“Wait,” she said with more enthusiasm than his surprised look showed he was comfortable with. “Come here and let me help you with that.”
She sat up as he approached. Gliding her palm down his chest, she reveled in the warmth of his skin and muscles. Hadn’t she always thought vampires were supposed to be cold, dead creatures? Certainly she had not grown colder over the past half year. And being proven wrong once again was all right with her. Her fingers skimmed over Dante’s abdomen, a six-pack of ridiculously hard muscle. Each ridge tensed at her touch, begging her to move slowly, enjoy the sensation.
And then she moved her fingers downward and cupped over his briefs, drawing a hiss of pleasure from him. A squeeze to the form beneath her palm tested its hardness and heat. As he grew more erect, his penis bulged out the waistline of his briefs, and Kyler was able to slide a hand inside. She slid her other hand down the back of his briefs, easing them slowly over his buttocks. The weight of his steely erection in her hand made her feel powerful. Sexy. Wanton.
She giggled and then, before he could protest, tilted up her head to meet his mouth with a kiss. Hard and demanding and needy. As she worked her hand up and down over his erection, summoning him, coaxing him, she fed her own needs by dancing her tongue against his.
Every part of her being hummed. Her core spun in an apprehensive, wanting coil of soon-to-come fireworks and just-hold-off-a-bit warning. So she pressed her thighs together, staying the orgasm that already cried out for release.
Dante crawled over her and onto the bed, and she followed his direction, lying back, yet not releasing his hard, tight cock. She needed to feel him inside her. With that delicious thought, the curiosity to also feel his fangs inside her emerged.
“Show me your fangs,” she whispered.
“You’re not ready for that, Kitten.” A flash of lightning sparkled around the room brightly and blinked out, darkening Dante’s gaze above her. “Let’s do this slowly, shall we?”
And as a whimper of protest teased at the edge of her tongue, Kyler surrendered to his command. How could she not? His fingers slipped between her thighs, and as she noticed the first touch of his index finger to her clitoris, she was surprised by the overwhelming release of orgasm that rushed up in a gasping cry of joy. Her body shivered and shook beneath his.
And she forgot about the bite.
“You come like the lightning,” he said against her ear. “And you smell like rain and prosecco. I will always remember you this way.”
With the thought that this was the beginning to the end of what had been a very daring encounter on her part, Kyler pulled his hips to her and directed his cock inside her. He filled her, hot and hard and thrusting.
She’d known this night would be a hookup. In the morning, she’d walk away and never see him again. And she was fine with that.
But not really.
* * *
Kittens and cream, Dante thought as Kyler’s moist warmth clasped tightly about his cock. He thrust inside her as she orgasmed, and her rhythmic, squeezing pressure lured him toward his own swift climax. Two strangers came together in an irresistible crush of skin, sighs and sexual fire. He couldn’t argue the results.
Shouting out as the tremendous orgasm shook through his system, he bowed his head to Kyler’s breast and kissed the firm, hot flesh. His fangs descended without his volition. Damn. As quickly, he willed them back up. He was less ready for the fang reveal than she seemed to be. And it wasn’t necessary. He wasn’t hungry for anything other than more of Kyler’s exquisite body undulating and moaning beneath him.
He’d fucked bold women, many a time. Kyler wasn’t as bold as she thought. Some parts of her skipped along for the good time while he suspected another part of her hadn’t expected such an encounter. She hid her nervousness well, though. And right now, she completely surrendered to the moment.
So lush, lying beneath him as though she were a goddess demanding worship. And worship her he would.
Pulling out from her, he glided down her body, trailing his tongue from one breast to the other and then taking the time to study the full curve on the underside of each breast. At her belly, he tickled a circle around her navel, then moved quickly south to taste her sticky sweetness.
Her fingers skimmed over his scalp and down his neck, nails digging in when they reached his shoulder. Yes, just a little deeper—he tongued her as deeply as he desired to feel her nails in his skin. Kyler moaned and then the exquisite pain was gone as she grasped the bedsheets.
“Yes,” she whispered in a purr.
Again Dante’s fangs ached to descend, but he cautioned them to stay put. He wouldn’t bite her. Not yet. He didn’t even know this woman, and if all went well, come morning he would never see her again.
A bite would only complicate things.
* * *
Kyler slid out from the rumpled white sheets and glanced over at the man stretched across the bed like a fallen angel. Dante D’Arcangelo? Oh, yes, indeed. He was some kind of dark angel. And an amazing lover. Whew! She’d made a good choice in taking him home with her. Or rather, she was at his palazzo.
But she mustn’t get lost in the feel-good vibrations. She’d gotten what she wanted: a night of celebratory sex with a handsome lover. A new day glimmered on the shiny rooftops across the canal. And she knew better than to believe she actually meant more to him than a hookup.
While he slept, she had to get out of Dodge. Gathering up her clothes from the floor, she headed toward the en suite bathroom. The sun shone on the canal beyond the sheer white curtains. It was still quite dark, but thanks to a skylight, she didn’t bother to turn on the light to check her makeup in the mirror. That was one thing she missed about being human—her reflection. And while she’d never been a Narcissus, mirrors did come in handy when applying eyeliner.
After running water in the sink until it was warm, she splashed her face and found a hand towel in the linen closet. She wanted to look around, to satisfy her curiosity about the dark angel who was really a vampire, but there wasn’t time. And she’d left her backpack down in the foyer, not wanting to seem overly concerned about it last night and prompt him to ask unanswerable questions.
Pulling up her black leggings and then the long-sleeved turtleneck, she again lamented her wardrobe choice.
“You do look like a cat burglar,” she whispered. “Who do you think you are fooling?”
Apparently, one very sexy French-Italian vampire.
Carefully pulling open the door, she peered across the whitewashed hardwood floor over to the bed...
“Where is he?”
The bed was empty. And her flat, rubber-soled shoes designed for sneaking into locked buildings and up along windowsills sat at the foot of the bed. Had he gone looking for her? No, he must have heard her in the bathroom. Probably he’d headed down to—well, vampires didn’t do breakfast. They didn’t need to eat food.
Drinking blood was the only sustenance a vampire required for survival. Something she’d learned to relish after initially balking at the strong, meaty flavor. Quickly she’d learned to treat the taste like wine. So many
