Nightfall Page 9

He shrugged, as if giving voice to the answer was a step he couldn't yet take, despite the admissions he'd already given to her.

  "You seem a little isolated yourself," he said instead, opening his eyes and looking up at her. "You work a crowded room like the friendliest person alive, but the reserve is there, keeping them all at arms' length."

  "Vampires aren't social," she said. "Not even with each other, at least not that way. When we get together it's more politics than potluck. Usually someone ends up dead or wishing they were."

  He held her gaze. "I don't know what to believe when you talk like that."

  "It doesn't seem to bother you all that much. Which means you have an exceptional tolerance for someone crazy running your bar or," she slid her finger down the side of his throat, tracing his pounding pulse there, "something in you already knows the truth and is okay with it. Which both intrigues me and tells me I should leave before bad things happen to you."

  He closed his hand over her wrist, a gentle hold. "No. That's not what I want."

  "Since when is anything about what you want?" But her brittle smile wasn't unkind, and he saw a trace of sadness in her eyes. That flash impression of the many things moving at too deep a level inside her for him to get a handle on it had his fingers tightening on her.

  "Let me give you pleasure."

  She cocked her head, considered. "I notice your staff here calls you 'boss'. Is that what everyone who works for you calls you?"

  "Yeah. Pretty much."

  She nodded. "Will you call me Mistress, Quinn?" Withdrawing her hand from his touch she stepped back, gloriously naked, her gaze sweeping him. She answered before he could.

  "Whether you will or not, that big cock of yours jumped at the idea of it. You can't imagine how amazing you look in only those chaps. I want to eat you alive. Stretch out on the bed. I'm ready for a hard ride."

  Chapter Five

  Selene watched him comply, moving onto his heels and then standing. In that position he towered over her, but she didn't retreat. He paused, his expression gripped by an amazement that caused her to lift a quizzical brow. Setting his jaw, he put his hands to her waist, slowly lifted her off her feet, biceps flexing in a very attractive manner as he raised her over his head.

  She was reminded of the Dirty Dancing scene when Patrick Swayze lifted "Baby" over his head. Quinn's expression was almost as absorbed as "Johnny's" and made butterflies jump in her stomach. She tried to stay away from movies and TV, because Laurent had frowned on it, saying it was never a good idea for vampires to get too involved in human culture, but she'd watched that one in defiance, curled up in her crappy hotel room, in need of some sense of controlling her own destiny...even if it was simply watching a goddamn movie.

  Quinn held her there. "There's nothing to you," he said in a wondering voice. "You're just this little girl, but you have the eyes of a chupacabra."

  "What or who is that?"

  "A creature of supernatural legend that kills its victims by piercing their throats and draining their blood."

  She stared at him. "That's what I remind you of?"

  "Only the eyes," he told her. "You have the same hungry look in your eyes."

  "Maybe it's you I'm hungry for," she murmured.

  Still holding her gaze, he lowered her back to the floor, their bare bodies so close. "The bed, cowboy," she said.

  He released her waist but held onto her hand, so that when he moved to comply, he drew her along with him. She stood at the side of the bed as he stretched out, and when his fingers slipped from hers, she felt their loss. "Arms over your head. Grip the rails, just like before. I don't want anything in the way of taking my pleasure."

  As he obeyed, she had to draw in a breath at the beauty of his rugged male form. The mileage and scars just made him all the more appealing to her. She traced every muscle of the six-pack abs, the crescents of his pectorals, the bump of his nipples and the light layering of gleaming hair across that terrain. She teased his navel with a fingernail and earned a squirm, a half-snort, half-chuckle that made her smile. Then she curled her fingers around the thick root of his penis, and his face got intent again. He breathed her name as she tugged on him, dug her nails into his balls, made him arch up with a hiss.

  "Spread your legs out wider."

  The pleasure of his obedience speared her. He understood it, deep down, and seeing it come to the surface of his consciousness was as great a pleasure as the response of his cock. More. When he'd made that shift earlier, from what he thought was expected of him to what he truly wanted, she'd wanted to fuck him to oblivion right then and there. The willingness to set aside his perceived greater strength and size, the capitulation of his mind, handed to her with trust in where she would take him...it was all the best parts of power and pleasure.

  When she'd been turned into a vampire, she'd learned the meaning of the word helplessness. It was only when she discovered that vampires had a genetic disposition toward sexual Dominance, and even the weakest vampire had the right to exercise that over humans of her or his choosing, that she found an escape from how nightmarish her life became at times.

  It also put her in touch with something about herself that made her not regret so much the circumstances that had brought her to that state. She just resented the assholes who had seemed to inundate her life since then. She wasn't running from what a vampire truly was--only what the vampire world demanded she be. It was a shame Laurent and his ilk didn't comprehend the difference, and she was nowhere near high enough on the food chain to teach it to them.

  So it was time to focus on the here and now. "What do you want, Quinn?" she asked, putting her hands on the bed and sliding onto it on all fours over him like the dominant predator she was. She bent her elbows, blew lightly on his testicles and all up along his shaft.

  "To fuck you."

  "Hmm. The right intent, but not quite the right answer. Try again. Here's a hint. Who am I?"

  Those dark eyes fastened on her face. She saw him struggle with it. Was it too soon? Or had it been locked away in him for so long, in this moment clogged by lust and intensity, it would shove past his reservations and logic, all vestiges of caution?

  He swallowed, and she realized she'd gone preternaturally still, something she tried to stay aware of and avoid, but in a highly charged physical or emotional state, her youth as a vampire showed. She was holding breath she didn't have to take.

  "My Mistress."

  Fire swept her, and she knew he saw it in her eyes, because his cock did that eager jerk again, his balls drawing up as she scraped her fangs along them. In their normal state, her fangs looked like sharpened canines, but for feeding they gained a quarter inch, giving her a deeper penetration. His eyes widened as she lifted her head and he saw them.

  "Again." She realized her voice sounded like a growl, and his breath rasped in his throat.

  "My Mistress. Mine. Please...fuck me. Let me give you the ride of your fucking life."

  Her cowboy, being possessive. It twisted him even deeper into her heart. She slid up his body, dragging her breasts over his cock, cupping them around his shaft, using his pre-cum to lubricate the movement. He thrust in instinctive reaction and she chuckled.

  "No movement unless I say," she chided. She made him keep his ass glued to the bed as she worked his cock between her breasts, fingering her nipples as he watched with glazed fascination. His whole body was one quivering cord of male power, waiting to be unleashed.

  Rising onto her knees, she took hold of his cock. He was right about the differences in their sizes. Her fingers barely wrapped around his base, and when she straddled him, she felt the pleasurable strain as she spread her thighs over him. He was a big man and she loved that about him. A big, rough man who worked with his hands, whose ambition was a successful ranch and the ability to enjoy quiet, open spaces. His idea of a romantic night would be lying in his truck bed, staring up at a star-filled sky, sharing a six-pack and talking until dawn came. She couldn't imagine anything mo
re simply perfect than that. Even if she couldn't stay until the rising of the sun. Even if she could never be the woman in that truck with him, planning a life of babies and what to make for dinner.

  Selene, shut up and fuck him.

  She lowered herself onto him, letting pure lust-filled bliss take over as that meaty cock stretched and filled her.

  "I want to touch you." He sounded as fierce as she had a moment before, that same growl in his voice.

  "No," she said, soft as a whispered breeze, her eyes locking with his. It was part of the pleasure, seeing a man obey, not from barked orders or because his hands were tied, but because he hungered for the restraint of his Mistress' will. "Stay still."

  She rose and fell while he shuddered beneath her, grunts escaping his lips at the effort it took. For her part, she thoroughly enjoyed every solid inch of him, every reaction on his face. He was clenching the headboard rails so hard, they would bite into his hands, leave lasting imprints.

  "This is how you're going to come," she said. "You'll wait until I come, and then I'll keep moving on you until you climax. But you don't get to thrust until you start to come. Tell me you understand. Tell me in the way you know I want to hear."

  "Yes, Mistress. Fuck..."

  "Don't close your eyes," she said, pinching his nipple sharp enough that his gaze sprang open as he flinched. "You watch me."

  Rise and fall. Up and down. The friction of his corona on her opening, the hard stroke of impact against her clit as her movements became fiercer, built the climax in her like a storm. Seeing a reflection of it gather in his eyes, in his body, just egged it on. When she went over, she cried out her pleasure, but she still heard his raw voice.

  "Yeah...that's it, baby. Come for me. Come...you're fucking...beautiful...Mistress. My Mistress."

  He kept saying that. As she savored her aftershocks, she sensed his climax, his face getting that tight look, the eyes starting to glaze over.

  "Now, Quinn. Go over for me. You can thrust."

  His hips bucked up, thrusting his cock so deep into her it hit her cervix, not necessarily a pleasurable thing for most women, but for vampires there was a translation point from pain to pleasure that made them understand sadism in a way most humans never could. Except for a vampire's full human servant. Servants learned the way of it...if they were meant for that life.

  That thought, which she should banish far, far away, was obliterated by her cowboy, whose animal nature had taken over. He interpreted "Go over" in his own way, releasing the headboard and seizing her hips to flip them, so he was between her legs and plowing her like a field of moist earth. He came, his breath hot against her ear, his ass flexing under the lock of her legs. As she raked his back with her nails, she relished his guttural noises. She flipped them again, seeing the surprise in his gaze when she did it so easily, shoving him back down with a hand locked around his throat. She worked herself on him, squeezing and circling her hips, grinding down on him, milking the last bit of climax out of him as he held on to her hips with bruising fingers.

  When she at last slowed down, she knew she'd acquired the last drop. That surfeit slid down her vaginal walls, where it would make a lovely, heated, sticky pool between cock and cunt. Even as she loosened her grip, she knew she wanted to feed on him again, which concerned her, because she wanted to feed on him. Didn't need to do so. She shouldn't need to feed again for another day or so and when she did, she needed to take it from elsewhere. Food was always easy for a vampire bartender. One of those last call customers could be asked to stay a little longer to help the cute little barkeep move a couple heavy boxes. The next day, he'd have a pleasantly hazy hangover, where details were missing, such as the quick pint she'd taken from his throat.

  The idea had no appeal to her at all, not with Quinn right here. So available, and learning to respond to her in so many irresistible ways.

  Which was exactly why she needed to resist.

  She slid off him, picked up her clothes. Coiling up the whip, she tossed it on the bed next to him. "You're right. You give a mighty nice ride, cowboy. Now it's time for this girl to get some sleep."

  She saw the what the fuck look at her transition, knew she'd been too abrupt. But he wanted to stay with her, she could see it. That was the danger of Quinn Pedraza. A whole bar full of men wanting one-night stands, and the one who'd caught her eye was the forty-two-year-old with deep brown eyes, a heart of gold and a need for love and family. She was self-aware enough to know that was part of what appealed to her. Maybe she had become far more of a vampire than she realized, that she couldn't bring herself to care enough to stop this. But at least she could avoid the things that encouraged the wrong kind of intimacy. Like sleepovers.

  "Did you see the reports I left you?" she said casually. "Everything look good on those?"

  He blinked, sitting up, putting his feet on the floor. "Yeah," he said at last. "Yeah, looked good."

  "Good." She was dressed now. "That's separate from this. All professional. This is your place, so if you have any concerns, you talk to me about them. Don't hold back."

  He stood, stripped the chaps as if wearing them now and nothing else made him uncomfortable. His gaze was studying her, measuring. Caught between confusion and calculation of her intent. He was a smart man. He'd understand the boundaries she was setting. She just didn't know if he'd pay attention to them. Because he had that side to him as well, the alpha male she found far too irresistible.

  She moved to the doorway, looking back over her shoulder as he pulled on the jeans, threaded his arms into his shirt, shrugged it on, leaving it unbuttoned. He hadn't yet buttoned the jeans, and all of it made her ache. No. No more candy tonight. It will spoil your dinner.

  "Remember what I said, Quinn. You want to come before you see me again, you call me. That's an order. I can make that single tail hurt a lot worse." She gave him a deliberate look, lingering on his cock. "As much as that thought might turn you on, I can promise you there's a difference between punishment for disobeying your Mistress and punishment for pleasure."

  The look in his eyes, an echo of the way he'd reacted to the lash, begging her for more with every twitch of body language, told her she was in trouble. Because he'd crave it either way, for pleasure or punishment. As a result, she had no idea if he would obey her...or not.

  She turned and left him.

  *

  She hadn't said anything about when they'd get together again. Tomorrow night, every night, only when he was available...

  It had been a couple days since he'd seen her, because he had some major issues at the ranch that kept him working well past dark. Much as his cock railed against him, he was just too worn out to go to After Hours when the day was done. Maybe that was good. The way she'd drawn back from him had left him a little ticked. Well, fine. He could prove he could control his urges just as much. He'd seen enough to know the bar was in good hands, and if she did a one-eighty on him, it'd get back to him, because at least one or more of his hands went there every day or two.

  By asking them the right questions and during his trips to town, he'd learned a couple more interesting facts about her. None of the merchants who had only daylight hours had met her. Selene had sent Maria to the hardware store for a bucket of paint and brushes. She'd also sent the girl to the handicrafts store to get hand-woven rugs and the little accessories boutique to find hand towels and some other things. All of it no doubt to spruce up the apartment.

  So far, she was sticking to the whole vampire lore pretty good. She might be nuts, but if she was, he was apparently a rabid squirrel. He hadn't thrown her out, even knowing such blatant signs of a mental disorder couldn't bode well for the long-term future of his bar. No matter how much of an improvement she was over Artie. But what had she said? Something in you already knows the truth and is okay with it.

  Yeah, he was tired as hell from the ranch work and determined to show her he had a life beyond sniffing after her, but he wasn't too chickenshit to accept it was more tha
n that keeping him away. He'd gone back to After Dark that very second day to put things under his control again and essentially got his ass handed to him. Marked with some stripes and dings that he twisted around like a snake to stare at in the mirror the next day. He needed a few days for a reality check.

  Unfortunately, his dick decided two was the max he was going to get, no matter how exhausted he was.

  He woke up that morning, caught up in another of those near wet dreams about her, his cock throbbing and his hand already on it, muscle memory kicking in because his brain assumed Quinn was on board with keeping his dick calmed down in the usual way. Then he remembered what she'd said. Hell no, he wasn't calling her to ask her to jerk off. What kind of man did that?

  But God, when he'd turned around after he submitted to that single tail, the way she'd looked...it was as if he'd given her the best gift any woman could ever get, way beyond diamonds, chocolates...anything. Would it be like that to her, him asking if he could come for her?

  He wasn't sure if that was why he reached for his phone. He wanted to be fucked, yes, but he'd had plenty of that in his life. Copious amounts of fucking, more than most men ever did. He wanted to hear her voice, see how she was doing. She stimulated him in a lot of ways, fascinated him. He missed her.

  The phone rang. It was about four a.m., still dark, and he was giving up a precious extra hour of sleep he needed, but he needed her more.

  "Quinn." Her voice was a bit slurred. He was a bastard. She'd put in a full day, had probably only gotten to bed several hours ago, whereas he'd had the benefit of hitting the hay about ten.

  "Hey. I didn't mean to wake you. Or catch you before you go to bed."

  "Are you hard, Quinn?"

  Wow. She didn't believe in preliminaries, and there was no derision to her tone, as if irritated that he'd called just for that purpose. But he didn't want her thinking that, regardless. "Yeah. But that's not why--"

  "I don't care why else you called. I want to hear you come for me. Wrap your hand around your cock and turn on your side."

  His brow furrowed. He was tempted to resist. Then he bit back the other words and complied.

  "Are you wearing anything?"