God help me. The man may have lost his memories, but his ability to scramble my thoughts and leave a huge mess in my panties still worked like a well-oiled machine.
‘Good idea! Let’s find some baby oil and see how well he can impersonate a jackhammer!’
At least Betty was still able to focus.
“What?” I finally asked when all he did was stare back at me. I was still trying to gather my thoughts from all points north of my waist and couldn’t decipher his expression. Like my Beretta, my telepathy was worth fuckall against him and he had a look on his face I’d never seen him wear before. One that was potentially dangerous.
To my willpower.
It made me wonder if his Sookie sensor extended to telepathy as well because he flipped me over so I was underneath him again. Suddenly I was in the starring role in a B horror flick as the ditzy blond co-ed being held down by the big bad vampire with something a lot more titillating than my life flashing before my eyes.
Because I was now the victim of a dick’em stick-em up.
The rest of me froze while Betty flailed around like an epileptic on a Tilt-A-Whirl. As soon as the ride was over she planned on getting the full carnival experience by opening her mouth and staring down the barrel of his cum gun, daring him to pop her balloon before her buzzer sounded.
“Wha…what are you doing?” I managed to ask while our mouths were still empty.
I also may have shifted my hips, checking to see if the safety was engaged.
I was a professional like that.
“You are…happy,” he offered with a smile.
Not as happy as Betty.
My hoohah was a sideshow freak.
‘For my next act I’m gonna swallow his sword!’
Not if I get to it first.
I seriously couldn’t think straight. Not when he was so close. And half dressed. So I closed my eyes and tried to regain some semblance of sanity, lassoing my scatter-Betty-brained thoughts, and doing my best to remember why we were still dressed. Why fucking from here to kingdom cum was such a bad idea. When I couldn’t find the answers to those questions, I concentrated on his last words and decided to start there, so I agreed, “I am happy.”
Now that he was awake.
When I first woke up and found myself wrapped up in an Eric blanket, I didn’t mind so much. What I did mind very much was when I realized he wasn’t moving.
He didn’t twitch. Or breathe. Not even his baton that orchestrated Broadway show tunes from my music box showed any signs of life.
I hadn’t spent much time with him since I’d come to know what he was. I didn’t know if it was normal for him to play possum so believably during the day. I knew his skin was cooler than mine, but I hadn’t noticed if he normally breathed beyond his intrusive sniffing of Betty.
So I’d poked him. I pushed and I prodded. When that didn’t work I flipped his heavy ass onto his back and slapped his face like his wandering hands dictated I should’ve done many times before then.
With my Rainman down for the count and unable to tell me how many minutes until Wapner, I had no idea what time it was. How long I had been out.
How long he had been…
My ear slammed down onto his chest listening for signs of life. I could hardly hear anything except for the sound of my own blood pounding through my ears, but when I forced myself to listen beyond that I got zilch. Not a tick or a tock.
Not even a boom boom pow from Betty with her never ending gotta get-get gotta get-get his black eyed peen.
His heart wasn’t beating and mine had gone into overdrive thumping enough for the two of us just thinking he could be dead. Being half-awake and fully panic stricken I started CPR. By the time it had lasted long enough to cover us both in my sweat and it hadn’t made a lick of difference, another thought occurred to me. I must have fallen asleep before he’d been able to feed. I didn’t know how long vampires could survive without eating, but remembering what he’d said about Callaghan’s remains I hoped I still had time. He hadn’t turned to ash and gone with the wind just yet, so I ran out of the room and grabbed one of his daggers. Running back, I pounced on him about to cut my wrist open like that Native American woman in the Twilight books when something else dawned on me.
Those books were stupid and so was I.
He’d told me he was lethargic during the daytime. So was lethargic a code word for dead?
If so, understatement much?
My near coronary had me turning into the world’s first vampire coroner. My fingers peeled back his eyelids and saw the clear blue orbs hadn’t clouded. I moved his limbs like my own personal Gumby checking for signs of rigor. He was just as bendy in my hands as my Beretta had been in his, so I forced myself to calm down.
I waited for a good long while too, picking up his deadened limbs and moving them to and fro looking for signs of stiffening. I was worried enough even Betty hadn’t had nary a thought of anything else of his stiffening, so when I finally convinced myself he’d more than likely be okay I went and took my much needed shower.
But not before I took his hand and made him give himself the finger for leaving me in the dark about his daytime death.
He jerked me back to the present by putting his hand back over my heart and asking, “What is it you wanted to tell me about your heart, lover?”
As if that wasn’t a loaded question. Instead of getting all Nicholas Sparks on him, I only admitted, “That you should’ve told me your ticker doesn’t tick. You scared me half to death.”
Also an understatement. We were quickly becoming the king and queen of them.
But it was going through my earlier panic attack that made me decide to just go with the flow. Thinking I may have lost him for good, I resolved if he woke up when the sun went down I would enjoy this time with him now. We had no idea of what caused him to lose his memories, so for all we knew they could come back at any time. Knowing everything could go back to the way it was when he finally did remember, I just wanted to appreciate what little time I had with him.
But going with the flow didn’t include doing anything that would cause things of his to flow from me. Playful little slap and tickle sessions came just as easily to us as breathing – for me at least. But I refused to go any farther than that. Not now when he couldn’t make an informed decision.
“My heart might not beat,” he offered softly, “but it moves for you just the same.”
Well that was a low blow.
Low because his sweet words made Nicholas’ sparks fly right out of Betty. And the resulting sugar rush had her pulling on a patch covered green vest and scouting around his Skittles hawking her box of cookies.
She wanted to taste his rainbow.
Deciding to put those sparks out I tried to roll out from underneath him before she had a chance to rub his stick over her campfire, but Eric’s interfering inhaler thwarted my plans. His eyes glazing over told me he’d been secretly snooping with his super sniffer and knew exactly what I’d been thinking, so he rolled with me and ended up pressing his own sleeve of not-so Thin Mints right into the top of Betty’s beret. Undaunted, she batted her lashes and asked, ’Hey mister. Care to sample my box of coochie?’
Earning her, her newest patch which was a wet one I could feel coating my panties.
Acting like his cub wasn’t scouting out all sorts of sinful things to do to my brownie, he merely smiled innocently at me and asked, “What else enlightened you today?”
That when all else fails CPR could stand for Cum Power Resuscitation?
Blowing him awake would have been my next move.
It rhymed with cum. My brain and my Betty were coated in it, so that was all that could slither out of either set of lips.
“Mmm?” he asked, staring up at me while he twirled a strand of my hair.
He didn’t seem all that interested in an answer. Or maybe I wasn’t all that interested in giving him one considering I felt the vibration of his non-question more than I heard it.
I was between his cock and a hard place.
Having him back. Having him tell me with both his words and his actions that he wanted me was a bittersweet pill to swallow. It would be so easy to give in. We both wanted it. Each other. To fuck from here to somewhere over the rainbow. But we couldn’t.
Because he would burn up underneath the blue skies while bluebirds sang. And I would burn in hell for using him that way when he didn’t know any better.
So I wrapped Betty up nice and tight in Judy’s garland before she could click her heels down the yellow brick road, chanting, ‘There’s no place like Eric’s bone,’ three times.
The Wizard of Orgasms would just have to stay hidden behind the curtain of my panties.
The hostess in me wanted to offer him a meal, but the Twinkie in me knew we were flying in the danger zone. If his lips landed anywhere on my body our matchy-matchy libidos meant my goose would be cooked and I had no doubt his cocky Maverick would do a fly-by of my tower. The resulting vibration would rattle what was left of my willpower apart, so I pushed myself off of him and stood up saying, “Why don’t you grab a shower and then we can figure out what we’re doing for the night.”
Before Betty serenades you with The Righteous Brothers and we end up doing each other.
“Why don’t you join me and we can do each other?”
Stupid matchy-matchy horny brains.
“Not happening, Iceman.”
I doubted he got my Top Gun reference, but I’d noticed he had a media room here too. Maybe we could watch it later while I knitted myself a pair of chainmail panties and made L. Ron Hubbard jokes he wouldn’t get either.
The added distance wasn’t doing me any good because staring down at him, he looked like a male model sprawled out on the bed. Even dirt looked good on him, but I wasn’t about to tell him that and instead I walked towards his closet to find something else that would also undoubtedly look good on him.
Like a bell.
I jumped a mile high when he suddenly appeared in front of me and he didn’t bother hiding his amusement over scaring me half to death. Again. But rather than giving him the satisfaction of acknowledging it, I shoved a pair of jeans and a tee at him, saying, “Shower. You need to eat and so do I, but we’re both going to go hungry until your fishy ass is clean.”
It was a lie. Sort of. Truthfully, he didn’t smell bad at all, but I knew letting him that close while he was still only half dressed was a bad idea.
Bad because I knew it would be very good.
“But what if I don’t remember how?” he smirked. “I might need your assistance. I could drown.”
I was about to make a snarky comeback when his next actions made my cum backup into the cotton lining of my underwear.
Because presto change-o and I was suddenly faced with a snow white vampire wearing nothing more than a pair of magically stretched tiny red underwear.
I never would’ve guessed I’d be longing for the days of him wearing his killing jeans when I felt my face flame as red as his underpants.
“Am I already doing it wrong?” he asked innocently. “I thought when one showered they did so naked.”
“But you’re not nak…” my mouth automatically started to protest.
I clamped down everything. My eyes. My thighs. My hands and lips. Everything but my heart was on lockdown while my brain sounded the alarm.
There was an active shooter in the closet and holy shit was he packing.
Betty thought we should be the hero and fling ourselves on top of the ticking time bomb to save everyone from the blast.
I told Betty to shut the fuck up and blindly felt my way out of the closet so I could hold hands with the Cowardly Lion on our way to ask the Wizard from some courage.
And a cigarette.
I ignored his chuckle behind me and kept my eyes shut until I heard the water turn on in the bathroom, while forcing myself to think of anything other than the fact he was naked.
I was wet too, so we were matchy-matchy yet again.
As tempting as his naked ass was – and it was – I knew we couldn’t hide out in his house forever. I doubted whatever caused him to lose his memories could be found in his knick-knacks. So when he came back into the room, fully dressed and smelling Irish Spring clean, I spoke up saying the things that had been running through my mind while he’d been lethargic all day long before he could hold my brain hostage with his come hither looks.
Hostage Betty was a lost cause, now suffering from a full blown case of Stockholm Syndrome.
“Maybe we should go back to New Orleans. Whatever happened to you more than likely happened there. Now that the FBI isn’t hanging around anymore, I could go to your casino and try to listen in. I could hear something that could help us.”
My telepathy had failed me more often than not lately, but at least now I knew part of the reason why.
“No,” he casually replied while dropping down onto the couch beside me.
“No?” I asked.
“No,” he repeated while pulling me onto his lap. I was too flabbergasted to try and stop him when he added, “I am perfectly content to stay here.”
“And what about your memories?” I asked. “Do you think your magically delicious lucky charms will make a leprechaun shoot a rainbow out of your ass and give you your memories back?”
I was hungry and a bowl of cereal sounded pretty good right about then. I hadn’t explored much at all while he’d been out of it. I was still too raw from everything that had happened and didn’t feel right going through his things. Again. But when I’d gone to get a fresh set of clothes from the bags in my room I’d noticed the fruit and bagels he’d brought for me the last time I was there were still sitting on the dresser. All of it had gone past their freshness, but I didn’t want to leave the house knowing there was no way for me to get back in without him. Nor did I want to leave him unprotected by leaving the doors wide open while I was gone and decided it would be best to wait for him to wake up before heading out.
With my luck I would come back to find him being attacked by some religious cult.
“Lover, I thought I explained last night that nothing can shoot out of my ass. Feel free to check though.”
I already had. My eyes had been just as quick as his Magic Mike stripper routine.
Since my purse was still in the other room, leaving me without any bills to shove into his waistband, I only asked, “Why does it seem like I’m more concerned about finding a way to fix you than you?”
“Because you are,” he replied nonplussed. “I thought I explained that last night as well. If regaining my memories means I will no longer have you, then I don’t want them to return.”
His lackadaisical attitude was starting to piss me off, so I returned his tit with my tat of, “And I thought I explained last night, if you don’t get them back then nothing can happen between us.”
Despite my inner warning bells telling me not to get my hopes up, my hope was invariably up. I didn’t want to believe he would still be so cold towards me once he finally regained his memories and saw how I tried to help him in spite of everything that had happened between us.
Surely my actions now would make some sort of difference.
“I beg to differ,” he replied while pulling me closer. “You want me. I want you. You will come to see reason.” His voice dropped an octave as he nuzzled my cheek and added, “And then you will cum. We both will. Many times over. And it will be spectacular.”
Stupid psychic vampire!
His boldness only made my determination that much stronger. Unwilling to admit defeat, I huffed, “You can beg ‘til the cows come home, but I won’t change my mind.”
“Why would I keep cows at my home?” he asked.
“Because you have a leather fetish.”
My impossible to hide smirk seemed to alert him to my smart-assery, so he let it go and held me tighter as he admitted, “I will do nothing that will cause me to lose you and if this is all you are willing to give me of yourself, then I will be happy with that.”
“So, what? We just play house forever?” I asked incredulously, while scrubbing the white picket fence images from my mind’s eye. “Eventually someone is going to sound the alarm when you don’t come back.”
At the very least, every bat in the tri-state area was probably honing in on Betty’s buzzer.
“They can make as much noise as they want. I don’t want that life back.”
Calling him infuriating had also been an understatement and after the stress of the last twenty-four hours, my mouth took control and let loose on him with, “You think you don’t, but you don’t remember it to know. Look around Eric. You’re not exactly the type to slum it. And it’s not like you can go get a nine to five job. I’ve got enough money saved up for us to get by for a little while, but I’ll have to get another job eventually.”
His bills were probably paid for automatically from his accounts and it wasn’t like he needed any money to eat, but I still had responsibilities. I had no real debt to speak of, but I still helped Gran out with her bills and I had no intention of stopping now.
“As you said, look around,” he offered smugly. “I must have plenty of money. More than we could possibly need. You have no need to work.”
I ignored the way my stomach fluttered over his use of the word ‘we’ and shot back with, “Uh huh. And how do you propose we get access to your mountain of money? Do you remember your bank accounts? Your PIN number? You don’t even have your wallet on you, much less a checkbook. I can only assume the hurricane blew away your money trees since I didn’t see any outside.”
Not even a bonsai tree weighed down by gold bullion buds.
I knew what banks he used for the casino back in New Orleans, but I no longer had access to any of his personal information and hadn’t worked for him long enough to have even glanced at any of the details. I could maybe contact Mr. Cataliades, but who’s to say he wasn’t in on the fuckery that made Eric lose his memories? I hadn’t been able to read his mind either, which made me realize now that maybe he wasn’t human either.
But it wasn’t like I could ask Eric.
However it reminded me that there were at least three other people who worked at Eric’s casino whose minds were just as blank to me as his. A bartender, one of the pit bosses on the casino floor, and one of his security guys. I could only assume they were vampires too and if they worked for Eric, they must have some sort of kinship.
Or they could be responsible for his amnesia.
I couldn’t trust any of them with Eric as he was now. I’d seen firsthand how vampires solved any discord amongst themselves and wasn’t about to put Eric in harm’s way. My gift had made me arrogant until the epic fail the last two weeks had been, but it also made me immune to rose colored glasses. I knew all too well that people who seemed trustworthy on the surface could be diabolical bastards on the inside. I had no way of knowing who could be trusted, especially if I couldn’t read their minds, but at least if we went back I could listen in to the humans to hear if someone else seemed to be taking over his business while he was away. Or see with my own two eyes the demeanor of anyone I couldn’t hear.
At least my argument seemed to make him think of something other than us living happily ever after. Even without his memories, Eric wasn’t the type to be okay with not being a good provider and he stood up saying, “You said I spent most of my time at my casino and yet I obviously kept this home maintained for a reason. Our scents are the only ones I can detect, so I assume I have kept it as a refuge of sorts. I am certain I would have hidden provisions here.”
Was there a pantry fully stocked with busty blonds I hadn’t come across yet?
For his sake, the answer had better be no.
My eyes trailed after him while he put his super sniffer to work, smelling god knows what as he slowly walked around the room.
A bank of flat screen TV’s that would make Jason weep with joy during the football season.
A desk holding nothing other than a laptop.
A large painting that looked as though Betty could’ve been the artist by straddling the canvas after Eric’s cum gun had popped her balloon.
When he stopped there, I did a double take and squinted my eyes, staring at it like I was waiting for a 3D image of his pants’ pistol to jump out at me.
“Here,” he said as he took the painting down from the wall and revealed a hidden wall safe behind it.
If a busty blond fell out of it, we were so going to have words over it.
Considering the size of the door, she’d have to be a member of the Lollipop Guild which made my irrational self irrationally feel better and I stood up to walk over beside him as he stared at it, seemingly trying to will the door open with his Jedi mind trick.
There was another James Bond finger scanner on it, but when he played ‘Just the tip’ with the door nothing happened.
The same would not be said if he’d played that with Betty.
“Try saying ‘Open sesame’,” I snickered.
He ignored my not so helpful suggestion and seeing the pin pad that I assumed was the issue, he asked, “What number do you think I would have used?”
That wouldn’t surprise me at all.
I also wasn’t surprised when the two digit combination didn’t work. Knowing Eric, it was likely umpteen digits of Pi.
Pie sounded pretty good too. My growling stomach concurred.
“It smells,” he offered distractedly.
“Like fish?” I asked, now distracted by thoughts of food.
Battered cod and French fries sounded good too.
“No,” he replied and took another whiff. His face crinkled like the fries I was now craving when he eventually offered, “Like magic.”
Well bippidi bobbidi boo…