Bit the Jackpot (19 page)

They were mates already, living together. Now he wanted to seal that, put his scent on her.

So he kissed her hard and fast and deep, sliding his tongue between her surprised lips. When they both came up for air, he said, "Did I mention that I hate the dancing naked for other men?"

Without waiting for her response, he covered her lips with his again, his hands trailing down her back onto her tight, firm ass. She felt perfect beneath his hands, and she tasted delicious, like rich, fine wine, her lips soft and pliable, juicy. After a long, hot minute, Seamus pulled back with a suppressed groan.

"Well," Cara said, breathing hard. "Don't hold back. Tell me how you really feel."

Desire, hot and hard, ripped through him, and he made no effort to control it. "Tell you how I feel? This is how I feel."

Seamus yanked his shirt off with vampire speed and pulled her against him. He licked along her bottom lip, then kissed her feverishly, kneading her backside beneath his fingers. It was perfect, this was right, it was everything, and he wondered what the hell he'd been waiting for. Cara was kissing him back, eagerly, her hands racing across his chest, gripping him.

He wanted to feel her flesh against his, touch the body that had been teasing and taunting him since the first minute he'd seen her. He wanted to be the only man who had ever been allowed to taste her, run his hands over those curves. He wanted to fill her with his hard body and make her scream in pleasure. But first he had to get those clothes off.

The T-shirt went with one tug. And she wasn't wearing a bra. A very beautiful, full chest was right in front of him, gloriously naked.

Cara jerked back, startled. "Did you just rip my shirt off?"

"Yes." He threw it on the floor, where Button promptly buried his nose in it, kicked it up with his snout, and wound up with the T-shirt on the top of his head.

Seamus had to admit he was starting to like the dogs. They were such total idiots, he felt better about himself just watching them.

"Oh, okay." Cara blinked, her hands snaking over her bare chest to cross and cover.

She was hiding her breasts from him. Seamus couldn't believe it. It was so damn cute and sexy that she was self-conscious, shy, whatever you wanted to call it, in front of him. It made him feel a notch above the club-goers. Like him and his opinion mattered to her.

He started to grin, even as he tried to prevent it. "Drop your arms, Cara."

"No." She looked squeamish at the very thought. Her grip on her elbows tightened.

"Drop them or I'll do it."

That made her flush with indignation, "Screw you."

"That's the plan." Seamus took a step toward her as she backed up a foot. "Trust me, Cara."

"Do I have to?" she asked, now hunched over a little at the shoulders.

"Yes." He put his hands on her wrists and ripped her arms apart, off her chest, and held them out at her sides. "I trust you. I do. Give me the same thing." He stared down at her, his breath hot and thick, his erection pressing into her thigh, his fangs down and ready. Her chest heaved, and she jerked her head to toss her bangs out of her eyes.

No words came out of her mouth, but her eyes pleaded with him, told him to take the risk. Seamus let go of her arms and stood still to wait for her reaction. If she covered herself back up, they had problems.

But Cara didn't do that. Instead she fit her index fingers through two loops on his jeans left and right and stepped in close, pressing her bare chest against his. Her lips ran along his shoulder and neck, while every muscle in his body tensed with pleasure, anticipation.

"I trust you," she whispered in his ear. "Now let's do this."

She made it sound like they were about to leap off a building or charge into battle.

Maybe they were.

Seamus turned his head so he could brush his lips over her cheek, feel her soft skin beneath his. He took her chin, tilted her head up, and kissed her gently, then franticly, then fiercely. He bit her lip, let a drop of blood bead and meander into his mouth. Her hands were on his chest, then his back, then his arse, gripping and grinding and tugging.

When she sped up, he slowed down, when she eased back, he stepped it up, so that they were both building and breaking down, ebbing and flowing, frustrated and hot. Seamus was doing it intentionally, conscious of her virginity, aware that he had only one chance to do this right, to make it good for Cara. And he wanted to draw it out for himself, enjoy Cara at length, to make a two-hundred-year celibacy end in ecstasy, not a quick three-minute explosion.

"Seamus," she murmured, trying to undo his belt.

If she was ready to move to the next stage, it was time to move to the bedroom. Seamus lifted her up into his arms and started down the hall.

"Whoa," she said. "I still can't get used to vampire strength."

"Wait until you see my endurance."

"Don't scare me," she said with a small laugh.

The Labs leaped around Seamus, barking, like this was a game. Satan sat in the doorway of the bedroom, looking like he'd tear Seamus's ankle off if he attempted entry.

"If you guys trip me, you're going to the pound," he told them.

Cara made a sound of horror. "Don't say that! Daddy didn't mean it, sweeties. And if he did, Mommy wouldn't let him do such a horrible, nasty thing."

She made ushy, gushy, shushing sounds while Seamus contemplated fatherhood to Cara's furry brood. It wasn't a horrifying thought. He had raised dogs for years in England. But they'd stayed in the kennel, like dogs should. They hadn't lived in the house with him, sleeping in his bed, and he had never once thought of himself as their daddy.

While he couldn't imagine he'd ever think of any four-legged creature as his baby, he liked that Cara was placing him in that role. She didn't want to move out. She wanted to stay with him, with her dogs. For now, anyway. And that was good enough for him.

He stepped into the bedroom. When the dogs would have bounded in after them, he put out his finger and commanded, "Sit."

Button and Fritz plopped their rumps down in the hall, their tails swishing back and forth. "Good boys."

Satan, who had been sitting, stood up at the command to sit. Seamus used his foot to encourage Satan to run out into the hallway.

Then he slammed the door shut on all of them.

"That was mean," Cara reprimanded.

"I don't need an audience, I'm sorry. They'll get over it." Seamus laid Cara down on his bed—their bed—and stepped back to undo his belt buckle.

She bent her knees so her legs were up in the air, but she didn't cover her chest. In fact, she thrust it toward him in a sexy little pose. Her skin was pale, milky white, the moonlight streaming through the wood blinds onto the bed, onto Cara's beauty.

Seamus just about stopped breathing. "You're so beautiful," he said, fingers freezing on his zipper. "Damn, Cara, I just can't tell you how gorgeous I think you are. That night… the night I met you. It was like you just drew me in. Like you are now."

Man, he needed to just stop talking around her. Instead of the Irish gift of the gab, he had the gift of the gag.

"You're not just saying that, are you? You're not playing me?" she asked with a saucy grin, fingertips sliding across the ends of her black silky hair.

"No. If I was being a player, I'd sound better than this." He shook his head as he unzipped his black pants. "I sound like a potato farmer around you. Nothing like a man who spends his night strategizing politics and putting a spin on words and policies."

"I like you both ways. When you talk shop with Ethan, you sound commanding and in charge. It's sexy. But when you're with me, you're more real and that's sexy, too."

He couldn't see how a bumbling idiot would be sexy, but he wasn't about to talk her out of it. Instead he ditched his shoes, socks, and pants and leaned over the bed, running the gristle of his unshaven chin over the smooth denim covering Cara's knees. He stroked one hand down her calf and used the other to undo her pants. Her breathing had changed, her eyes widening, and he knew she was as aroused as he was.

Before taking her pants off, he bent over and ran his lips along her nipples, closing his eyes, breathing in her scent. Goose bumps rose on her warm flesh and she shifted, lifting her chest.

"Do you want this?" he asked, pulling one tight nipple into his mouth and sucking, reveling in the feel, the texture, the moan she gave. It had been so long since he'd made love to a woman, he'd nearly forgotten the torturous pleasure, the slow cadence of sex, the teasing anticipation, the discovery of a woman's erogenous areas.

He had touched Cara several times now when she had been feeding from him—he already knew the way her moist inner flesh felt, and how she arched her back when she came. He had had several sleepless days that could be attributed to experiencing that. But he hadn't tasted her until now, hadn't had her hands on his bare chest before, hadn't experienced her interest in his pleasure, too.

It was better than he ever could have imagined. She scratched at his skin, harder when he pulled faster, fiercer on her nipple, and her drive drove him on, until her chest was slick from his mouth, her nipples peaked, her moans agonized and high.

"Take my pants off," she begged.

That was the beauty of being a vampire. He had them off before she was even finished speaking.

Cara blinked up at him. "Show-off."

"You haven't seen anything yet."

A sly little smile crossed her face. "I can't wait."

Neither could Seamus. He moved his hands over her abdomen, between her thighs, parting them. Cara spread her legs willingly for him, which made his tongue thicken and his desire boil hotter still. He bent down and put his mouth on her moistness. And tasted.

Cara had thought she was turned on, thought she was close to the edge, since Seamus had been kissing, petting, and sucking on her mouth and breasts for a solid twenty minutes, but when he put his tongue between her thighs, she broke the bed.

Literally. She jerked back so hard in ecstasy, the headboard cracked where her shoulders and head made impact.

"Oh, shit," she said, more stunned than hurt.

"Are you okay?" he managed to ask between licks, clearly with no intention of stopping.

Thank you.

"Yes, I'm fine. Seamus…" Cara squirmed, trying to turn sideways so she could lie down and enjoy the full effect. Not that half the effect was bad—amazing, actually—but full would be better. But she was having a hard time concentrating on what she was doing because every two seconds he slid up, then trailed back down in a delicious, torturous, warm, wet motion.

Two hundred years of celibacy hadn't negatively affected his technique.

Wow. As she gripped the duvet cover, eyes rolling back in her head as she tried not to explode just yet, Cara realized she was picking up on Seamus's thoughts.

It wasn't complete sentences or a message sent directly to her, it was more just random words and impressions. His desire, his sexual want, his urgency and taut muscles.

Delicious… hot… fucking gorgeous
… all floated over to her from him. Heat, throbbing, pulsing want that spiked each time his tongue connected with her flesh. That he was turned on turning her on made her moan louder, which made him grip her thighs tighter in a sexy, arousing circle.

Seamus drew his mouth back suddenly and she gave a cry of frustration, knowing that she was about two seconds away from having an orgasm. "Don't stop!" she begged. "Seamus, please."

Don't come yet
, he said in her head, thumb sliding over her swollen clitoris. Then he opened up his thoughts fully to her.

It was like a tidal wave of emotion, desire, pleasure, crashing over her, into her, above her. Cara sucked in a breath, overwhelmed. She lifted her hand, for what she wasn't sure, but Seamus took it, laced his fingers with hers.

Their thoughts mingled, their pleasure collided as he took her mouth in a hard, passionate kiss. It was amazing, stunning, to feel him everywhere, inside and out of her. She felt his appreciation for her curves at the same time she projected back her interest in his hard, male body. Running her fingers over his chest, she kept going until she reached his erection, letting him hear, feel, see, know that she was ready for him. He wanted to be inside her, thrusting, that feeling, urge, loud and drumming into her skull.

Stroking his warm flesh, she hoped he could hear that she wanted him, too, that she was ready, that their connection was so whole and total and exhilarating, that she had to experience what the rest was like. What it would feel like with him buried deep inside her.

"Are you sure?" he asked out loud, pulling back to study her face.

Cara traced his jaw with her finger, loving the way he felt, chiseled and rough, and waited for the panic to engulf her, the vice to close around her emotions, making her feel trapped and helpless.

But none of those feelings were anywhere in her. What she felt, besides the total mind-melding arousal, was freedom. To feel and do whatever she wanted, no worry for the future, no pressure to be something she wasn't. Just freedom to be with a man she cared about for now in a sexy, uncontrollable way.

"Yes, I'm sure."

His fingers were stroking, stroking, stroking, pushing in deeper each time while he waited for her response, and Cara moved restlessly beneath him, eager to have what she'd denied herself for years. "Do you have a condom?"

"No." He moved in between her legs, his erection pressing against her, hard and demanding.

Fifteen years of safe sex mantras had her pushing on his chest. "Stop. You need a condom."

"For what?" Seamus asked, nuzzling along her ear, while his fingers pried apart her… oh, whoa.

He was just resting there, big and wet and intriguing, leaving her feeling empty and unsatisfied. Wanting what came next. Wanting more. What had she been saying? "For… protection," she managed, her entire body tingling in anticipation.

"You can't get pregnant and you can't catch anything from me. You're a vampire."

"Right." Cara lifted her hips just a little, distracted by the way he was just hanging around down there. He needed to do… something. "I'm an immortal vampire." On the edge of an orgasm.