Downbeat (Biting Love) (22 page)

“Raquel.” He cupped my face with one hand. “I can’t promise you won’t get hurt. But you are special to me. I promise I’ll treat you as such.”

His honesty reassured me more than flowery pledges of forever. “Okay.” I turned around and started the engine. “Where to?”

“Head toward Mr. Miyagi’s dojang.”

I went west. “How do you know about the dojang?”

“I know Miyagi because he is a damned fine cellist. The school is all he talks about.”

I turned south. “So we’re going to make out in my teacher’s parking lot? That’s kinda creepy.”

“Fear not, Raquel.” His tone was amused. “We will not caress in front of your mother, Miyagi’s dojang or anywhere that might remind you of people you know. There’s a public park north of the dojang on Pine. Several mature trees ring the car lot. The nights are getting chilly, and the trees will not only protect us from prying eyes, but give shelter from the wind.”

“And you know about this, how? Since last I knew, trees don’t play cello.”

“I took a quick survey of the Meiers Corners area last night.” The amused tone grew. “As I said, you’re special. I didn’t want to leave things to chance.”

I warmed at that. Groping in the backseat isn’t normally the way to a woman’s heart, but he’d already done the fine dining and flowers bit. In a way, the variety was actually more exciting.

As I drove into the southwest quadrant of the city I frowned. “Julian and Nixie live maybe half a mile from the park. Considering vampire senses, aren’t we a bit close to them?”

“Deliberately so. Julian won’t expect me to be within shouting distance of his castle. Don’t worry. Between the wildlife and late flowers, they won’t pick us out. Pull in here.”

Much of the park was a lawn flat and green enough to make a golf course jealous, dotted by huge trees. Evergreens curtained the parking lot. I turned into the drive and found a space notched into a particularly dense growth of firs.

Turning off the ignition, my skin prickled with nerves. I sat in that front seat as stiff as my mother’s concrete moose. It was all so much easier when he made the first moves.

“Raquel.” Dragan’s purr was as dark as the backseat. “Come join me.”

My heart went into overdrive.

Chapter Thirteen

“Um, couldn’t you come up here first? And maybe we could, um, talk?”

“Normally, yes. I delight in talking with you.” He paused. “Which is odd, now that I think of it. My
amoureux
rarely interest me.” He said it more to himself than to me. “But in this case, you’re delaying.”

He was right, which made me blurt what I was actually thinking. “Why do I have to make the first move?”

To my surprise, he sighed. “Because, my dearest Raquel, this is for your sake, not mine. While taking advantage of a sweet innocent amuses me, I am trying to do the right thing by you. In my own small, misguided way, I’m trying to empower you. That won’t work if I continue to steal your favors instead of you choosing to give them.”

“Oh. Um. Well.” I tucked my keys into my purse in my flute bag on the passenger seat. With a deep breath for courage, I got out the driver’s door, clicked it shut and opened the rear door.

Dragan slid over on the seat and patted the space he’d vacated. It looked even darker and more treacherous. Another breath. I slid in.

He reached past me to shut the door. I caught an elusive woodsy scent from his long hair. “Now.” He wrapped hot arms around me and pulled me into his chest. “You’ll remember this from last time.” He opened his mouth on mine.

I’d been waiting for this since Sunday. Expecting it, and deep down, wanting it desperately through all the delays. My need was a natural gas leak building through four days, steadily increasing pressure waiting for exactly this. His taste, his heat, his scent.

At the first touch of skin, desire ignited and lust exploded through me. It burned away any fear of rejection. I grabbed his head and tried to torque my tongue down his throat.

I was awkward. Instead of a deep, sensual kiss I cracked teeth with him.

He clasped my head in his hands and pulled back slightly. Embarrassment ran cold tingles up my neck and face. He laughed and my insides crumbled. He said, “I have kissed courtesans and queens and their artifice bored me. You are so beautifully fresh, honestly eager. Kiss me again, my Raquel. Just like that.”

“Cracking teeth? I don’t think so.”

“
Drahý
.” He pulled me to him and teased my mouth open with his tongue.

I was embarrassed and didn’t want to play, but he coaxed then withdrew, coaxed and withdrew, until I poked a grouchy tongue at him. Immediately he captured it with his lips and wouldn’t let go until I laughed too.

“That’s better.” He burrowed his long fingers in my hair and held me in place and ravished my mouth with every bit of expertise he possessed.

I was gasping and limp when he finally raised his head. “Now you. Kiss me like that.”

I raised incredulous eyes to him; he thought I’d been paying attention to what he was doing through that whirlwind of teeth, lips and tongue? “You’re insane,” I panted.

“Perhaps.” He smiled as he took my hands and thrust them into his own long hair, the warm silken strands caressing my fingers. “Kiss me.” The tips of his fangs flashed as he spoke.

I wondered briefly if clanking my teeth against his fangs would hurt worse than hitting his regular teeth…and some imp possessed me to lick one elongated canine.

He growled, crushed me to him and devoured me in a kiss so hot the windows instantly steamed. His hands thrust under my top in back and tore my single good bra open. The only reason the cups didn’t fall away was he had fused my front to his.

My hips still faced half-forward, and my body was awkwardly twisted. The hump between seat wells pressed uncomfortably against my ankles.

He simply pulled me onto his lap. Skimming hands raised my top and bra in one move, leaving my breasts bare. His head swooped down to suckle my already awake nipple into a tight snap.

He stopped. “Now me.”

I blinked, uncomprehending, but in my defense he’d just turned my brain into primordial goo. “Now you, what?”

“Touch me. Kiss me. Suck me.” He pulled at the hem of his sweater, indicating I should raise it.

“Me?”

“You.”

Tentatively I reached for the bottom of his sweater. “I don’t have that much experience with men’s clothing.” The couple of times I’d done it, the guys in question had stripped themselves while I undressed. “Won’t I pull it out of shape?”

“Who cares? Do it.”

I swallowed hard and pulled up. I revealed the hardest, thickest row of abdominal muscles in the world. They marched up his belly, clenching and releasing as he shifted under me to make it easier to raise the sweater farther.

Or I could even take it off.

My body fired at the thought. The sweater was already halfway up his torso. A tug would take it over his head and I could explore his big chest to my heart’s content. Touch him, kiss him, suck him.

My hands didn’t wait for me to decide. Or rather, I decided and let myself know only after the deed was done, so I couldn’t back out.

I yanked his sweater up. It caught on his elbows. I was pulling the material so hard it nearly tore. He was laughing again, something I felt more than heard as his abs rippled against me. “Raquel, your enthusiasm undoes me. Wait, let me get myself untangled. All right, now pull.”

I yanked the sweater over his head. He appeared from under it, his dark hair sexily tousled, his eyes twinkling, his grin infectious.

But his strong neck grabbed my attention, and below that his powerful collarbones, winging wide. And the full, hard thrust of his pectorals, covered in acres of smooth skin and a feathering of dark hair. I stared; I couldn’t help it. When you’re used to a face on top of a white tux shirt or black sweaters or even casual Oxfords with loosened ties, seeing that same face over a powerful naked male animal is unnerving. Especially when you’re sitting on top of said wild animal and have ripped it loose of its civilization yourself.

Deep inside, that primitive
me want
stirred.

I dropped the sweater and bent, fingers groping, mouth open, wanting to touch, kiss and suck everything all at once. He stretched his body out to make it easer for me to grab, lick, tongue…I went a little crazy. Hours compressed into a singularity of hot velvet skin over rock-hard muscle, tangy dew against my lips, woodsy scent in my nose and hard little pebbles of tight male nipples under my tongue.

He thrust his hand into my pants and wriggled hard against my clit and time blew apart.

My fingers tightened where they clenched his pecs. “What…what are you doing?”

“Making out in the backseat.” A half-smile played on his lips but it was the kind that said he was deadly serious about his play. He continued to wiggle.

“Making out is kissing and fondling. Not—” I squealed as he got the pressure and rhythm just right, “—not that.”

“It’s not all kissing and fondling. There’s some of that. And this.” His hand surfaced long enough to unsnap and unzip my jeans.

“But…there’s not enough room.”

“Not enough room for this? Or that?”

“That. Laying down. Intercourse.”

“Yet young people have been making do for decades.” He bumped me on his lap and somehow my pants were peeled over my hips and my panty-clad butt was on his powerful legs. “But in this case, no intercourse. When we make love it will be romantic, remember? And on a bed.” A yank and my jeans joined his sweater on the floor.

When we made love. When, not if. And not sex but lovemaking…I nearly orgasmed just from the thought.

He thrust his long fingers between my clenched thighs. His hand was dark against my skin and I nearly came unglued from the sight. If he moved his clever fingers I’d climax.

Not yet
. I wasn’t ready. Surprisingly it wasn’t because I was frightened, but because I wasn’t.

“Wait.” I panted it as I lifted one leg and straddled him. “If I’m empowered, shouldn’t I be doing you?”

He sat straight, his gaze fastened to my face. I waited, heart kicking. I’d had sex, but I’d never touched a penis. Never held a guy in my hands as he came apart in climax.

I found I wanted to do that to Dragan Zajicek, with a strength that startled me.

He smiled into my eyes. “Oh yes. I’d be honored and delighted.”

One-handed, he unbuttoned and unzipped. His cock sprang free. The guy didn’t wear undershirts, and he wasn’t a boxers or briefs kind of guy either.

I reached out tentatively. This was my first experience fondling a man. I slid the tips of my fingers onto the shaft. It bobbed under my hand.

I jerked back in surprise. What a contradiction. His cock was hard but the skin was supple; it was warm, but sleek. And the thing could move without either of us touching it. I hadn’t expected that.

“Raquel.” That dark lion’s purr ruffled his voice. “Touch me again. I love the feel of your fingers on me.”

If it felt as good as his hand on me, I could almost believe him. “Like this?” I ran my fingertips experimentally along the length of his shaft.

“That’s good.” His voice tightened. “Or you can circle it and rub.”

“Like this?” I grabbed the shaft like a bat.

“Yesss.” Tendons stood out on his neck and his whole body tensed, giving lie to the yes.

“I hurt you!” My fingers sprang open and I dropped him.

“My dear Raquel.” He was panting. He took my hand in both of his. “It’s intense. Your slim, strong fingers around my dick…ah, yes, intensely pleasurable. Do it again. More.” He guided my hand back to his erection.

I hesitated. “What about…this part?” I touched the tip with one finger. “One guy said it was extra sensitive.”

“Which means it craves your touch even more. Please, Raquel.”

I glanced at his face. My gaze stuck. His eyes were red pits of fire and his fangs were lengthening out of his mouth. Either he was angry or incredibly turned on. “Well…okay. If you let me know if I do it wrong.”

He choked a laugh. “At this point I am so aroused that even if you kicked me I’d climax. Touch me, Raquel. And I will touch you.”

He suited action to words, cupping my breasts in his hands. As he thumbed the nipples he seared my mouth with an open kiss.

The tsunami steaming through me kicked my hands from his cock to any available mooring. I clutched his biceps and rode out the storm. But it didn’t abate, it didn’t ebb. He kissed and pinched until bright need sparked a bonfire inside me. One hand slid into my panties and he started rubbing me toward my own climax.

I was so aroused, I lost track of whether I was doing it right or wrong and just thrust my tongue into his mouth and grabbed his cock two-handed and fisted my hands along its amazing length. He threw back his head and shouted then grabbed me around the hips with one arm while he curled hard, burying his head in my shoulder, his panting harsh.

“Fuck me,” he rasped. “I’m coming.”

Suddenly I was filled with power, knowing I was making the charismatic Dragan Zajicek come. I ground my hips into his hand and pistoned him with my fists and shouted, “Then come!”