Microsoft Word - Blood and Sex from CE.rtf (5 page)

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legs.

Oh, and he was probably well endowed. He had the confidence of a man who was hung like a horse.

Christiana’s clitoris throbbed harder at the image of him in her mind. She sat the loofah on the ledge again and leaned back against the shower’s wall. Her hand slipped down between her legs. The last thing she wanted to do was prove him right. She did want him, but this was the closest she was getting to sex. Without some kind of release, it would be a miserable day.

With her eyes closed, she let the image of him take over her mind. The Blane of her dreams slid his thick cock inside her slowly, taking his time, while Christiana’s real fingers slid between the folds of her skin. She dipped low enough to soak her fingers in her own moisture, then back up to her clit and let her imagination run free. Within seconds, she was biting her lip to hold back a moan while a small orgasm rippled through her.

That, as disappointing as it was, was as good as it was getting. She didn’t have the time or the luxury for more.

24

Blane woke in a mass of twisted white sheets and sweat with a hard-on that could easily cut glass. What the fuck was wrong with him? He never dreamed about having sex with anyone he actually knew. It was always about faceless women or celebrities, but not today. Today it had been about that female.

He groaned and climbed out of the bed, trying to ignore the throb. There was no way he was going to give in. Nope. There would be no jerking off to the fantasy of that woman. It would only make things worse when he actually saw her.

In the shower that was easier said than done, but he managed through the wonder of cold water and thinking about work. There were several new orders, difficult ones to fill like the request for blood from an albino. What the hell was Jeremy going to do with albino blood?

It didn’t really matter. His job was just to secure anything that was legal—and a few things that weren’t—for the other vampires within Michael’s territory. That’s what a black market boss did: run the black market. Not question the motives and morality of those orders.

Blane dressed quickly and went straight down to the weight room on the first floor, just as he did most every other night. He’d started working out to build his body, to look like the other guys, but it was an act performed more for his own mental health now. There was something cleansing in the straining of the physical body. Of course, it was all about brain chemicals, but knowing that didn’t change the fact that it worked.

He flipped on the light and closed the door, glad that no one else had decided to work out tonight. Within minutes, music pounded from the speakers along the walls, and he was on the bench doing arm curls.

25

He watched the muscle strain under the weight as he pulled his fist upward. This was the way an arm was supposed to look, at least on a man. His dad would have been proud to see him now.

Blane smirked. No, he wouldn’t have. He would never have allowed himself to show that much emotion. It was a weakness, he’d said. One that men couldn’t afford to show because
the
world is too hard for losers and pansies
.

Well, at least he had something right.

Life
was
hard, and harder when you joined up as one of the fanged mafia. Weakness only got you hurt—or someone else killed.

Something moved, drawing his attention upward. Christiana stood a few feet away, watching him, her arms folded tightly across her teal-colored sweater so her manicured fingers framed her round breasts. Beneath that, her dark skirt was short enough to show off how long her legs were, especially in the matching heels. He’d bet money that everything matched, including her bra and panties—if she were wearing any.

He smiled at the thought.

“Where is Elena tonight?”

The smile faded with her sharp words. Blane sat the weight on the floor. “I don’t know.

I’m not her keeper.”

She crossed the few feet to him. “Are you going to try to stop me the entire time I’m here?”

He stood, forcing her a little to keep their bodies from touching. “I’m not doing anything.”

“I am going to do my job, and you’re not going to stop me.”

26

“I haven’t done anything to you,
Princess
. So, don’t cop an attitude with me. If you don’t like it here, get your ass right back on that private jet and fly home where you belong.”

Her eyes widened, then narrowed slowly. Her jaw clenched, along with her fist.

It wasn’t a surprise when her fist came flying toward him, so he caught it easily. Blane laughed. “Puh-leez. My grandmother was faster than you.”

Christiana let out a furious scream. “You’re so damned frustrating!”

“You’re no picnic either.” Blane’s hand flexed around her wrist. “But I’m assigned to you. Just try not to be such a bitch for a few days, and we’ll never have to see each other again.”

“This is ludicrous. I don’t need your protection. I can protect myself just fine.”

“Really?” He eyed her up and down just to illustrate his point. “’Cause you look a little weak to me.”

She huffed. “I could take you.”

Blane barked out a laugh. “Give me a fucking break.”

“Try it.”

His eyes widened. “We’ll tear this room apart.”

She smacked him hard on the cheek with his other hand.

Blane’s eyes widened. Shock radiated from him. Had she actually just managed to slap him? And hard?

His jaw tightened. A growl rolled out of his lips before he could stop it. “Don’t touch me again.”

She slapped him once more, and actually fucking smiled.

He pounced at her so hard that the weights rattled on the rack behind them, then smirked.

She wasn’t fast enough.

27

Blane grabbed her shoulders and went for the neck, but he wasn’t braced against anything. Being on top, his weight was his only advantage.

Christiana tossed him onto his side and twisted out of his grip before he could make contact or even realize she was moving.

Damn, she was fast.

As he turned for another attack, she pushed off the floor in a fast pounce of her own. He landed flat on the mat beneath them. Blane grabbed her back, but it was too late. The points of her teeth pressed against his neck.

“Fuck.” He tried to wiggle away and pull her off him, but her nails dug into his shoulders.

“Do you give up?” Her words were muffled against his skin.

“No.” He growled. “You got lucky.”

“I’ve won.”

“No. You haven’t.”

Christiana let out a yelp as Blane heaved forward and slammed her down onto the matt.

Her chest burned as the air smashed out of her lungs. Her spine cracked. Still, she managed not to break her hold even as his body smashed into her—hip to hip—grinding his erection against her.

She lost her grip and sucked in enough air to tell him to get off, but with the air came the taste of his skin, the scent of his cologne and the salty sweetness of the blood where she’d nicked him.

The anger around them turned slowly to a mix of pleasure and lust that was radiating from him.

She swallowed back her own arousal and laughed. “Do you like being topped, or just the

28

fight?”

Blane’s back straightened, then he pulled away, climbing onto the bench behind him. His embarrassment filled the space between them with a bitter air that made her immediately sorry for having said it.

He didn’t look at her when he said, “Don’t flatter yourself, Princess.”

She pulled herself into a sitting position and straightened her clothes, but didn’t hide the smile that stretched across her lips. She’d gotten the feeling he was interested her, but she’d chalked it up to stupid male fantasies. Then, she’d ignored his lust at the club and his possessiveness after seeing that blonde prowling around. Now, there was no denying his attraction to her.

Even if it was nothing more than a simple chemical reaction.

Christiana licked the blood off her bottom lip and saw his eyes cut to her. Another bout of lust washed through him. Blood crusted on the side of his neck in two small dots. She’d marked him, and he’d liked it a lot more than he was willing to admit. Perhaps Blane would be more interesting than she’d given him credit for, because this was too much fun.

The door opened behind her. When she turned, Jonas and his mate walked through the door. Elena was lovely in a Goth sort of way, matching Jonas’s new look. The change had sharpened her features, and they were a beguiling pair.

Jonas’s eyes went from her to Blane, then back. A wicked grin spread across his lips, and a groan came from Blane’s direction. He didn’t comment, only walked over and offered his hand to Christiana. “I’m sorry we had to leave last night.”

“No apology necessary.” She let him pull her to her feet. “I enjoyed being at the club.”

Blane made a
hmph
sound behind her, echoing the amusement she felt coming from him.