  "I want to fuck you," she breathed. "I want to hear you beg for my cunt. Hear you say please in a rough voice. That's new for you, isn't it, Quinn? You were taught to demand, not beg. That's what women usually want, don't they? For you just to take. But sometimes you'd like her to be the one to do the taking. It feels good to get lost in someone else's demands. And I have a lot of demands. You can get lost with me for a good...long...time."

  "Two-way street, honey."

  She was impressed that he'd managed the response, even as she heard the gruff tone she'd wanted to hear. "We'll see." Then she took her first taste of his mouth.

  Oh yes. This was going to work out just fine. His lips parted, and the heat of him was welcome, sending a searing liquid rush between her legs. She'd be welcoming his clever mouth down there too. Eventually. She pressed harder against him and he accommodated her unspoken need wonderfully, hands sliding out of her jeans pockets and down to cup her ass and hike her up his body. He reversed their positions so he had her against the wall, his hard cock pushing between her legs, rubbing even with the frustration of two layers of denim between them. When he broke the kiss between them to curve his muscular back and take a nip at her throat, tangling one big hand in her hair to tug her head back,
heat shot through her. Yes, he wanted her to take control, but he'd push the boundaries, do some taking of his own. She liked that mix.

  Wrapping her legs around him, she tightened her thighs, watching his eyes darken at the noticeable constriction around his hips, the press of her boot heels against the base of his very fine ass. Watching him deal with Artie, those haunches tight and biceps bunched, had been a display that only whetted her appetite for more. She wanted to take a nice healthy grab of that ass and squeeze until he'd show finger-shaped bruises.

  "Upstairs," she said. "Now."

  "Not against the wall?" His eyes glinted with mischief, and she gave him an arch look in return, digging a nail into his collarbone.

  "I like to eat in bed."

  "Yes ma'am."

  The address stilled her, and she saw his gaze flicker, noticing her reaction, but she let it pass. Too much, too soon. A strong man who'd denied his true desires, thinking they didn't fit with his image of himself, could be easily spooked by them, at least at first. She wanted the stallion who would come looking for the bridle while still occasionally fighting it for her pleasure. She wasn't interested in the horse she had to break to accept restraint.

  He hitched her more securely against him, having no problem carrying her out of the office despite the fact she knew she was heavier than she appeared. He went down to the end of the hall, to the access stairway. As he clomped up the two flights of stairs, she indulged herself by sliding her arms around his wide shoulders, tightening her hold over them. She ran lips and tongue along his jaw, rubbing herself against him, enjoying the feel of her breasts pressed firmly against his chest.

  He groaned, stopped to push her against the wall again, bracing one boot on the next stair up so she was sitting on that leg as he gripped her hair once more to force a kiss between them. She permitted it. Frankly, she was getting lost in his passion. She wondered how long it had been for him. Beyond that, how long had it been since he'd had a woman who'd truly satisfied him?

  The possessiveness that surged through her was unexpected, setting off some warning bells, but she wasn't going to get bogged down in the possibility of complications. All that mattered was right now.

  "Gotta let you down, sweetheart. Gotta unlock the door." He let her slide down his body, but she straddled his thigh as he did, dipping her fingers into his front pocket. It was right above where her pubic mound pressed against hard muscle. When he braced himself against the door frame, pleasure rippled between her legs. He watched her with a half-amused, half-violently aroused expression as she fished out the keys, including a nice tease against the bulge of his ball sac before she pulled the keys loose, dangled them in front of his eyes.

  "Here you are."

  He managed to unlock the door without fumbling, which impressed her, then he banded an arm around her waist, lifting her off her feet to carry her through the door and kick it closed. He didn't let her feet touch the floor until they reached the bedroom. "It's dusty in here," he said, glancing around. "Probably a few spiders."

  "I'll protect you from them."

  He snorted, but she could see the concern about what she'd think of their surroundings. He might be hot and horny as a rutting bull, but he was a gentleman. She liked that. The bed was draped in a sheet, which he tugged off to reveal a decent but worn coverlet, a couple pillows with cases that looked clean enough. Serviceable for a ranch hand or as an army barracks.

  "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 ho
w 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.