The Vampire's Protector (10 page)

Chapter 11

W
atching the man remove his clothes while she stood beneath the shower spray was a lesson in, oh yes, give me some of that. Summer wasn't a prude, and she wasn't one of those women who needed to have a relationship before she could have sex with a man. If she wanted to get some, she fed that need with a shameless and empowering jump in the sack with a man she trusted (no strangers, please).

And what better way to really get to know the man who had just dropped his trousers to reveal a very healthy, upright, hard cock. No zombies here, folks.

He smiled at her, flipped his hair over a shoulder and stepped into the shower.

“This is good for you?” he asked.

“It will be. Come here. Let me show you how the modern woman takes her pleasure.” She captured his wet penis with one hand and pulled him closer. Gliding her fingers along the shaft, she met his approving gaze with a raise of eyebrow. “No love necessary,” she said. “We both get what we want. From someone we know and, hopefully, trust. And I know you want this.”

“Uh, oh...yes,” he growled. Clutching her hand to stop her strokes, he leaned in and kissed her mouth. “But allow me to show you how a really old man takes his pleasure. Yes?”

“You like to be on top? I'm going to have a problem with that.”

“Is that so? Doesn't bother me. But we are standing, and I...” He slid his fingers up her stomach and circled her nipple. Summer bit her lip and closed her eyes. “I like to be the one who gives pleasure.”

“I'm cool with that. Oh yeah. That. Is. Good.”

“It's much like learning a new instrument,” he said, moving closer to nestle his nose against her wet hair and ear. His fingers slipped over her nipple. “Just the right touch, for the right pressure and right amount of time.”

She sighed as an erotic zing flashed through her system and burst in her core. A giddiness curled her mouth and she sighed.

“Slowly and curious, yes?” he whispered.

“Curious is good.” She tilted her head back, and he bent to take her nipple into his mouth. And her world rocked in the best way possible. She wrapped her hand over his shoulders, gliding them along his slick skin and prompted him forward. The man could take all he wanted.

Thankful the glass walls were heavy-duty and secured with steel corner beams, she laughed when her back hit the slippery glass and dislodged his suctioning kiss from her breast.

“Oh yes?” he said on a tease as he knelt before her and kissed the inside of her left knee. “We'll see if you laugh after I try this.”

A lash of his tongue tickled at her inner thigh. He glided higher until a tender kiss to her labia whispered out another sigh from her. Summer raked her fingers through the man's wet hair and did not so much guide him closer as she followed his lead. He opened her with his tongue and tasted her. A long taste that teased and promised, then delivered as he kissed her clitoris and gave it due attention.

She hadn't realized men of the nineteenth century were so educated regarding a woman's pleasure, but—mercy—he knew what he was doing. She almost lost her footing, so she gripped for the top of the glass wall and held firmly as she allowed her thighs to relax and her core to surrender to the sweet, demanding lure of his motions.

When his fingers slicked over her pulsing button she knew exactly how it felt to be played by a skilled musician. And it didn't take him long to bring up her song in a throaty, hoarse shout of pleasure. Her body shuddered against his fingers as he kissed his way upward, over her mons and stomach and to her breasts. She gripped at his skin, digging in as she rode the orgasm to its final, whispering tingle.

“Nicolo,” she gasped.

“Not so bad for an old man, eh?”

She chuckled then and pushed him against the opposite wall.

* * *

After a remarkable round of sex in the shower they had moved to Summer's bed, still wet, but not minding that the sheets got a little moist. Nicolo had been flabbergasted that the modern woman was so at ease with the male anatomy. In the shower Summer had knelt before him and taken his cock into her mouth. Of course he'd had women do that for him before, but they had been bought and paid for. No respectable woman would even think to do such a thing for her man back in his time.

But Summer was respectable. And talented with her tongue. He did appreciate the forward movement that women had made over the years. And the up and down movement. And that part where she'd taken him in both hands and had gently twisted—mercy. Maybe it was a vampire thing?

“What are you thinking about?” she asked. Rolling up to hug him from the side and crossing one of her legs over his groin, she bit playfully at his biceps. “You think a few orgasms for each of us was enough?”

“Oh most certainly. I was thinking how much I favor your talents.”

She chuckled and rolled to her back, so he adjusted to his side to look over her naked body in the muted afternoon light. Small breasts with tight nipples. Sleek waist and hips and the longest legs he'd seen in—well, almost two centuries. She was a work of art.

“Do you ever have sex with those you bite?” he suddenly asked. The mystery of her blood drinking ever nudged at him. He was a curious man. And he wanted to know everything about her. This seemed a good time to ask the intimate questions.

“Rarely. I can't drink a lot. It's a weird thing with me. So it's usually poke 'em, suck 'em, get the hell out of there.” She turned her head, eyeing him with a falling smile. “I...” A heavy sigh preceded “...do things to those I bite. I'm not like other vampires.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“It's not something I've ever had someone explain to me. My family and I have sort of figured it out over the years. My dad was the first to notice because he went along with me when I started drinking blood. I change the donors I drink from. They go a little mad.”

“Really? Like...” He tapped his temple. “...touched in the head?”

She nodded.

“That's quite remarkable.”

“Not in a good way. I think...” She sighed, then trailed her fingers along his thigh. “I've never told anyone this...” She closed her eyes, and he sensed her reluctance.

“Tell me,” he whispered. “Give me your confidence. I won't spoil it. Promise.”

“No, you wouldn't. You are an honorable man.” She tapped her lower lip with a hematite-beringed thumb. And then a fang lowered, which he marveled over. So sharp, and yet it fit nicely against her other teeth and didn't seem to cause her a disturbance. “When I bite a person, I think I do something to their soul. I can feel the soul shiver when I pull my fangs from their neck. It frightens me. So that's why I try to take a quick drink, with hopes I won't leave them permanently damaged.”

“I can imagine it must be difficult, seeing that it is something you must do for survival.”

She nodded, turned her head away from him. And Nicolo swallowed back a rise of compassion that loosened tears in his eyes. She may be considered a creature, but she was a real, living, feeling being. And she had such an awful handicap with which to deal.

“If there's anything I can ever do to help,” he whispered, then leaned over to kiss her shoulder. “You are an exquisite being, Summer Santiago. I am glad it was you who found me walking along the road. I believe we were meant to meet.”

“Maybe. All that destiny crap is supposed to be true. But right now, I believe we should get dressed and go out and do a little shopping. You in the mood for some new clothes?”

“You don't have to convince me to dispose of the funeral garb. Lead on, my bright and delicious vampiress.”

* * *

The modern-day shops were a marvel to behold. Nicolo was attended by a female shopkeeper wearing shoes with heels so high she looked to topple if she made a misstep. But they did make her gams look shapely and slender. And her red dress was so tight it emphasized everything, including her hip bones. The cultured women from his time had never been so emaciated, and yet, nowadays it seemed it was a preferred condition by both the men and women. But he stole those glances because it felt wrong to do so in front of Summer. He respected her and didn't want her to think unkindly of him.

The sex they'd shared had been beyond words. A symphony of flesh and sighs. And afterward when she'd confided to him about her condition of giving madness to humans he had felt blessed to have her trust. He was quickly growing enamored of Summer, and that sat quite well with him. Who would have thought he would have an affair with a vampire?

“Trés magnifique!”
the shopkeeper announced as Nicolo stepped out of the changing room to display the black velvet pants and white shirt. The cuffs sported a narrow ruffle around them, and the shirt was just loose enough to be comfortable. Reminded of his bohemian days when he'd luxuriate in a salon discussing with his fellow composers the merits of opium as a useful creative device.

“What do you think?” he asked Summer, who leaned against the wall, arms crossed. The loose jeans hung low on her hips, and the T-shirt was snug, revealing a slash of taut tummy that he could only imagine licking and then kissing.

Did she beam? She seemed to beam from her eyes to her skin to her smile. Must have been the sex. Of course it had been the sex. He certainly had not lost his prowess. Thank whatever bloody god or demon had granted him that boon.

No, forget the demons. He would not invite that evil with a single thought.

He splayed out his arms. “Do you think it makes me look like a modern man yet still allows me a bit of my past?”

“Definitely. Very retro romantic. Grab a couple of those shirts, and be sure to get the leather jeans he tried on previously,” she said to the shopkeeper. “What about shoes?”

Nicolo extended a foot to display the Italian leather shoes he had worn—literally—since the nineteenth century. “Much as I abhor wearing er, funeral garb, these shoes are comfortable. My feet are so long it was always difficult to find a fit unless they were bespoke. I cherish these shoes. Does that make me odd?”

“Not at all. Keep the good-fitting shoes. That will save us a trip to Louboutin. And my bank account won't scream because I'll be tempted to buy my own shoes while there. Not that I need a pair of swanky high heels.” She tapped the rubber toe of her violet sneaker against a mannequin's red-shoe-shod foot. “I like comfort.”

“Are you not going to purchase some things for yourself?” Nicolo's shoulders fell. He needed to start playing the concert circuit so he could make some money. Then he could treat her as a lady should be treated, by showering her with gifts. “I should wish to cover you in jewels and pretty things in thanks for your generosity.”

“Eh. I'm not much of a jewel girl. I like a nice pair of leather boots and some sexy underwear and I'm good to go.”

“Sexy underwear?” And leather boots? Just those two items? He waggled his brows at her. “Did you point out a lingerie shop just down the Champs-Élysées?”

“I did. It's called George V.”

The shopkeeper handed Nicolo the check and he looked it over. “That's very much. Do you still use gold francs nowadays?”

Summer snagged the bill and tugged out a small black card from a back pocket. “I got this. And I got the macarons that we'll stop for at Ladurée on the way to George V. I have a craving for a bite of something sweet.”

Nicolo leaned in and kissed her below the earlobe. “I have something sweet in my arms.”

“You're such a rake.”

“Guilty as accused. But you like me?”

She nodded in a resolute sort of acceptance. “I do.”

“So why did I hear reservation in that agreement? Do I not clean up well? You are still worried about me suddenly wanting to eat your brains, aren't you?”

Summer laughed and tugged out her cell phone. “Not at all. Just...taking things slowly, I guess.”

“Do you call having sex with a man you've only known a day taking things slow?”

They stepped outside onto the busy sidewalk that paralleled the bustling Champs-Élysées roadway.

“I call what we did in the shower hooking up and meeting my needs.” She looked aside for a moment. Regretfully? He wouldn't judge. If she said she was happy with what they'd done, he would believe her. “I recall you were pretty pleased with the results, as well.”

“
Hooking up?
What an odd term for a most delicious coupling. What are you doing on your witchbox? And why is it everyone seems to have one of those?” He looked about at the passing tourists, and at least half of them had their attention diverted by one of the witchboxes.

“I was just checking for messages from the director. Johnny left me a note on Facebook. I don't know why he can't email me. Facebook is so public.”

“What is the face book?”

She flashed him a brief view of the witchbox, but Nicolo didn't have a chance to make out the tiny images. “It's a massive gathering of people across the world, sharing things about themselves, posting silly stuff like cat pictures and hooking up.”

“Really? You can have sex with that thing, too?”

“Well.” She tucked the thing back in her pocket and hooked her arm through his to direct him down the sidewalk and avoid an onslaught of tourists. “You can, actually. But it doesn't involve touching or the senses. Watching another person get off on screen? Not my idea of a good time.”

“But people do that? Communicate via those things, and in the process, have sex? Where is the intimacy? The sensual experience?”

“Exactly.”

“The world has changed so much. I remember when it took weeks to receive word about anything, for the post moved only so quickly as the horse or train could manage. And now everything is—”

“Instantaneous. I know. It rocks.”

“When you say something rocks is that a good thing as opposed to a pile of rubble?”