Hunger Embraced (The Hunger Series) Page 2

  The aggression hit all my happy buttons, and I closed off the protesting part of my brain. My focus zeroed in on the man in front of me—the large, gorgeous man who devoured my mouth in a bottomless kiss. I thought I might drown. Brief heat lit across my bottom lip from the brush of his fangs, and he sucked the blood off with a moan. My legs encircled his lean waist, squeezing the hard muscle between my thighs. One hand found its way up the outside of my leg, a crackle of his magic following in its wake. Strong fingers convulsed around the top of my thigh high. He levered my head back with just enough pressure to hurt and growled when our eyes met.

  “I like these.” His fingers dug into my leg again, and I released a shuddery breath.

  The smell of the sea stung my nostrils, coming from his pores. The searing heat of his power spilled out, and he ran his tongue across my lower lip more slowly this time, lapping at the small cut in the pink flesh. My own tongue darted out to touch his in a quick mingling of silk and fire. The cut closed as we kissed, one of the few perks of my mixed heritage. The dark desire to see him open it again and feed from me in licks and nips flitted through my thoughts. He took command of my mouth and did it again, reminding me of his telepathy. A scary power, but the possibilities for sex with a partner who knew what you wanted and when were delicious.

  “Where?”

  I tilted my head back in the general direction of the bedroom. He covered the space in a few long-legged strides and set me down on the triple dresser. His magic stroked everywhere, up my calves, inner thighs, abdomen, waist, nipples, even my forearms, as he sucked on my tongue and crushed my torso to his. His tongue slid from my ear, along the curve of my neck to my jaw, and down the middle of my chest to the top of my camisole in a hot, wet line. I arched my back, chasing his mouth, and tried to pull him down, but he resisted me and growled until I let go.

  His eyes sparkled like the reflection of summer sun on the waves. I released his hair and dropped my gaze, afraid to contest his dominance. What had I done? His ability would drown me with nothing but a moment of lost control.

  He curled my fingers around the edge of the dresser and pressed once on them, firmly. “Put your hands here.”

  I looked up, and his blue eyes met mine in silent challenge until I slid my gaze to the side in submission and ducked my head. The growl came again, but this time capped by a purr of reassurance, the sound brushing across my skin. The soft silk of warm water stroked my breasts and inner thighs and reassured me until I relaxed against him.

  Our lips connected once more, and he kissed me with so much skill I forgot to breathe until he broke away. I gasped and clenched his shirtfront, resting my forehead on his collarbone. He reclaimed my mouth after I calmed and returned my hands to the dresser’s edge. The warmth of his tongue met mine, parting the seam of my lips, and retreating slowly in pantomime of a good, deep fuck. My fingers curled hard enough into the wood to score it. Before I realized what had happened, my jacket was unbuttoned and sliding off my shoulders. A blaze of heat shot from my stomach to my breasts, his palms cradling their heavy weight. He pulled my camisole over my head, undid the clasp of my bra, and ground against my groin with his aroused cock still sheathed behind his jeans.

  I reached for his zipper, ready to take him inside and ride him until he couldn’t come any more.

  “No.” One hand encased my two smaller ones, and he frowned at me. A rumbling growl rode his voice. “I said hands here.” He pressed both back to the edge of the dresser and lowered into a crouch, taking one stiff peak then the other into his mouth. Sensation flew from my nipples to my thighs, and the moist heat caged between them. I shifted restlessly and whimpered, trying to ease the wet, aching tissue he continued to tease.

  T.T.B. refused to be distracted from my breasts, no matter how I thrashed against his erection. Lips, tongue, sharp teeth, and massive hands continued to tease me with bites, licks, and nimble fingers that alternately pinched and caressed my nipples. He shimmied my skirt down my hips an inch at a time, following the path his hands made with his mouth. Deliberate scrapes of fangs heated my skin and made me even wetter. The dresser acted as my life preserver, and the wood creaked in protest under my grasping fingers.

  When I was bare to his gaze in only my thigh highs, thong, and heels, he settled back and stared at my body. The intensity of his perusal brought the prickling blaze of an embarrassed flush to my cheeks. Silly after what we’d been doing, but the scrutiny and heat in his eyes as his gaze roved over me made me feel like he’d memorized every freckle. Like he’d noticed the way my right breast was ever so slightly smaller than my left. I wished I had never cut my hair to the middle of my back so I could swing it over my shoulder and cover myself.

  He surged forward, grabbed my hips, and pushed his face against my belly. A surprised squeak exploded from my lips at the rough grasp of his hands on my waist. His tongue snaked out, and he licked a long line from one side to the other, dipping under the edge of my panties.

  Guess he liked what he saw.

  A lock of his ridiculous surfer hair fell into his eyes as he watched my face, running his thumbs over my hip bones. He hooked the edge of the thong with his fingers, and I lifted my hips at the unspoken command. The underwear ghosted over my legs and feet, and he dropped them to the floor. I relaxed back on to the dresser and focused on his chest, unable to meet his eyes. They glittered so sharply with his power that involuntary tears tracked down my cheeks.

  His forefinger slid across my clit with just enough pressure to send a pulse through my entire body. “I’m going to bite you here.” The words brought a gush of wetness to my pussy and clenching in my belly. No one had ever done that before. “Then I’m going to suck on it.” He covered my taught knuckles with his palms. “Don’t move your hands.”

  Trembles of anticipation and fear shook me when he began to push my thighs apart. The focus and concentration on his face as he watched me made me think he memorized and catalogued every reaction. I wanted to close my eyes and hide from him.

  Nothing about this morning was normal. By now, any other vamp would have thrown me over the nearest piece of furniture and left. No foreplay. It was fast, hard, and impersonal. But this was something different. He was something different. Powerful, beautiful, barely contained, violent magic.

  “Come to me.” Strong fingers burrowed into my hips and yanked me to the edge of the dresser. He slid his forefinger down my center once more, circled my hood with the most delicious friction before plunging two large digits deep inside my pussy. The other hand found the back of my head and twisted my hair around his fist, angling for a kiss, leaving me with the taste of blood on my tongue. His or mine? I didn’t care, couldn’t care as his thumb drew small tight circles and his digits stroked in and out with a rhythm on the brink of too rough.

  I squirmed, using the leverage I found in the dresser’s edge and my fingertips to try to thrust against him. “Yes. More.”

  He held me in place. “Not yet.”

  A groan of frustration left my lips and he chuckled, nibbling on my neck in a line of tingling heat. I strained and rocked against his hand in an effort to find relief. The thrusts and teasing touches he provided only flirted with the building orgasm.

  I brought my hips up in an effort to claim his fingers more deeply on the next plunge and failed. “Damn it. Please give me more.”

  He lowered his head to my breasts, biting my nipples with the blunt edges of his center teeth in response.

  Strong fingers clenched my waist when I bucked again. “Please. I can’t take it.”

  He sank to his haunches and kissed the insides of both thighs, still driving me crazy with his fingers. When he took them out, he leaned forward, and the tips of his fangs breached the flesh his fingers and thumb had so skillfully teased. I came hard and fast, screaming and thrashing against the hands holding me prisoner on the dresser. My feet drummed on his back. He sucked and licked, feeding on my blood as he plunged his tongue into my hot, tight channel until I almost
passed out and slumped against the wall.

  He rose in a graceful, fluid movement and cleaned a last trace of blood from his lips. The light reflecting from his irises dimmed and died, and with it the sounds and smells of the ocean receded. A grin of male pride stretched from one cheek to the other.

  I knew I looked like a complete hussy, sprawled across the dresser in thigh highs and heels with my legs spread in blatant invitation, but I didn’t care. He could fuck me for the next week non-stop and I’d never once complain.

  Those strong hands slid under my knees and hips, cradling me against his chest. The mattress dipped under my weight when he laid me down, careful to recline my head slowly and setting my feet so they didn’t bounce. He slipped my shoes off and covered me with the comforter.

  “You should rest.” He picked my clothes up and dodged the discarded articles on the floor between my bed and closet. When he opened the closet door and realized there were no clothes or hangers inside, he folded my suit, taking care with the creases in the arms, and laid them neatly at the foot of the bed. I watched with puzzled interest, drowsy and relaxed from head to toe. He walked to the door before he stopped and clenched his hands once. “Thank you, Miranda.”

  “What about you? Don’t you need to…?” I let my gaze settle on his groin and the erection straining his jeans.

  “No. This was enough.” He threw his surfer-boy smile over his shoulder at me, the one that had nearly blinded me on the street. “Take a nap. I’ll call your boss.”

  The offhand comment should have raised a red flag, but at the moment I was too tired and boneless to care. This had never happened before. Usually vamps fed on my blood while they fucked me. If I’d accepted and used the magic that came with being an Incubi, I’d have fed on the energy released during their orgasm. The last one I’d encountered only took the time to unzip his pants and bend me over the side of the bed before he pounded me with impersonal swiftness, bit my neck from behind, and departed before I stood up from where he’d left me. T.T.B. had fed on blood, but I hadn’t suffered any of the usual overwhelming energy drain from my body. I’d never been given a screaming orgasm and not reciprocated. But T.T.B. looked fine now. Relaxed. Happy.

  Where had the magic that called him to the edge of control gone? The magic my body exuded to bring in prey?

  What a weird day this was turning out to be.

  “What’s your name, T.T.B.?” A yawn escaped my lips.

  “Daniel.” He leaned against the doorjamb as my eyelids fluttered closed.

  “How’d you know mine?” I mumbled the words into my pillow.

  He didn’t answer.

  Chapter Two

  Something smelled good, but I didn’t open my eyes, not yet. I’d realized pretty early on feeding a super hungry vamp is risky stuff. One time, I’d gotten out of bed too fast and face-planted after tripping over a pair of heels. Normally I heal pretty quickly, but my energy had been low after that particular encounter. I’d been swollen and bruised for the better part of a week down the left side of my cheek and around my eye. Everyone at the office thought I had an abusive boyfriend. Not one of my better looks.

  My toes stretched toward the end of the bed, and I grabbed the headboard, using the leverage of yanking on the old cast iron until the metal creaked to get a good long stretch. I inhaled until my diaphragm complained and caught a lingering note of the sea. The salty brine and sunshine mingled with bacon.

  Bacon? What the hell? I don’t have any bacon in my fridge. In fact, bacon has to be cooked. And bought. Son of bitch!

  I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stomped into my kitchen. The space didn’t qualify for the definition of kitchen with the sink, three feet of counter, and apartment-sized fridge and stove crammed into an area smaller than the closet I had growing up. But I don’t cook, so lack of real appliances didn’t matter.

  I stopped in the doorway and stared at the tall slab of blood-sucking, panty combusting vampire standing in front of the stove, a spatula in one hand, and the handle of my only frying pan in the other. “What the hell are you doing, T.T.B.?”

  He looked over his shoulder at me with a slow grin, and a lock of hair fell over his forehead. “Making you something to eat.”

  Our stares locked and something like recognition flew through me. The roiling energy he’d exhibited on the street flared in his eyes momentarily. He blinked and the magic disappeared, shuttered away.

  The look left me primed and ready whether I wanted sex or not. My body welcomes any horny vamp within a bangable radius. Doesn’t matter if I’m tired, ill, or uninterested. I’m perfect food. Slick, tight, and accommodating—that’s me. Of course, if I actually fed my own vampiric nature, it’d be a great evolutionary advantage. I wouldn’t have to hunt for food. It would come to me. Although this time the reaction was more than biology. I wanted him all on my own, no magic required. Acknowledging the fact pissed me off more than discovering him getting all domestic and crap.

  “Uh-huh. Where’d the bacon come from? And please, explain to me why you are still here!” The volume of my voice increased with every word. My hands shook, and I clenched them into tight fists, fighting the urge to shove him into the living room. He’d gotten what he wanted and should have taken his gorgeous ass out of here. I’d committed an obvious tactical error.

  An adult vamp can feed on any number of things depending on their coven—the Blood Suckers, Empaths, Incubi, and thank the gods and goddesses I hadn’t met any Flesh Eaters. Well, maybe I had and they’d been polite enough not to take a bite out of my ass. My body is self-destructive enough to lead me right into a mess I can’t survive, and I have no desire to walk around missing chunks. Goose bumps covered my skin at the thought. Monet’s paintings are cool…as paintings.

  I crossed my arms under my breasts and blew a stray lock of hair out of my eyes. Great. Sex hair. A yawn tried to escape, but I resisted the urge and blinked at him. Yawning wouldn’t help my angry, naked, avenging butt-kicker persona. He needed to leave.

  T.T.B.’s gaze roved over the pushed up mounds of flesh, settled on my nipples, then traveled down to the juncture of my thighs. I cleared my throat and his attention wandered back up to my face, took in the set of my jaw and eyebrows, then returned to the stove. I didn’t blame him for staring; I wore nothing but thigh highs.

  Note to self: Do not bring any more vamps home for quickies and then fall asleep. A dirty alley would be better than this.

  “I went to the store. You don’t really have much to eat besides popcorn, jelly beans, and frozen chicken nuggets. Which don’t really qualify as food. Have you ever looked at the ingredients?”

  “Let me spell it out for you since you don’t seem to understand how this works. We fuck. You feed. You leave. You don’t stick around playing Sara-fucking-Lee in my kitchen!”

  I snatched the bag of jelly beans off the counter, frowning at the lack of weight in my hand. It was half empty.

  I was going to stake him. How rude can someone be? Eating half my stash while I took a nap.

  He looked at me from the corner of his eye, lips twitching. Of course they were perfect—

  full, wide, the bottom protruding in a pout.

  Asshole.

  A smirk spread his mouth when he caught the thought.

  “Is this how you treat all your conquests? If so, you aren’t going to win any popularity contests.” He twisted his body enough to look at me again. “How do you like your eggs?”

  “M-m-my conquests? Are you trying to be funny or insulting? Get out of my apartment! And don’t eat anything else on your way out.” I felt a foot stomp coming on but held back. Stomping the ground wasn’t the most mature way to express my displeasure. “And stop staring at my boobs.” I spun around, headed for my bathroom with my now decimated bag of candy, and slammed the door behind me.

  “I’ll make scrambled.” His voice drifted through the cheap panel in an amused tone.

  I almost ripped the shower curtain off the rod and
turned around to give him the finger. Well, at least I had the jelly beans. I tossed the plastic bag to the counter and bent over to peel off my hose; surprise filled me at finding them salvageable. Huh. In fact, there wasn’t a run to be found. My thigh highs were usually the first casualty when I played semi-human buffet.

  Strange, the whole day was strange. I comforted myself with the knowledge that once I showered, I would throw him out if he wasn’t gone. Bodily if need be.

  I grabbed the jelly beans and took a handful out, gnashing them into submission. Who hangs around after a feed and steals most of the candy? So rude.

  I cranked the hot water up as high as possible and ignored the squeak of my irritable faucets.

  The water ran cold over my tension-filled shoulders. I emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of steam, wrapped in my old bathrobe. The ratty pink and black plaid killed the avenging goddess look, but I didn’t care. Vampire food and sex queen I may be, but flannel is where it’s at. The soft material didn’t make me think of anything more titillating than cocoa and chocolate chip cookies, and I hoped the effect would transfer to my unwanted guest. Especially if he was waiting for a two-fer.

  “It’s you and me, bathrobe. As long there are hungry vamps tracking me down, I’ll need a cuddle, and baby, you’re all I got.”

  I think if the fabric could have whimpered it would have. We were both tired. The dark circles under my eyes and too-thin look to my skin hadn’t been anything new in the mirror. I’d considered staying in the bathroom even longer, but my stomach had other ideas. Besides, avoiding the problem wouldn’t solve it. A vamp had invaded my kitchen, and he needed an eviction notice. I had to get him out of my domain and get redressed for my day—half day now—of torture in corporate lawyer hell.

  Maybe if I ate the food, he’d go. It did smell pretty good.

  Daniel stood with a hip propped against the counter, arms crossed, and peered at me from beneath hooded eyes. The casual posture lied. The simmer of his magic teased my senses, tickling my nose with a static buzz reminiscent of the precursor to a thunderstorm.