Chapter Six
Elbow propped on the desktop, forehead sunk into her palm, Charlize sat at the small desk in her bedroom and forced herself to leaf through the community manual she’d been nagged to read.
Her “Bruges” room—murals of European cities were painted on all the doors in this mansion, and the rooms were named after the same—was a bunch of posh. She was surrounded by walls papered in pale blue, gold, and cream, and swanky Chippendale furnishings. There was a vast king-sized bed covered by a blue velvet bedspread, several softly glowing lamps with shades bordered in ornate beadwork, a flat screen television hidden behind the louvered doors of a tall armoire—two cushy armchairs placed in front—and a wet bar stocked with water, juice, beer, wine, tea, coffee, and carb-rich munchies. The bedroom was suitable for dukes and princesses, and was as unreal to Charlize as everything else had been so far in this community, including the ass-fuckwards time.
She knuckled her eyes. It had to be two in the morning—her time—and she was feeling it. For the past three days she’d averaged only about four to five hours of sleep a night. Some attendees of the chef seminar went to bed at a decent hour to make sure they were fresh for the next day’s activities. Others took the opportunity to party with friends they saw only once a year. Charlize had been in the latter group.
Maybe she should just go to bed. Problem was, even though her brain was tired, her body still wanted an orgasm. Correction: her vagina wanted dick. Charlize had self-satisfied in the shower earlier, and it hadn’t alleviated a damned thing. Every nerve and cell continued to hum, and it was pissing her off, because she could’ve had all the dick she wanted in the gymnasium if everyone had just minded their own frigging business.
Sighing and giving her eyes another rub, Charlize shut the manual. It was like trying to read Urdu, anyway. None of it made sense. Vârcolac culture was turning out to be way more complicated than she expected. I mean, hey, they’re vampires, right? Shouldn’t that be straight up? Need blood, bite a girl’s neck, end of story. Why did—?
Behind her, the sliding glass door to her balcony opened. Swish.
She shot to her feet and spun around, her bathrobe whirling at her ankles, and—
“Breen?” She blinked a couple of good, hard times. He… Was it really him? The man was an utter horror show, all-over shiny with sweat, his eyes feral, and his hands were really messed up, like he’d gone the distance with a concrete wall, gloves off.
“How the hell did you get in here?” She was three floors up and surrounded by prison bars. And hadn’t she watched him getting locked into a hospital bed? She rushed over and squinted over his shoulder outside. No climbing rope was tied to her balcony rail or—
He stuck his face in her hair.
She took a step back and hiked up her brows.
“Peppermint,” he said.
It felt like every atom of his energy was aimed at her, and her belly did a funky shimmy. “There’s mint in my shampoo.”
He nodded. “It’s under the other good smells.”
“What other good smells?”
“You.”
She breathed out slowly. He was back to staring at her in that intense way. He had a disconcerting capacity for immobility, his gaze able to focus on her with an unnerving feline watchfulness. Her belly danced another shimmy.
He reached for her, and she didn’t step away this time. He took hold of a strand of her hair, gently pulled it until it was straight, then released it. The tendril sproinged back into a corkscrew. He observed the process with fascination.
Fascination was weird. Lust—it was what was right and proper. Not this soul-level, particle-deep wanting she felt coming off of Breen.
She snugged her robe tighter.
His gaze meandered down to the substantial cleavage visible at the neckline of her bathrobe, then kept going southward to her crotch. A tic jumped in his right nostril. Sweat slid down his face.
“You seriously need a shower, Breen.”
“Okay.” He removed his soaked clothes and splatted them to the floor.
Whoa. A short laugh burst out of her. Howdy, naked man! “My, that was sudden.” And here they were, happily back to the good zone: sex and lust.
Never one to miss the opportunity to appreciate a fine male form, she brazenly inspected him—and this man was mighty fine. Not quite as tall and big as his black-haired wrestling opponent or Biker Snack, he had impossible sleekness going for him. His body was toned to the point where she couldn’t find an ounce of softening fat on him—or, interestingly, a stitch of hair on his torso. Moisture glistened in crevices and grooves of lean, hard muscle, advertising that he was as much about power as agility, something she’d witnessed during his savage wrestling match. He also obviously fought for keeps; a long and shiny but well-healed scar slashed from his left hipbone to the front of his groin, where it dipped just into his pubic hair. A couple more inches and, yikes. He would’ve lost a very important appendage.
“Nasty scar,” she commented.
“War.”
Hmm. She would’ve guessed perhaps another man, feeling inadequate by comparison, had tried to castrate him. Because Breen was packing some serious heat. His equipment had seemed large in his workout gear, but she hadn’t been able to tell for sure. Now…
With a lip-twist of discomfort, Breen fisted a hand around his cock. He couldn’t get his fingers wrapped all the way around the circumference.
That answered that.
“This is painful,” he told her. “It’s been like this for hours.”
“It’s been—?” She jerked her attention up. “What?” How long could this guy last, exactly. “Do you mean it’s never gone down?”
“No.”
Ho, boy. A long time. The area between her thighs, already moist and supple from her shower antics, softened some more. She’d probably climax on first penetration with this guy, the head of his cock was so round and bulbous.
“I need you, Charlize. You’re the only one who can give me relief.”
She startled at the raw look in his eyes. Wow. Freaky. He wasn’t just handing her a line. The only one… She released a small smile. She was always up for that kind of pressure in bed. Because she never failed to deliver, just… “Toni seemed intent on keeping us apart.”
His lip-twist switched sides. “Not really her decision, is it?”
Isn’t it?
“Do you really want to let other people tell us what to do?” he pressed.
Uh-oh. Gasoline on the fire. Had this guy read her personal dossier and found REBELLIOUS stamped in huge red letters across the top? One of her biggest failings was that she went after what she wanted, and to hell with anyone telling her otherwise. Probably a life spent in service to her mother and brother’s fuckups—being Miz Freaking Responsible—had left her feeling somewhat entitled, like she deserved some good shit in her life too.
Breen also wasn’t helping to motivate her good behavior by looking at her as if she would taste better than chocolate. She could clearly see herself squatting down neatly onto his face to show him she mostly definitely did. That was probably an image she needed to get out of her head, quickly. She’d already been in trouble once in this place, so maybe she should try and be good. For Marissa’s sake. Charlize had been invited to this community on Marissa’s recommendation, and how she acted reflected on her friend.
She blew out a breath. “I just don’t know much about what’s going on here yet, Breen. I haven’t read the stupid manual, and it’s confusing, anyway. What about the bondage thing Toni mentioned? I mean, I’m not opposed to a little tie-me-up, if that’s your jam, but it sounded like…” She trailed off as humor warmed Breen’s eyes.
The amused expression rolled down his face, loosening the small muscles in his cheeks, curling his mouth into a smile. Not a big one, but enough to display a chip in his left fang, and wham. He was back—the man she’d first met in the gym who was both manly and boyish and so charmingly staggered by her. She’d never encountered such an appealing combination, and how the hell could anyone expect her not to conquer something that was so conquerable? The man was standing right here with a huge, hard, naked cock, for God’s sake. And hadn’t she come to this community to play with some new toys? Yeah, she damn well had.
She moved forward a step.
Eagerness leapt into Breen’s eyes. “There’s no tying up involved in bonding,” he hurried to tell her. “I swear.”
She nodded slowly. “Well, I’ve always been a big believer in the idea that two consenting adults should be allowed to do whatever they want as long as they’re both okay with it.” Besides that, good behavior was overrated. Her vagina certainly wasn’t a fan of it right now. Reaching up, Charlize started to brush the hair out of Breen’s eyes, but the second she touched him, he snatched her up by the waist and propelled her across the room at high speed.
Gasping, she threw her legs around him. Her bathrobe split open, making way for her wet lower region to press against the area just below Breen’s navel, his hard cock jabbing her in the butt cheek.
With a hiss, Breen rammed her against the wall by the bedside table, his outstretched palm taking most of the impact. Bracing her spine against the posh wallpaper, he kept one arm clamped around her waist while the other hand jerked her bathrobe all the way open. He seized one of her breasts and squeezed it as he latched his mouth onto her nipple. Sucking the bud deeply into his mouth, he worked it over with his tongue, gliding over all the wrinkly sensitivity.
Charlize arched and moaned, her sheath throbbing frantically. The cock between her legs made an aggressive attempt to find its way inside her. “Wait,” she rasped. God knew how she spoke.
Breen’s head came up, his eyes widened in a clear look of panic.
“No, no—I don’t want to stop. We just need a condom.”
His breath was coming hard. She caught the white glint of his fangs. “We don’t use those here.”
She did some of her own lip-twisting. “That’s insane. What about birth control?”
Sweat rained down his neck. “Are you ovulating?”
Normally she wouldn’t have known such a thing, but there was a box of ovulation sticks in her bathroom, and, just for kicks, she’d peed on one. “No.”
“Okay.” He grabbed her waist with both hands again, strong fingers pressing her flesh.
“But…but, diseases.” The trapezius muscles reaching out across his shoulders were flexed up into beautiful formation. She was going to lose her mind. “What about—?”
“I don’t have any.” He stepped away from the wall, easily managing her weight, biceps visible as separate puzzle pieces from triceps in his magnificent arms.
“But…don’t you want to know if I—?”
He thunked her down on his cock.
She threw her head back and screamed. “Dear God!” And thank God she was already so well prepared, because even though she prided herself on being able to accommodate any man, this guy was a damned crotchful. He stretched her wet lips to the limit, invaded her entire pelvis with a feeling of being over-stuffed, and definitely bottomed out against her cervix. Her clitoris quivered in a happy jig. Poor thing had been waiting many long hours for this.
Breen made a guttural noise inside his chest, and an earthquake rumbled through her breasts.
She clenched her thighs around him in anticipation of…something…something enormous about to happen.
Teeth gritted, his grip tight on her, he shot right off the mark into crazed thrusting, using his powerful hold on her waist to plunge her up and down on his cock like he was pump-priming a toy rocket for launch. His hips surged in tandem, creating beyond-belief depth to his invasion.
“My God,” she panted. “My God…!” Her tits slammed into his pecs. Her hair flailed about. Her climax came without warning. No pre-orgasmic shivers. She just came. Hard. The strong, full-sheath spasms jarred another scream out her. Her inner muscles closed down on Breen’s cock and—
His knees buckled—they must have, because he went down on them. In the resulting jolt, his cock rammed deeper inside her. She fisted her hands in his hair and kept on climaxing.
Snarling, he braced a palm on her nightstand and shoved back to his feet. Lurching sideways a couple of steps, he dropped them both down on the bed, staying tight between her thighs. His lips found hers in a passionate, tongue-exploring kiss, the rocking of his hips slowing to something more savoring.
She tore her mouth from his. “No! Keep going fast. I like it hard.”
He obeyed her command and accelerated his hips back to a pounding rhythm between her thighs. His breath was a rough rasp through closed teeth. His slick chest pushed her breasts every which way. Her spine thumped the mattress.
He was going at her like a pile driver. Holy shit. Boyish Breen fucked like a madman! “So good,” she yelled. “It’s so good!” She dug her teeth into the meaty part of his shoulder.
He bellowed, then bit her in return, but not on the throat this time. He hooked his fangs into a thick chunk of flesh above her collarbone.
She yelped, although it didn’t exactly hurt. It was more like a burning, stinging sensation spreading out from the area where he had her clamped between his jaws. She weirdly lost control of her body. Her muscles went gelatinous, and she lolled compliantly beneath him as he thundered toward his completion.
Bam! Bam! Two more sledgehammer thrusts, and he went all-over rigid. He yanked out his fangs and arched his neck. A husky growl rolled out of him in dangerously low octaves as he came like fuck, his cock pumping inside her in huge, eruptive bursts. His hips bucked against her one last time, jangling her raggedy-loose body, then he collapsed on top of her, fully face-planting into the wild tangle of her damp hair.
She kept her arms wrapped around him and breathed heavily through an open mouth. Breen’s heartbeat bammed next to hers. His fast breathing gusted her hair against her cheek.
After she’d calmed a bit, she almost laughed out loud. Wow. She said she’d been overdue for some action of the rougher variety, and, fuuuuuuck me. The call had definitely been answered. She’d never been screwed so violently in her life.
The closest she’d come was with a criminal sort from an MC called Rhoad Rhage. Such a ha ha clever name for the club…except that the misspelling too accurately reflected the actual IQ level of the members. She ended up in Rhoad Rhage’s seedy club bar one night after rescuing her brother from a marijuana deal going south—the bar was near the spot where she brought the rescue money. She was on her second beer when Clint sidled up to her and whispered in her ear, “I have me a cock piercing.” He also wore two full sleeves of death-themed tats. So she made a one-night concession to proper English, and was glad she had, because the cock stud ended up doing wonderful things to her G-spot.
Still, Clint couldn’t hold a candle to Breen in the ferocious department. Having a set of fangs no doubt helped, but it was more like—
The bedroom door burst open and slapped the wall.
Breen’s head shot up, his eyes narrowing, his upper lip lifting toward the beginnings of a sneer.
It was only Lara.
He relaxed back on top of Charlize. Apparently he only got his dander up for men.
Lara skidded to a halt several steps inside the room and gaped at the two of them. She was holding the community manual, one finger tucked inside to save her place. Before rushing in here, she’d obviously been in the middle of reading it. How very studious of her. Yes, Lara Klein would make her way properly into the community: pass the required exam on Vârcolac culture, work at Marissa’s restaurant, meet a man, get married, move into a house, and have two-point-five kids—everything done right and correct, accomplished with perfect etiquette.
Charlize crooked an arm beneath her head. It wasn’t easy to come across as nonchalant with a lot of heavy male still on top of her—in her—but Charlize did her best. She smiled serenely at Lara. “Was it all the screaming?”
Lara opened her mouth.
She didn’t get a chance to say whatever she planned to say because just then Breen jolted violently.
Charlize startled and peered sideways at him.
Groaning, he shoved his face into her throat and inhaled huge, almost frantic intakes of air. He shuddered again, over and over.
What the hell was going on with him? Was this some kind of secondary, latent orgasm?
Blushing, Lara whirled around and bolted from the room.