Cleopatra's Return: A Paranormal/Vampire Romance (5 page)

Th
e chuckle against her skin tickled, and she shivered at the sensation. “What can I do to make you trust me? Swear in blood? Vow not to touch you for a year and a day? Kill all your enemies? Tell me what I must to, and I shall give it to you. I’ve waited an eternity to meet you. I can wait longer if you require time to prove the truth of my words.”

Cleo wasn’t sure if it was some new superpower of her own that made her hear the truth in his words, or if it was wishful thinking
—and a horny pussy. Whatever the case, she actually believed him. That and she couldn’t imagine waiting. She wanted Michael—naked and fucking her
now
. Did it mean she believed him when he spouted off about them remaining together as friends and lovers forever? No. She wasn’t even sure if she’d stay a day. But those decisions could happen in the morning after she’d eased her lust—several times.

To give him an answer, she sl
id her arms around his neck. “Screw waiting. I never was the patient sort,” she replied huskily.

He lowered his head and brushed his lips across hers.
A feathery touch. It was enough to make her blood sing. Back and forth, his mouth slid sinuously across hers, teasing her with the lightest of touches.

Frustrated at his slowness, she caught his lower lip with her teeth and sucked it. His arms tightened
around her, pressing her against his hard length—and she meant
hard.
No denying he found her attractive. How she wanted to wrap herself around him—naked.

She slid her hands down to where his shirt was tucked into his slacks. She tugged it in a silent hint, b
ut instead of stripping and giving her the skin-to-skin contact she craved, he pulled away from her.

Why is he stopping?
Her face must have expressed the question she didn’t voice aloud because he said, “Never fear, my little queen. We’ll continue the pleasure in a moment. First, you need to eat.”

Yeah, a nice fat sausage.
Sexual jokes aside, she was famished, something she’d forgotten when he touched her.

A perfect host, h
e apparently hadn’t, and while she’d found herself absorbed by his teasing kiss, a tray had been set on the low table before the fire.
I wonder how his butler enjoyed the show.

Pulling away from her,
Michael folded his long legs and sat down on the rug. He tugged her down to join him, but when she would have sat beside him, he manhandled her to sit on his lap.

Even with his
cock poking at her bottom, Cleo found herself comfortable,
as if I’ve come home.
A foolish fanciful thought, but one she allowed herself to enjoy for its novelty.

She surveyed the tray of food and its collection of finger foods from small steaming puff pastries to
sliced fresh fruit with whipped cream for dipping. Before she could select something to eat, Michael leaned forward and snagged something.

“Open your mouth.”

“I can feed—” She didn’t get a chance to finish her sentence because he popped the flaky morsel into her mouth. She could either chew or spit it out. Ladies hacking up food wasn’t attractive under any circumstances. She chewed and swallowed. But she wouldn’t allow his command of the situation to go unchallenged.

She turned sideways on his lap
and gave him a stern look. “I can feed myself.”

“Obviously. But my way is more pleasurable for both of us.
”

“
How do you figure—” To silence her, he pressed his lips against her.

Mmm. Okay, she could see how his method might prove fun.

The embrace didn’t last long, but he’d no sooner removed his lips than he pushed more food into her mouth. Cleo gave up trying to argue. Besides, she’d never had a man feed her before. Not to mention, Michael really seemed to enjoy it—and so did she.

After each delicious bite,
he kissed her with tingling, panty-wetting effect. So while one hunger became sated, another grew in its place. She would have stopped after a few bites and begged him to take her, but he seemed determined to ensure she was well fed.
Fattening me up for feeding later on?
Or truly intent on ensuring she was taken care of?

Ready for dessert, she snagged a piece of fruit and dipped it. She brought it to her mouth as he watched avidly.
The strawberry with whipped cream left a frothy swath on her upper lip. He leaned forward, and his tongue swiped across her mouth, removing it. “Yummy,” he said softly, pulling back once again.

Curious, she
said, “I thought vampires couldn’t eat real food.”

“We can
, but we get no nourishment from it. And our sense of taste is different than yours. For example, I don’t really get a sugary flavor from the cream.”

“Then why did you say yummy?”

“Because you taste good.”

He dipped his finger in the cream and smeared her lower lip before lapping it clean. She would have grabbed him and held him close, but she wasn’t about to beg
, even if she was close to screaming her frustration. Given the mirth dancing in his eyes, he knew it too. Stubborn and determined, she refused to say anything, as if she would give him that kind of power over her. He kept feeding her fruit with whipped cream, tasting her mouth after each bite.

Finally
, though, she could take no more. “I’m full,” she said.

“Not yet, but you will be,” he said with
a nudge of his hips that made his hard shaft bump against her backside.

Then h
e kissed her. Deeply. Masterfully. And this time he didn’t stop.

Caught in a maelstrom of desire,
Cleo clung to him, and they kissed, kissed until she panted against his lips. Her channel squeezed when he slipped his tongue into her mouth to slide across her own. Hot and aroused, they made out passionately on the rug in front of the fire.

T
hey might have kissed for hours had the sound of a clearing throat not interrupted them.

With obvious
reluctance, Michael pulled his lips from hers, but he kept a firm grip on her as he stood, drawing her upright with him. Cleo clung to him, her legs too wobbly to support her. The man packed quite a wallop in his kiss.

“Milord
,” said Chester as he stared at a point above their heads. “The lady’s room is ready, and a bath has been drawn for her.”

“Excellent. I think that will be all for the night
, Chester. Thank you.”

With a stiff bow, the manservant left the room
, and Cleo looked forward to resuming their kiss. Apparently Michael had other ideas—or he was trying to tell her something about her smell—because he swept her into his arms and carried her out of the room.

“I can walk,” she said
, although, truthfully, she enjoyed his manhandling of her.

“And I can fly. Your point would be?”

Cleo laughed. The vamp possessed a sarcastic humor she enjoyed, and she showed him how much by leaning over and licking his neck. His hold on her tightened, and with a blurring speed, she suddenly found herself in a room decorated in shades of gold.
How interesting. Given his haste, I’m going to wager he’s not as cool and collected as he’s pretending.

Set on her feet, she turned around and took in the sumptuous room from its thick golden carpet to its honey
-colored wooden furniture. She especially liked the king-sized bed with four posters covered in a brocade comforter threaded with varying golden colors from the glittering to the dull. It was like being in a treasure cavern with her as its crowning jewel.

“Does the room meet your expectations?” he asked.

“It will do,” she replied regally, but with a smile. “Did I hear something about a bath?” She punctuated her words by unbuttoning her pants and sliding them down over her hips, revealing her skimpy underpants. Her avid audience of one watched with glittering eyes, and again faster than she could see, he moved and stood behind her, his hands quickly divesting her of her clothing. Cool fingers skimmed her top over her head and unclasped her bra.

She shivered as the air in the room hit her feverish skin, pebbling her nipples and making her more aware than ever of the dampness in her cleft

A rustle of fabric sounded, and she whirled to see Michael nude, and oh what perfection. Like a Viking of old, he was big, broad, and built. His wide chest with ridged abs led down to a tapered waist, muscular thighs, and, jutting proudly like the prow of a dragon ship, a thick cock made for worshipping. It jerked when she licked her lips, and she smiled, a wicked little grin that made him growl her name. “Cleo.”

“What?” she asked
, faking innocence. With a wink, she sashayed into the bathroom, feeling his heated gaze as he watched her bare ass walking away. A stinging slap on her posterior as he zipped past her made her blink then grin.

Playfulness, anticipation
, and desire, it felt like an eternity since she’d last felt any of those emotions, and she realized now just how much she’d missed them.

Her
smiled widened when she entered the bathroom and saw Michael already seated in the tub, if you could call an eight-foot-square sunken basin overflowing with bubbles a tub. With a throaty laugh, she dashed to the edge and jumped in.

A man used to control, Michael couldn’t believe he almost came at the appreciation on Cleo’s face when she first beheld his nude body. As for his heart—which contrary to popular belief did beat—it stuttered when he saw the sheer delight and joy on her face when she beheld the tub and, like a mischievous child, jumped in with a gleeful laugh, splashing him.

Gone
was the imperial queen and cut-throat survivor. Under all the regal demeanor and sarcasm, laced with distrust, lurked a woman yearning for fun and warmth. Michael was utterly serious when he’d told her earlier he wanted her for more than just sex. A burgeoning feeling he’d thought to never feel again, affection for another person, blossomed.

Only
a few hours or so since they’d met, and yet already a bond grew between them. He didn’t fear it being one-sided. Having lived so long, he’d watched people, learned how to read them, and oftentimes, he understood them better than they knew themselves. While Michael grasped that most her actions and words were calculated for effect, others, like her enjoyment in the pool-sized tub and his presence, were genuine.

Caught up in her enthusiasm, he joined her in a water fight
, which involved splashing, dunking, and tickling, light-hearted play that left them breathless and panting. The fleeting slick touch of her body against his fed his ardor, and when he grew too eager to play any longer, he stopped the game simply by grabbing her slippery body and rubbing it against his.

Immediately, her eyes became hooded, her gaze languorous. With her wet hair slicked back, her skin moist, she looked like a sea nymph risen from the
ocean.

He bypassed her waiting lips to press his
mouth against the hollow of her throat. Her hands rose to clasp his head, not to push away but to hold him in place, her fingers threading through his damp hair. He felt her pulse fluttering against his mouth, not a fearful beat but more one of anticipation. Her blood, the sweet bouquet of it that he could almost taste in her kiss, beckoned him with a siren call.

What was she? From scent alone he couldn’t tell other than the fact
that she was neither demon nor human. She didn’t have the distinctive musk of the Lycans or the sharp brightness of the Fae. She lacked the salty brine of the seafolk and the mustiness of the dragons. She was unlike anyone he’d ever encountered. She was a temptation and a mystery he longed to solve.

Perhaps a sip of her blood would answer his questions. But why rush?
He resisted the allure in favor of another destination. He licked his way down the column of her neck, nuzzling his face between her breasts. The water in the bath impeded his progress. Being undead by human terms didn’t mean he could breathe underwater, although he couldn’t technically die of drowning. But the recovery period wasn’t pleasant.

Given his goal was submerged, h
e clasped her around the waist and swung her out of the suds to sit on the side of the tub. He stood between her legs, her moist core pulsing against his chest as he latched onto a pert nipple. His mouth tugged it. She hissed her pleasure, and her legs wrapped around his upper torso, pressing her sex harder against him. He cupped her breasts with his hands, kneading and playing with them as his mouth toyed with each bud in turn.

She was so responsive to his touch, and without his biting or beguiling her. While
Michael understood his exterior appearance was attractive, there was something about him that frightened human women, as if they sensed his otherness. It was one of the many reasons he no longer indulged in sexual play unless his need became overwhelming. To find someone who could match his passion and also feed him was a dream he’d given up on.

I must make this an experience she never forgets. And enjoys immensely.

So far his plan appeared to be working. He could almost measure her enthusiasm by how tightly she gripped his shoulders as he played with her breasts. In his excitement, his teeth nicked her skin, and he tasted her fleetingly before pulling himself away.
What in the world is she?
For even the tiny drop he’d tasted was the sweetest he’d ever had. And potent too.