Home > Sex and the Single Vamp(8)

Sex and the Single Vamp(8)
Author: Robin Covington

Cici’s head swiveled between the two of them, confusion and curiosity swimming in her eyes. He’d be answering lots of questions later.

Deacon watched them both melt into the edge of the dancing crowd and he didn’t miss the appreciative glances of the men and women aimed at Cici. She looked amazing. Her hair was a curly mass of fire as it tumbled around her face and shoulders. Her black minidress was cut low in the front and rode high on her thighs, allowing ample opportunity for anyone to admire miles and miles of creamy, pale skin. He didn’t like it one damn bit.

“You either need to go grab her and get a room, or sit your ass down and ask me whatever you came here to ask. Mya and I have an appointment later,” Antonio said from where he still sat at his table.

“Mya?” Deacon looked down on his business partner as he slid into the chair next to him. “Really?”

“I’m going to live forever. What do I care about gender hang-ups?” Antonio shrugged. “Mya is a good time and doesn’t ever expect more than that.”

“She’s…he’s…a good friend to Cici. That’s all that I give a shit about.” Deacon took the glass of his favorite whiskey from the waitress.

“So, that’s the woman who’s had your dick tied up for the last two centuries?”

Deacon took a gulp of the whiskey, letting it slide down in a slow burn as he stifled the urge to punch Antonio in the face.

“I cannot tell you how much I regret getting drunk that night and telling you anything about my life,” Deacon said, keeping Cici in his sight.

“We’d barely survived that gunfight, and Marshall Earp was buying.”

“Cheap whiskey.”

“And even cheaper women as I recall,” Antonio said. “Women you took to bed but would never feed from. You’d drop them like a bad habit when they even thought about getting close.” He nodded his chin at Cici dancing a few feet away. “That night. It was the first and one of the few times I’ve heard her name.”

“Well, this conversation is going to make your night because it’s all about her.”

Antonio saluted him with a drink. “I never thought you’d voluntarily submit to neutering.”

“What are you talking about?”

“If you brought her here then I can assume you’re sleeping with her, and that leads to my most logical conclusion that you have gone over to the dark side and will soon commit unholy matrimony.”

“No. No.” Deacon reeled back from the topic of conversation. He needed to clear up this misunderstanding pronto, but he wasn’t going to give Antonio all the juicy details. “Our arrangement will not end in any kind of matrimony, joint bank accounts, or a shared pet. Trust me on that.”

“So you’ve corrupted the poster child for true love?” Antonio laughed as he took another swig of whiskey from his glass. “Even I didn’t think you’d sink that low.”

“Shut up.” Deacon tamped down the urge to punch him in the face, taking another large gulp of whiskey instead. “I don’t have time for your bullshit tonight. I need information on who might be after Cici.”

“I figured. She’s been a hot topic lately.” Antonio grimaced, his fangs showing and echoing his disgust. “And you will not like the people who’ve been talking about her.”

This is what Deacon came to hear.

“What have you heard?”

“That’s she’s pissed a lot of people off with this dating agency. People who think that our kind and humans shouldn’t be together.” Antonio leaned in closer, his jaw tight as he relayed what he knew. “Assholes who think we should be locked away or preferably destroyed.”

“FAR?”

Antonio nodded his head. “They haven’t owned up to it, but that’s who everyone suspects.”

“And?”

“They want her dead.”

Deacon had known it was coming. It didn’t make it any easier to hear. “How much?” he asked, his body shaking from the effort to stay in his chair. Every part of him roared for him to find this a**hole and make him hurt for an eternity. His fangs descended, their sharp edges against his lips only heightening the desire to shred, tear, and destroy.

“No price. They made it clear that no one else was allowed to kill her. This sick f**k wants to do it himself.” Antonio leaned in, his voice rough and deadly serious. “I’m in if you need me, Deacon. If it’s FAR—”

“It’s them. I feel it in my gut.”

“Then I’m in.”

Deacon took a long look at Antonio, wondering what he was missing. Antonio wasn’t a joiner. He fought on the side most aligned with his own interests—especially monetary ones—but his tone said this was personal.

“You’re not the only one who’s lost people because of a**holes like them.”

“Thanks. I appreciate the offer.”

“She isn’t the only one they want on a platter.” Antonio narrowed his eyes, his lips twisting into a dark half smile. “Actually, it’s your head they want on that particular serving dish.”

He wasn’t surprised. His life was full of things that people would want to avenge at some point in time. Same shit, different century.

“Are they offering enough money to tempt you?” Deacon asked, not really sure about what the answer would be. The right price might sway Antonio.

“No. Cheap bastards aren’t offering anything beyond bragging rights and we both know I could kick your ass any time I feel like it.”

He had the information he needed. Deacon shifted in his seat, his gaze following Cici as she danced with Mya. She moved with the music, smiling at her friend, oblivious to the havoc her luscious body was creating around her. Human and Other alike were drawn to the fire cascade of curls and the smooth, creamy expanse of skin. Shit, she was going to cause a riot and he was going to have to kick some ass to get her out of here.

Cici looked over her shoulder at him, her eyes flaring to life as they made contact with his. Even from this distance he could see the desire for him and her hatred for this place battling for dominance. That was fine. He’d always figured that they were headed for angry sex with all the baggage between them. He’d take it. Less chance of her getting all gooey on him if she was pissed.

Deacon kept his eyes locked on hers, communicating clearly what he wanted. This club was an aphrodisiac of sorts and he was willing to let it take them both on a wild ride. He wasn’t a man to neglect his needs or to ignore his desires. He saw what he wanted and he took it, and when his prey was obviously so willing, his blood raced with the thrill of impending pleasure.

He was a predator. Danger heightened his instinct and made it his sole focus. Sex was another part of the game he enjoyed playing and winning. The fates had brought Cici back into his life wrapped up in both like some carnal present.

Deacon also knew that his actions, taken over two centuries ago, were partially responsible for bringing this danger into Cici’s life. He’d f**ked it up big-time back when FAR first came after her, but he wouldn’t do it this time. He’d also made the mistake letting this lust between them linger and grow for too long. Now was the time for him to erase two big blemishes on his past and move the f**k on.

Antonio chuckled darkly at his side, grabbing a cigarette from the pack on the table and lighting up with a long, slow drag. “Before you go and claim your woman, answer this. What did you do to piss off FAR? Other than come to the aid of the damsel in distress?”

“I kept a promise.”

“That must have been some big f**king promise.”

Chapter Seven

Cici kept time with the driving beat of the music, letting it wash through her and take with it all the stress and worries of the day. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gone out like this, soaking up the energy of the crowd around her. The vibe here was definitely highly charged with sex and vice, and it was luring her right into the mood to sin.

But it wasn’t what she’d envisioned. Yes, couples of all shapes and configurations were grinding it out on the dance floor. Dimly lit alcoves around the room were filled with people kissing, touching, giving each other pleasure. But there was no air of desperation or coercion here. Participants were into it, enjoying it, and willing. Not at all what she expected, but definitely something she was responding to.

It was as though the anger and desire roiling in her veins were heightened by the thrumming, sensual mood in Sanctuary. Each beat of the music and flicker of lighting amped the heated rage burning under the surface of her too-tight skin. And she was angry. Furious that her business was in jeopardy and her friends had been murdered. Livid that she was the number one suspect. Outraged that her very belief system was being challenged at every angle. Appalled that she wanted the one man who embodied everything she didn’t want for herself.

But she also desired. Craved. Her blood ran hot with it. Her skin tingled with a jolt of electricity. Her fangs ached to descend. This was a moment two hundred plus years in the making and she was so ready.

Deacon eye-stalked her from across the room, watching her dance and writhe in the crowd. Cici felt like a provocateur. A tease. Every sway of her hips, every grind of her body against the one of a stranger was calculated to make him watch, make him want, make him take. She was a siren, calling Deacon to her. To finish what they’d started.

The kiss earlier today was a temptation, and a preview of just how hot it was going to be between them. She couldn’t wait any longer. She was past the point of denial. Beyond passing this up because of the danger in her life.

Cici turned to fully face Deacon, locking eyes with him across the swell of writhing bodies. Wedged between two young men—humans—she ran her hands over her br**sts, her belly, her thighs. She slid the hem of the miniskirt up higher, giving him a good look at more skin that tingled and burned for his touch.

Deacon leaned back in his seat, one hand holding a drink while the other grabbed the erection bulging in his jeans. He traced the length and her mouth watered. Fuck, he was big and she couldn’t wait to taste him, to feel that filling her up. She moaned, low and deep, but he heard it. His eyes flared, glittering like fire as she caressed the silky material draped across her aching br**sts. Her ni**les were hard points, stimulated by her own arousal and the glide of her top.

“Have you slept with him yet?” Mya purred in her ear from behind. She shook her head in the negative. “Well, you will, because here he comes.”

Cici tracked his progress across the room. He did not hurry; no one jostled him or got in his way. The crowd parted like the Red Sea in a straight line between the two of them. The men on either side of her disappeared as he stopped in front of her.

Deacon did not dance. He slid his big hands around her waist and dragged her to him. She gasped as the entire length of her body, every over stimulated nerve ending, was touching a part of him. Heat and moisture rushed to her sex and she could feel the dampness between her thighs.

“You’re such a c*ck tease,” he murmured in her ear, his hands moving around to cup her ass, her skirt riding so that his hot palm was covering her bare cheek exposed by her thong. She was bare to anyone who wanted to sneak a peek, but she didn’t care. All she gave a shit about was his touch, his one hand sliding lower and finger teasing under the edge of the scrap of silk to slide along her wet folds.

“I’m only a tease if I don’t f**k you,” she said on a gasp as the digit slid into her body. She grasped his shoulders, clinging to him as tremors of pleasure racked her body. “Please.”

“Are you sure?” Deacon murmured, his lips soft against her skin. “This place. It affects people. Makes them ignore warning bells, do stuff they might regret in the daylight.”

“It’s not the club.”

“Is it what you expected?” His lips slid along the tender skin of her earlobe, causing her to shiver in response. “Is it the seventh circle of hell like you predicted?”

“Yes…” She smiled when he paused in kissing along the exposed skin of her shoulder. She liked teasing him, keeping him on his toes. It was their version of foreplay and they’d been perfecting it for over two hundred years. “…and no.” Deacon chuckled and she felt and heard the deep rumble. “It proves my theory.”

“What?” He pulled back to look into her eyes but his body kept perfect rhythm with their own song.

“There…” She leaned in close to him, her mouth brushing softly against his ear as she pointed out various couples around them. “That couple in the booth in the back. He’s a were and the woman straddling his lap is a human. And over there…” She deliberately let her tongue touch the skin just behind his ear, his taste like spice in her mouth. “…the threesome dancing together…two vampires and a human.”

“And how does that prove your theory?”

“These people gravitate to each other. What they are doesn’t matter.”

“For sex. Pleasure,” Deacon said.

“You don’t know what happens after they leave the club.”

“And you don’t, either, but I’d bet money that it doesn’t end in wedding veils and joint mortgages.” Deacon shook his head, taking her mouth in a kiss calculated to stop this age-old argument. His hand returned to her ass, his long fingers sliding under her skirt. “I don’t give a f**k about anyone else. I just want to know what you’re feeling right now.”

“I feel…”

He hauled her closer, her legs spread to ride his hard thigh in time with the beat. They moved together in a perfect rhythm. She’d known it could be like this, intense enough to make her forget her problems, all the crap pouring down on her. Oblivion wasn’t a place she liked to dwell, but tonight it sounded like a dream vacation.

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