Accidentally Dead, Again Part 16

She squirmed in his embrace, ignoring the rush of heat he created in every naughty bit she owned. "I guess it should be Dark Shadows now. You know, to show solidarity for our people."

"Stop dwelling and stick to the here and now. Current favorite soap opera."

She shook her head with a giggle. "I can't choose. They're like kids. I love them all for different reasons."

"Wishy-washy at best, Ms. Reynolds. Okay, name one place you've always wanted to go but haven't had the chance to." His hands palmed her back, rolling circular motions over it.

She tried to snuggle closer without being incredibly obvious, yet fight the sensual climb of heat he was creating by putting her hands on his chest. "Italy. Venice in particular. I want to ride in a gondola. I'm hoping I'll live long enough to teleport myself there. The dream before this all happened was to sort of Eat Pray Love the Italian/India/Bali experience. You know, like the movie where Julia Roberts goes to Italy, eats her way through the country, gains twenty pounds?"

"I vaguely remember it," Sam muttered, his hand moving to her lower back area.

"But seeing as I can no longer eat, and I'm not a fan of sweating it out in an ashram or giving up my moisturizer for the pray portion of that dream. I'll stick to a gondola."

When he answered, his voice had turned to hot chocolate, slipping over her frayed nerves and warming the cold, fearful depths of them. "I'd ride in a gondola with you."

Somehow, their lips had become but inches apart. Sam's eyes glowed in the dark of his bedroom, churning with emotion. "Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"I think I'd better sit up."

"Are you uncomfortable?"

Oh, on the contrary. She was on fire. Nothing about it was uncomfortable.

He s.h.i.+fted, swinging her around and pulling them up to the head of the bed where he could brace himself against the pillows. Her legs straddled his lap, falling to either side of his strong thighs. "Better?"

What wasn't better about being in Sam's lap while his man-bits of pleasure were so close to hers she could scream from the heat of it?

"So where were we? Moisturizer and ashrams."

"Gondolas."

"In Italy," he husked out, the tips of his fingers grazing the exposed flesh where her sweats.h.i.+rt had risen above her pant line.

That just a simple touch of his fingers was making her skin burn like he was the match and she was the gasoline caught her off guard. Every nerve ending responded to his touch in surround sound, and while she'd enjoyed plenty of s.e.x in her time, a mere touch had never had so much magnification.

Oh, if this was just a taste of what was to come when you experienced s.e.x as a vampire-he should just stake her now. Right now. Otherwise, she'd surely die of the pleasure.

Cupping her face, Sam drew her to him, his lips so near every line in them was magnified. "Phoebe?"

"Um, yep?"

"We shouldn't be doing this," he whispered, lining her lower lip with his tongue.

She fought to keep her eyes open. "Hey, you said no, rejected me like one would reject an undercooked piece of chicken at a bar mitzvah, and I went without balking. No is no. Even for girls."

His teeth gleamed in the glow of the city lights outside his window just before he nipped the corner of her mouth. "Like I said, we shouldn't be doing this. You know, touching."

Phoebe flapped her hands at her sides all while her insides turned to mush. "This is me not touching you."

"But I'm touching you," he drawled, slow and hot.

"Guilty as charged."

Sam let his fingers caress her cheekbone, lighting small fires on her cool skin. "I shouldn't be touching you."

The attempt to keep her voice steady was going to be an effort, but she made it anyway. "I guess that depends on who you ask."

"But I really want to touch you. We have a dilemma."

"Okay, so could we make a choice here? Touch. Don't touch. Do me. Don't do me. But choose. I mean, if I miss this because of the attack that is vampire sleep, someone's going to pay. Ball's in your court. Go."

Sam's lips grazed her jaw. "I wanted to wait."

For what? The second coming? "For?"

"The courting process."

Court this. "Then we'll have to wait a little while longer while we figure out if we're going to die. After that, I'm free as a bird. Get back to me then. I'll pencil you in."

Sam's groan was one of frustration when his mouth almost touched hers. "I wanted to take you to a movie. Bring you flowers. Candy's out, but I'd bet I could manage to put a bow on a packet of blood with Marty's help."

"Dreamy." Soooo dreamy.

"I wanted to watch TV with you. Read the Sunday paper with you. Maybe take a moonlit stroll in Central Park with you."

Flares of white-hot heat a.s.saulted Phoebe when he took to nipping her lips again. Add in his words, words that touched every romantic bone in her body, and she was headed for a puddle of b.u.t.ter. "Was this all going to occur before you made your slick nerd bedroom moves on me?"

"Well, that was the gentlemanly plan."

"We'd have been dating into the next millennium. Maybe we should double up and do blood and Sunday papers together as sort of a combination package?"

"I wanted to court you in the way you deserved, Phoebe. With all the tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs."

Tingles rippled up her spine at his gravelly admission. "And now?"

"Now I want to do that and run my tongue all over your body."

"All at once? Central Park will never be the same." She clamped her lips together to prevent a moan while he slid his tongue over the sh.e.l.l of her ear. Hearing those words was like finding out Chanel had named her their sole heir.

When she leaned into him, kneading her fingers into his hard chest, he let out a sharp hiss. "I want to throw you down on the bed, rip off your sweats, and make you scream."

Er, pause. Some honesty was needed here. "I can at least relieve you of one stressor. Here's the thing. I'm not much of a screamer. Just so we won't have any lingering disappointments between us. I'm not very noisy when I ... you know ... Doesn't mean it's not good, just means I'm stealthy."

Sam lifted his head from her ear, his eyebrow c.o.c.king upward in arrogance. "Oh, I think I can make you scream."

Phoebe planted her hands on her hips and rolled her neck at his challenge. "Was that like a double-dog dare?"

His grin was c.o.c.ky. Deliciously c.o.c.ky. "Maybe."

Fine. It was on like Donkey Kong. No one dared Phoebe Reynolds. A double-dog dare was like challenging her to a duel at dawn. She yanked her s.h.i.+rt up over her head, thankful she'd left her peachy lace bra on. "Then I double-dog dare you."

Sam pulled his s.h.i.+rt off, too, with a defiantly amused gaze. "Good thing it wasn't a triple or I'd have had to make you scream twice."

"Hah. As if. Okay, Sam McLean. I triple-dog dare you to make me scream twice. May the force be with you." With swift fingers and her own pair of amused defiant eyes, she hooked her thumbs into the top of her sweats, lifted off his lap and yanked them down to her ankles, shoving them off each foot.

Sam grabbed her at the waist and planted her even closer to his chest. "I'd venture to say I could probably prompt three screams out of you. And maybe even a beg for mercy."

With the flick of her fingers, Phoebe popped the clasp at the front of her bra, pulled it off, and threw it at him. "Like I'd in a trillion years beg for mercy. Do you have any idea who you're dealing with McLean? I was the baddest a.s.s in the land from kindergarten right up until graduation, buddy. You're really giving your nerd prowess some serious ego. I hear a lot of hype, but I'm not seeing a lot of proof. Your serve, ninja geek."

In a blur of his new vampiric skill, Sam drew her to him, their chests flush, her nipples hard and driving against his cool skin, making her gasp out loud. His mouth went to her throat, his tongue, oddly hot in contrast to the rest of him, silken and raspy, ran over her needy flesh.

Sam cupped her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, full and achy; they responded in kind, swelling and filling his hands. He tweaked her nipples between his fingers, rolling them to hard peaks, making her moan in delight. He nipped at the skin of her neck, trailing downward until he reached the top of her shoulder.

Phoebe's head fell back at the exquisite pleasure he wrought when his lips found her nipple, cool and smooth, then surrounded the tight bud, drawing it deep into his mouth.

The place between her legs burned, ached, grew damp as her hips drove down against the hard ridge of Sam's c.o.c.k, still encased in his jeans. Her fingers dug into his thickly muscled shoulders when he alternated between her nipples, biting them with gentle nips, swirling his tongue over them in long drags.

She pulled him closer, wanting to absorb the deliciously agonizing feel of his mouth on her. When he finally released her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, he slid under her and rolled her to her back. Her legs dangled off the side of his bed while she watched him strip his jeans off and drop his boxer briefs.

Under the heated black cover of the last remnants of the early-morning hours, she began to appreciate the gift of vampiric vision. Sam's body, lean and sculpted, stood in proud, unabashed beauty. His wide chest led to a lean waist and even leaner hips.

Those hips had that sharp indentation of muscle, proof of hours spent at a gym. His thighs, thick and taut, sprinkled with dark hair, flexed when he leaned forward and pulled her panties off with a rough yank.

If her pulse could race, Phoebe was sure it would when her eyes strayed to his c.o.c.k, thick and hard; the sight of it made her groan in the kind of antic.i.p.ation that left her shaking.

And then Sam was kneeling in front of the bed. He said nothing, but when Phoebe's eyes would have slid closed, his commanded her to watch him. Dark and hooded, his intent was written in them when he lifted her thigh and slung it over his shoulder.

Her fingers went to the blankets on the bed, clutching the fabric with a trembling grip. Her upper body strained against the feel of his hair caressing her abdomen, brus.h.i.+ng against the skin of her legs, taunting her, teasing her.

And now, she did want to scream. She wanted to scream at him to drive his tongue into her so deep she'd die of the pleasure. She wanted to end the agonizing bliss he wrought from her while he trailed wet kisses on her quivering flesh.

Yet, she fought it with clenched teeth, and when he finally drew his fingers between the slick folds of her flesh, still, she didn't scream. But her hips bucked upward and the heel of her foot crashed against Sam's shoulder, his touch was so intense.

His thumbs moved to spread her flesh, one hand slid beneath her a.s.s to lift her upward, yet still, he didn't slide his tongue against her aching c.l.i.t.

And Phoebe found herself fighting another scream of frustration-fighting a wail of pent-up need, a plea to Sam to drive into her.

But then his mouth was on her, consuming her, licking the strip of exposed flesh, savoring it with a hot tongue. It took Phoebe by such surprise, she reared upward against his mouth, mewling as he lavished her c.l.i.t with the slickness of his wet tongue.

Sam pulled back for a moment when he seemed to sense she was close to the edge. Her head thrashed against the bed in protest, her hands went to his head to draw him back to her, but Sam suspended the moment by kneading her upper thighs.

Trailing his fingers over the tight curls between her legs, he moved in agonizing inches toward her c.l.i.t, circling it before dragging his finger downward and inserting it into her, catching her by surprise.

And then his mouth was on her again, sipping at her swollen c.l.i.t as he drove his finger into her time and again.

It was more than Phoebe could take. The sweet-sharp pain deep in her belly, the hot flares of spiking heat began to torment her. The need for satisfaction became bigger than her, and that's when she let go.

With a scream.

It hissed from her throat, and she managed to catch it only by placing her knuckle in her mouth and the brief realization everyone out in the living room and guest bedroom would hear her.

Sam drove his finger into her and she rode it with wild abandon, whimpering, clenching her muscles, relis.h.i.+ng the astounding impact a vampire o.r.g.a.s.m had.

Sanity had just begun to return when Sam lifted himself from the floor and hovered over her. He smiled, but it wasn't filled with the kind of victory she'd expected. Instead, it was decadently sinful when he pushed her knees upward and lingered between her legs.

He let his c.o.c.k glide between her wet folds, teasing her, slowly bringing her back to the place she'd just left.

She reached between their bodies, marveling at how cool his skin was when she grasped his c.o.c.k and wrapped her hand around it.

Sam's smile went from tormentor to the tormented in one long draw of his hard shaft. His moan of pleasure fueled her, drove her to return the favor he'd bestowed upon her.

But Sam wouldn't have it. He lifted his hips away from hers, pulling back, grabbing her hands and circling her wrists above her head.

There was a pause, a moment when the thought of turning back was now or never. The silence between them pulsed with thick suspension. Seconds had pa.s.sed, but they felt more like days.

His deep chocolate eyes met hers and then, his decision made, he was in her, driving upward, entering her with such fierce force, Phoebe had to cling to him to keep herself beneath him.

Never had such exquisite pleasure accosted all of her senses in quite the way Sam inside her did. He stretched her, filled her, made her hips clash upward toward his.

Lips met, mouths clung and meshed, tongues clashed and warred. Flesh melded with flesh as their chests fused together.

Sam let her hands go, wrapping them around his neck, then sliding a hand beneath her, cupping her a.s.s, driving her hard against his groin. The sc.r.a.pe of his pubic hair against her swollen c.l.i.t sent a molten shot of desire deep within her belly; it pulsed outward, making her arch her neck to deepen their kiss.

That now familiar need he'd evoked in her when his head was between her legs began the steep climb to relief. Phoebe responded by hooking her ankles around his waist, riding the ever-growing pang of desire until she was ready to explode.

Sam's muscles tightened to rigid proportions, each sinewy plane of his sculpted body reacted, and Phoebe knew he was as close as she was.

His lips were suddenly at her ear, nipping the lobe, swirling over it with a wet glide of his tongue. Her nipples tightened when he commanded, grinding the words from between teeth clearly clenched, "Come, Phoebe. Come now."

The hot, gravelly tone of his voice, the demand to do his bidding drove Phoebe over the edge.

And there was another scream when her o.r.g.a.s.m ripped from her body and raced over her overstimulated nerve endings. The wave of pleasure was so distinctly sharp, so clearly defined, it swept over her in one rush of sensation.

They bucked together, their hips cras.h.i.+ng, their skin flush. Sam hissed in her ear, nipping at her earlobe before straining to take that one last drive of his c.o.c.k, forceful and demanding.

The silence as they each went boneless was almost eerie. How odd not to hear the crash of breath or the harsh rasp of needy lungs seeking air.

Sam cradled her against him, brus.h.i.+ng her hair from her face. "So excuse me. Do you hear that?"

Her smile was as sleepy as her question. "Hear what?"

"The resounding echo of your screams. Not one, but two, Ms. I Double-dog Dare You." He chuckled against her forehead, letting his lips graze it.

She ran her hands over his broad back, luxuriating in the dips and planes of his muscles. "I don't want to throw stones, but I triple-dog dared you."

"I couldn't wait any longer. That's just how vixen-ish you are."