Tooth And Nailed Part 7

She rolled her eyes. "I know."

"I'm not going to try anymore."

"What?" She stared at him, mouth agape, and he grinned.

"Nope." He said, his voice disgustingly cheerful despite the arousal that was evident by the erection straining the fly of his jeans and his fully extended fangs. He grinned at her, those fangs gleaming in the overhead light. "If you want me, you're going to have to seduce me."

Chapter Six.

"If you want me, you're going to have to seduce me!" Rowan mimicked, seething. She was in the worn football jersey she used as a nightgown, pacing the floor of the room he'd given her and working herself into a fine temper over the night's events.

He'd dropped his little bombsh.e.l.l then, while she was still stunned speechless, hustled her into the bedroom with a kiss on the forehead and a cheery goodnight. Her lip curled in to a sneer at the memory. He got her all worked up, made her come on a public street for G.o.d's sake, told her he was a vampire then patted her on the head like a child.

She sat down on the bed with a huff and ran frustrated fingers through her hair. G.o.dd.a.m.n him, he'd been righta"the panting, clenching climax in the shadows of a deserted street hadn't even taken the edge off. Her p.u.s.s.y still pulsed, aching to be filled, and her nipples were still diamond hard. She'd expected him to bring her back here, spread her out like a Thanksgiving feast and eat her alive. Instead, he'd made it her choice.

The unexpected chivalry of the gesture had her completely off balance, which, come to think of it, was probably part of his plan. "b.a.s.t.a.r.d," she muttered, and got back up to pace.

Jack was an accomplished seducer. She'd seen plenty of it in the time he'd worked for her father. He loved women, and while he was with them, he was completely focused. Attentive, considerate, charming. He took them to dinner, to shows, to the hot spots in L.A. In the work he did for her father, he came into contact with a lot of high-profile names and he wasn't above exploiting those glitzy connections to show a lady a good time. But eventually the novelty wore off, at least for him, and within a few weeks, a month or two at the most, he'd be ready to move on. The woman was always left satisfied, but she was always left.

Rowan paced harder, recalling a particularly ugly scene she'd witnessed during an impromptu visit to her father's house for dinner. Jack was there discussing some bit of company business with her dad and doing his best to drive her crazy when Brooks had come into the dining room and announced Mr. Donnelly had a visitor. Jack hadn't even had time to inquire who when a strung-out, sobbing mess of a woman had stumbled into the room.

She winced as she recalled the pity and sorrow that had welled up in her as she watched. Jack had taken control of the situation immediately, guiding the distraught and weeping woman to the terrace off the dining room, his low voice soothing as he pulled her out of earshot.

Rowan would have liked to believe that she was just a friend in need, come to him for aid, but she knew better. She knew the woman, at least through social circles, and knew Jack had broken off a two-month relationship with her only a few weeks before.

She hadn't stayed to see the outcome but made excuses of a headache and an early teachers' meeting the next morning, leaving as quickly as she could. She knew her father hadn't bought the excuse but he hadn't pressed her. She'd gone home and crawled into bed, ridiculously close to tears, and had determined then and there she wasn't going to be one of Jack Donnelly's casualties.

Which didn't do anything for her current state of arousal. She stopped at the window, looking out on the quiet village, the blanket of stars covering it, crossing her arms over her chest. The sc.r.a.pe of soft cotton over her oversensitive nipples had her swallowing a groan. What was she going to do?

Jack lay naked on the king-sized bed in the master bedroom, covered only by a thin sheet. He stared at the ceiling and wondered for about the hundredth time in the last half hour what the h.e.l.l he was doing.

It had taken all of his willpower to not grab Rowan, shove her down on the bed or whatever flat surface was available and have at her. Giving her the choice of whether or not to finish what they'd started in the shadows of Ms. McGilley's Millinery Shop had been an impulse, one he was now bitterly regretting.

He stared down at his c.o.c.k, which showed no sign of subsiding any time soon, and the thought of Rowan only a thin wall away nearly had him rising to his feet to go get her. He knew she'd let hima"she was just as frustrated as him, if not more. h.e.l.l, he could smell the arousal on her from here and the thin walls of the flat did nothing to hide sound of her pacing in the next room.

No, she wouldn't turn him away tonight, but there was more than just a quick f.u.c.k at stake. He made her skittisha"not physically. Most people were intimidated by his sizea"six feet six inches and two hundred and forty pounds tended to get people's attention. But she'd never shown any signs of being afraid of his greater strength and size. She wasn't afraid of him as a man either, although he knew their s.e.xual chemistry made her nervous. h.e.l.l, it made him nervousa"he'd never been with a woman who'd affected him so quickly.

No, it was the s.e.xual connection they shared and the possibility of a more meaningful emotional connection that had her running scared. And frankly, he couldn't blame her. Were the situations reversed, he imagined he'd feel the same. He had a huge advantage over her that she hadn't even realized until tonight, and he knew the knowledge he could get inside her head was going to be one more obstaclea"a big onea"in his way.

He shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position on the bed as he thought over their conversation in the street. He couldn't actually read her mind, not in the way that most frightened her, but his senses were particularly sharp when it came to reading emotion. If she lied to him, he'd know it by the telltale quickening of her pulse, as easy for him to read as a neon sign. He knew when she was aroused, when she was angry, when she was happy or sad. She couldn't hide what she was feeling from him, which in some ways was worse than if he were able to read her thoughts. One could control thoughts to a certain degree but emotion was much harder to regulate.

He shifted again, grimacing as comfort eluded him. He was lying on the finest Irish linen but he was so painfully aroused that his skin was ultrasensitive and it sc.r.a.ped at his flesh like burlap. He finally gave up, propped his hands behind his head and decided to count the cracks in the plaster ceiling to pa.s.s the time. G.o.d knew he wasn't going to get any sleep, not with the woman of his dreams in the next room, fairly marinating in her own juices.

He was going to leave the choice up to her if it killed him. Which felt like a distinct possibility at the moment. He sighed and started counting cracks.

He was doing a fair job of distracting himself and had counted four hundred and sixty-seven cracks when the hairs on the back of his neck suddenly stood on end. He paused in his examination of crack number four hundred and sixty-eight, muscles coiling and waited. Something had alerted him, a slight noise in the hall, and he prepared to leap from the bed. Then the scent caught his nose and he paused in mid spring. Warm and musky with an underlay of spice and the faint floral of lingering perfume. He'd know that scent anywhere.

"Rowan?" he called softly, and again heard the soft shuffling sound that had first alerted him.

There was a long pause and then, "What?"

He frowned. "What are you doing in the hall?"

"Couldn't sleep."

"Are you hungry?"

"No."

"Thirsty?"

She laughed faintly. "No."

"Lonely?"

He watched the doork.n.o.b turn slowly, the glow of light from the hall edging into the room as the door opened. "Can you make me a promise, Jack?"

He didn't hesitate. "Anything that's in my power to do."

"Good." The door opened wider and he saw her. She was backlit by the hall light, the generous curves of her body outlined clearly in the soft glow. She was wearing some oversized jersey from an American football team as a night rail. The soft fabric draped her lovingly, hugging every curve and ending at the tops of her thighs, and even from the bed, he could see her trembling faintly. Her face was in shadows though, and he strained to read her expression.

She walked into the room, closed the door at her back and without the compet.i.tion of artificial light, the moon caught her in its beam and lit her face. He saw the trepidation in the depths of her eyes, in the hard swallow that drew his eyes to the elegant column of her neck. But he also saw the arousal in the frantic pulse beating there, in the quickness of her breathing. And he smelled it on her. The scent of her need, which had been taunting him all night, had been faint and fleeting through the barriers of wood and plaster. But now, in the same room, it nearly made him swallow his tongue.

He struggled to focus on her face. He knew this was an important momenta"she'd come to him after all. But he was having a hard time remembering that over the beating of his own blood. He swallowed hard and managed after a couple of attempts to speak.

"What promise is it you need from me, Rowan?"

He watched her draw a deep breath. The large shirt she was wearing rose with the motion, thrusting her b.r.e.a.s.t.s forward and raising the hem of the shirt a tantalizing inch higher on her thighs. His eyes nearly crossed trying to keep track of both movements. Still, he managed to keep his ears open for her response.

"I need you to promise me that I can be in charge."

He frowned, disappointed. They'd been over this, security was his area. If there was any danger, he needed to be able to count on her to follow direction.

"Rowan, we've discussed this. I know you're not happy about having to be here, away from your job, your friends. And taking orders from me. But it's necessary for your safety."

She stared at him, and for a moment he was afraid she'd burst into tears. He blinkeda"startled when she laughed and shook her head. "No, that's not what I mean."

"I don't understand."

She rolled her eyes. "I know you've got to be in charge generally, Jack. I don't really like it but I accept it. That's not what I meant."

He was confused. "You've lost me, love."

She was fiddling with the hem of her shirt, giving him flashes of silken thigh and the shadows between them. He struggled to concentrate when he saw her mouth moving. "I mean, I need for you to promise me I can be in charge in here."

It took him a minute to understand what she meant. The realization when it came nearly knocked him sideways with l.u.s.t. "You mean the bedroom?" She nodded and he swore he actually felt the majority of his blood drain to his lap. "All the time?"

She shrugged, meeting his gaze squarely. "Well, most of the time. Especially the first time."

"Okay." He waited a beat. "Do you mind telling me why?"

"Well, I ought to get to be in charge of something. And it was your idea, anyway."

He shook his head. "I certainly don't remember that."

"Sure you do." She smiled at him then, a faint half smile that only women seem to be capable of. "Remember? You said it was my call. You weren't going to seduce me, I would have to seduce you. I can hardly be the seducer if you're the one calling the shots."

"Wait a minute." Jack could quickly feel the situation spinning out of his control and he wasn't sure he liked it. "I'm not a lie back and take it kind of man, Rowan."

She c.o.c.ked her head. "I'm not a lie back and take it kind of woman, Jack."

He watched her carefully. Her eyes were bright with mischief and desire, her body language fairly shouting confident s.e.xuality. But there was just a hint of vulnerability to the set of her mouth, a shadow of insecurity in her eyes. For whatever reason, she felt she needed to be in control of the situation, and if that's what she needed to finally give in to the attraction between them, Jack wasn't fool enough to quibble the point.

He reached back for a pillow, folding it and propping it on the headboard then relaxed against it. He linked his fingers behind his head and smiled slowly. "Show me what you've got, sweetheart."

Rowan shivered in antic.i.p.ation. She knew he wasn't the type of man to give up control easily, especially in the bedroom, and the idea that he was going to let her hold the reins had her nearly giddy with antic.i.p.ation. Since it wasn't a role she normally held either, it also had nervous b.u.t.terflies dancing in her stomach. But the antic.i.p.ation overrode the b.u.t.terflies and she watched him settle back on the bed, his long body laid out in a symphony of shifting muscle and bone, and licked her lips. This was going to be fun.

Now that she'd given herself permission to give in to the attraction she felt for him, she felt free to enjoy him to the fullest. She was so absorbed in watching him, when he spoke she jumped a little, startled.

"Do you need a hand getting started, darling?"

Her eyes darted to his face to find him watching her with sensual amus.e.m.e.nt, one corner of that fabulous mouth kicked up in a half smile that turned her knees to jelly.

She gave him an answering smile. "Just taking inventory." She tapped one finger against her lips thoughtfully. "I think for starters, you can keep your hands where they are. No moving them without permission."

He quirked an eyebrow, the amus.e.m.e.nt still plain on his face. "Yes, ma'am."

She grinned, enjoying the little thrill of power. "Good boy," she purred, and watched his eyes narrow slightly. Ah, he wasn't as comfortable in the subservient role as he pretended. Goodie.

"Now then." She strode forward, putting an extra swivel in her hips as she approached the bed's ma.s.sive footboard. She barely held back a giggle as his eyes tracked the movement and the sheet draped over his lap tented a bit more. Oh she was going to enjoy this.

She leaned over from the waist and braced her hands on the footboard. Eyes on his, she licked her lips. "Move your feet apart." He complied immediately, sliding them apart so they pointed at the corners of the bed. She watched his chest move as his breathing deepened almost imperceptibly. His face remained the same, still showing that lazy amus.e.m.e.nt, but his eyes were blazing black fire at her.

She reached forward and grasped the sheet in her fist. "This isn't really necessary, I don't think." She began gathering the fabric in her fingers, inching it lower and lower along his body. She nearly swallowed her tongue when his abdomen was fully exposed. The muscle there was rippling, either a reaction to the tickling sensation of the sheet being dragged across his skin or l.u.s.t, she didn't know which. But the sight of that skin, smooth but for the slender ribbon of hair narrowing down from his navel, nearly had her abandoning her plans for a torturous seduction and pouncing on him then.

With a hard swallow she knew didn't go unnoticed by her captive, she continued dragging the sheet downward. When the sheet caught on his erection, she gave a slight tug, pulling it loose and allowing his c.o.c.k, fully erect, to spring free. She continued gathering fabric, but her eyes never left that column of flesh pulsing in time with his heartbeat.

Rowan finally finished gathering the sheet to the bottom of the bed, reaching to both sides to fully uncover his feet then resumed her braced position against the footboard.

"Well," she said softly, not bothering to try to disguise the desire in her voice. "Someone looks ready to play."

There was a hard flush on his cheeks and the muscles in his arms were bunched with tension. Still, his voice when he spoke was smooth, his face still lazily amused. "It's your game, darling."

She tilted her head and smiled, power and l.u.s.t mixing into a heady c.o.c.ktail. "Yes, it is, isn't it?" With that, she straightened, reached one hand over her head. She grasped the neck of her jersey and pulled it smoothly over her head, tossing it to the far corner of the room. She shook back her hair, placed her hands on her hips and smirked at the strangled gasp that escaped his lips. "Game on," she said softly.

She stood still, allowing him to explore her body with his eyes as she knew he was aching to do with his hands. She wasn't physically perfect but she worked out regularly and had good muscle tone, and if the blazing heat in his black eyes were any indication, he wasn't noticing any flaws.

Rowan could feel his eyes on her like a physical presence and lifted her hands to trace over her own skin as he watched. She slid her hands under her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, heavy with desire, and lifted them in her palms. She stroked the already hard nipples with her thumbs, shivering as sensation raced over her skin. She watched as he shifted on the bed, his c.o.c.k lengthening even farther under her gaze and she shivered again.

She let her hands flow down over her belly, his eyes following the movement. She stroked over her hips, down her thighs, using the barest of touches. She was arousing herself unexpectedly with her actionsa"the act of performing for him while he was helpless to do anything but watch was erotic in a way she hadn't expected. She enjoyed the touch of her own fingers on her skin, the antic.i.p.ation sweet. She allowed her fingertips to glide down her flanks and then trail back up the tops of her thighs, stopping at their apex.

She paused there for long moments, her fingertips just resting on the top of her bare mound. She smiled as he shifted again, muscles bunching and tightening in a silent display of tension. "Are you uncomfortable?" she inquired politely, biting back a grin as he glared at her.

The lazy, amused look was gone, replaced by fierce eyes and unsmiling lips, and she could see the fangs in his mouth lengthening as his desire grew. "Someday," he growled, his voice deep and harsh, "I'm going to pay you back for this."

She laughed softly. "Oh baby, I haven't even started." With that, she widened her stance, opening herself up to his gaze and dipped one hand between her legs.

"Mmmm," she purred, feeling a surge of female power as he peeled his lips back in a snarl. "My p.u.s.s.y is so wet and hot," she whispered, and shivered as she dragged her hand back, catching her c.l.i.t and playing with it for a moment. She knew he could see her clearly enough, despite the relative darkness in the room. She was so wet she knew without looking that her juices would be glistening on the bare lips of her c.u.n.t. She kept herself waxed smooth and without the impediment of hair, could feel the warm liquid trickling past her p.u.s.s.y lips to anoint her thighs as well.

He was practically vibrating as she played with herself and she drew out the moment, working herself dangerously close to o.r.g.a.s.m as she toyed with him. She saw him gather himself as if to move and she stopped. "No moving."

She watched him with trepidation, certain he was going to ignore the directive and lunge at her, but he didn't. He didn't look happy about it but he settled back on the pillows, this time reaching over his head and clamping his hands on the top rail of the headboard. His c.o.c.k was bobbing in the air now, dark red and pulsing with his heartbeat, and she licked her lips, suddenly nervous. There was only so far she could push this man so perhaps it was time to move this show along.

She pulled her hand from her c.u.n.t and raised it to her lips. Eyes on his, she delicately licked the thick cream from her hand. His lips peeled back in a growl, his fangs gleaming in the faint moonlight as he watched her taste herself.

"I'm so sorry." She widened her eyes in mock apology. "I'm being so selfish. Would you like to taste?" She walked around the bed, stopping by his shoulder. The bed was so wide she had to lean over just to get close to him, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s swinging forward. She cautiously extended her fingers toward his lips and waited.

For a heartbeat she thought he was simply going to grab her and drag her underneath him and she braced herself to leap away. Instead, he extended his tongue, curling it around her fingers and sucking them into his mouth. She gasped as the sharp edge of his fang caught her skin, scratching it. She pulled her hand free reflexively, noted the scratch along her index finger. It was barely more than a paper cut, tiny beads of blood appearing along the torn flesh. Suddenly his head lifted from the pillow and he sucked her finger back into his mouth. She saw his eyes flare as the combination of her c.u.n.t juice and blood hit his tongue and he began sucking hard, cleaning her fingers thoroughly of the juice that coated them and drawing more blood from the cut.

Rowan moaned at the blatant sensuality of the act, felt herself drowning in the sensation his mouth on her fingers evoked. With an effort, she pulled her hand free.

"Ah, ah, ah," she scolded, backing away from the bed. "My game, remember?"

Jack licked his lips. "I remember," he rasped, and once more relaxed against the pillows.

"I must admit, you've been better about this than I expected you to be." She tilted her head in question. "Why'd you agree to this, Jack? Was it because it was the only way to get me into bed?"

He shook his head. "No. Sooner or later I'd have gotten you here on my terms."

She rolled her eyes at the arrogance of the statement but didn't let herself be sidetracked from the question. "Then why?"

"Because you asked me to. Because you needed me to."

Rowan blinked back sudden tears at the tenderness in his voice. "Well then," she managed, her voice choked with unwanted emotion. "I think you deserve a reward."

With that, she crawled up on the bed, slid between his sprawled legs and in one smooth motion, took his c.o.c.k in her mouth to the root.

He hissed, hips surging up in an instinctive thrust and she hummed around him. He was big, stretching her mouth wide, and with delight she began a slow, heavy up and down suction that had him growling.

She worked him steadily, curling her tongue around the sensitive head of his c.o.c.k on the upstroke, taking him all the way to the back of her throat on the downstroke. He was flooding her mouth with pre-come, the dark, erotic taste of him making her head spin and her c.u.n.t flood with renewed moisture. She felt his hands tangle in her hair, and though she knew she should stop and make him move his hands back, she couldn't make herself do it. His fingers were tugging on the strands reflexively as he guided her movements and the sharp little pains were making her even wetter.