Real Vampires Have Curves by Gerry Bartlett Read Free Book Online Page A

you.”
    Hmmm. And didn’t I need him? For comfort. Old time’s sake. Satisfaction guaranteed. I could go on and on. Could you blame me if I followed him meekly to a silver Mercedes convertible parked at the curb?
    â€œNice car.” Good. Despite a lust-fogged brain, I could at least speak again.
    â€œI thought you’d like it. It’s yours.”
    â€œMine?” I determinedly squelched the urge to happy dance. The price of independence—do not accept expensive gifts even though he’d obviously read my mind and bought my dream car.
    â€œValdez told me how that piece of crap you drive endangered you on your trip.” He tossed me the keys. “Drive.”
    Damned furry snitch. And now Jerry was trying to hook me with a little drive. But I’m not stupid. I got in and started the engine. Oh, but it purred. “Keep me,” it whispered as I shifted into drive.
    â€œWhere to?” I pretended nonchalance as I pulled away from the curb. The cool night air lifted my hair and I felt like a princess in her coach-and-four. I waved to the peasants crowding the sidewalks as we breezed down Sixth Street as fast as the traffic allowed.
    Blade gave me directions until we wove our way up to the top of Castle Hill and stopped in front of . . . yes, a castle. Talk about your stereotypes. The Gothic monstrosity perched on the summit with its stone turrets and massive wood door shouted, “Vampires live here. Keep out.”
    â€œYou’ve got to be kidding. Who lives here?”
    â€œA friend with a sense of humor. He puts on a great Halloween party. Maybe we’ll come back for it.”
    â€œYou’re ruining the mood for me, Jerry, by assuming I’ll do your bidding.” I might as well speak my mind since he could read every thought anyway.
    â€œSorry.” He leaned over and kissed me again, a long, lingering, tongue tangling symphony of a kiss that had me humming along.
    Again. I’m not stupid. I was not going to keep the car. Or go to Lake Charles. But I was going to satisfy this itch that Blade, for centuries, had known how to scratch just so. I followed him inside. Up a stone staircase that could have come straight from Castle Campbell except that this marble gleamed and, of all things, a bat chandelier hung above the landing.
    â€œBats?” I laughed as Blade tugged me into a bedroom and slammed the door. “What? No coffin?”
    â€œThat’s in Damian’s bedchamber.”
    I fell onto the exquisitely soft, red-velvet coverlet. Blade grinned down at me. Oh I loved the way he looked when he wasn’t angsting over all his responsibilities. This Blade was fun, playful as he fell on top of me. I ripped open the snaps on his shirt and ran my hands over his smooth chest and down his flat stomach. Always the same, always perfect. I could feel his need pressing against his jeans.
    â€œRide ’em, cowboy,” I whispered as I slid down his zipper.
    â€œNot yet, lass.” He pushed his hand under my skirt.
    "What the hell are you wearing?” He pulled up the fabric to look.
    â€œControl panties. Not exactly a girdle, but—” He pressed a kiss on the heavy duty spandex just “there” and I wished the thing to hell and gone. It had been a struggle to get it on tonight, but it flattened my stomach and kept my butt from jiggling. How on earth was Blade going to work it off?
    â€œNot to worry. And I like it when your butt jiggles.” A knife gleamed in his hand. Did I mention why he’d picked Blade as his surname? Knives, swords, daggers have always been his weapons of choice and he’s damned good with them. Years later someone created a comic book character with the same name—a vampire hunter. Talk about irony.
    Forget irony. Jerry slipped the tip of his stiletto under the elastic above my navel. I gasped, then forgot to breathe as he slowly cut the spandex. It parted like butter until, yes, hello,