All Hallows Heartbreaker (7 page)

Blood rushed from his extremities to his cock in an instant. And he waited, not sure if she’d simply kissed him in her sleep.

Then her hand slipped between their bodies and wrapped around him.

“Thank God, you’re awake.” Relieved she was the one taking advantage of his weakened resolve, Dylan glided a hand over her back, down to her buttocks and cupped a cheek. He slipped a finger into the crease between her buttocks and fingered the rose guarding her rear entrance.

Her gasp betrayed yet another point of innocence. He rubbed harder.

Her hands rose to his chest and she pushed away to look into his face. “Should you do…that?” she asked.

“Do you like it?” He dipped the tip of one finger past the tightly furled mouth.

Her eyes closed and her mouth formed an “O”. It pleased him when her legs quivered around his hips.

“Shall I stop?” he asked, fully aware she was too far gone to permit him to stop.

Her reply didn’t disappoint. She flung back her head, arching her hips, and pushed her ass against his hand to deepen the penetration.

He placed his other hand on her ripening breast and squeezed.

“Oooh,” she groaned. Her hips lifted ever so slightly, pressing against the head of his cock, until it slipped inside her vagina. She ground down until she was fully seated—her soft bush grinding lightly against the base of his cock. In the darkness, her face strained, and her mouth opened wide around a gasp.

He reached for another pillow and placed it behind his head. The better to watch Emmy slowly fall apart. He’d help her lose her way.

Leaning forward, he sucked her breast deep into the cavern of his mouth and rubbed his tongue on the hard tip.

Emmy’s hips flexed once, and she whimpered. She adjusted, straddling his hips, her knees fitted tightly to his torso. Then she levered herself up and down on his cock.

Dylan switched to the other breast, and her hand closed around the one he’d left. Still, she pumped up and down.

His finger swirled inside her ass, poking deeper and pulling out, and then pushed back inside.

Her hands sought his shoulders and she leaned forward, moving faster, shallow bounces jiggling her breasts and belly.

Dylan felt the first ripple along her inner walls, caressing him, pulling him deeper. Her hips slowed and rotated, as she pressed her clit against the base of his cock.

With spit on the tip of his finger he slid his hand between them and rubbed the slippery nubbin.

Her movements grew jerky before stopping altogether. “Please,” she said. “Take over. I can’t move.”

Before she could blink, he rolled her to her back and hooked his arms beneath her knees, pressing them up and outward, spreading her wide. He planted his hands on either side of her and pumped his hips, cramming his cock as deep as he could get, then pulling out with a circling motion of his hips, before driving straight back inside.

Emmy’s head thrashed on the pillow. Her moans strangled behind gritted teeth.

Dylan leaned down to kiss her and her eyes flew open. She returned the kiss, enthusiasm making her kiss wet and sloppy.

He laughed and lowered his head again to lap at her lips. When he withdrew, her hands gripped his hair to pull him back. This time her mouth sealed over his, and her tongue stabbed inside his mouth.

Now muted by their joined mouths, moans sounded from deep inside her throat and came with each panted breath.

He ended the kiss and leaned back. “Scream for me, Emmy.”

Chapter Seven

At his urging, Emmy couldn’t hold back another second. “Come with me,” she said.

He shook his head and continued the deep thrusts that pounded against the gate of her womb. Buried to the hilt, he ground his pubic hair against her clitoris until she was so sensitive to the scrape, she thought she might come out of her skin.

But she wanted him with her. This one last time, she needed the whole enchilada. “Baby, bite me.”

He stopped. His arms grew rigid and his nostrils flared. “Don’t move,” he said, his voice holding a tone of desperation.

“I want you, Dylan. All of you.”

“Ballocks! Emmy, do you even know what you’re asking?”

“For you to trust me to be strong?” She lifted her hands to his cheeks. “Do you think I haven’t seen your other face?”

Dylan’s eyes closed. “Then watch.” His eyes opened—not the dark orbs she knew were green—but glowing golden circles that reflected the waning moonlight, like an animal’s.
The better to see me
.

His cheekbones lifted, popping and cracking as his face reassembled into the monster mask, his skin stretched tight around it.

His lips curved above teeth that slid over his human set, long and razor sharp, the longest at the four corners of his smile.
The better to eat me
.

The most miraculous part of the transformation were the muscles that grew rigid and strained beneath his skin, stretching him outward, turning the arms that held her knees to stone. And his cock was one of those muscles, pushing deeper without a flex of his hips.
The better to fuck me
.

A low growl rattled in his throat, and Emmy doubted for a moment that she was really ready for this. His tongue, longer, rougher, swiped her throat. It numbed her skin. She relaxed. He’d considered her comfort—there was still part of the man inside the monster.

His teeth sank slowly into her neck, burning at first, then he drew, sucking her blood, and pure sensual heat spread from her neck, tightening her breasts and belly.

His hard body pushed inside her, pulled out, and pushed again. His thrusts were so powerful her buttocks left the bed with each stroke. Still he kept a steady rhythm that soon had her wishing for him to move faster, harder, rougher. And she told him so.

He growled in response—the Big Bad Wolf buried between her legs, and she reveled in the power to make him lose control and be the beast for her.

That she could inspire the beast in any man was a revelation.

Her hands sought his long hair, and she pulled, knowing the ache intensified the thrill. His cock stretched her, cramming inside her, hurting—wonderfully.

Then the low rumble in his throat grew louder, vibrating against her throat, and come shot into her, hot and messy.

“Dylan!” she screamed, her release rolling over her in scorching waves.

He released her legs, and she wound them around his waist, holding him tight while her pussy milked him. When the last contraction shook her, her hands fell to the pillow beside her head. She couldn’t move a muscle. His passion had devoured her.

* * * * *

Emmy woke to find herself draped over Dylan like a quilt, his breath lifting the hair next to her ear.

She raised her head. Gone was her beast. Dylan’s handsome face, slack with pleasant dreams, reflected the light of dawn creeping around the edge of the thick curtains.

She fitted her lips to his and kissed him, but he didn’t move. If not for his shallow breath, she would have worried. Vampires, it seemed, really did sleep like the dead.

Too bad. Smashed against his chest, her tits ached for a little play. A definite downside to vampire boyfriends.

With a sigh, Emmy got out of bed and turned to draw the covers over him. Slowly, of course. She was allowed one last peek. He’d never know how hard she fought the urge to crawl back beneath the covers. But she was realistic enough to know that this had been a one-night stand. The longer she lingered, the harder it would be for her to leave with any grace. Dylan wasn’t for the likes of her. He was gorgeous—she was ordinary.
And he’s a vampire.

She knew he’d object to her leaving because he was a gallant man and saw himself as her protector, but she had to face her problems on her own. If she stayed, she risked her heart.

Gathering her clothes, she dressed in the bathroom, and then called a taxi from the phone next to the light switch. She washed her teeth with a glob of toothpaste on her finger and did her best to smooth her bed-hair. She leaned into the bathroom mirror to check her neck. Miraculously, he hadn’t left a mark.

She wished she could have lingered to bathe in the large whirlpool tub. Navy tile, chrome fixtures, and green plants in front of an ice block exterior wall inspired long leisurely bubble baths.

She could easily picture the two of them making love among the bubbles.

“Get a grip.” Chiding herself for longing for something she could never have, Emmy left the bathroom and headed down the stairs to the front door.

Her hand was on the doorknob, ready to pull it open, when the patter of multiple feet skittered across the threshold outside. She peeked out one of the narrow windows flanking the front door.

Dogs pressed their noses to the glass. Big macho dogs with drooling jowls. One smashed his face to the glass and barked so loud it rattled the pane. She jumped and flattened her back to the door.

A honk sounded in the distance, and Emmy realized the taxi had arrived. “Shit!” At this rate she’d never make it to work.

“I see you met the pets,” a familiar laconic voice startled her. The blonde man—Dylan’s friend—sat in the shadows of the cavernous living room. And he was stirring. Must not be a vampire.

“Um,” she said, kicking herself for how witty that had
not
sounded. “Do you know what to do with them? Will they bite me if I go outside?”

“Little girl, they will ravage you.” Only the way he’d said “ravage” didn’t increase her fear of the dogs.

“Are you one, too?” she asked, ready to risk dismemberment outside. After all, she had only assumed Dylan and he were friends.

“One?” he asked, with a lift of one finely arched brow.

“A bloodsucker.” She rolled her eyes. “Of course you are. You’re all arrogant as hell.” Curiosity, spurred her to ask, “How is it that you’re awake? Dylan’s sleeping so soundly, I didn’t wake him when I left.”

White teeth and lips curved into a devilish grin. “Did you exhaust our Dylan?”

Emmy blushed, and then frowned at him to show her irritation at his lack of tact.

He shrugged. “I haven’t slept yet. When I do, I’ll fall into a deep, dreamless state, same as Dylan.”

He spoiled the bored dilettante act with a long yawn.

“Are you going to let me out of here?” she asked, sure her taxi would leave her.

The dogs moved from the porch to the gate by the distant sound of their barks.

Quentin walked toward her on bare feet. Taller than Dylan by an inch or two, he was too pretty for Emmy’s newly acquired taste. She wondered if her theory about their “proportions” would hold true, but didn’t dare drop her gaze down the sharp-eyed man’s body.

“You know,” he said, stopping in front of her, “you’d be better off far away from here.”

“Well, thanks for the advice, but I have a job,” she said, raising her chin to show she wasn’t the least bit intimidated. “And I like Seattle. You know, green, mossy, rain-every-fucking-day Seattle.”

His grin was gleeful. “A like-spirited girl. Does Dylan know you hate this place?”

“I don’t exactly hate it—it makes my hair frizz. And no, we never discussed it.” And they never would. She was leaving. If Damian here would cooperate a little.

He grimaced and hunched his shoulders to stretch first one side, then the other. “Damn, I shouldn’t have stayed so long in that chair.”

So vampires could have backaches. That cheered her.

“He wants you to stay here, you know. It’s safer.”

Emmy shrugged. “It doesn’t look like you guys can get around very well in the daytime. I think I’m pretty safe.”

He nodded. “All right, then. I’ll bring the dogs into the garage until you leave.”

“Thank you.”

His gaze bored into hers. “Just remember to be inside, behind a locked door tonight. Better yet, come back here before dusk.”

“Sure,” she said, knowing she’d never be back to let herself in for that kind of heartache.

“I mean it.” He touched her cheek. “Be somewhere safe when darkness falls.”

“I will,” she promised, her mouth dry.

He walked past her on bare feet and disappeared down a hallway. Soon, she heard the dogs whine excitedly and run toward the side of the house.

She let herself out of the front door, sorry she hadn’t had a chance to tell Dylan goodbye.

* * * * *

After returning home to change, Emmy was late for work. And the day only got worse.

Work dragged. The lack of sleep the night before left her muzzy-headed. Numbers blurred. She snapped at a co-worker. Her fingers hit the wrong keys. Errors inside errors appeared in much of what she entered all day.

Frustrated after reentering a long column of numbers, she decided to close down her computer and leave.

Worse than putting in a rotten day’s work, she’d been grumpy all day. Mad at herself for not having the courage to grab for the gusto. She’d gone back and forth, trying to decide whether she should risk her heart and go after her bad boy vampire, or save herself the heartache and run now.

Leaving her office in the back of the store, she walked through Ladies Garments, where a cloud of warring perfume made her head ache. In Housewares, a saleswoman who normally staffed the children’s section looked bored as she helped a customer choose a blender.

Emmy waited patiently. She’d been worried all day about Monica. She hadn’t shown up for her shift, and she hadn’t answered her calls. Ever an optimist, Emmy hoped Dylan was wrong about her friend.

The saleswoman finished with her customer and walked toward her. “Still haven’t heard a thing. Are you going over to her place to make sure everything’s okay?”

“I’m headed there now.”

Emmy drove the short distance to Monica’s apartment, noting with a healthy dose of worry that the sun was already slipping behind the horizon. Dylan had to be wrong about Monica. Even if Monica were a bloodsucker, she wouldn’t harm her best friend.

Emmy had to know for sure what had happened to her friend. For all she knew, Monica might be injured and in need of help. Emmy’s eyes could have been playing tricks on her the previous evening. Maybe Monica had played a joke, dressed in a vampire mask. It was something free-spirited Monica would do.

Besides, everything about last night seemed like a dream. Too frightening to believe. Perhaps, she’d been caught up in some sort of mass hysteria.

Hell, if weren’t for the pleasant ache between her legs, she might have convinced herself that Dylan had been a dream.

She let herself into the apartment with a spare key. Nothing looked out of place. Or at least nothing more than usual. Monica was a slob. “Monica?” she called out.

No response. She walked deeper into the apartment and headed down the hallway to the bedroom.

A part of Emmy was relieved to see Monica stretched across the bed, her hair in disarray, still wearing the same tank and jeans she’d worn the previous evening.

Remembering Dylan’s warning, Emmy picked up a red spiked heel from the floor and walked toward the bed. “Monica?”

Monica’s head lifted from the mattress. “Em? That you?” Her voice sounded raspy. But normal. A red line marked her face—an imprint from the wrinkled sheet. Monica’s gaze dropped to the shoe in Emmy’s hand. “Are you here to borrow my heels?”

That bit of normalcy eased Emmy’s apprehension. She stepped closer. “Are you all right? I was worried when you didn’t come to work today.”

Monica rubbed a hand across her face and murmured, “I should have called in. After you left, the Halloween party was hellacious. I didn’t get in until the wee hours.”