My Reluctant Warden (10 page)

Did I?

God, yes.

“Please,” I said, and the word was barely out of my mouth before he was already standing. His arms settled around my back and legs, and my feet never even touched the floor as he carried me out of the sun room and down to his bedroom.

I curled my arms around his shoulders and couldn’t help but draw in closer and kiss his neck, jaw, cheek, even his lips. Every few seconds, on the way down, he stopped and captured my mouth, kissing me deeply before taking a few more stumbling steps. It’s a miracle we didn’t end up sprawled on the floor.

Finally we reached his room. He pushed the door open, carried me right in like a not-at-all-blushing bride, and kicked the door closed again. It was the first time I’d been in here, but somehow the decor, so different from the rest of the house, did not surprise me. I couldn’t put it into words, really, but the clean, simple lines suited Morgan.

Regardless, I wasn’t there to analyze his style choices.

I pushed away from him just enough that he understood I wanted to be let down. He released me but held on as I wobbled a little. I started to reach for him and the buttons and zipper that hid him from me, but he stopped me with a few words.

“Wait. May I undress you?”

I nodded yes.

How could I have said no?

Wait. I don’t mean I couldn’t say no. I wasn’t under compulsion or anything. I just didn’t
want
to say no. I wanted this as much as he did—and judging from the fumbling of his fingers as they sought the zipper at the back of my dress and the way his eyes darkened a little more, he wanted it a lot. He tugged the zipper down one slow inch at a time, and I held my breath when he finally reached for the straps of the dress and pushed them off my shoulders.

The dress fell down, and Morgan murmured, “I’ve wanted to do this since last night.”

He stepped around me and gently unhooked my bra before guiding it down my arms. When I looked back, he was kneeling, hooking his thumbs into the sides of my panties much like he had on the balcony, and pulling down. He lowered them to the floor and helped me out of them, picking up my dress and panties off the floor and setting them on a nearby chair with the bra. When he stood again, he took my hand and made me twirl in front of him, wearing only my shoes.

I started to feel self-conscious, and it was all I could do not to cover myself. Yes, his mouth, fingers, and cock had been on me, inside me, but he hadn’t seen me out of my clothes until this second, and the intensity of his gaze as it swept over me made me feel like he could see even beneath my bare skin, all the way down to the core of me. It didn’t help that he was still fully clothed.

“You know,” he said in a husky voice, “those shoes are really amazing.”

His words were the very last thing I had expected, and they drew a burst of laughter out of me.

“But not half as beautiful as you are,” he continued, and the laugh died on my lips.

I inhaled sharply and toed off the high heels before stepping closer to him.

“One of us is grossly overdressed,” I pointed out.

He kicked off his shoes while I worked on his shirt. I am proud to report I did not rip this one.

“You know,” I said as I tugged it off his shoulders, “there is something I wanted to do last night but never got the chance.”

He didn’t ask, but curiosity filled his eyes. Curiosity and desire, matching the hardness now pressing against my fingers.

He stood still as I unfastened his pants and pushed them and his boxer briefs down his thighs. His cock immediately leaped to attention, flushed and needy, beckoning. I resisted the impulse to take hold of it and rested my hands on his hips instead. I guided him a couple steps backwards, and when his legs touched the edge of the bed, he understood what I wanted and sat down.

I knelt in front of him and finished tugging off his clothes until he was as bare as I was. Then, with a hand on each of his knees, I pushed his legs apart so I could fit between them as close as possible.

It had been dark last night, and while I’d seen enough of his cock to think it was lovely, now I could tell just how beautiful it was. I can’t say I’ve seen many of them in person, and I’ll admit that to me they’re not always the most appealing part of human anatomy. But there was something about Morgan’s dick, the subtle curve of it, its light, pink color, how silky his flesh was when I trailed my fingers along the length, even the tight fullness of his balls…

If anyone had told me I’d be waxing lyrical about a man’s cock someday, I’d have laughed at them. And yet, here I am.

It wasn’t the first time I’d done this, but two things were new. For one, Morgan was watching me hungrily, but his hands were on the bed at his sides, not trying to end my exploration to get my mouth touching him. For the other, I could really touch him and only him, with no condom between us; I was sleeping with a vampire—somehow, other risks didn’t seem important anymore, or at least not enough to interrupt the moment and raise the condom issue.

When I was satisfied I’d touched every millimeter of his dick with my fingertips, I swiped my thumb along the clear wetness at the tip and brought it to my mouth. The taste was bland, but not unpleasant. I wrapped my hand at the base of his dick and looked up at him while I leaned in. His eyes were wide, and his nostrils flared right before I closed my mouth over the tip. The shudder that rocked his body made me feel powerful and proud. Such a strong man, different from other men and not only because he was a vampire, but here he was, moaning quietly at the first touch of my mouth.

The sheer power of it made me giddy, made me want to go fast, to make him come in moments, when seconds ago I’d been ready to take my sweet time and make it last. There’d be other times, other occasions to make it last—to tease him until he was begging for me to let him come.

Wouldn’t there?

I gave up on finesse and might even have been a little sloppy, but honestly I doubt he minded. I bobbed my head up and down, hollowing my cheeks, taking as much of his cock into my mouth as I could and stroking the rest with my hand.

In seconds, one of his hands flew to the back of my head. I was ready to shake it off. I hate it when guys try to push me; I usually end up gagging and having to pull back. But he didn’t force me forward. He just rested his hand there, his fingers tangled in my hair, accompanying my movements without trying to guide them. I rewarded him by redoubling my efforts, inexorably pushing him to the end.

He tasted… Well, okay, if it was a choice between his come and another slice of that sinful chocolate cake, the cake would win. But the margin would be pretty narrow. I’d never tasted semen before; I didn’t know if this was him or all guys. But I won’t lie, I enjoyed the taste of him enough that I sucked and licked until I was sure I had taken every last drop he had to offer.

When I pulled back and opened my eyes again—I didn’t remember when I’d closed them—I looked up and found him shaking, his lips parted on harsh pants, his free hand, the one that wasn’t holding my hair so carefully, fisted in the sheet.

The torn sheet.

He hadn’t said a word the entire time, but now he did. Just one. My name.

Before a shiver finished coursing through me, he’d pulled me up and pressed me onto the bed, quickly enough to startle me. His mouth was already on mine, and he swallowed my gasp of surprise. He devoured my mouth as though trying to reclaim every bit of flavor I’d stolen from him. His hands were flying over me, barely touching here, kneading there, pinching and stroking and caressing. Worshipping.

I tried to emulate him, but somehow my hands couldn’t leave his arms and shoulders. I might—just might, mind—have a thing for a nice, strong set of arms and thick shoulders. And Morgan definitely had those.

When I broke our kiss to gulp for air, he didn’t lose a beat. His mouth pressed against my cheek, licking my earlobe, then drifting down to my breast to suck on a nipple until I cried out and grabbed his head to force him away. He gave me a wicked grin before plunging down again, and this time lavished one areola then the other with broad swipes of his tongue. I closed my eyes and arched up against his mouth.

And froze, my eyes snapping open again, when his teeth raked over the swell of my breast. A flash of sheer, animal fear tore through me, and there was nothing I could have done to control it. As it was, I only realized why warning bells were ringing so loudly in my head when Morgan rose again.

Teeth. Vampire. That couldn’t be good, right?

“Hey.” When he lay down alongside me, his expression was pained. “Don’t be scared of me, please. I’m not going to hurt you. Or bite you. I swear.”

“Not unless I wanted it,” I said shakily. “Isn’t that what you said earlier?”

A shadow darkened his eyes, and he looked away.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” he breathed.

I laid a hand on his cheek and led his gaze back to me.

“Because you didn’t mean it?” I asked. “Or because you did?”

He covered my hand with his own. “Honestly? I don’t know.”

I kissed him, and this time it was only a peck, as brief as it was chaste

“Thank you,” I murmured.

He frowned and shook his head. “For what?”

“For being honest. For talking to me. For trying to answer my questions even when you don’t know what the answer is. You could just… I don’t know, shut me out and refuse to explain. But you don’t.” Somehow, I could imagine all too well how lonely, how scary it would have been if he had tried to keep more distance between us. “It makes things easier.”

He pulled back and broke eye contact with me. He looked troubled for some reason.

“Angelina…” He sat up a little straighter and took my hand in his. “What we’re doing here… You’re not… You don’t believe you have to do any of it, right? You’re stuck in this house, but that doesn’t mean… I wouldn’t want you to think… And I certainly don’t want to take advantage—”

I shut him up the best way I knew how: with another kiss, brief but deep.

“All right,” I said when I pulled back, “stop before you say something I will misconstrue in a wrong, insulting way.”

He remained quiet, but from the way he looked at me, I knew he was still wondering. And still worried. On one hand, it was sweet that he’d worry about it; given the situation, I suppose it was a legitimate concern. On the other hand, the simple fact that he believed I’d have sex with him despite not really wanting to only proved that he didn’t know me. Not yet. I intended to remedy that fact, starting right now.

“No, I’m not here because I feel I owe you anything. All I owed you was a thank you for the shoes, and I gave you that this afternoon. Anything else…”

I could feel a blush spreading over my face and neck. As though attracted by the heat, Morgan touched my cheek, cupping it.

“Anything else?” he repeated in a lulling voice.

I pushed into his fingers like a cat butting her head into a petting hand.

“I told you last night,” I murmured. “I feel like there’s… something between us. Even knowing what Miss Delilah did, I still feel it. She has nothing to do with it. And you have everything to do with how I feel.”

His thumb ran underneath my eye, brushing along my eyelashes. “So when you kiss me, it’s just because you want to kiss me.”

“Yes.” I tried not to smile but couldn’t help it. “And because you’re a very good kisser, too.”

He grinned. “Why, thank you.”

“You’re very welcome,” I said, matching his prim tone.

We shared a quiet laugh, then a slow, toe-curling kiss that proved my claim about his kissing abilities. Too soon he pulled back again.

“And when you let me do this?” he asked in a whisper.

The very tip of his fingers caressed down my neck, over my collarbone, then down the swell of one breast. He flattened his hand so that every inch of it, from his fingertips to the heel of his palm, pressed against my tight nipple. Sparks of sensations flared through me, and my breath hitched in my throat.

“It’s… It’s because you have gorgeous hands, and… and I love feeling them on me.”

His hand continued downward over my stomach, slow enough to be torture as well as a caress. I squirmed a little, goose bumps rising all over my body.

“I don’t know about gorgeous,” he said, still as quiet, “but they’re definitely cold. I’m sorry about that.”

Truth be told, I hadn’t noticed until now, but yes, his hands were cooler than my skin. It hadn’t been obvious on the balcony because I’d been cold myself, and in the sun room the fabric of my dress had been between us, but now I could feel the temperature difference. Vampire, my mind whispered, but this time no fear came with that warning.

“Not cold,” I said with a little hum, shifting under his touch. “Perfect. It makes everything… more… intense.”

I finished with a sigh when his hand slipped right where I wanted it between my legs. He traced my folds with his fingertips, gathering wetness before sliding back up to my clit and pinching it between two fingers.

I canted my hips to press into his fingers, but he sat up and rested his free hand on my stomach, pressing softly.

“Let me,” he asked.

I tried to relax—hard when he was teasing the entrance to my body with a slick finger—and reached for him, touching his side and leg before moving up his chest, but he captured my hand, kissed it, and said again, “Let me.”