Josie Lynn studied him, trying to imagine what he was implying. Had this strong, virile man been abused by a woman? Physically abused? The idea stunned and disturbed her.
“You must have loved her very much to tolerate something you didn’t like that way.”
That was the only reason she could think of as to why he’d allow any woman to apparently torture him.
He sighed. “Well, that was long ago, Cupcake.” He instantly made a face. “Sorry, I know you hate when I call you that.”
She smiled slightly, then leaned forward, her lips just millimeters from his. Her full breasts pressed against his hard chest. “Want to know a little secret?”
“Yes,” his response was a breathy growl.
“I actually like it. A lot.”
She kissed him.
* * *
DRAKE GROANED, LOVING her sweet lips and the weight of her full, round breasts flattened against him.
Goddamn, she was the sexiest woman he could remember ever being with. Every single thing drove him mad. Her sky-blue eyes. Her sassy smile. Those amazing breasts that he wanted to kiss and suck some more. The taste of her—everywhere, which he also wanted some more of. Her ass, her legs, but most of all, her strength and determination.
Josie Lynn was no pampered woman like those he’d dallied with when he was human. Spoiled and coddled. Nor was she like the vindictive, cruel bitch who’d made him a vampire. Giselle’s strength had come from being a vampire and it had made her a bully. She was determined, but only to torture and torment others. And he’d been her focus for a long time. But that was decades ago. And now he was lying with a sweet, giving, voluptuous woman who he knew was strong and determined because she had to be. And he wanted to help her. To take away some of that need to be so strong. He got the feeling she could use someone else to shoulder a little of her burden.
As she continued to kiss him, her lips soft and teasing, her tongue hot and wet, his cock reacted, prodding at the juncture of her spread thighs.
She lifted her head, giving him a surprised smile. “Again? Already?”
He smiled back, too. “I could make love to you all night.”
She ground her hips against him, rubbing his erection against her damp, soft core.
“I can feel that.”
She stroked against him again.
He moaned and so did she.
“Cupcake, I can go all night, but what about you? Are you sore?”
She shook her head. “I’m Cajun, baby.”
He didn’t know what that meant, but it made him chuckle, and his chuckle turned to another long moan as she slid his full length deep inside her.
Then she started to ride him, her hands on his chest, her thigh squeezing his hips, her vagina massaging him like she’d been made only for him.
“Damn,” he muttered, amazed at how she felt.
She pivoted her hips up and down, stroking his length, her gorgeous breasts bobbing with each bounce. Holy shit.
Then she stopped.
“Do you hear that?”
He frowned, dazed and disappointed she’d stopped riding him. “Hear what?”
Then he heard it, the muffled, distant sound of someone singing. How had he not heard that while she had? He was a vampire, his hearing was, well, supernatural, yet he’d been so wrapped up in enjoying Josie Lynn that he hadn’t been aware of anything else. She was like his kryptonite.
“Do you hear it?” she asked again, her hand still braced on his chest, her head tilted as she listened.
Again, singing filtered in from the other room. But it was strange, almost mechanical sounding. But gradually he recognized the song.
“Is someone singing Barry White?” Josie Lynn asked, giving him a bemused look.
He nodded. “Can’t Get Enough of Your Love, Babe.”
“That’s what I thought. Is it coming from inside the apartment?”
It was, but he didn’t want to startle her. “I’m not sure.” Then he heard something else besides the weird, dissonant singing. He heard footsteps coming down the hallway even though they were nearly silent.
Someone was coming.
He quickly pulled Josie Lynn down against him and then snagged the edge of the comforter, tugging it over them just as the door opened. Josie Lynn made a startled noise, but kept her face buried against his neck.
“I knew it,” Cort said. “When the stupid parrot starts singing Barry White, I know exactly what it means.”
“Hey,” Drake said trying to sound casual. “What’s up?”
Cort gave him a pointed look. “The question is what’s up with you? And why are you up to it in my and Katie’s bed?
“Would you believe things just—sort of happened?” Drake asked.
“Absolutely,” Cort said.