Awakened (10 page)

His magnificent erection was still going strong. Barrett slid a hand over his hip, admiring all that. She had half a mind to drop to her knees and—

“Not yet, girl.”

He unfolded a huge towel and wrapped it tightly around her without his hands ever touching her skin. Somehow that seemed more erotic than a caress after a shower like that. And she knew his hands would be all over her naked body in a short while.

“Take a breather. I gotta make some calls.”

Disappointment slammed through her at his abrupt about-face. It made her reconsider what she was doing, but only for a split second. After what they’d just done in the shower, she wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity for more simply because he had work to attend to. She had, after all, popped in out of nowhere, and their little helo flight hadn’t exactly been planned.

Barrett snatched a towel off the rack to make a turban for her dripping hair. She could act as blasé as she needed to and give Nick the time he needed.

She studied her face in the mirror, liking the rosy glow. A good man was better than any makeup.

Wet, her eyelashes looked like she had on mascara. She patted her flushed cheeks. No blusher needed. Barrett hummed to drown out what she could hear of his conversation.

Sounded like business. Not interesting. But she had never been above eavesdropping. Under the circumstances …

Barrett gazed into the mirror, seeing the anxiety in her blue eyes. He’d better be talking business.

Too bad that coming back to a former lover meant having to accept who he’d been with since her. New moves. Different rhythm. Clues to someone else’s pleasure. Female demands that weren’t hers. So far, so good. But Barrett didn’t imagine for a second that Nick had been celibate in the year they’d been apart.

She didn’t like the thought of an invisible woman getting between them. Correction: women. Plural. Had to have happened. But there was nothing she could do about it. Considering how close she’d gotten to Powell, she couldn’t exactly ask Nick a bunch of nosy questions.

Barrett took the hair dryer from the hook by the sink and switched it on, yanking off the towel and running a hand through the worst of the tangles before using the hottest setting to begin to dry her damp locks.

After a while, she switched it off. Her hair didn’t have to be perfect. Nick gave a single knock on the not-quite-closed door and came in when she said to, moving behind her, gazing at her in the mirror. He lifted her hair off her neck and let it slide through his fingers.

“Nice,” he murmured. “Feels like hot silk. Now where were we …”

Barrett said nothing. It was delicious to be treated with such gentleness.

He wrapped some longer locks around his hand and bared the nape of her neck, bending down to kiss it.

His lips moved over the sensitive skin with the skill she remembered. Barrett stood riveted to the spot, not wanting him to ever stop. When he got to the back of her ear, he took the lobe in his teeth and nipped. The tiny flash of pain made her hiss. With pleasure.

Nick opened his fingers and released her hair. She shook her head and pushed the tumbling strands back into place, more or less. He rested both big hands on her bare shoulders.

“Look at you,” he said approvingly.

“Big deal. You can’t see a thing what with this towel.”

She inspected him from head to toe. Slouchy athletic pants covered him from just below his taut middle to his ankles. The sleek bulge below the low waistband looked beyond tempting. “Why’d you get dressed?”

“Room service. I ordered for both of us. They came while you were blasting that dryer.”

“We had dinner.”

“Just a little something more. Come on. I’ll show you.” He guided her out with a hand on the small of her back.

Nick was being a gentleman. His hand stayed where it was, not drifting lower to enjoy the softness of her unpantied ass beneath the towel. Which was so not like him.

Barrett willed his hand to move. It didn’t. She was distracted from her frustration by the sight of the room-service table that had been wheeled into the middle of the suite. Immaculate white damask showed off a silver wine cooler, dewy with icy moisture. It held a bottle of very good champagne, wrapped in a white napkin.

Oh wow, she thought. So that’s who he’d been calling. At least, it had been one of the calls he’d made. So he hadn’t interrupted their make-out session as easily as she’d thought. He’d been trying to be romantic … and man, he’d succeeded.

“For now. Or for later,” he clarified. “Whenever you want.”

“Thanks.” Barrett lifted the domed cover of a small dish and saw huge, chocolate-dipped strawberries. Also chilled, also dewy. “Definitely later for all of this,” she said, turning to Nick. “I want you. Now.”

The towel dropped. The athletic pants joined it on the floor. She fell backward on the bed and took him down with her.

The foreplay got wild, way wilder than the shower. In a few minutes, he was kneeling over her, pumping the huge cock he was so proud of because he knew she liked to watch him do it.

He had reason to be proud. His cock was more than twice as long as the width of his palm. He had to move his muscular ass back to do a complete stroke, root to tip. Barrett’s gaze was soft with desire as she watched intently. She curled forward when he stopped for a second, putting her tongue to the swollen head just inside his encircling fingers.

Nick groaned, holding absolutely still as she licked him. Barrett saw no reason to stop. She lifted a hand to caress his balls while she teased him with her tongue. Once more Nick got her by the wrist.

“Whoa. Please. You gotta stop,” he muttered.

She came up, stroking his flat belly and wiping her mouth on the hand that had stroked him between the legs. She’d gotten him way too hot. Nothing hung down. He had to be aching.

Barrett got on her knees and rubbed her body against him, kissing his chest, his small male nipples, and nuzzling his neck while she whispered how much she’d missed him. His touch. His body. His dick—

He knocked her flat. Then stayed over her on all fours and returned the favor, saying things into her ear that had her writhing with anticipation. “I’ve dreamed about you every night for the past year,” he said. “I remember the way you feel. The way you sound. The way you smell and taste. But memories aren’t the same. I want to sink into you, Barrett. I want to drown in your beauty. But first …”

It took three seconds for the condom conversation. The tests, four seconds. All clear. She was on the pill. He didn’t seem to give a good goddamn why.

Barrett positioned his long cock just where she wanted it. And lifted herself to him. But he hesitated. She lowered herself, lifting her knees to cradle his body between them.

“I’m not going to break, Nick. Rock me like you mean it.” She sank her fingers into his thick dark hair and pulled his face to hers for a scorching kiss. Tongues tangled as his hands slipped under her ass. The smooth head of his cock paused just outside her pussy.

One hot touch. Teasing her. Opening her. Then he thrust again and again. She almost screamed with joy. He still knew exactly how to drive her wild. She would never get enough. Not if they lived and loved for a thousand years.

Afterward, however, doubts started to intrude. It’s how it always was with her.

It’s why she’d run from him and why she knew she’d run from him again.

“You’re safe with me,” he said from where he lay spooned behind her, his arms wrapped around her so one hand cupped her breast and the other her hip.

“Am I?” she whispered, belying the fact she’d felt exactly that when she’d been in his arms. Now she knew there was a distinction to be made.

Here, now, she was physically safe, and she knew Nick would always do everything in his power to keep her that way. While she’d never be emotionally safe with him, she still craved what he was doing. The warm, strong, male hand on her skin took away the lingering taint of Joseph Powell’s chilly touch.

Barrett relaxed under Nick’s stroking hand. After a while, she fell into a dreamless sleep.

CHAPTER
SIX

The soft ringing of the phone in his suite drew Vladimir
back into the room. He was dressed now, in a silk robe worn open over flowing pants beneath. Tamsin had been quite thorough about licking him clean after his orgasm. There had been no need for a postcoital shower.

He looked toward the bedroom to make sure she was asleep. Tamsin lay on her side with her back to him, her outline a sweeping curve that narrowed at the waist and flowed up again to her hips. He smiled at the sight of her bare behind, still rosy from the spanking she’d begged for. He was half tempted to tongue her awake and make her come for a third time. But he picked up the receiver.

“Hello.”

“Mr. Ouspensky?” The male voice was deferential. Gil Mansfield was a former U.S. soldier and turned vampire who’d decided he had better things to do than take orders from the FBI. A mutual acquaintance, the same one who’d designed the traveling white room that transported Vladimir’s girls, had “introduced” them several months ago (the introduction had included breaking Mansfield out of federal custody), and since then, even though Mansfield was subject to the odd fit of rage, he knew better than to direct that rage at Vladimir. Even better, he knew how to follow orders, and he’d been surprisingly enterprising when it came to giving Vladimir what he wanted most.

Little did he know that within a relatively short time, he’d be losing his mind and most of his flesh, all compliments of the experimental drugs given to him by the FBI.

“What is it?” Vlad replied.

“I just wanted to let you know that the merchandise is in transit.”

“Have there been any problems?”

The other man laughed. “Nope. None. I monitored her on the webcam all the way down. I can stream it live if you want.”

“How interesting. Please do.” Vladimir provided the man with the necessary contact information and opened his laptop, settling down on the couch.

In a few minutes, he downloaded a video feed of a white room that rocked with the motion of the highway traveled by the trailer carrying it and the captive girl inside.

He knew she would see only his eyes. But she would clearly hear his voice. It was important to establish control gradually, teach her to depend on him. But without harming her in any way. Delicate goods, this one. He searched his mind for her name. It would be changed, of course.

Jane Small. That was it.

How fitting. She was a slight thing. Her dress had been ripped at some point but there was no mark on her, not so much as a scratch. He touched a key, bringing her sweet face into sharp focus.

Either her complexion was naturally pale or her terror had drained it of color. The delicate sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her nose emphasized its childlike upturn. Her hair was reddish-gold, long and wavy. Despite her ragged attire, the girl had a refined quality about her, as if she had stepped out of a fairy tale and not into the nightmare Vladimir had planned for her. Her intelligent eyes were a dark hazel, her expression as soft and startled as a fawn discovered in its hiding place. Using her fingers—he could see that her unpolished nails had been bitten to the quick—she rubbed her eyes. With particular enjoyment, Vladimir noticed the traces of the tears she’d shed, still visible on her cheeks.

Such innocence. Such fear. She would fetch a high price.

Vladimir pressed the key for a two-way. “Hello, Jane.”

The girl gasped, looking around desperately to see who had spoken. He knew how his deep voice would echo in the smooth-walled room. Suddenly she saw his eyes high above her.

“Who are you?” she whispered.

“We will meet soon enough, my dear.”

She fell silent, pulling the torn dress around herself in a charming attempt at modesty. He knew she was still feeling the effects of the drugs she’d been forced to take to keep her quiet. She seemed dazed. Certainly disoriented.

“Why is—why is everything so round and smooth in here?”

The traveling room had no sharp edges and no angles. Previous versions had resulted in minor injuries to its unwilling occupants as they banged on the walls and tried to climb them. Now the molded furniture was part of the seamless walls.

“Just for you, Jane,” he replied. “What a pretty girl you are. We would like you to arrive unhurt so we have removed all dangers. It seems that you have threatened to cut yourself from time to time in the past. Or was that only a phase brought on by that wanna-be vampire you were seeing? I was told he tried to save you when you were taken. Quite admirable. In any event, you cutting yourself won’t be allowed, you know. You must follow the rules.”

Her eyes widened with terror. No doubt she knew who had betrayed her. “Who told you that?”

“Someone who knows you well.” Vladimir gave a low laugh. He tapped a key that would plunge the white room into darkness. Gradually, of course. She would have plenty of time to crawl into a molded sleeping alcove.

The temperature of the traveling room was comfortably warm. There were no blankets. Not since a desperate abductee had torn a long strip from one and used it to hang herself. The closet rod intended for longer journeys when girls were stripped of their clothing and inspected en route had since been removed, solving that potential problem. The clandestine transports represented a considerable investment of money and time.

Until the transaction was complete, no one was allowed to damage the merchandise—not the abductors, who sometimes got carried away, and not the girls themselves, some of whom, unfortunately, were rather good at self-harm. Hence the warning to Jane.

Of course, once an auction was over and a large sum of cash had changed hands, the purchaser was welcome to do whatever he wanted with his young victim.

No returns. No exchanges. Every sale was final.

Vladimir watched as she stood unsteadily and took a few steps. The trailer truck went around a curve and forced her to sit down. Jane Small was on her way to a whole new life. For as long as it lasted.