Mary Hughes - The Bite of Silence

“Stop what? Telling the truth? Don’t like it, white boy?”

“Don’t denigrate yourself. You’re a powerful, highly attractive, frighteningly intelligent woman. Don’t you dare pull that race shit.”

I was speechless. Nikos thought I was attractive? And all the other good stuff? He must have felt pretty strongly about it because he’d used almost twenty words.

It gave me hope. Maybe he wasn’t avoiding me because he hated me, or worse, just didn’t care. Maybe it was for the one reason I could do something about. The v-reason . When I finally found my voice, it was embarrassingly plaintive. “Then why won’t you even kiss me without pushing me away?”

“It’s not you. It’s me.”

“Please. That’s the oldest line-”

“I’m not good for you. Not safe.”

Not safe . There is was. “Nikos, you don’t have to play that game.”

“It’s not a game-”

“I know you’re a vampire.”

This time he was the speechless one, but only for an instant. “You don’t know that. You can’t.”

“Why is Nixie’s hubby so good with blood transfusion equipment? Why do Nixie and Julian need not one but two assistants-who are coincidentally inhumanly gorgeous? Why is the mayor ordering as much blood sausage these days as cheese balls? If you’re not a vampire, why did you stop me from opening the window blind on the plane? Why the underground exit at the airport and the limo with mirrored windows?”

The hard line of his lips softened. “You think I’m gorgeous?”

Out of everything, he picked that. “Yeah. But you’d be more gorgeous kissing me.”

He palmed my cheek. He was so big he didn’t even have to scoot closer to do it. “Twyla, guessing vampire isn’t the same as knowing. Reality would shock you. Scare you. That’s unacceptable.” His thumb caressed me, telling me other things.

Ooh, over a dozen words. A whole Shakespeare soliloquy for him. “I’m looking for thrills. So shock me a little.” I leaned into his hand.

His head bent, his mouth dropping to my throat. The heat of his breath, the coolness it left on intake, played like an intimate fan on my skin. “I…want to. But-” He straightened. “No. You don’t know .”

“Then show me.” I had a brief internal struggle. I’m not by nature an exhibitionist but something had to be done, quickly, while I had him trapped. Once we got back to Meiers Corners he’d have the whole town in which to hide.

My jacket was already open. I yanked T-shirt and bra up. My breasts popped free, bouncing.

His eyes shot open, blazing sienna. His granite jaw loosened. His chest inflated like he couldn’t breathe. And then-

Fangs. I saw fangs.

Nothing could have proven Nikos’s point better. Guessing vampire was certainly not the same as being trapped in a limo with an aroused one.

Before I could even squeak my dismay he swung me onto his lap and wrapped me in arms of steel. I’m a nice curvy size six but sitting on his tree-trunk thighs, looking up into his flaming eyes, I really got sexual dimorphism. Slamming it home, his mouth slanting over mine covered real estate from Boise to Philly.

His lips landed moving, muscular ripples as strong and potent as the rest of him. They laved me like pounding surf, crashed through my flimsy barriers with hot desire.

I’d barely gotten used to overwhelmingly big Nikos kissing me when the whole fang thing hit. Smooth, long canines pressed like warm ivory against my lips. His tongue worked between them, teasing. Tongue, lips and fang together drove me a little nuts. I poked the tip of my tongue out for just a taste.

Rumbling his approval, he sipped at it. He caressed it between his own lips, silk and velvet and an intoxicating male taste. His tongue flicked the tip of mine in return, his so big it swiped half my mouth. He licked me again, maybe to tease my lips open, but his size made it more of a demand. I surrendered, lips parting on a breathless moan.

An instant later self-preservation kicked in. Vampire, fangs, trapped with a very big, aroused male. I closed up.

Too late. He swept into my mouth like a conquering warrior. His tongue was a flaming sword, stabbing deep, plumbing every dark mystery I had, licking me with light and blazing heat. I groaned.

Klaus had been a good kisser. A pointillist, every daub of tongue and swish of lips placed precisely so.

Nikos was a modern master, throwing aggressive splashes of bright color across aching, empty canvas. I wriggled at the size and feel of him, the taste of him, potent and smooth as aged whiskey or absinthe.

He pulled me tighter to contain my wiggles and captured me completely. His arms wrapped me from head to hips, one hand cupping my head. The other cupped my breast.

I have Tafel breasts, round heavy globes that overflow men’s hands. They fitted perfectly in Nikos’s.

My nipple slotted between his fingers. He pinched it erect. Need sparked. Any fear drowned in the wash of desire. He kissed sweeter than a dream, and his hand on my breast was oh-so-tutored, pinching and fondling.

He shifted me, pillowing my head on the enormous deltoid of his shoulder. Then he kissed me harder, deeper, pushing me into his own muscled strength. It left his hand free to plunge down my jeans directly onto my nub.

He petted my clit in welcome. At my gasp his tongue plunged deeper, began to drive into me. He kissed with the rhythm of sex, but he wiggled his finger on my clit lightly, almost teasingly. I rocked my hips, asking for more. Asking for the same fire as his kiss.

His hand withdrew. I whimpered until I heard a pop and a rasp, and my pants loosened. When he dove back in, his thick finger went straight into my aching body. His thumb grabbed my clit, his finger thrust deep inside, and he pinched .

My eyes shot open. Sweet Monet, yes . I arched into his chest. Licked his lips eagerly. “That feels amaz-”

He cut me off by laying claim to my mouth. He kissed me fiercely, his fingers pinching breast and pussy in rhythm. I rubbed myself against his crisp shirt, grabbed his shorn head and gave myself over to the wonder of it.

And he demanded more. His finger plunged harder. His tongue thrust deeper, opened me so far my jaw ached. It stabbed everywhere, lighting passion, demanding surrender. No part of my mouth went unclaimed by his hot, virile possession, inside or out. As his tongue thrust, his sleek fangs rode my throbbing lips.

I tried to kiss him back, brushing mouth and fang indiscriminately in my zeal. He groaned, and his fangs grew longer . It reminded me I had only guessed .

I lifted my chin. “Bite me. I want to know .”

His eyes were closed, lashes a jet fringe against his hewn cheeks. “Not yet.” His lids lifted, revealing dilated pits of red fire. He pinched my nipple, slowly, deliciously.

“Not yet?” I shuddered, wriggled on his finger thrust inside my body. He seized me more firmly, driving a second finger deep, and shook my entire vulva until I writhed.

When he let up I opened my eyes and panted. “What do you mean, not yet?”

He smiled, desire burning in his eyes. It was frightening, it was heady. “This.”

He tossed me onto the seat next to him and yanked my jeans to my knees. I tried to scramble up but he knelt in the seat well, restrained me with an arm dropped across my torso, and spun me toward the seat back. A hand pressed my face into the seat, another clasped my knees and held them down. I couldn’t see what he-

Breath seared my labia. A flaming tongue thrust me open. I jerked hard against him. He contained me easily. “You wanted shocking. Take it.”