Sitting back on the couch, I rubbed my now burning eyes, thanks to staring at the computer screen nonstop for the last few hours.
Now that I was staying with Eric for the foreseeable future, I figured the least I could do was earn my keep by finding the others involved in Bailey’s drainer operation, along with anything else I could learn about The Fellowship. So I’d been at it pretty much since I’d woken up earlier that afternoon, but it had been worth the effort. I had growing list of things to tell him about.
First and foremost was my idea of infiltrating Bailey’s group of drainers.
They were looking for a ringer. Someone who they could use as bait to lure unsuspecting vampires into their clutches. Eric himself had said I called to his kind in a way that he couldn’t really understand.
Maybe that same allure would work on regular old humans too?
There was only one way to find out.
Being a hermit for the entirety of my life, I had no real way of knowing. Even when I did go out, I always shrunk into myself and tried to not warrant any unnecessary attention. But I was pretty enough on the outside and could doll myself up even more. No one would know my insides were poisonous.
But they would find out real quick if they tried something underhanded with me.
So why not put my freak to use and use it to the vampires’ benefit?
Being on the inside, I would know when and where they planned to strike. I could be their inside guy.
Their venefican fox in the human henhouse, so to speak.
But I would need to talk to Eric about it first and decided now was as good of a time as any to take a break, so I stretched out and relaxed for a moment. My body felt sore, but in a good way and I couldn’t help but smile at the memories of the night before.
Eric did my body better than any glass of milk ever did.
I still didn’t know what we were – other than friends – and I wasn’t so sure I really wanted to know. We both had enough going on that it seemed silly to even think about it.
Vampire queens. Drainers. Bible thumping kidnappers.
And the maybe-fairy sinister weapon who was sitting on his couch.
But the idea that I was the rotten fruit dangling from the end of a fairy family tree was too much for me to wrap my mind around. So for now it was firmly squashed inside of the box labeled ‘Nuh uh’ in my mind, where it would stay until it decomposed enough to ooze out on its own, like one of those zombies on The Walking Dead.
Nonetheless, the last thing I needed was to let my mind get bogged down with the ins and outs of our relationship that a normal girl might wonder about. The fact was that I wasn’t a normal girl.
Supernatural doctor confirmed.
So I decided to let it be.
And if Eric decided he wanted to keep going in and out of me, then I was perfectly fine with that.
More than fine, actually.
But I wasn’t going to throw myself at him.
The least I could do was make him believe he had to call within the first thirty minutes or something, if he wanted to get in on the two for one deal.
Part human, part something else.
That was me.
And that was why I chose to leave his room and work from the couch. I didn’t want to be that clingy girl, staring at him until he woke up and batting my lashes at him. If he wanted me, he knew where to find me.
After all, his blood found me on the I-20 just two nights earlier.
His couch was much closer than that.
Besides, I didn’t know if Eric even went back for seconds. If I chose to believe everything I’d read about him in the chatrooms, then what happened between us was a onetime thing.
And if that was true for us, then I hoped I would be fine with that too.
I’d gone for twenty-four years without having sex and – given the events over the last week or so – the odds of me living for another twenty-four were unlikely. So really, I was coming down the homestretch of my time on this earth. At least now I knew what it was like to be with someone in that way.
It would be my sexual silver lining, as it were.
But something other than silver was suddenly lining my inner thighs when he was suddenly standing there in the doorway. And just as suddenly, I could hear the faint lyrics of a Jessie J song running through my head.
Bang bang into the room (I know you want it)
Bang bang all over you (I’ll let you have it)
And I felt myself scowl, briefly wondering if she’d written the song about Eric because it was so fitting.
Like the leather pants he’d worn at his bar.
Not that he was wearing any pants right now.
Or anything else for that matter.
But her lyrics were certainly fitting the dirty thoughts now running through my mind, seeing him like that.
I wanted the Sheriff of Area Five to bang bang all over me.
And he cocked the hammer – so to speak – in our game of Russian roulette by saying, “You weren’t in the bed when I woke.”
His voice was hoarse, although I didn’t think it was from sleeping the day away.
But with everything I’d read online about him in the back of my mind, I wasn’t about to make any assumptions that I would be getting the opportunity to pull his trigger for a second time.
So I held the wing of my inner chicken as we looked both ways before crossing the road together and instead joked, “Did you realize that before or after you clapped your lights on?”
I’d had a good time with that earlier, turning his bedroom into a one person rave, with my clapping hands.
But something other than his hands was up in the air, waving like they just didn’t care, when he vamp poofed himself right in front of me.
Not quite finger wagging at me, another part of his body was wagging in my face nonetheless, when he softly replied, “Before.”
In spite of his upness, I was pretty sure he was putting something down. So before I could overthink it all, I picked it up and pulled the trigger.
By putting my hands on his accusatory appendage and pulling it into my mouth.
I’d always wondered whether or not I would like doing something like that. Blow jobs weren’t something I could experiment with all by myself.
Swallowing my vibrator wouldn’t turn me on in the least.
But hearing Eric’s approving rumbly growl, working its way through his chest, I glanced up at him and seeing the look of ecstasy on his face, I decided I definitely liked doing that for him.
I wouldn’t have had the chance to do it the night before, even if the thought had occurred to me, because Eric had been running the show. He’d manhandled me into every position he wanted me in and I’d merely gone along for the ride.
It was a great ride.
A great big old bumpy ride.
But now I was running the show and the power that went along with that was a definite turn-on. So while I experimented with my lips and tongue, I listened for his cues to see what he liked best. I’d watched and read enough porn to have a basic idea of what to do, but I knew everyone was different.
I knew that all too well, albeit for different reasons.
Wrapping my hands around what wouldn’t fit into my mouth and stroking in time with my lips got his grunt of approval.
Increased suction? A surefire hit.
Gently caressing the soft skin just behind his balls? A five star rating.
But humming around his shaft was by far and wide the winner.
I knew because it got me the prize at the end of his rainblow.
And I swallowed it all, like it was the best milkshake ever.
It was even cool, but not cold enough to give me a brain freeze.
In the midst of my own mental Maxwell House ‘Good to the last drop’ commercial that The Fellowship of the Sun definitely wouldn’t approve of, I was blindsided when his percolator left my lips and he tipped me ass over teakettle, so that his body was underneath mine on the couch, with his lips a hair’s breadth away from my own.
And I didn’t mean the ones I put ChapStick on.
Before I could even think to stop him, like I had the night before, he dove forward and swiped away every thought from my head with a long swipe of his tongue.
But I still had enough mental fortitude left to peer down at him and whisper in astonishment, “You’re still here.”
It was a serious concern.
He-Who-Shall-Rot-In-Hell croaked the moment his filthy tongue had touched his just as filthy gnarled fingertip.
But Eric just stared back at me through heated eyes and said, “I’m not done yet.”
Well, alrighty then.
And he then proceeded to show me exactly what I’d been missing out on the night before.
For a long, long while.
And I also learned one more thing.
The night before wasn’t a onetime thing.
After our shower – where Eric taught me how much more fun it could be when shared – I was toweling off when it occurred to me again that I didn’t have anything but his clothes to wear. The dress I’d worn to his bar wasn’t by any means casual loungewear, but regardless, it had been ruined thanks to weasely assholes who couldn’t keep their fangs to themselves.
Eric must have felt my inner grump because he pulled the towel from his head, casually draping it over his shoulders, and looked at me asking, “What’s wrong?”
At the moment?
Even that towel was covering too much of him.
He had really nice shoulders.
My legs enjoyed being perched over them.
But I forced myself to focus on something other than his naked body, calling out to me like a lighthouse in a hurricane, and answered, “Nothing.”
He was already doing so much for me – not to mention to me – the last thing I wanted was to appear ungrateful by asking him to do even more.
Stepping closer, he tilted my chin upwards to look into my eyes and said, “Something is bothering you. What is it?”
“It’s nothing,” I replied not too convincingly. So I tried again with, “Really.”
I was a really bad liar.
His expression told me so, so I gave up and answered, “It would just be nice to have some of my own things to wear. That’s all. But I know it would be stupid to go back home and pack a suitcase, sooo…yeah.” Smiling back at him, I added, “I hope you don’t mind sharing your t-shirts.”
“I don’t,” he replied and his eyes smoldered, while looking confused at the same time when he admitted, “I like seeing you wearing my clothes.”
It almost sounded like a question and for a moment I thought to throw on one of his shirts and twirl around, to see if it would give him the answer he was looking for.
But before I could turn Ballerina Barbie on him, he took a step back and said, “But I need to make an appearance in Bon Temps anyway to keep up the charade of looking for the fairy portal and their fairy weapon, so I will stop by your house and gather some of your things.”
He’d gone from smolder to Fox Mulder in a heartbeat, so I followed his lead and put on my Dana Scully, getting down to business by nodding and saying, “I would appreciate that. Would you like to hear what I’ve learned about Bailey and The Fellowship before or after your trip?”
I’d forgotten the fact we were having our conversation au natural, wearing nothing but a single towel between the two of us, when Agent Smulder was suddenly up close and personal, with his Focks knocking at my henhouse.
“After,” he purred, sending shivers down my spine. “If I don’t leave now, I won’t leave at all and we won’t be discussing drainers or religious zealots.”
“Oh?” I questioned dreamily, now that all of me was surrounded in a steamy fog that had nothing to do with the leftover condensation from our steamy shower.
But I fought to bat it away and teased, “Would you rather talk about the box scores from last night’s baseball games instead?”
He smirked, with the sight of it eating away at the last of mental panties. A metaphor that wasn’t helping matters when I recalled how he’d spent the earlier part of the night, dining away in between my legs.
Eric was a voracious eater.
“You could say that,” he agreed with a small nod and smiled wider, saying, “A bat, balls, and a glove of sorts would be a topic of conversation I would definitely like to have with you.”
“Uh huh,” I snickered. “Instead of ESPN, you’d be tuned into the SEXN channel.”
It would seem I wasn’t the only one with gutter ball metaphors, but then Eric would probably look sexy bowling with vampire heads.
Even so, I never would have guessed I would have so much in common with a thousand year old vampire sheriff.
His lips smiled back at me and yet I could see something was bothering him behind his eyes. But before I could ask him what was wrong, he sped out of the bathroom and out of the house as soon as he was dressed.
Was it something I said?