All Hallows Heartbreaker (9 page)

Her hips rose. “I like carrots. Diced, sliced, puréed.” His finger pushed inside and swirled.

“Raw. Whole. I love them whole!” She reached between her legs and spread her labia, pulling up to expose her clit. “Did I mention cucumbers?”

He lifted his head, his gaze spearing her. “I thought you were going to be quiet.”

“It’s not something I can help. I get excited and my mouth can’t stop. Oh!” Emmy arched her back when a second finger joined the first. She squeezed her inner muscles. Nothing like a little girly calisthenics to entice a man to do the dirty.

Her hips pumped, shallow pulses as she concentrated on the sensation of his fingers deep inside. “You know a little tongue action would go a long way here.”

“You’ve no patience, dear. Good things come—”

“To she who waits. I know, I know. But I was thinking of a new Confucianism.”

He nipped her inner thigh again. “Is that even a word?”

“Pay attention. I think ‘A good cum comes to she who does it herself!’” She reached with her other hand and touched a finger to her clit.

“Uh uh.” His hand closed over hers and pushed it away. “No cheating. You see, I think three carrots beat a cucumber any day.” He slid three fingers into her.

Her eyes closed and her mouth rounded around a breathless ‘O’. “Are you raising me?” she asked, her voice held a plaintive note.

“Are we switching from vegetables to poker?”

She raised and rested on her elbows. “I’m just hoping for more poke.” She raised an eyebrow. A direct challenge.

“To hell with vegetables.” He withdrew his fingers. “Just turn over.”

Emmy’s heart pounded in her chest. Now! He’d cram every incredibly edible inch of himself inside her now. She turned onto her stomach, and then rose up on her hands and knees.

“Hold onto the edge of the fireplace.”

She braced herself, gripping the marble hard.

Dylan slid his cock inside her.

A twinge of soreness gave way to pleasure so intense she clamped her jaw closed rather than cry out. Why give his immense ego a boost? Keep him humble.

“Breathe, Emmy,” he whispered next to her ear.

His hips drove forward, stretching her, filling her. Her bottom wriggled as she accommodated his push through her tight channel.

Finally, sheathing him to the hilt, Emmy’s back arched. “Fuck me, Dylan. Fuck me—hard.”

Dylan had been right about her ass the first time he saw her. A man could die pumping against her soft, fleshy bottom. His palms curved around the milky-white globes and he spread them. He dropped spit into the crease.

“I don’t think—” Emmy squirmed.

“That’s right. Don’t.” He traced a finger between her cheeks, gliding lower until he touched the soft, puckered lips.

Emmy gave a cry, half-dismay, half-delight, and bucked.

Dylan pumped his hips and drove deeper, at the same time sliding a finger inside her ass.

“Dylan?” she asked, her voice sounding thin. She rocked, her cunt pushing and pulling on his cock.

“Emmy, slow down,” he said. He wanted this time to be for her, but he could already feel the change coming over him, stretching his skin, expanding him.

Her warm, moist heat beckoned him deeper, and he slammed his hips into her, pounding so hard her buttocks jiggled. Her soft, round buttocks. Buttocks he’d die to pump against the way he wanted, hard and deep.

“Dylan, harder. Give it to me, harder.”

“Damn,” he muttered, feeling the tingle in his gums a second before his teeth slid into place. He growled, low in his throat. The muscles of his thighs and ass hardened like steel, driving harder, faster.

Her breath came in harsh grunts as he pummeled her hips, keeping rhythm with the slap of his balls and belly against her flesh.

Emmy stiffened, and cried out.

Then he was hurtling, crashing his hips into hers, following her over the precipice.

Chapter Nine

“That thing you did…” Emmy began.

“Thing?” Dylan stirred beside her on the carpet, still trying to catch his breath. Spooned together, Dylan realized this position was perfect for him to toy with both her breasts. So he squeezed them.

“Pay attention.”

“You’re a bossy, wench.” His open palms circled on her distended nipples, round and hard as pencil erasers.

“I liked it.”

Something he should pay attention to. “Which thing?”

“When your finger was inside me,” she said, her voice small.

Male pride burst in his chest. “You mean, when I fingered your asshole?”

“Dylan!” She slapped his thigh.

He smiled against her hair. Bossy as hell when they were in the middle of a coupling, she was still a prissy little thing. “Well, I did.”

“Never mind.” Her breath huffed.

“Did you like it well enough to try something like it, again?”

She sucked in a breath and her blood thrummed in her veins.

Her body betrayed her every time.

Another thing he liked about Emmy Harris.
So she wants me to do it again.
“Seems like you’re full of firsts, love. I thought you had a boyfriend.”

A soft snort was her reply.

He squeezed her breasts, while nuzzling her delectable neck. “Must not have been much of a boyfriend, if he didn’t take the time to discover what puts the kink in your hair.”

“No. He wasn’t much of a boyfriend. He was just convenient.”

“Convenient? That’s a bloody sorry excuse.”

“Well. I didn’t know it at the time.”

“When did you discover this?”

No reply, but her heart beat faster.

“Emmy?”

“When you fucked me the first time,” she said softly.

Fucked? Made love! He almost blurted that out. Dylan wanted to shake her. For whatever reason, Emmy was determined to keep a wall around her heart.
Is it because I’m a vampire?

He smoothed a hand down her belly.
I’ll bind her to me, somehow.
His fingers combed through her short, silky curls until he found the round button of her clitoris. He rubbed the pad of his thumb over the slippery nub.

Emmy hissed between her teeth, but widened her legs. “You came before. Without biting me.”

“I told you it could be done. A lot of work, but an immensely satisfying job.” He increased the pressure of his thumb as he rubbed in slow circles.

Emmy’s ass pressed against his groin. “Does your company offer any perks?”

“Generous fucks.” He drew the delicate lobe of her ear between his teeth.

“I’ll have to apply.” Her leg inched atop his, widening the gap between her thighs, allowing just enough room for his cock.

His cock glided into the well-oiled passage. “I can put in a good word for you,” he said.

“Dylan?”

“Yes, Emmy?”

“Did anyone ever tell you that you talk too much?”

Dylan smiled. “You’re the first.”

“Shall we get
down
to business?” Her hand crept between her legs, and her fingers lightly grasped his balls.

Lying side by side was not conducive to the energetic thrusting he intended to give her. “Would you be terribly bored if we did this much the same fashion as the last time?”

“If it gets you deeper into the merger, I’m game.”

They arranged themselves before the fire, her hands once again braced on the warm marble hearth.

Dylan spent long moments pleasuring her breasts and clitoris while he glided in and out, to an ever-increasing tempo.

Emmy was nearing completion, perspiring lightly, her hair sticking to her shoulders, her back arching, dipping, and rearing back to meet his thrusts. From her guttural moans, he determined she was “well-tenderized” for another initiation.

He nipped the back of her neck. “Emmy?” He slammed forward as far as he could go.

“Huh?”

“I think you’re ready.” He halted the motion of his hips and withdrew his cock.

“Don’t stop, now!” she wailed.

He rubbed spit on the head of his penis. “We’re going to do a little exploration. A little drilling, love.”

“Just get back inside me quick. The mother lode is ready to gush.”

Dylan parted her buttocks and guided his cock to her anus. He pressed the round head against it and met tight resistance.

Emmy whimpered, but didn’t ask him to stop.

Slowly, the tight mouth gave way and he slid the crown of his cock inside.

“Ooooh,” Emmy said, and her shoulders dipped to the hearth, her head lolling on folded arms.

He pulled out a little way, and then pressed inside, until the tip was buried. “What do you think, Emmy? Does it hurt too much?”

“I don’t know. You’re stretching me. Just don’t go changing to the masked man in the middle of this—I won’t be able to take it.”

“I’ll go slow.” He dropped more spit and spread it around his cock, then pressed a little deeper.

Emmy’s legs trembled, but still she didn’t ask him to stop.

In, out—he fought his need to push deeper inside. Her rear entrance was a tight, hot, ring of torture that squeezed his cock like a fist. He increased the tempo of his shallow thrusts.

Emmy emitted a sob. “More. It’s happening, give me more.”

Dylan deepened the glides, carefully gauging the little murmurs and groans she made to ensure he didn’t cause her pain. Then he wet his fingertips and reached around to bury his fingers in her cunt.

Emmy screamed and bucked, shoving backward to take his cock deeper into her ass.

“Come on, baby,” he whispered in to her ear. “Come with me.”

With his fingers drenched in her pussy juice, he noted the moment her vagina began to pulse with her orgasm.

Emmy keened, loud and long. “Ohmygod!”

Dylan closed his eyes and savored the ever-constricting band that circled his shaft, and controlled his transformation, halting before his body expanded. It was enough. He flung back his head and roared as a long stream of come exploded from his cock.

After carefully withdrawing, Dylan pulled up Emmy to sit, cradled by his thighs. He kissed her shoulders and neck. Smoothed his hands over her breasts and belly as her shudders quieted.

With a deep sigh, she rested her head on his shoulder. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, and Emmy looked up. His head descended and their tongues entangled, lapping without their mouths pressing together.

Their tongues parted and they stared into each other’s eyes.

Emmy wrinkled her nose. “I think we need baths.”

“Love is in the air.”

She grimaced. “If you break into the Love Boat song, I’ll lose all respect for you. I’ve created a monster.”

“You didn’t think vampires had a sense of humor? You inspire the comedic monster in me.” He bussed her lips. “We’ll shower. Then I’ll have to leave for a little while.”

Her eyelids dropped. “Can I come with you?”

“No, but you’ll be safe. Quentin will be here.”

“And your demon dogs. Maybe, I’ll take a nap. Promise to wake me up when you come home?”

“I promise.” He slapped her thigh lightly. “Now get up.”

Together, they rose. Emmy’s hands curled into little fists at her sides, and she didn’t look at him. She knelt to pick up her ruined blouse.

“Emmy, are you embarrassed?”

“Um, is there anything for me to wear?”

“Into the shower?”

Her blush colored the tops of her breasts. “Well, I’m not like you.”

“Not like me how?”

“Perfect. Do you always answer a question with a question?”

“You’re deliberately changing the subject. Emmy, don’t you know you’re beautiful?”

She looked disappointed in his answer. “You don’t have to say that. I know what I am.”

“And what might that be?”

This time she glared at him, but he wanted to know what was in her mind.

“Fat,” she said, and her chin raised a notch, daring him to declare otherwise.

“Come with me.” He walked past her, his hand snagging hers to pull her into the foyer and up the stairs.

Emmy hoped Quentin stayed wherever Quentin was, or he’d get an eyeful of her ass as she jogged upstairs.

Dylan led her straight into his bathroom and halted them in front of his counter-to-ceiling mirror.

She took a deep breath and looked around the room—at the towel rack, the silver toilet paper dispenser—anywhere, but at her own reflection.

His hand gripped the top of her head and pointed her face toward the mirror. “Emmy, what do you see when you look at yourself in the mirror?”

He wasn’t going to let her off. So she started at the top. “I see frizzy blonde hair.”

He shook his head. “A golden halo of wavy hair.”

“Fat boobs.”

“Lush, firm breasts with rosy areolas, and nipples like eraser-tips.”

She wrinkled her nose at him.

Dylan shrugged. “Only the truth, however unpoetic. I like erasers. Go on.”

“A poochy tummy.”

“I see a rounded, womanly belly. Soft, where a woman should be soft.”

Moisture gathered at the edges of her eyes, and she batted her lids to keep the tears at bay. “A wide, J-Lo ass.”

He slid his hand over her hips to close over a generous cheek. “An ass that cushions a man’s belly.”

Scarlet stained her cheeks.
He’s going to make me cry. Time for a joke.
“You probably need glasses. You’re what? Older than Methuselah. They say the eyes go first.”

Dylan pulled her in front of him and ran his hands from her shoulders, down her belly, and then between her thighs. “You’re soft where a man is hard to complement him. You’re not fat—you’re voluptuous, womanly. Incredibly sexy.” His finger found her clit and he rubbed. “Do you believe me?” His gaze bored into hers.

“I believe you see me that way.”

“Does anybody’s else opinion matter?”

Her smile started slowly, then spread to warm her heart. Dylan found her ass sexy. “No.”

“Now, wash my back.”

* * * * *

Dylan pulled the covers over her nude body. She smelled of talcum and fresh sex.

“This has been wonderful,” she murmured, her eyes already drifting shut. “Beyond my dreams.”

He sat on the edge of the bed. “You sound as though you don’t think it will last.”

“I don’t know what “it” is, yet. But I can’t stay here forever.” She yawned and rolled on her side. “I do have a job.”

“You could stay here. I could take care of you.” Not usually given to impulse in his dealings with the opposite sex, nevertheless his offer felt right.

“As in live together?”

“Yes.” More sure by the second.

“Let’s wait and see what happens. I don’t want to make a mistake.” She grinned. “And we’ve only known each other for twenty-four hours. You don’t even know whether I snore or not.”

“Fair enough. The offer is on the table. Get some sleep.”

Dylan leaned down to kiss her, expecting to give her lips a quick buss, but Emmy’s tongue sneaked out to lick his lower lip. He crushed his mouth to hers for another of their tongue-dueling matches.

Finally, he pulled back, disengaging her hands, which were twisting in his hair. He rose from the bed.

“Promise you’ll wake me,” she said.