Ma set a steaming cup of coffee down in front of me and I retrieved my hand.
“Thanks, Ma.”
“Don’t mention it,” she said. “Consider it bottomless, and it’s on the house. Least I can do under the circumstances.” Ma gave a snort and bustled off.
“What circumstances?” Michael asked, as soon as Ma was out of earshot.
I took a sip of coffee, even though I knew it would be too hot. “You’re in my usual spot.”
Michael’s face went completely blank. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t know.”
“No way
you could
,” I replied. I took another sip of coffee. “But you do now.”
Michael stood up at once. “I’ll trade you,” he said.
I let my eyes travel over his faded jeans, decided they could take the duct tape. “You’re on.”
I stood,
then
took a side step toward my regular stool. Michael stayed right where he was. He put a hand on my arm, as if to steady me. My body brushed against his, and, for one split second, my ass was snug up against his crotch. His other hand dropped to my hip, as if to hold me in place, and I felt a swift, hot stab of desire spear forward from where our bodies touched until it reached my groin.
I eased down onto my regular stool. Michael’s hands stayed on me all the way, as if he were afraid, without him, I might fall down. Then he took the place that I had vacated and reached to slide his plate toward him. His forearm brushed against my breasts. I knew we both saw the way my nipples hardened. He speared a bite of omelet, held it out toward me.
“So, Candace,” he said. “You want to share, or not?”
I took the fork into my mouth, then let Michael slowly slide it back out. I chewed, swallowed,
then
accepted a second bite. He turned his body all the way toward mine, his long legs on either side of my stool so that I was between them. I leaned forward, pressing my arms against the outside of my breasts so that they pushed toward him.
“That’s good, thanks,” I said. I took another sip of coffee. “What brings you to town?”
“I’m playing in the No-Limits tournament,” Michael said simply. Then he made a face. “I guess you could say I have a sort of type-A personality. I got tired of running marathons, thought I’d try my hand at tournament poker.”
“You must be pretty good,” I observed. Not to mention loaded. The buy-in to the tournament was hardly chicken feed.
“I’m not bad,” he answered with a shrug. “One of my friends just sold his software company. He’s bankrolling me.”
“That’s a damned good friend,” I remarked.
Michael laughed. “Tell me about it. But as I helped contribute to Josh’s millions, I guess he’s willing to share. I’m also his stockbroker.” He took a bite of omelet, himself. “So, you’re a local?”
“Actually,” I said, “I’m a cocktail waitress at the Scheherazade.”
“No kidding?”
Michael said, his expression intrigued.
“That’s quite a coincidence.”
“Isn’t it,
though.
”
He toyed with the food on his plate, his eyes on his fork. “Mind if I ask you something?”
“As long as it doesn’t have anything to do with the casino,” I said.
He shook his head at once. “Nothing
like
that,” he said. “No. The thing is. I’m just sort of wondering…” He lifted his eyes to mine and I felt a punch of heat right through the gut. “How hungry you really are.”
“That’s kind of hard to say,” I said. “But I’m pretty sure what I’m hungry for isn’t on the menu at Ma’s.”
“We don’t have to stay,” he said.
“That’s right. We don’t.”
“Half a second,” Michael said. “Just let me settle up.”
He pulled his check from beneath his plate, moved to the cash register at the far end of the counter. I
stood,
surprised to feel my head felt just a little light.
Anticipation
, I thought. The truth was
,
I liked the way my body felt, right at that moment. Cool skin, blood running hot. I joined Michael, and together we walked out into the parking lot. He headed straight for the stretch limo.
“You have got to be joking,” I said.
He grinned.
“Nope.
You can blame it all on Josh.” He rapped on the driver’s window, and at once the tinted glass rolled down.
“Oh, hey, Mr. Pressman,” a youthful voice said.
“Hey, Andy,” Michael replied. “I’d like it if you’d just drive around the city for a while.
Wherever you like.”
“Sure thing.
I can do that,” the driver said. If he was surprised that his fare was no longer alone, he didn’t show it. He made a move as if to get out and open the passenger door.
“No, no,” Michael said. “Don’t get out.” He moved to the back of the limo, opened the door himself. I slid in onto the smooth white leather seat. The divider between the driver and the back was all the way up. Not only that, there were curtains pulled in front of it. Michael slid in beside
me,
shut the door with a sharp
slap
. I felt the car quiver, heard the door locks
snick
into place as Andy brought the engine to life. In front of the banquette seat stretched an ocean of plush, sky-blue carpet. I could have sworn the back of the limo had the same square footage as my office.
“So, what do you think?” Michael asked.
“Nice,” I said.
“Very nice.”
He reached out, fisted one hand in the long-sleeved T-shirt I wore, and pulled me toward him.
Leaning back against the locked door so that I sprawled across his chest.
“I was really, really hoping you would say that,” he said. And put his mouth on mine.
Michael’s mouth was firm and demanding. He nipped his teeth along my lips in quick bites that stopped just short of pain, while his hands slid down my body to cup my ass, kneading, stroking. I bit back, parting my lips, and at once he swept his tongue inside. I pulled it deep inside my mouth to suck, and heard him make a satisfied sound.
His hands moved up to tug the T-shirt from the slacks I wore. And then his hands were underneath the shirt and on my skin. The car took a corner. Gasping, I tilted to one side,
then
slid off onto my stomach on the plush carpet of the floor. Michael followed with a quick laugh. He knelt above me, arms and legs bracketing my body, hands already reaching for my breasts as he pressed his erection against my rump. I threw back my head. He bent his head and caught my earlobe between his teeth, biting down, hard. One hand still beneath my shirt, he reached with the other to push it forward, pull it off. He released the clasp of my bra and my breasts swung free. He put his mouth on my bare back. Fingers digging into my hips now, he ran his tongue along the length of my spine.
“I want to fuck you, Candace,” he said, his voice husky.
“Deep and hard.
I want to hear you scream when you come.”
“You’re the one who’s going to scream,” I said, and heard him laugh, low in his throat.
He reached for the fastening on my pants then, undoing the button, eased the zipper down. Repositioning me so that my upper body rested on the leather seat, he drew the slacks, and the brief scrap of silk I wore beneath, down my legs and off. Then, quick as lightning, he rolled over onto his back, sliding beneath me as he spread my legs once more. He ran his hands up the backs of them,
then
slid around to the front. My breath began to come in hard, quick gasps. He pressed his mouth to my clit, slicked his tongue across it once, twice, three times,
then
pulled it into his mouth to suck.
I threw back my head once more, pressing my breasts against the soft, smooth leather, warming it even as my skin warmed. With one hand, Michael stroked along my ass. The other followed
suit,
then moved forward, his fingers sliding inside. I gave a guttural cry as I pressed against them, driving them deeper. My whole body was on fire now. His fingers inside me, their rhythm fast, then faster. I felt him take my clit between his teeth, and gently bite down. I did scream, then, as pleasure pure and hot as lightning shot straight through me.
“No,” I gasped out. “Not yet. No. It’s not enough.”
I heard him laugh. Felt the vibration of it deep in my own body. He released me, his fingers leaving my body on one long, slow glide. His mouth left my clit to travel up across my belly. I put my palms on the edge of the seat, pushed myself back, and felt him leverage himself into a sitting position beneath me to take one breast into his mouth. I was writhing against him, desperate to feel his skin on mine. I leaned back, my bare crotch resting squarely on his still-denim-clad one.
My eyes on his, I undid the buttons of his shirt.
Slowly.
One by one, while a humming silence filled the car. With one hand, he continued to tease one of my nipples, plucking until it stiffened and ached. I pushed the fabric of his shirt away, bent my head,
ran
my teeth along his nipples. I felt his hand tighten on my breast, heard him make a strangled sound. And then my hands were undoing the fastening of his jeans. Shifting my own body away, I pulled them down and off. Beneath them, he wore a pair of fine silk boxers. I ran my hands up across the front, where his cock pushed forward, then slipped them inside the waistband and drew the boxers off.
And then he was reaching for me, pulling me up his body, positioning me above him. Bowing my body back, pushing my hands up to brace against the roof of the car, he pulled one breast deep into his mouth even as he gripped my hips, then urged me down. I rocked my body back and forth, taking him deep, then deeper still. He gave a groan. Slowly, as if measuring every inch of him, I began to move my hips, up and down. Michael’s fingers dug into my hips.
“More,” he choked out. “Faster.
Harder, Candace.
More.”
I let myself go then, tumbling forward over him, hips
pistoning
up and down as he thrust to meet me, stroke for stroke. His hands raced up my back, then moved to find my breasts, capturing my nipples between his fingers, squeezing hard. My breath clogged in my throat.
“Do it,” I heard him say. “Do it, Candace. Come.”
On a great, hot surge of pleasure, I felt my body release, felt Michael thrust up,
then
go still even as I clenched around him, his cock stone-hard. And then he was moving again, moving wildly, body bucking up into mine as he came in his own turn, hands gripping my ass as he drove us both on. I lay sprawled across him, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
“You didn’t scream,” I said, when I could manage to speak.
He gave a spurt of laughter I felt all the way to my core. He brushed the hair back from my face and gave me a long, slow kiss
,
then let those whiskey-colored eyes smile into mine.
“I didn’t,
did
I?” he said. “Oh, well. There’s always next time.”
The Strip was pretty quiet as I drove toward the turn that would take me to my house. Images of Michael and our ride through Vegas played in my mind, arousing me all over again. I forced myself to push them away. You have a job to do, remember? I said out loud as I headed for home. I idled at a stoplight, sliding my cell from my bag and hooking the earpiece into my ear. Then I punched in Blanchard Gray’s number. Blanchard works at the medical examiner’s office. We pretty much keep the same hours. For me, it was so I could keep the
Sher
free of vampires. For Blanchard, the situation is a little more basic.
Blanchard Gray
is
a vampire.
I guess you might even say he’s
my
vampire. If not for me, Blanchard wouldn’t exist at all. I had come upon him literally being sucked dry in an alley not long after I moved to Vegas. By the time I had
offed
his attacker, Blanchard himself was too far gone. I hadn’t been able to save his life, but I did manage to keep him from dying the horrible death of someone teetering between the living and the undead. In return, Blanchard helps me when he can, serving as my eyes and ears in the vampire underground.