Love Bites Part 15

Quentin's jaw clenched and he drove his hips forward, pus.h.i.+ng past her l.a.b.i.a, into her channel, all the way inside her until he b.u.t.ted her womb. He released a groan.

Darcy echoed it.

But he didn't move again. "Well, here we are."

Darcy waited for the storm to erupt, but he remained still. Her eyes narrowed. She knew he'd conceded too quickly.

She tugged her hands from beneath his and traced the center of his spine, lightly, teasingly.

"Darcy," he growled, "You're not going to wrest control from me."

Oh yeah? I know your hot b.u.t.tons, baby. She dug her nails into his back and sc.r.a.ped them down to the

top of his b.u.t.tocks.

"Witch." His mouth descended and he circled his lips over hers. She tempted him with her tongue, reaching out to lick his closed lips, stabbing at the seam. He resisted her invitation. But she'd just started. Her hands glided lower and she cupped his firm a.s.s, giving him a squeeze. His c.o.c.k pulsed, but he didn't move inside her. He dragged his lips from hers. "Have you no patience?

Is it not enough that I'm inside you, filling you? It is for me. You're c.u.n.t is hot and moist, and your l.u.s.t is fragrant." Darcy glared at him. The b.a.s.t.a.r.d was going to make her wait. This was almost more diabolical than her last "lesson." He was there! All the way up her. How could he resist their heat? Her hips longed to squirm and flex, but his weight trapped her movements.

But he'd forgotten about one set of muscles over which he had no control. She tightened her p.u.s.s.y and released, tightened and released. And her hands were free. She reached until her fingers found the crease of his a.s.s and trailed downward, then pressed his tightly furled a.n.u.s. Grinning, she said, "Can you resist? Hmmm?" She circled one finger and felt his thighs tremble atop hers.

Leaning upward she bit his lower lip and dragged his mouth down to hers, sucking his lip inside her mouth, while her hands continued their torture below.

Sweat broke out on his face and chest, his arms began to shake, and his d.i.c.k moved an inch deeper. With a hoa.r.s.e cry, he rammed a knee between her legs, shoving her thighs wide and pulled out of her entirely.

Darcy moaned a protest and pressed her finger into his a.s.s.

Holding himself above her on his arms, a deep rumble built in the back of his throat.

Darcy chuckled and poked her finger in and out. The man did love a finger-f.u.c.k. "What's it gonna be, Bat-boy?"

Quentin broke into a full-fledged growl, and Darcy knew she'd won.

He grabbed her and rolled her roughly onto her stomach. Then he pulled her hips up and drove his c.o.c.k straight into her, cramming himself inside her.

Darcy yelped and rose on her hands-the better to meet his powerful thrusts. Each forward drive jerked her whole body until she grasped the headboard to brace herself. It was almost too much-too deep, too hard, too fast. His hands gripped her cheeks and jerked her higher. He rammed forward as far as he could go, grinding himself inside her, lifting and lowering her hips to increase the friction where her p.u.s.s.y met the crisp, wiry hairs at his groin. Darcy hung onto the bars, her hips jolting, until her o.r.g.a.s.m hit-an explosion of sensation that tightened her v.a.g.i.n.a and seared the breath in her lungs. Quentin was right there with her, his steel rod pistoning against her b.u.t.tocks faster, his hands squeezing her a.s.s in a bruising grip, and then he released a roar that should have rattled the windows.

As he slowed, Darcy gasped, her breath hitching on a burst of laughter. "I'm going to have to check the s.h.i.+ngles on the roof in the morning." Quentin collapsed against her back, taking them both to the mattress. "Madam, will you ever let me have the last word?"

Quentin stirred three teaspoons of sugar into his tea and ignored the amused smiles from his two

companions.

Seated around the kitchen table, the three vampires took turns yawning sleepily.

Emmy stretched her arms above her head and giggled. "Well, I'm going to say it. No Dylan, I know you

think it's impolite to comment, but I swear Quentin shouted loud enough to wake the dead last night."

She ignored Quentin's scathing glance. "What on earth did she do to you? I think I could use some pointers."

Quentin remained tight-lipped. His dignity demanded he keep mum. Darcy's "pointers" were the culprits, after all.

Dylan cleared his throat. "Speaking of your tormentor, where's Darcy gone off to?"

"She left a note. Said she'd stop by the house after dark and give us the scoop." He didn't add that he'd been too caught up in s.e.x-play the evening before to let Darcy tell him the latest developments in the case. It was too bruising to his ego how the woman managed to distract him.

"Quentin..."

Emmy's voice held a tentative note that snagged Quentin's attention from his cup.

"Darcy told me last night that she's thinking of becoming one of us."

"I've asked her to consider it," Quentin admitted.

"It's not a good idea," she said quietly.

"I know the procedure is dangerous, but I have done it before. If she wants it enough, I'll do it for her."

"You mean if she wants you enough," Dylan murmured.

"Well that, too."

"I think you should wait," Emmy whispered, her face reflecting sympathy.

Quentin stared. Something was wrong. "Was your experience so terrible?"

"You know I didn't have a choice, but no, it was less frightening than the alternative. But that's not why

I'm asking you to wait."

A sick feeling of dread descended on him. "Well then, out with it, Emmy."

"You can't turn Darcy. She's pregnant."

It was early evening and the sun still winked on the edge of the horizon. At the gate guard's direction

Captain Springer, Max, and Darcy exited their unmarked squad car.

"I have to take your weapons," he said, his expression unapologetic. "Mr. King's orders."

At the Captain's nod, Darcy reached beneath her jacket for the Beretta holstered at the small of her

back and handed it to the guard. Max pulled a gun from his ankle holster, but the Captain merely

shrugged. "I knew he'd shake us down." They were instructed to leave their car inside the gate and walk to the front door. The house was split-level and long. The grounds were lush with vegetation. A flagstone path led to the front door where another guard held the door open for them to pa.s.s. "Go straight back to Mr. King's office."

The interior of the house was more impressive than the exterior, if the long corridor they traversed was any indication of the rest of the house. Dark wood floors, white stucco walls and high ceilings were enhanced by a large heavy oak armoire and high-backed leather chairs. At the end of the corridor was an open door.

"Drugs sure pay good," Max said beneath his breath, halting in front of a large display case filled with baseball memorabilia. "d.a.m.n, he's got a signed Sosa game ball." Darcy gave him a gentle shove to keep him moving toward Rupe King's office. As they neared the door, a large man with the shoulders of a linebacker held it for them, indicating they should pa.s.s. After they filed in, he stepped out and closed the door behind him. Darcy had no doubts he would remain just outside the door in case Mr. King needed him, and the bulge she'd detected beneath his vanilla-colored suit jacket had certainly been a gun. "Come in, come in," a low, melodic voice, with a hint of Jamaican accent beckoned them inside. Darcy turned to see a tall, thin man wearing a long-sleeved linen s.h.i.+rt rising from behind his desk. His hair was close-cropped, his face a dark ebony, his mouth wide, and his dark brown eyes were wary. "Mr. King?" the Captain asked. "Indeed." His gaze swept over the three resting on Darcy. "You and your people may take a seat here."

He indicated a brightly upholstered couch and two armchairs before a large picture window that looked out into the tall pines in the back yard.

Her two a.s.sociates took the armchairs, which left Darcy sitting on the sofa with Rupe King.

There was a long silence, and then Captain Springer cleared his throat. "Mr. King, you contacted our department regarding a man who approached with a business proposition."

Rupe King's lip curled in a sneer. "A vampire! A G.o.dd.a.m.n vampire wants a share in my operation. I'd

as soon f.u.c.k with the devil himself."

"This particular vampire is of interest to us. He's responsible for numerous deaths of young people here and in Seattle, where his string of murders originated."

"His name be Nicolas Powell," Rupe all but spat the name. "And I too have particular interest in this vampire."

The Captain's expression became intent. "I understand you recently lost your brother."

"Yes. One of Nicky's minions devoured him before his companions' eyes." Rupe King's eyes held a bitter rage. "I will see my brother avenged, whatever the cost."

"We've had one confrontation with him a couple of nights ago. We took out his followers, but Nicky

gave us the slip. He's wary of us now. We need a way to set a trap for him."

The Jamaican's eyes glittered with interest. "I must admit that while I have a well-trained staff, I do not feel they are adequate for this challenge."

Captain Springer's chin lifted toward Darcy and Max. "My unit's been hunting killers like these for four years. We have the experience." Rupe King gave Darcy an a.s.sessing glance. Darcy kept her expression impa.s.sive. "Will I be left alone, if I help you get him?" the wily drug lord asked.

"For the duration of the op, yes."

Rupe King relaxed against the sofa. "I will sacrifice a s.h.i.+pment. It arrives tonight. Two of my trusted men will be aboard the boat to act as the deliverymen-they must be mine or he will smell a double-cross."

Captain Springer nodded. "Just tell me the dock. Also, I have a vampire of my own who will help with the sting. No harm must come to him."

"Three actually," Darcy murmured. "Two more came in from Seattle last night to help. Friends of Quentin's."

Captain Springer shot her a startled glance, then quickly recovered. "The three who work for me will not be harmed."

Rupe King did not look pleased. Obviously to him, the only good vampire was a dead one.

Only a week ago, Darcy would have agreed.

"So be it," he said with a nod.

While Rupe and the Captain finalized the details, Darcy's tension grew. Things were heating up fast. Tonight they'd trap a killer and Quentin's mission would be over. And she still had a choice to make. Leave the life she'd built for herself, or join with Quentin as his companion of the night.

On one hand, she had a career. And she'd worked d.a.m.n hard to be accepted by the guys, even earning a good measure of their respect for her fighting skills and dead aim. Although of late she'd taken hits due to her liaison with the vamp, she took great pride in what she had accomplished.

On the other hand, outside of her work she had no life-and no one to share what she had built.