“Stop that,” she muttered. Even though her body didn’t respond to Jacob’s nearness with nearly uncontrollable lust as it did to Damien’s, Jacob was a man any red blooded woman would be hard pressed not to fantasize about. He wore his dark brown hair long enough to pull back into a leather tie and reveal the gold hoop he wore in his ear and his vivid green eyes with their long, dark lashes that she envied was more than enough to draw attention. Topping his good looks with a tall, leanly muscled body that sat his Harley with masculine grace, well, any sane woman would look twice and struggle not to drool.
Jacob chuckled at her red face, yanked her hair playfully and told her, “That’s all we had in the kitchen that I could fix quickly. Now that you’re here, you can stock it with whatever you want.”
Even though here was exactly where she wanted to be, especially here in Damien’s bed, she wished it had been because Damien wanted her here, not because she might be in danger of another attack. “Those…things who attacked Marie and me, they weren’t like you and the others.”
Jacob cocked his head at her, asking, “Didn’t Damien ever explain the difference between rogue vampires and the brethren, those of us who carry the mark on our palm who can withstand the transformation without eventually going insane?”
“Not until tonight.”
Reaching over to the drawer in the nightstand, Jacob withdrew a small, ancient book; the leather bound cover lined and soft from wear, its pages yellowed with age. “Here, read this. It’ll explain us and them.” Leaning forward, he placed a friendly kiss on her forehead before rising and picking up the tray. “If what Damien suspects is true, and the vampire who turned all of us is still alive, it’s more imperative now than ever for you and Damien to mate. She is Satan incarnate and extremely powerful due to her centuries of existence.”
“I can’t force him to want me.” Abby shivered in trepidation at his warning, but didn’t know what she could do about it.
“He already wants you; he wanted you before he knew you were his chosen mate. Maybe if you can get him to tell you why he refuses to act on his desires, you can win him over. Go to sleep now, Abby. You’ll be safe here, and you’ll be safe during the day anywhere.”
Damien returned home shortly before dawn. Keeping to the shadows, he had watched the paramedics bring Marie’s body out in a body bag, listened to the police speculating on who could possibly have done such a thing. Rumors would circulate over the next few days, hints of something sinister, something supernatural being responsible, but they would die down. At least, he hoped they would after no other similar attacks took place. The key was to make sure Marie’s death was treated as an isolated incident, some doped up fuck who liked to dabble in the occult being responsible.
Worry and fear for Abrielle was compounded by his grief for Marie, a woman he had cared deeply for. Rummaging through Abby’s drawers, he had been surprised to find a stash of barely there, sexy underwear, similar items he had seen Marie in countless times. But he had never experienced black, jealous rage picturing Marie with another man wearing her seductive lingerie. Even though she had been important to him, even though he enjoyed sex and friendship with her for over three decades, he hadn’t ever felt possessive of her, had never minded her profession that included sex on a regular basis with other men. Just the thought of Abby in the red satin boy shorts and matching bra had his cock straining for release and his palm throbbing, had him fighting against seeking out the young man she had fucked right before going to Marie’s house.
There was always a price to be paid when one pried into someone else’s mind. Damien had deliberately sought Abby’s recent memories in an effort to discover why she had been at Marie’s and what he saw hadn’t sat well with him. Those images, fleeting though they were, were seared into his brain and when he had found her drawer full of clothes that would drive any sane man mad with lust seeing her in them, he had to physically reign in his temper, force himself not to go into a rampage against the man who was only doing what any red blooded male would do if given the opportunity. And he couldn’t blame Abby. Knowing he was solely responsible for turning her away, pushing her to seek someone else, did nothing to ease his regret or his anger.
Damien was glad he didn’t encounter anyone else as he moved slowly up the stairs, taking his time as he got his runaway emotions under control. He hoped Abby was still sleeping, but as he neared his room, a soft, terrified cry that sounded loud to his acute hearing had him moving in a blur of speed to her side.
Caught in the throes of a nightmare, Abby had flung off the covers, one of his shirts having ridden up to reveal her small waist and the underside of her full breasts, a scrap of white lace barely covering her pussy, her legs thrashing as if she was fighting to free herself from something or someone.
“No!” she cried out, her voice laced with terror.
“Abby!” he called to her sharply, his hands holding her shoulders as he tried to wake her. “Come on, baby, wake up. It’s just a dream.”
Abby fought her way out of the nightmare towards the voice and body that had set the mark on her breast to throbbing with erotic intensity. Struggling to wake up, to shove aside the terrifying images of crazed, blood sucking creatures feasting on her body as she cried out for Damien to help her, she reached for the safety and comfort she knew that voice and that body would give her.
“Damien,” she whimpered as the nightmare images refused to let her wake completely, the fear that she was just dreaming he was here with her keeping her from rousing fully.
“Yes, it’s me, Abrielle. Come on now, wake up. Nothing can hurt you here.”
She shifted against his hands again, her legs still moving restlessly. Damien reached down intending to stroke her leg, but his hand met the soft, bare flesh of her fully exposed breast first. Moaning, Abby arched up into his palm, her nipple stabbing his birthmark, sending lightning bolts of hot pleasure straight to his cock. Unable to help himself, desperate to end the fear of her nightmare, he kneaded her breast, relishing the feel of her soft fullness filling his hand.
“Yes,” Abrielle groaned, her nightmare quickly taking a backseat to the pleasure coursing through her, running like hot lava through her veins. Now fearing waking and finding this wasn’t real more than she had feared her nightmare, she kept her eyes tightly shut as she begged hoarsely, “More, please, God, Damien, don’t stop, I beg you.”
Damien knew it would be like this, knew he wouldn’t be able to resist either her pleas or her need if he touched her. Unable to turn away from her, refusing to add to the trauma of her night by rejecting her, he bent over her and replaced his hand with his mouth, wrapping his lips around her turgid nipple while covering her pussy with his hand. Her panties were damp, that bit of telltale moisture coating his palm and making it burn with a fire only she could put out.
Determined to replace her nightmare with pleasure, he fought to keep himself in check and put her needs first. “I won’t stop, bebe, I’ll make you feel so g
ood you’ll forget all about that boy you were with earlier.”
Abby jerked at his words, almost opening her eyes in accusation at hearing he had pried into her mind. But then he slid his fingers in her panties and slowly pulled them down, the cool air followed swiftly by his hot hand replacing the scrap of lace diverted her thoughts into a much more pleasurable direction.
It was Damien’s turn to moan and struggle against a nightmare of his own making when he sank two fingers into her tight, wet sheath, the feel of her slick walls clamping around him almost more than he could bear. Switching to her other nipple, he lightly bit that tender bud as he slowly finger fucked her pussy, taking his time to search out every inch of her soft walls, going deep then pulling back and staying shallow enough to include a light rasp over her hard little clit.
“You’re so fucking tight, Abby, I swear you’re cutting off my circulation,” he mumbled against her nipple before shifting his mouth to the side and stroking his tongue over the red, crescent shaped mark that he knew was pulsing with a beat that matched the one in his palm.
She exploded under him with a startled cry, her pussy clutching spasmodically around his fingers, her breasts jiggling with her exertions as she coated him with her come. Not ready to give her up yet to reality, Damien moved down her waist, nipping the soft, tender skin before settling her legs over his shoulders and burying his face in the seepage pouring from her pussy. Lapping up her come, he thought nothing could taste as good except her blood. Quickly slamming a lid on that thought, he struggled to concentrate on giving her more pleasure instead of contemplating that which could never be.
Using his thumbs, he spread her puffy labia and took a moment to savor the pink recesses of her vagina, the swollen lips, the red, puffy clit ready for another burst of pleasure. Slowly, he licked up her core, curling his tongue, scooping up her moisture as he went, smiling when she pushed against his face and her hands fisted in his hair. “Easy, Abby. I’ll give you what you want soon.”
“Now Damien,” she practically demanded as her body bucked against his mouth with the next slow sweep of his tongue, the glide over her clit way too short and light to do anything but ratchet up her need. Unable to resist, she finally opened her eyes as her hands cupped her breasts and her gaze looked down at his dark head buried between her legs. It seemed like forever that she had been pining for him in her bed, and had she known the powerful orgasms he would unleash in her, she would have pursued him much more diligently.
She bit back another moan when he added his fingers to his tongue and with her fingers pulling at her nipples; the dual stimulation was almost overwhelming. Her body broke out in a sweat, her nipples were so stiff they hurt and her pussy felt so swollen, so wet, she thought she’d die if she didn’t climax soon. Just when she thought she couldn’t take another slow, tortuous stroke of his tongue and fingers, he latched on to her clit with deep suction, pulling that small bud past his lips so his teeth could nip at it. The bite of erotic pain on such a sensitive piece of flesh sent her careening out of control. Wave followed wave of indescribable pleasure through which she dimly heard screaming and vaguely recognized it as her own.