Worthless: New adult paranormal romance (Age of Blood Book 2) (8 page)

I’m in
college,
asshole. Look, we aren’t going to be able to hold it forever. Get your people out of there and let us know when you’re clear. You have ten minutes, tops.

“Who are you?” he asked out loud, ignoring the worried glances of just about everyone around him.

Lisa White, at your service. Now hurry the fuck up, will ya?

Ten

No one had said anything since they’d made it back to the hotel. Michael booked every free room to accommodate those amongst the guests and the live in staff of the Drake Tower who’d made it out alive. Some had to share, but no one had complained. When they made it to their suite, Cecila went right to her room, grabbed some clothes and her toothbrush, to throw them on Michael’s bed, before heading back out and showing their guests to their various spare rooms.

William and Fay were given her old room, Jessica, Mark, the London delegation, and some other people she didn’t know took the rest.

The reason why no Drake was saying a word was because Charlotte wasn’t amongst them.

When the commotion had dialed down, they were sitting in the lounge, glass of hard liqueur in hand.

Michael was the one who broke the heavy silence.

“No harm in being fashionably late, she used to say.”

William chuckled, holding his glass up in salute, while Fay and Cece stared, shocked.

“When you’ve seen as many lives end as we have, you learn that the best way to go is to celebrate what you’ve shared,” Michael told them, holding his hand up towards her.

Cece didn’t hesitate, and as well as taking it, she got up to launch herself on his lap, burying her head in his chest.

She didn’t have the right to sniffle if they didn’t, but damn, it hurt. Charlotte had been the first stranger who’d ever looked at her like she was normal – just as Michael did.

He ruined her resolved by caressing her hair and kissing her cheek. She couldn’t help the flood after that.

“We have to find those who are responsible for this and make them pay,” she told him. 

“Yes, quite.”

There was something she didn’t expect in his tone. Some reluctance. Didn’t he want to do it?

Curiosity got her to look up. Michael and William had the same look in their eyes, yearning for blood, but there was no denying that neither of them seemed particularly eager.

“What am I missing.”

It was William who replied.

“What happened today was an attack from witches; an uprising, if you would. And there is practically nothing we know about witches; any mortal around us could be a witch. If they block it out of their minds, Michael can’t spot it. Adrian has some contacts, but we need more for this.”

So, the prospect was grim; but they didn’t look desperate – they seemed resigned.

Then, it hit her.

“What you aren’t saying out loud is that you are going to have to reach out to the White clan. Fay’s family.”

“You’re my only family,” she fired back immediately.

Great. Now the tears were back. Cece somehow managed to detach herself from Michael’s comforting frame and open her arms wide to engulf her cousin against her, letting go of every shred of resentment and irrational anger.

Fay was right. They were each other’s family. That had been the problem, really: Cece’s parents had delivered her right to Vincent’s door, so she’d refused to open herself to anymore hurt from her blood.

She was done being a coward, now. And that also meant something else. Something she was
not
going to think about, because that way, Michael wouldn’t know what hit him.

He was physically and emotionally drained, spent, empty.

Charlotte. Their crazy sister. The unreliable, adorable part of their trio. Everyone loved her, even the enemies of the Drakes – and now, she was gone.

To top it all off, someone had thought necessary to make mash out of his brain, and they had a dozen corpses to bury, a hundred others to find; so many people had just vanished out of thin air. There was no doubt that in four years, they’d be listed as dead.

When he pulled himself up and made his way to his bedroom, he planned on collapsing for the next week or so; then he opened his door and all of a sudden, every part of him was decidedly awake.

He bit down his lip and drew blood, as his fangs unsurprisingly came out to play, along with every other extendable piece of his anatomy.

“Cecilia? Mh… You’re naked.”

He had to point it out, just in case she hadn’t noticed.

“Quite. More pressingly, though, I can’t help but notice that you’re not.”

Good point. Great point, in fact.

He removed his tie, slowly, while weighing the pros and cons of what was about to happen.

Because there was no doubt whatsoever that he was about twenty minutes away from pounding between those long legs; but he couldn’t keep himself from analyzing the course of events.

Con: she was supposed to be a recovering addict. He scratched that one right off because over the last five days, sex had been on her mind, sure – but not sex in general. She hadn’t wanted just anyone to fuck her silly to take the edge off. She’d wanted
him
and here was a huge difference there
.

Also, the first reason why he’d done his damnest to ignore their chemistry was the fear that she might believe that the only thing he wanted from her was a good screw... But she knew he didn’t – if there was any doubt left, he’d show her every day until she was entirely convinced.

Pro… well, there was
that
, he thought, as he looked down.

She shifted on her side, exposing her heavy breasts and the curve of her body. He couldn’t deny his attention went right to her left nipple, at first, and for the flash of an instant, he wanted blood – in the worst possible way.

There must have been a piercing there a while back; a little bar was dangling from the right one. However, now it was bare, and also cut in two, like someone had ripped it. He knew just what had happened to her; but seeing the result right in front of his eyes made him want to break something – preferably Vincent’s neck.

But this wasn’t about Vincent; he banned all thought of that vile excuse for a vampire from their bed, ignoring the mutilation and letting his eyes roam over the rest of her.

There was a shapely triangle of tangled copper hair, the exact same shade as the ones at the top of her head. He hadn’t paid attention the first time his head had been buried there.

“I see the carpet matches the drapes,” he noted, conversional, throwing his tie on the bed, and opening his shirt.

She smiled, crooking her finger towards him, making one tiny, teeny little problem obvious.

He was going to embarrass himself. Fuck, he’d almost come then and there.

“Slow down, naughty girl,” he said, an idea that might save him from himself crossing his mind. “I wanna watch you play first. Show me how it’s done, Cecilia.”

Her blush was so damn adorable.

“You want me to…”

“Oh, yes. I want you to.”

From her expression, she’d never been asked before; her partners had most probably been all about immediate satisfaction – theirs, needless to say.

He patted himself on the back for this one. Foreplay was going to be the main dish today.

There was one thing he needed to come to terms with, though: he was going to milk his cock within the next five minutes, whatever happened. But he also knew it would be just as hard about three minute after, especially if she carried on peeking at him under her long eyelashes like that.

She spread her legs wide in front of him and he swallowed painfully. Then, her hand dipped in between, teasing her clit at first; after, one finger went inside…

He opened his fly and took hold of his dick, pumping it, breathing hard with her. She was looking right at him, eyes wide, and after a while, he just couldn’t resist, he had to touch her.

He started kissing her feet, before heading up slowly, lingering at her nub. He kept going up, stopping on her breast to lick her broken nipple, relishing the way his teasing made her tremble. By the time he was in front of her, kissing her lips, his cock was just against her entrance, but instead of taking her like he wanted to, like she wanted him to, he ground it against her.

“You’re so wet, precious,” he told her, when he could force himself to push away from her lips.

She moaned in response, throwing her head back.

He was rubbing against her clit, against her inner lips, and just like that, she was close to coming.

His mouth went to her neck, finding her prominent scar and he bit her right there.

Holy shit, he’d never been as hard. She tasted better than the first cold beer of the day, the bottle of water after a long run, and along with her sweet, refreshing blood, he could taste her arousal increasing exponentially while she fell over the edge.

“Good girl,” he praised her as she drenched his dick. “We do like a good squirter.”

“Michael…”

“What, you want my dick precious? That’s not exactly how it works, though, is it?”

She whimpered, wincing as though the need was physically painful. It probably was, but he knew she could take it.

What she couldn’t take was a gratuitous fuck. If he plunged into her because he could, she’d be grateful now, but later, she’d think it was how the world worked: men took.

“You’re going to have to earn it.”

She was going to have to admit she wanted it – beg for it.

“Please…”

Well, she had that part down.

Smirking, he got up, doing his utmost to ignore his throbbing prick of a dick.

“Ok, precious, here’s the deal. We’ve both had a long day. I think you want to use me as a distraction. I’m not fond of being used, especially if you want to make this a one time thing. You’re going to have to convince me you actually want me.”

She looked shocked to the bones – which was the entire point of his whole speech.

“How?”

He smirked at his own wickedness, sitting down behind his desk.

“Crawl to me, sweetheart.”

Fuck. He hadn’t expected her to obey so eagerly. He’d thought she’d question this and ponder whether he was worth it.

But there she was, on her knees, her heavy breast dangling underneath her.

He couldn’t help it; he pushed it.

“On your back, legs spread as wide as you can. I’m going to bind your legs to the bed,” he informed her casually.

She flipped on her back and brought her legs close to the columns either side of their bed without a question.

Hell. He was quite literally drooling. He should have been ashamed of himself but whatever people said, there was nothing,
nothing
sexier than a woman free to do whatever she pleased and who, out of all the things she could accomplish with her freedom, chose to obey him.

Cecilia was no slave. She should never have been, she never would be again. What she was was the perfect, consummate submissive.

“Tell me if it’s too tight, precious,” he asked her, restraining one of her ankles with his tie and the other one, with his belt. “And tell me if you’d like me to release you.”

“I’m good,” she smirked, liking her lips, visibly delighted at the turns of events.

If he’d just taken her a few minutes ago, she would have liked it; what they were doing now, though, she loved. 

He glided his finger along her pussy, delighted to find it slicker than ever.

“How much do you want this, Cecilia?”

“How much would you like me to bake tomorrow, Michael?”

Well, that settled it, then.  

He anchored his arms on either side of her head, aligned against her pussy and pushed in.

Fuuuuuck, that was tight. Her walls shouldn’t have been able to let in a needle, let alone a thick nine inch cock, but she was so wet it worked out, somehow.

He came inside her at the first thrust, like a rookie.

Fuck the minute, though: his dick never softened; a heartbeat later, he was pulling it all the way out and back in, swallowing her rumbly moan. His pace increased quickly, making the furniture tremble and rattle, while his woman screamed, begging him to go harder, deeper.

He was fucking her as though she was a vamp, not a fragile human; he used all of his speed, most of his strength, and she could take it. No, actually: she pointblank loved it.