Vampire Money (Paranormal billionaire erotic romance) (3 page)

“Do you wanna know where I live?”

“I don't know. Am I going to be disappointed?”

“Oh, I don't see how you could. Come on, I'll give you a real punk experience.”

“Hm. You know what? Let's leave it a secret for now, I like a bit of mystery, and I'll go ahead and show you my place. How does that sound?”

“Well I don't know,” I say, “is it going to be one of those places where you can't touch the carpet because it was handed down to you from Queen Victoria or some shit?”

“Only if you want it to be.”

Laughing, we drag each other to the U-Bahn.

“
No!” I exclaim. Slap him on the arm. Give him a bit of a dirty look as if I thought it was a joke. I've been in concert venues smaller than this. Christ, I mean I knew Adrian had a lot of money but this is like some kind of idiot joke.

“I take it you like it?”

“It's unreal! I only get to see stuff like this in movies.”

“Do you want something to drink?” He gestures towards a cabinet.

“Yes.” It comes out with an undercurrent of desperation. I follow him. “I mean, you saw the place I was living in back then. That's really typical for me. F-grade motels. Shithole rented rooms. Places that don't keep records. Hell, even now I've barely upgraded to an apartment.” I'm rambing. “Still, it's got, uh, community.”

Adiran turns around, a pair of tumblers in his hands filled with deep gold liquid. He hands me one and I take a sip. Scotch. Smooth as a baby's ass.

“You like it?” There's something approaching nervousness to him now, but I don't believe it.

“Of course I like it! I'm a punk who lives in a slum! Guys like you don't talk to guys like me unless they're planning to kidnap and murder us.”

It's a joke but he turns a bit green. “I don't invite people over often. Do you know what happens when someone finds out what I am? There are people out there who can do way worse than just chase us off. The authorities don't give a damn.”

And for a moment I stop, put my hand on his arm. You know, I never think about it from their angle. There's just no good side to be on, is there? Christ, the both of them are too similar for anyone.

“There's no upside to it, is there? This business. For either side,” I say.

“No.” He raises his glass. “But here's to both of us getting out of it.”

I nod and we toast, the scotch going down smooth. I remember that I came here with a purpose, and realize that it's no longer just a strategy. So I put the scotch back down and press my lips to his.

A moment of hesitation, then his lips part and we're both tumbling into dizzying warm softness. His day's stubble scratches my dirty cheek as we both fight for impossible closeness. I dip my tongue in, lick over his teeth to tap at his palate. I can feel movement under my tongue, the slow growth of sharp teeth as he moves against me and hunger awakens.

It doesn't scare me, not at this point. I push back, my hands pressed to his firm chest. The tip of a tooth scratches my roaming tongue and blood flavours our heady kiss. I retaliate with a nip to his lower lip. His responding chuckle feels more like a rumble from where I am.

We pull back and our dark gazes meet. I'm astride you, hands pressed into your shoulders for balance. I shift and – yes – I feel a hard shape through the thin cloth of your pants. The sound he makes when I touch it is little more than a breath but it's there.

“Well,” he says, “I can't say I expected that.”

I smile, run a hand down his chest to cup his still growing hardness. His gasp is sharp, I feel him shiver.

“Not bad a bad surprise, though,” I say.

He smiles and between his lips I can see his fangs. I can't help but wonder if I should be worried but once again I shake it off – he's had too much opportunity to hurt me to suddenly decide to now. “Not at all.”

I press a tender kiss just behind his ear. “Can't imagine your billionaire friends'd be too happy if they knew you were having a fling with a punk kid like me.” My lips brush the ridges of his ear.

Adrian runs lingering hands down my back to cup my ass through my pants. “I don't see any punk kid.” He pulls me in closer. “Anyone who calls you a kid would have to be as blind as they are old.”

I kiss down to his nape, my fingers starting work at the buttons on his collar. “And as for punk, well,” he continues, sounding a bit breathless, “you're a punk in the same way I'm a billionaire.” He brushes my hands away and I'm swamped in my shirt pulled over my head. “Yes, you might be one technically, but I think we both know it's a lot more complicated than that.”

Shirtless now, his hands caress my bare shoulderblades. Laughing, I go back to unbuttoning the remainder of his shirt. “Show me where the bedroom is.” I grab his hand, stand.

More laughter. “Only a punk would be so vulgar.” His gaze as heavy as his irony. He gestures but before we move I catch him in another biting kiss, arms looped around his waist.

“Well I don't see any billionaire,” I whisper with our lips barely centimetres apart. “I see... hmm... my bodyguard?” He tenses. “What do you say? There're a lot of vamps out there who'd probably want me dead.”

“Let me guess, but, oh dear! You don't have any money to pay me with?”

“I just think we'd make a good team. Come on.” I tug his arm and he follows me to the bedroom. This is going to be the nicest fucking bed I've ever slept on in my life, isn't it? Probably the sorta thing you could put in a museum. My hands find my bra hooks, drop it to the floor.

Adrian doesn't hide his stare. His eyes have gone huge and black and hungry. “A good team, eh?”

I look down at my chest. “That's not what I meant and you know it.” I swat his arm, chuckling.

He leans down, presses a kiss to the tip of one. Moves to the other. Lips at it then scrapes over nipple tip with blunt teeth. “You think we should partner up.”

I never expected him to actually go for it. But the combination of sensation and conversation leaves me reeling. I clutch at the short hairs on the back of his head, moth open, as I try in vain to pull myself together. “I- I know how to hide from people like me. Better than – yes, ahh, like that – almost anyone alive.”

He moves back just enough that his lips brush my skin when he speaks. “Mm, well, I certainly enjoy having you around.”

He takes my other breast in his mouth while I unbutton my pants with clumsy fingers. The scrape of his stubble against the flesh of my breast sends trembles through my hands.

I loop arms around him and back up. Together we stumble over to the bed and topple over each other in a pile of tangled limbs. His weight sinks me into the plush bed and, oh, it feels so good. With a noise like a growl, he rolls his hips against mine and suddenly it's a scramble to be bare. The need to feel the glide of skin on skin is overwhelming and even this seconds long break is much too long for me to bear.

Then we're both nude and his body is pressing mine down into the bed. I run blunt nails lightly up his sweaty back and he mouths at my neck, sharp teeth barely ghosting over musky skin.

His fingers trail down my stomach, between my legs to slip into my wet folds. I shiver and he smiles. My hips roll. “Already, Lauren?” he asks, and I'd forgotten that was the name I was using and for a moment it just completely throws me.

“Sarah,” I say, and he looks bemused. “My real name.”

“Oh,” is all he says. He leans down, begins kissing the base of my stomach, down more to trail along my thighs. His fingers push in and I forget about his awkwardness as he stokes more fire in me.

He moves up to drop more kisses on my breasts and I wrap a firm fist around his hot cock. A swipe of the thumb makes him moan and tells me how eager he is. I swirl my thumb in his precome before slowly pumping my fist. He shudders and his hips buck.

“Fuck me,” I say.

“Wolfgang,” he says.

“What?”

“My name is Wolfgang.”

I laugh and wrap my legs around his waist. “Really?”

I didn't expect him to look embarrassed because of it. “It used to be quite common.”

“Fuck me, Wolfgang,” I laugh.

It burns pushing in. Too tight and too hot. My eyes clench shut and I know I'm gripping his shoulder too hard but I can't quite help it. His moan rumbles through the both of us. Then he stops, holds it, hips trembling.

He trails lips down my neck, pressing butterfly kisses over my pulse. “May I?” he asks, “It feels good, promise.”

I have no idea what he's talking about until a pair of sharp points trails over where his lips were. “How can it feel good?”

His hips thrust once, twice, he can't help it. “Better than sex,” he laughs.

I roll my hips again and we drown ourselves in sensation. He sucks at my throat, his noises vibrating through me. With effort, he makes himself stop, pull back. His eyes meet mine, his pupils blown.

“Please. I will not hurt you.”

And strangely enough, I believe him. I shouldn't. My whole life has trained me to not do exactly what I'm doing: I nod. I am not afraid.

The first pierce is sharp and, yes, painful, but then he sucks and a wave of pleasure sweeps through me and blanks out everything else. He's moaning, our hips are moving, we're shaking, making animal noises. The feeling is more intense than anything I've ever experienced.

The pressure behind our hips mounts quickly, the whole thing building to an impossible peak. I am out of control, I can't move, can't even open my eyes. I just hold still and clutch at his back, my nails digging into his skin.

At some point I come, the pleasure already so overwhelming that I hardly believe it can go anywhere else. It's too much, I'm less human than I am beast. I think I may be screaming.

He pulls his teeth out before I've lost too much blood and I collapse into a limp heap. Has he come? I was too blanked out to tell. Yes, he's red in the face and looks almost as tired as I am. He wipes his lips, smiles.

“Alright?”

I manage a weak nod. He laughs, pulls out, pulls me into his arms.

“What did you think of my proposal?” I manage.

He laughs, looks surprised. “The partnership? Alright.”

“Alright.” I'm lucky.