Enchanting Absinthe (Sex with Strings, Book Four) (4 page)

How well could he sense magic? She hesitated, but he raised an eyebrow in invitation. He was a temptation she couldn’t resist, so she stepped into the shower, closed the glass door and let the damp heat envelope her. Now wasn’t the time to be working out why a Vampire had any kind of magic.

Not while said Vampire was wet and naked and hard.

Oh yeah, every inch a god.

“Why don’t you have a closer look?” It was a dare, not an order and there was no magic behind his words. Curious, she’d half expected him to wrap her up in an enchantment again…maybe he didn’t think he needed to now.

Claire licked her lower lip slowly, as if considering his suggestion. Her fingers trailed up his thigh and then along his shaft. He waited and watched, his eyes green again instead of white. He was in control of his lust. She didn’t know if his fangs were down or not, but if she was on her knees, he wouldn’t be able to bite her anyway.

She dropped to the floor of the shower, the tiles reassuringly cold and firm beneath her knees. Water cascaded down her back, between the cheeks of her bottom and down her inner thighs. Teasing, that’s where she wanted his hands—not magic this time. She wanted skin on skin. The real thing. If she had to get the show started, so be it.

Her fingers wrapped around his thick shaft and she inhaled the scent of sex and soap. She ran her tongue along the underside of his cock and glanced up, knowing he’d be watching. He was and the color in his eyes was fading fast. When was the last time he let someone go down on him?

She knew the answer; he never let anyone get that close. Her tongue stroked the smooth glistening head of his cock, before she took him in her mouth. Power sparked around them, warming the air and writhing with the steam. She gave his cock a long, slow suck, then went back to letting her tongue and lips tease the sensitive skin of his glans.

Absinthe didn’t hide the grunt as she raked her teeth over his delicate flesh. Vampires loved teeth, he was no exception. Her nails scraped over his tight balls. She gave them a squeeze and felt his power uncurl around her.

Too easy.

Absinthe rocked his hips, but kept his hands to himself as if he wasn’t sure what to do. But his magic did, it swelled as if awakening. As if it were organic and fed on high emotion…and sex.

No, not possible. And yet it mimicked her magic. She could feel them growing warmer with every stroke of her tongue and soft groan from Absinthe. He wasn’t trying to enchant her, whatever was happening he wasn’t aware of, or the magic was so small he couldn’t use it. There was only one way to find out what was going on.

She lowered her gaze as if concentrating on kissing and nipping along the length of his shaft and risked a glance with her third eye. She didn’t have to open it much to see his magic looked the same as hers. Exactly the same. Her third eye closed, and she drew in a sharp breath laden with lust and impossible magic. He had Shaman magic. What the hell did that mean? He was Vampire. Was he really a banned half-breed?

Her tongue stroked the slit, hoping for a slight taste of musky cum, but got nothing. She was half tempted to unleash her own magic on him to see how he reacted. If he really was part Shaman, she wouldn’t be able to enchant him…but he’d be able to sense it. He’d already brushed her away once. And she’d seen the way he avoided all other non-humans. Claire released his cock and stood, sliding her body up his.

“Nice.” He nodded as he spoke.

The budding smile died on her lips. Nice had never been a word used to describe her technique.

“Nice?”

Absinthe pulled her against him. One hand gripped her bottom the other cupped her breast. He rubbed a thumb over her nipple. Every nerve tightened, pulling on the ache in her belly. Liquid heat filled her pussy, but this time there was no magic involved. Without magic, this was personal, pure. She preferred it. Anyone could fuck well with magic.

The length of his cock pressed tantalizingly close. Only the insult stopped her from pressing her hips hard against him and seeking more.

“I’m close to twenty times older than you. It was nice.” He kissed the corner of her lips.

“Twenty times?” He didn’t look a day over thirty. It was always a little confusing being with a Vampire. They didn’t look their age. She scanned his face. His lust-lightened eyes, sharp cheekbones and full lips. She was sure he was of Mediterranean descent. Her gaze flicked to his forehead. In the center was a faint line. Something that could be just a frown line, but to a Shaman it was much more. While it was only light, it was the crease that marked him as having Shaman blood. In a full-blooded Shaman that was where the third eye would be.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s rude to ask a Vampire’s age?” He pinched the nipple he’d been toying with. Mischief lit his eyes.

Claire arched toward him but smothered the moan. Magical flames licked along her skin. Power surrounded them like a building thunderhead. Could he feel it? Or did he need a whole room full of people to fuel his magic? There were so many questions she wanted to ask and not one would form. His fingers constantly moved, brushing her skin, teasing and tempting, but never giving her enough. He would play her as he did his violins, drawing out a tune that pleased his ears. He’d had centuries to practice, of course, there was nothing she could do that would be different.

She shook her head, her body responding to his touch with shudders of pleasure, but her mind reeling. To be able to use magic, he had to be half Shaman, anything less resulted in what humans termed
green thumbs
and an affinity with nature, plants and animals.

His lips parted, revealing his fangs. Her heart skipped a beat. Was he going to bite her in the shower—it made sense, that way spilled blood would wash away. The last time she’d been bitten it had been a dare and the Vampire had spat her blood out after finding the taste too musty and dry—like a wine past its drinking date. She bit her lip, knowing the game would be over and he’d be left with a bad taste in his mouth.

He leaned in and kissed her, slowly. His tongue took the time to learn the shape of her lips, never once cutting her. But what did she expect? He knew what he was doing. The water hammered down around her, drowning out the pounding of her blood. He tilted her head and kissed her throat.

She held her breath and he laughed.

“I’m not going to bite you yet, it wouldn’t be worth it. Since you’re here, I want more than a quick bite and fumble. I can stay up all night. Can you?” His teeth raked her earlobe without breaking the skin.

Her clit throbbed in time with her pulse. “I can try.”

“Good,” he murmured against her neck and she was sure she felt the tips of fangs against her skin. His tongue lapped the water trickling down her neck.

Each sweep raised gooseflesh on her skin but heated her blood until she was imagining what it would feel like to be bitten. Magic swept over and into her. It was all around her and they hadn’t even started having sex yet. When he finally got inside her, it would be a burn beyond compare and she’d be able to do some major spell casting…

His fingers slid along the lips of her pussy. She leaned her forehead on his shoulder, wanting to give in and forget everything but being here with the man she’d secretly fantasized about for years. But she couldn’t. An idea was forming. One that would get her in all kinds of trouble, and yet it would get the Shamanic Council off her back.

All she’d have to do is use the building magic to make sure she got pregnant and that the baby had the Shaman traits, not the Vampire ones—nothing different from what the Council would do to her in two days’ time—only she’d beat them to it and have a permanent reminder of her night with Absinthe.

He eased his fingers into her pussy and her knees trembled. What she was planning was wrong. And yet he’d never know, and no doubt wouldn’t care. It wasn’t as if she’d ask him for anything afterward.

His fingers pumped in her core as his thumb brushed her clit. Tension built, ready for release. Her breath hitched, but before she could come he stopped. She groaned in frustration and raked her nails across his shoulders in retaliation—hard enough to draw blood.

He threw back his head and grunted. “Do it again.”

“No. Two can tease.” She’d make him wait for her to break his skin again. Vampires loved to bleed, even if they weren’t bitten during sex. Absinthe was no different, but maybe he’d remember her long after they’d parted. It was all she could hope for.

He dragged her hips close as if he intended to lift her up and fuck her against the wall. Claire lifted her leg and hooked it around his thigh. She was ready. She’d been ready from the moment she’d set eyes on him, everything else had just been foreplay. His hand smoothed over her butt, then he twisted them around so her back was against the cool tiles. His cock pressed close, she wiggled her hips as if she could tempt him into sliding his shaft into her pussy. But he released her and picked up the soap.

His cock was harder than he’d ever been. She really did something to him—it was either her or he’d been reliant on quickies and stale blood for so long that the promise of a hot-blooded woman who wasn’t afraid to get bit in his bed was too much for him to handle.

William drew in a breath that seemed to be made of steam and lust. Around him he could feel the energy building, nothing he could use, but it was there. Part of him wished he could use it so he could slide the enchantment around her and keep his distance. But it was too late for that. The taste of her lips was on his tongue and his fangs were keen to cut. The scratches on his shoulder stung. If it had been a long time since he’d bitten a lover, it had been longer since one had drawn blood. He’d forgotten the sharp-edged pleasure it brought.

Claire may not be Vampire, but she wasn’t afraid to get her nails dirty. He liked that. He liked it more than he should. More than was safe. One night. He’d give himself that, give her something to remember and talk about long after the band had split up. He lathered the soap between his hands, letting the thick white foam form.

She watched. Her coppery hair was damp and clinging to her face. Her eyes were wide and dark as she waited for him to do something. Anything. Once he wouldn’t have been wondering about what to do. Now he was so unused to anything with meaning…and what would this mean?

Nothing. It would mean nothing, because if it was anything more than nothing, she’d lose that spark of life that had attracted him. He’d smother it with magic, not deliberately, but he wouldn’t be able to help it. With slow movements, he began washing her. His hands glided over her skin, paying no more attention to her breasts than her elbow. She trembled and sighed, but didn’t try to rush him. Did she know he was doing this for himself?

That he needed to remember what it was like to touch someone?

He smoothed his soapy hands over her stomach and her hips. He saw the faint silvery lines that usually marked a woman’s body after pregnancy, but said nothing. They weren’t here to trade scars and stories. They were here for sex. Sex that was becoming more personal by the moment.

When he crouched to wash her legs, her breath hitched and her heartbeat raced afresh. He knew what she was waiting for. He leaned a little closer and ran a fingertip up her inner thigh, stopping just short of her pussy. She’d trimmed the hair in to a narrow strip of dark curls, the way so many women did these days.

He lifted one of her feet so it rested on his thigh. She pressed one hand on the glass wall and one hand on his shoulder for balance. Her eyes were closed and her lip was pinched between her teeth as if she knew what he was going to do.

She was slick and ready for him, but he was dragging it out. He didn’t want it over because he didn’t know when he’d let someone follow him home again. He ran his hands up the back of her thighs and brought her pussy closer to his face. She whimpered and her nails dug into his shoulder, cutting the skin. A shiver of pleasure ran through his body and ended at the tip of his cock. He wanted to sink into her in so many ways. He was going to fuck her with his fangs buried in her neck; just the thought of tasting her tightened his balls and made his cock twitch.

Keeping a firm grip on her butt, he slid his tongue along her labia. She made a little gasping sound as if she was close to coming, her nails were working against his shoulder—did she have any idea how good that felt? He’d let her scratch him up any night of the week and the mornings too. His blood was hot in his veins and the small crescent-shaped cuts were exactly the outlet it needed, and almost as good as being bitten, something he’d given up on a long time ago.

William flicked his tongue over her clit. Slippery and tasting like sex and something wilder. She was wilder, a risk taker to come home with a Vampire she didn’t know. Yet she trusted him not to drain her dry and kill her. Trusted him not to hurt her at all. Who the hell was she?

It was better he didn’t know.

Her head tipped back against the wall as if surrendering to his touch. He smiled and let his fangs press against her skin. It would be so easy, but if he did, she’d come and he wasn’t ready for that. He wanted to wring out every drop of pleasure he could from tonight. Once Lucinda’s Lover broke up, he was fucked. Despite what he’d told Owen, he didn’t know what he was going to do. Or who he was going to do.

Without the shows, the best he’d be able to manage would be a low-level suggestion spell, which would lead to painful getting-to-know-each-other conversations. Yet the same as any Vampire, or Shaman, he needed company, sex and blood—well, Shamen didn’t need blood.