Nightfall by Joey W. Hill and Desiree Holt

what to say. He’d think about all of it later
and they’d probably hit a few bumps as a result when he tried to backpedal.
That was part of the pleasure. For now, it was all reaction, and she was fine
with that. Very fine.
    She stepped away, stood by the bed as she began to lift the
hem of her knit shirt. “Close your eyes.”
    “No.” His voice was hoarse. “Hell no.”
    She stopped, gave him a leisurely once-over. “You can look
at me, or you can feel me. Which would you prefer?”
    “You get both. Why can’t I?”
    “Because you get what I give you. No more and no less.”
    “What if I’m not willing to give you…everything you want?”
    A smart question, and one he didn’t realize had gone beyond
his control the minute a vampire walked into his bar and decided she wanted
him. Correction. It was beyond his control if she embraced the whole
humans-are-inferior-and-ours-to-use-however-we-want vampire credo. And if she
decided she wanted everything from him.
    No. Forty years ago, she’d been human herself. Albeit
sometimes she felt like she was clinging to a mortal conscience by her
fingernails, she still made the effort. Beyond that, she couldn’t want
everything from him. She wouldn’t be able to stay here that long.
    Wanting everything meant making him her fully marked human
servant, and she’d not yet taken that step with any human. Female vampires were
choosier, usually taking that step as they drew closer to the century mark,
whereas male vampires might do it before hitting fifty. But looking at him,
restrained by his belt and their mutual desires, she felt a clenching in her
lower belly that was part sex, part need, part longing.
    God, Selene. Shut up and fuck him already.
    She hadn’t answered his question, too busy wrestling with
her own, but now she summoned a smile. “If you close your eyes, you’ll find out
if you’re willing to give me everything I want.”
    He sighed, hard, but shut his eyes, probably not realizing
his fingers clenched as he did it, a quiver running through all those
impressive muscles. His cock just got thicker, standing up tall and eager. She
removed the shirt, shimmied out of boots and jeans, leaving on the dark-blue
silky bra and matching lace panties. Then she leaned over him, sliding a hand
over his biceps on the far side, pressing her breasts to his chest. She blew on
his lashes, making him frown and then smile.
    “You want to give me everything I want, Quinn, but
you think you need to fight about it. I like a fight, for the right reasons.
This is not that moment. Let yourself feel. Let me enjoy you.”
    She straddled him then, and he groaned as she rubbed her
lace-clad pussy, the crotch already soaked through, against the length of his
cock. Reaching behind her, she cupped his ball sac, a nice weight in her hand,
as she rotated her hips on him. “Feel how wet I am?”
    “Yeah. Fuck yes. Want your panties off. Want to feel your
cunt.”
    “Then ask me for that. Nicely. Remember ‘please’?”
    “Please.”
    “Please what?”
    “I want to feel your cunt against my cock. Please.”
    “Very nice.” She stood up, removed her bra and dropped it on
the floor. Then she shimmied out of the panties. When she sat back down upon
him, she draped them over his face, pushing the crotch against his lips.
“Taste, Quinn.”
    He licked, then his lips closed over the fabric, giving it a
gentle suck. She took her hand away, leaving the sheer garment spread over his
face like a veil. His nostrils flared beneath thin lace.
    “That’s all for you, Quinn. When you had Artie shoved
against the wall, and I reached out and touched you, I wanted your cock right
then. I wanted us to fuck right up against that worthless piece of shit like he
didn’t matter at all.”
    She also wanted to rip into Artie’s throat, make him howl in
pain and gush blood for stealing from Quinn, for feeling like he had a right to
take advantage of her cowboy. But she’d save that vicious tidbit. The