Love Bites Part 7

"What? Wanting a vampire?" His hot glare pinned her to the mattress. "Or having two lovers to choose from?" "Yes! Wanting you. Wanting him. It had been so long." "A drought, now you have a deluge. You can't help but drink?" His thrusts came faster, sweat broke on his chest and belly. "Why do I have to choose?" Quentin halted. "You don't. I told you before. You're my choice." Darcy arched her back and squeezed her inner muscles around him. "Christ, don't stop now!" Unable to resist her plea, Quentin surged forward, burying himself as deeply as he could.

Darcy groaned and squeezed him tighter, her teeth bared in a grimace as she strained.

Quentin slammed back inside, and his hips pumped, faster and faster, finding a rhythm that edged him

closer to the precipice. He held nothing back, all his energy and strength focused on the clenching muscles of his a.s.s, driving him harder and deeper, propelling her off the bed. Sweat from both their bodies aided his momentum. The only sounds that filled the room were her harsh grunts and the slap of his thighs and b.a.l.l.s against the backs of her thighs and a.s.s.

Darcy reached for the bars of her headboard to brace herself and held his gaze as her o.r.g.a.s.m rolled over her, tightening her muscles and leaving her gasping for air. Quentin followed, his o.r.g.a.s.m rising from his toes, tightening his thighs and b.a.l.l.s, slamming through his c.o.c.k. With one last thrust into her rippling sheath, he roared as a stream of c.u.m shot into her womb. When the haze receded, he was still staring down at her, and her v.a.g.i.n.a milked his c.o.c.k with one last, deep caress. He released her thighs to slide along his hips to the bed, but he lay, draped over her body, reluctant to break their connection. "I want to get up," she said. Quentin laid his hand on her breast. "I thought we might stay like this. Sleep for awhile." Darcy dropped her gaze. "I need to do some things." He opened his mouth to cajole her, and then thought better of it. Why did it matter to him? If she didn't want to remain in his embrace, what of it? "Sure." He withdrew his c.o.c.k from her slowly, noting her slight wince. Poor thing was sore. He had ridden her hard. The thought pleased him immensely. She'd have a physical reminder of his prowess.

The purr of an engine pulling in front of the house drew both their attention away. "Your partner's returned from his sulk. I wonder if he found company."

Darcy pushed at his shoulders.

Quentin rolled onto his back. "I guess you'd better speak to him to a.s.sure him I haven't bitten your head off."

She was already headed to the shower without a backward glance.

"But no exchange of bodily fluids! Do you understand me?" he called after her.

Darcy lifted her hand and shot him the bird. He grinned. The woman was a hard case. A stubborn minx

who was proving a delight to master. She hadn't worked it all out yet, but she'd come round. He didn't believe for a minute that she had actually conceded. But he still hadn't unleashed his full a.r.s.enal of tricks. He yawned and was asleep in moments. * * * * * Darcy shut the door quietly behind her, leaving Quentin sleeping like the dead. Wondering what self-immolating demon possessed her, she padded to the guest room and rapped lightly on the door. "Joe?"

"Go away, Darcy." He sounded irritated.

She bit her lip. The smart thing to do would be to walk away and let them both have some distance and get rest. But she wasn't accustomed to letting problems lie. She wouldn't be able to sleep until things were right between her and Joe. Quentin had to be wrong. Joe wasn't in love with her. He'd been as carried away by the moment at the vampire's den as she'd been. That's all.

There was no good reason for this chasm to stretch between them. They'd been friends too long.

She knocked again.

The door swung open and Joe's wide, naked chest filled her view. Her mouth went dry and she cleared her throat. "I thought we might talk."

He looked beyond her into the living room, his face set in a cold mask. "Boyfriend let you off the leash?"

"He's not my boyfriend."

"That's supposed to make me feel better? You f.u.c.k him. What should I call him?"

"Look, just forget it." She turned to retreat.

Joe's hand stopped her. He grabbed her shoulder, his fingers softening to caress her. "Sorry, I bit your head off. I don't have the right to reprimand you."

Darcy glanced back at him and dropped her gaze, afraid of what she'd read in his expression. Disappointment might break her heart. But looking down turned out to be a bad move.

The crisp dark hairs that arrowed beneath the waist of his sweatpants drew her gaze to his erection, which tented beneath the soft gray fabric. She cleared her throat.

"Yeah. I've been like this all night," his voice rumbled.

"Why?" She nearly strangled on the word, her mouth had gone so dry.

"You don't get it, do you?" He stalked her into the hallway like a panther until her back met the opposite wall. He braced both hands against the wall, enclosing her in wall of muscle without touching her. "Every time I close my eyes, I see you with your hands wrapped around my c.o.c.k. Then I imagine what that sweet pink mouth of yours would feel like when it opens for me to come inside. "

Darcy remembered his beautiful, creamy-cocoa c.o.c.k and fought the wave of heat that swept over her.

"Why are you telling me this now, Joe?"

"Because you're slipping through my fingers. I gave you time to get over Manny. Time to see me. I thought I had plenty of it." He tugged a lock of her hair. "I guess I'm just not the right species, am I?"

Darcy jerked. "Don't be an a.s.shole about this."

His hand curved around her breast and it pebbled, drawing deliciously tight. Joe grunted. "Huh. Has he been neglecting these little wonders?" He knelt in front of her and opened his mouth over the tip, wetting her T-shirt, sucking so hard Darcy's toes curled into the cream-colored carpet.

"Stop it, Joe."

"I just want a taste." His hands reached beneath her T-shirt and he grew still. He glanced up at her. "No panties? What were you thinking?"

"I wasn't."

"Liar." He gathered the edges of her shirt and lifted it to bare her p.u.s.s.y to his gaze. "Are you dripping with his c.u.m?"

He inserted a finger and Darcy's head hit the wall behind her. He brought it to his mouth. "Sweet. You must have bathed first. Good thinking." He opened her with his fingers, exposing her c.l.i.toris and leaned forward.

Darcy nearly leapt out of her skin at the first flutter of his tongue. She braced her hands on his shoulders, sure she would slide into a puddle at any moment. Too much stimulation-too soon after being with Quentin. The sight of his dark head moving between her legs swept away the last protest she could utter.

His tongue swirled on her c.l.i.t and her knees grew weak. He subst.i.tuted the pad of his thumb and increased the pressure. Then his tongue dove into her c.u.n.t and lapped.

"You're so hot here, Darc, swollen. That b.a.s.t.a.r.d." His tongue returned to torture her some more.

A gush of liquid antic.i.p.ation greeted his tongue and he groaned. "Christ, you're sweet. Will you come for me?"

She sobbed when he finger-f.u.c.ked her-three long fingers thrust as far as he could reach. Her hips ground down on his hand.

"Baby, this is for you." His mouth latched onto her c.l.i.t and he suctioned hard, at the same time rotating his fingers, twisting so his knuckles sc.r.a.ped her tender channel.

She was coming apart. The intensity of her pa.s.sion frightened her. How could she want this after a night spent in her vampire's arms? "Joe. You have to stop." She pulled his hair hard and he halted, his chest heaving. He turned his face into her belly.

G.o.d help me. How can I deny him? I love him, too!

Joe stood, his shoulders slumped. Darcy couldn't bear to see his dejection. She was lying to herself and to him. She wanted him every bit as much as she had wanted Quentin. Both men called to her newly awakened sensuality. She wished she could squelch it as quickly as it had arisen, but there it was. She desired them both with a longing that made her knees weak and her p.u.s.s.y weep. How could any emotion so powerful be wrong?

She reached for the waist of his sweatpants and tugged them down his hips. He stopped breathing and closed his eyes.

From one moment to the next, she stared at him, her heart in her throat, and then she was winding her arms around his neck and her legs around his taut waist. He pushed his c.o.c.k inside her and murmured in her ear, "I love you, Darcy!" He backed her hard against the wall and ground his c.o.c.k into her, lifting her up then withdrawing to let her slide down the wall, then up again.

Darcy held him tight. "Jooooe!" She splintered into a thousand pieces.

His face pressed into her shoulder, m.u.f.fling his cry of release.

They slid to the floor in each other's arms.

"Sshhh. It's okay. I have you," he crooned.

Darcy realized she was shaking and turned her face into his shoulder and cried.

"Shhh. Please don't cry." He took her to the floor, blanketing her with his warmth. He framed her face

with his hands and kissed her. "I never wanted to hurt you."

His sweet entreaty and undemanding kiss contrasted sharply with his burgeoning arousal. He trembled

and she wrapped her arms around him.

"It's not enough, Darc. I'm sorry," he whispered. "I have to have you, again."

Impossibly, she felt her body respond. Although she ached from use, she allowed him to push her thighs

upward until her ankles hugged his neck. He pushed up on his arms and angled his hips for maximum penetration and began to rock.

Darcy dug her fingers into the carpet and gasped with each strong, deep stroke.

His face reddened, the skin of his cheeks and jaw tightening as he increased his pace. He turned his face and kissed her ankles. "Darc, tell me you don't want this as much I do."

"I can't. Please, faster," she whispered hoa.r.s.ely.

It was all the encouragement he needed. His thrusts grew shorter, faster, until their skin slapped and moist, sucking sounds emanated from her drenched v.a.g.i.n.a. His breath caught and she felt the spurt of his c.u.m wash inside her, but he kept moving, faster, harder-and then she fragmented, her cry echoing in the

hall. * * * * * The SU team was once again a.s.sembled in her living room, reviewing what they'd learned the previous evening. Dressed in casual clothing, they prepared for another night's hunt. Darcy was subdued, trying not to jump at every creak or bark of laughter. The sun had set an hour ago and Quentin had yet to make an appearance. She wondered whether he'd noticed she never came back to her bed. After making love with Joe, she'd opted for the couch despite his invitation to sleep with him. Darcy was starting to feel like salt-water taffy, pulled in two different directions.

She'd taken a seat on the buff-colored sectional sofa on the far end, opposite Joe. She felt his gaze on her, knew he had questions and wanted to talk about what happened between them, but she wasn't ready to acknowledge how she felt.

Logically, there wasn't any real choice. Quentin was here only as long as the operation lasted. Joe was here for the long haul. Quentin wasn't human. Joe was definitely all man. She risked her reputation and her place on the team by consorting with a vampire-however helpful his expertise was turning out to be. A relationship with Joe wouldn't be without its implications to the team, but wouldn't prove divisive.

Quentin was a charming, but conceited, a.s.s. Joe was a considerate, straight-arrow kind of guy. So why was she torn? Why couldn't she just turn her back on Quentin and mark the whole misadventure as just an aberration? A s.e.xual experiment?

Her bedroom door opened and the group fell silent. Quentin's steps drew near and the hair on the back of her neck rose. He was coming straight for her.

Darcy straightened and darted a glance at Joe. His face remained impa.s.sive, but she saw his fists clench.

Quentin's hand fell on her shoulder. "Missed you when I woke up, love."

Darcy closed her eyes. She didn't need to look at the faces of the men she worked with to know their reaction to his little bombsh.e.l.l.

"That's enough," Joe's voice cut through the silence like a knife.

Quentin walked around the sofa and took the seat beside her.

Did he not know how close he was to being dusted? Darcy willed him to shut up, but Quentin stretched

his arm along the back of the sofa and tugged on her hair. "What's for supper?" he asked his expression guileless.

"Phil's wife, Bets, made enchiladas. I'll check the oven," Max said quietly and left the room.

"I better help," Darcy said and rose to follow him out.

Quentin's hand fell to the small of her back. "This isn't finished."

She didn't reply and headed for the kitchen. As soon as the door swung closed behind her, she let out a deep breath.

Max's angry gaze sliced her to the bone. Normally easy-going with her, his expression was hard-eyed and accusing. "What the h.e.l.l were you thinking, Darc? If you needed nailing, why didn't you turn to Joe? He's been in love with you for years."

Max's disappointment made Darcy feel about a foot tall. "I didn't know how Joe felt. I didn't see it."

"Is it just about the s.e.x?"

She felt shame wash over her cheeks. What would he say if he knew she'd screwed both of them?

"Maybe, at first."