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Jenna Levine Biography

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“I stood up and... there he was. My new roommate, standing right in front of me. He looked like he'd just stepped out from a magazine photo shoot, his hair artfully tousled and falling perfectly over his forehead. He was standing much closer to me than he had when I'd toured his apartment, and he seemed to notice that, too, his eyes widening and nostrils flaring a little as though he was breathing me in. He was dressed even more formally than he'd been the night I'd met him, adding a red silk ascot and black top hat to the charcoal-gray three-piece suit that fit like the gods had made it specifically for him. It was an odd look, to be sure. But--- god help me--- it worked. My mouth watered for reasons having nothing to do with hunger. If he noticed how overwhelmed I was by his appearance, he showed no sign of it. He simply frowned, brow furrowed in concern. He stepped a little closer. He smelled like fabric softener, the citrus fruit he'd put in my bedroom, and something deep and mysterious I had no name for.”

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“Oh, Cassie," he breathed against my lips. He loomed over me, bracing his weight on his elbows, his forearms on either side of my head. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to my temple. Then he chuckled quietly, the sound so happy and full of relief it broke my heart. "I will never be able to deny you anything you want." When I'd imagined this happening, alone in my bedroom, I'd imagined Frederick as a quiet and tentative lover, as polite and refined with sex as he was in everyday life. But there was nothing quiet or tentative about him now. Now that I was lying beneath him atop his lush four-poster bed, his passion was a dam bursting in flood, as though until this moment he'd been holding himself back only with extreme effort.”

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“Why couldn’t you just live with Reginald? He seems to be managing the world okay.” "Unthinkable,” he said, flatly. "Reginald may be more familiar with the modern era than I am, but he is also the reason I am in this predicament. Additionally, he is chaos incarnate. Before you moved in with me, I was entirely dependent on his assistance. It was at least as terrible for both of us as you might imagine. The practical jokes he played on me, even while I was still in a coma . . .”

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“Is that what my scent does to you?" He leaned in closer until I was all but bathing in the heady cocktail of sex and desire pouring off him. Despite my earlier admonition, his vampire beacon still blazed like a lighthouse at dawn. Damn him. "Does it make you want to take off your clothes? Sit in my lap?" He tilted his head a little to the side, dark eyes fixed on the side of my neck. "Offer yourself to me?" He was looking straight through me. Wetness was already pooling between my thighs. No, no, no. This was not happening. "No?" I cringed at how breathy and unsure I sounded. Peter's eyes darkened as he leaned in even closer. His presence, his scent--- If I let him taste me, the pleasure would be unlike anything I had ever known.”

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“I know about kissing, Cassie." He sounded genuinely affronted, and I cringed at what I'd just implied--- even as my knees went weal at the implication of what he'd just said. He'd been alive--- or, his equivalent of alive--- for hundreds of years. He'd probably kissed hundreds of people. Maybe thousands. In fact--- he was probably really good at kissing. "I'm sure you do," I said, too flustered to look at his face anymore. My gaze drifted down to his ridiculous apron. This Guy Rubs His Own Meat. I flushed deeper with the awkwardness of this entire situation. How was any of this happening?”

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“I woke up the next morning with the sun blazing through my window. I groaned and made to pull my pillow over my head. "Ow." I froze, and grinned sheepishly when I realized my head was not resting on a pillow, but rather on Reggie's chest. "Sorry." "You should be sorry," he said in mock chastisement, his voice thick with sleep. He didn't look upset, though. His dirty-blond hair was an utter wreck from all the pulling on it I did last night, and the beatific smile on his face... I had seen Reggie smile dozens of times by that point. His smile was a mask he wore. He smiled when he was sad, he smiled when he was anxious, or when he was playing a practical joke to deflect. This smile, though, reached all the way to his eyes, making them crinkle at the corners. This was a real smile. In that moment, he looked happier, and more relaxed, than I'd ever seen him.”

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“Somehow, it looked even more old-fashioned than the kitchen. The dresser was gorgeous, made of a dark wood I couldn't identify, with ornate curlicue carvings along the top and on the handles. It looked like something you might find at an antique show. The large, floral, probably homemade quilt covering the bed did, too. As for the bed itself, it was an honest-to-god four-poster bed complete with a lacy white canopy hanging above it. The mattress was thick and looked sumptuous and comfortable.”

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“A small part of me, though--- probably the part of me that hadn't kissed anyone in about a year and hadn't had sex for what might as well have been an epoch--- imagined what it would be like, kissing this bizarre stranger. He was hot, like burning, despite his odd mannerisms. The confident way he stood, his manner of speech, the bold smolder of those bright blue eyes... I bet he'd kiss like the world was ending.”

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“Dozens of shiny brass wall sconces created the sort of dim and atmospheric lighting I'd only ever seen in old movies and haunted houses. And the room wasn't just darkly lit. It was also just... dark. The walls were painted a dark chocolate brown that I vaguely remembered from art history classes had been fashionable in the Victorian era. A pair of tall, dark wooden bookshelves that must have weighed a thousand pounds each stood like silent sentinels on either end of the room. Atop each of them sat an ornate brass, malachite candelabra that would have seemed right at home in a sixteenth-century European cathedral. They clashed in style and in every other imaginable way with the two very modern-looking black leather sofas facing each other in the center of the room and the austere, glass-topped coffee table in the living room's center. The latter had a stack of what looked like Regency romance novels piled high at one end, further adding to the incongruity of the scene. Besides the pale green of the candelabras, the only other color to be found in the living room was in the large, garish, floral Oriental rug covering most of the floor; the bright red, glowing eyes of a deeply creepy stuffed wolf's head hanging over the mantel; and the deep-red velvet drapes hanging on either side of the floor-to-ceiling windows.”

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“Your group is decades out of compliance with IRS requirements for nonprofits. Everything I've seen from you suggests your nonprofit is a sham. And Butyl and Dowidge doesn't represent sham organizations." I paused, letting this sink in. "Even if you hadn't been trying to kill Reggie from the moment you first contacted my firm, you're still the worst client I've ever had." As I spoke, Richardson simply stood there, processing everything. "How much trouble are we in with the IRS, exactly?" "A lot," I said. "Though it's hard to say exactly how much. Best-case scenario, they'll dissolve your nonprofit." I shrugged. "When that happens, you'll be getting a bill for back taxes you won't be able to pay, given your nonprofit's annual budget. And the worst-case scenario..." John Richardson leaned forward, hanging on my every word. Excellent. "What is the worst-case scenario?" I waited a beat before answering so my next words would have maximum impact. "Worst-case scenario is the IRS finds that you intentionally withheld taxes you owed. You could face time in jail." There. The closest thing to a mic drop any accountant ever got. I leaned in closer, readying myself for the kill. "Unless, of course, you do exactly what I tell you to do." Richardson narrowed his eyes at me. "And what might that be?" Bingo. This was the part I'd been looking forward to the most. The part I'd practiced in a mirror the night before until I'd gotten the ferocity of my expression just right. "What happens next is you are going to leave Reginald Cleaves alone, forever. If you do that, we will pretend we've never heard of you if the IRS ever comes knocking." I trailed off, letting my words hang in the air for dramatic effect. In the entirety of my time as an accountant, I had never once had the opportunity to do anything for dramatic effect. I could all but feel Reggie looking on, beaming with pride. "If you continue to harass Reggie, however, I tell the IRS everything I know.”

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“Every time I close my eyes I can still see her--- beaming up at the camera in that flimsy excuse for clothing, her hair a golden halo around her head, her body backlit and glorious. I am filled with rage. At the photographer for taking that picture. At Cassie for allowing so many others to see her practically naked. At all seven billion people on this planet who have the theoretical ability to see that picture of her with a few simple clicks of a button. At myself. As I sit hunched over my desk I try desperately to ignore the urgent, now-familiar ache in my loins. As Cassie sleeps innocently, unknowingly in the next room, I clutch at what remains of my sanity and of my self-control. Because God's thumbs--- when I saw that picture of her all I could think was how badly I want Cassie to wear that "bathing suit" of hers for me. If I had been there when it was taken, it would have been all I could do to keep myself from easing those delicate little straps of fabric off her shoulders and baring the rest of her beautiful body to my eyes.”

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“If Reggie had any idea of the horny-tinged-with-WTF confusion swirling through me, he showed no sign of it. He was staring as unabashedly at me as I was at him. Though I think his reasons for gaping at me were different. His eyes were all but glued to my dress's low neckline, and to the just-this-side-of-indecent way it hugged my curves. His gaze moved up to my face and then slid down, down, down, before landing, and staying, on my ass. How long had it been since a man had openly stared at me like this? Like I was someone he found desirable. Like I was something he wanted. I needed to tell him to knock it off, but I couldn't. It was wrong, he was a stranger, but it felt incredible, the way he was looking at me.”

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“Peter. Miles and miles of pale, muscled torso. A skimpy, threadbare motel towel slung dangerously low on his hips. And nothing else. He looked like he'd been carved from marble. His body certainly belonged in a museum, anyway. He was big everywhere, his thick body suggestive of a person who'd earned his muscles through regular strenuous physical activity rather than in the gym.”

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“Reggie, please." My pleas seemed to spur him on, his grip on me tightening as he hauled me up even closer to his mouth. I tried to buck against his face, his clever tongue, desperate for more friction, for release. But his hold on me was too strong. He pinned me in place, keeping me right where he wanted me, preventing me from moving at all as he drove the tight coil of pleasure inside me higher, and higher. And then--- He pushed one rough finger inside me, and then another, so tight, the delicious intrusion forcing every sentient thought from my head. I needed this--- him--- all of it. I needed it now. "Hades," he growled against my cunt. "I cannot wait to fuck you." His filthy words, muttered right there, were all I needed to hurdle headlong into orgasm. I scrabbled at the sheets, at Reggie's hair, clinging to anything I could to anchor me as the waves of bliss came again, and again, and again. Reggie coaxed me through it with his lips and tongue, holding me as he urged my body to keep going. I moaned his name, mindless, back arched like a bow above the bed, locked in pleasure that seemed to stretch on forever. When I collapsed to the bed, boneless, he was on me in an instant. "You are so fucking beautiful." His growl was visceral, animalistic. "The way you looked when you came--- fuck. I nearly came too, just from that.”

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“Until a few months ago, Sam had expressed what I'd always thought of as a regular, brotherly amount of concern for my safety. The past few months, though, he'd become bizarrely nervous. Last week he'd even started encouraging me to carry a sharp wooden stick in my purse if I planned to be out at night. That's the point where I'd decided he was being ridiculous. SAM: You don't know who could be out there, Ame SAM: There could be murderers, muggers, thieves following you home SAM: Even, you know SAM: Vampires I burst out laughing. AMELIA: Thieves? AMELIA: Vampires????? AMELIA: You're playing too much Baldur's Gate 3”

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“His burgundy sweater was so soft it might as well have been made of angel kisses. I breathed in, deep and reflexively, and then immediately wished I hadn't because, god, he smelled good. Beyond good. I had no idea if it was some sort of expensive cologne, or the soap he used--- or if all vampires smelled this amazing if you breathed them in right at the source. All I knew was that the scent of him made me want to crawl inside his soft, fitted shirt and wrap myself up in it. Right there, on the crowded Red Line train, all the other passengers be damned.”

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“I moved closer and made a show of sniffing him. The joke was on me, though. This close, his scent was potent, enticing--- and it was pouring off him in waves. He smelled like sex and the promise of almost unbearable pleasure. I could all but feel it reaching inside me, tugging me towards him. Despite myself, I squeezed my thighs together, doing my best not to imagine the ecstasy that would come if I just gave in and let him drink from me. Vampire venom worked like an aphrodisiac, making victims experience a kind of pleasure unlike anything else in the world.”

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“I stepped closer and put both of my hands on his chest. Part of me still half expected to feel a heartbeat, a warm and yielding male body beneath my palms. But Frederick's chest was cool and almost unnaturally solid where I touched him, no rhythmic thumping where one would have been if he were still human. Fortunately--- or, unfortunately--- my heart was beating more than enough for the both of us. Frederick was right. The fabric of his shirt was soft. I slowly slid my hands back and forth over the waffle-knit material, reveling in how silky it felt beneath my fingertips, how delicious the contrast was with the hard planes of the chest beneath. But I didn't. The shirt he was wearing was nice enough. But that wasn't what kept me rooted to the spot, what kept my hands on his body long beyond what he'd probably imagined when he asked me to do this. I'd known he was muscular, but now that I was actually touching him I realized he was all but made of muscle. Had he been this physically fit when he was still human, I wondered? Or was being built like a professional athlete a physiological peculiarity unique to vampires? Either way, I could feel his pectorals bunch and flex beneath my palms as I touched him, could feel his sharp intake of breath when I grew bolder and started gently tracing his collarbones with my thumb. His eyes were still trained on me, but growing glazed and unfocused. "How..." He stopped, his eyes drifting closed. When he opened them again there was a heat in his gaze that made the department store, the rest of the world, fall away. He inclined his head towards me, his mouth scant inches away from mine. I could feel each one of his breaths against my lips, cool and sweet. My heart raced. My knees wobbled. "How does it feel?”

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“My reflection--- or Zelda's reflection--- stared back at me. Technically speaking, my body and my face were essentially the same as they'd always been. I still had the same smattering of freckles across the bridge of my nose, that same star-shaped birthmark just beneath my right ear that no amount of concealer--- or magic--- had ever been able to completely hide. I'd stopped dyeing my hair garish colors a few years back to let my natural auburn shine through, but my hair itself was the still the same wavy texture and thickness it had been in the seventeenth century and every decade since. Yet despite everything about me that had not changed, the person I used to be would hardly recognize the person staring back at her now.”

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“There was my set of wooden stake-tipped daggers, gifted to me in Philadelphia during the American Revolution by a handsome vampire whose name I'd never known. I loved those daggers beyond reason, not only because they were exactly as long as my middle finger--- which was awesomely meta--- but because they were so versatile! The wooden stakes could be taken off and put back on as easily as a Barbie doll's head, which meant you could use them to fight frisky vampires as well as any other non-vampiric asshole who might get in your way.”

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“His hoarsely whispered encouragements sent me straight to my cresting, gasping release and I came with a shout and an indescribable burst of pleasure. My body pulsed once, then again and again, the power I kept tucked away racing down my spine and bursting out of me with every sharp thrust of his hips. Peter groaned brokenly, and then he howled, his body as taut as a bowstring beneath me as the energy rippling from my body wrapped around us both. It pulled him more deeply inside me, stroking him, recognizing him as the source of my pleasure and reciprocating in kind. I was distantly aware of a large gust of wind buffeting the room, of lamps being knocked off end tables and wineglasses shattering, but I didn't care. All that mattered was our bodies writhing together and our mutual, all-consuming pleasure.”

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“A hoarse cry, and then his teeth were in my neck, the puncture wounds from his canines the most excruciating kind of pleasure-pain I'd ever known. This, right here, was why people were so obsessed with vampires. Why they wrote countless stories about them. Why they fantasized about taking vampires as lovers. Every long pull of blood Peter took from me sent screaming pleasure sizzling down my veins, through my blood, between my legs. My eyes went wide, unseeing, as I came a second time, even harder than the first. Peter came unglued beneath me, snarling now as he drank, and fucked, and drank.”

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“I hardly recognized the sound that escaped me when his cock slid home. It was raw, primal, and my back bowed off the bed, body arching up, up, up against his as I urged him on. It was like we had never been apart when he began moving, his body pistoning into mine with so much pent-up desire, the force of it knocked my head against the headboard. I didn't care; the small blossom of pain just ratcheted up my pleasure, made me want him to go a little harder, a little rougher. I gripped his ass in both hands and dug the sharp points of my nails into him as he moved and swore above me, coaxing him forward, willing him to never stop. "You feel... so fucking good," he gritted out. The tendons in his neck stood out in sharp relief as he strained above me, his dark eyes cloudy with desire as he fought to maintain eye contact.”

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“He reared up, pulling one of my legs over his hip, changing the angle, driving deeper, harder. I tangled one hand in his hair and reached up with the other to touch the side of my neck, tracing my fingertips teasingly over the spot I knew he wanted. His eyes darkened, narrowing on the place where I was touching myself. His nostrils flared. "You can bite me," I said. His thrusts sped up, became erratic. "Zelda---" he begged. "I want you to." He made one last incoherent keening sound--- -- a moment before he reared back and sank his teeth deeper into my neck. My senses exploded into infinite points of brilliant light. I felt my scream more than heard it, the venom that was already slipping through my bloodstream amplifying my pleasure a thousandfold. There were no words to describe the ecstasy that flooded my senses, and I came instantly, and then a second time before I'd even stopped convulsing. I heard Peter's distant moans, felt his thrusts quicken and become even more erratic as my bliss stretched on and on. I was gasping, mindless as Peter grunted and suckled at the wounds his teeth made in my neck, his rough hands digging into my hips so hard bruises already blossomed beneath his fingertips. "Peter," I managed as I reached up and pressed at the back of his head, encouraging him to drink more. A moment later every muscle in his body locked up tight, even as his mouth stayed latched on my neck. His release pulsed inside me in time with the movement of his tongue, and gods-dammit, I came a third time, our bodies a tangle of scrabbling hands and limbs as we succumbed to the pleasure coursing through us both.”

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“Fuck," he whimpered, mouth at my ear. "You feel--- so --- fucking good." His hips were already picking up speed, his body pistoning into mine so insistently, so needfully, it obliterated all self-doubt. He grabbed both of my hands in one of his, pinning them above my head, and stared transfixed at the way my breasts bounced with his movements. The way he was looking at me--- and the way it felt, my cunt clenching around him as he thrust into me again, and again, and again--- His hands dropped down to grip my ass, lifting my hips and changing the angle of our connection. Something about the new positioning opened me up to him even further, allowed him to go deeper, harder, to brush up against parts of me no one had touched before. "Reggie," I gasped. "Oh, fuck." Something... something was different. I cried out again, helpless in the face of this delicious mounting pleasure, an ecstatic sort of pressure at the base of my spine that was threatening to pull me under. I felt drunk, wild, and burning hot, my body already racing towards another sharp crescendo as my hips sped up to match his movements. Without thinking, I flung my head back onto the pillow, the angle leaving my neck completely exposed. His hips stuttered to a stop, even as he remained fully seated inside me. He growled.”

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“And then he flipped us with an inhuman speed that made me breathless, leaving me flat on my back before I'd realized it had even happened. I'd seen hints of his more-than-human strength before, but there was something primal, wild about the way he climbed atop me now. He leaned over me, his dark hair falling into his eyes. "Please," he rasped, his voice thick with his fraying restraint. His forearms were all corded muscle and shaking tension as he held himself perfectly still above me. My finger was still between his lips. He looked like he might die if I withdrew it. "I want to feel you." I nodded, understanding from the desperate look in his eyes what he was asking me. "Please," I whispered. With a grunt and one delicious thrust of his hips he was fully seated inside me. I gasped, stunned, the sheer enormity of him stealing the breath from my lungs. My body clenched and unclenched involuntarily, struggling to adjust to his size as he tried to hold himself back. I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him down into a searing kiss. I'd never been with someone this big before, and the delicious way my body had to stretch to accommodate him felt incredible. He was everywhere, all at once, and I wanted him to move, to feel the glorious sensual pleasure of him sliding in and out of my body. I wanted to have him in my arms as we moved together, to fall apart in ecstasy as I held him close. On a shaky exhale he slowly pulled out, and then thrust back into me with so much force the headboard knocked against the wall. I slid my hands down his backside, gripping the hard muscle beneath my fingertips as I tried to pull him even deeper inside me. "Is this okay?" The cords in his neck stood out in sharp relief as he fought to hold on. "Yes." He groaned, feral, his lips so close to the overly sensitive skin of my neck I felt it more than heard it. Whatever thin filament of restraint he'd been clinging to seemed to snap with another sharp thrust of his hips. And then another. And another. "Mine," he growled, the speed of his thrusts increasing, his voice taking on a deep rumbling timbre I'd never heard from him before. I answered with an incoherent moan, writhing beneath him, pinned to the mattress by his strong hands and the relentless pace of his hips. He'd been a patient and giving lover earlier. Now, he was using me, my body--- my blood--- for his own pleasure. The realization that he wasn't going to let me out of his bed until he'd thoroughly had his way with me thrilled me.”

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“It happened so fast I hardly saw it. One moment Reggie was above, incoherent with need. The next, I was crying out at the unexpected pleasure of being bitten. I was making love to an animal in that moment, all vestiges of the man Reginald was most of the time lost to the creature kissing and suckling at the shallow puncture wounds he'd made in my neck. Why didn't it hurt? Why did it feel good, when he bit me? The pleasure from his bite raced down my spine, straight to my cunt, amplifying my need to a nearly unbearable degree. Making me insatiable. When my next orgasm crashed over me, I ran straight into the blissful release, the waves of pleasure wiping my mind of everything but him. When I returned to myself, Reggie was groaning, fucking me so hard and so desperately I was going to have trouble walking for a week. "So beautiful, so sweet," he moaned, mouth coated red with me. He was nearing his breaking point; I could feel in the way his thrusts were becoming chaotic, frantic. I could hear it in the fevered pitch of his words. "I knew it. Knew you'd taste so good, I never want to leave you, want you, I--- you are mine." I felt, more than heard, the sound he made when he came. His hips stuttered up hard once, and again, and then his body went rigid above me, back bent in an exaggerated arc as he spilled himself. His eyes were unseeing, glassy with pleasure. I'd never seen anything more beautiful in my life.”

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“He kissed with a practiced ease that threatened to completely unmake me, one broad palm finding the small of my back as he tugged me closer. I went willingly, unthinkingly, my arms wrapping around his neck when he tilted his head and traced the seam of my lips with the tip of his tongue. It wasn't supposed to be like this. My body was not supposed to react to his proximity, his touch, his kiss. This wasn't real. But for my body, this kiss was real as it got. My breath quickened as the seconds slipped past, as Reggie briefly dipped his tongue into my mouth before withdrawing again. His taste was peculiar, like metal and salt, like that time I'd accidentally bitten my tongue while eating too fast and blood pooled in my mouth. It did nothing to dispel the moment, or to distract me from the very real sensations coursing through me. I clutched at the ends of his shirt collar, thinking of only bringing him closer, not even realizing I was doing it until he returned the favor by bunching up the fabric at the front of my dress in his fist. "Amelia," he whispered against my lips. And then, it was over. Reggie pulled back by degrees, giving me a sheepish grin. I was warm and flushed all over. I had no doubt that my face was as red as the strawberries I'd eaten for dessert. When I looked into his eyes, the blacks of his pupils had nearly swallowed up the brilliant blue irises, but he seemed otherwise unaffected by what we'd just done.”

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“Open your eyes, Cassie." His mouth was on mine before I had a chance to comply, the gentle pressure of his lips stealing the breath of my lungs and pushing out any worries I might have had about whether this was a good idea. His hand slid down to my chin, gently tilting it up a little to give him better access. I was so overwhelmed with sensation that I was helpless to do anything but let him kiss me, and to kiss him back. My hands slid up his broad chest of their own volition, the fabric his shirt soft beneath my fingers as I clutched at the ends of his collar with both hands. My touch elicited a quiet moan from the back of his throat that made me dizzy with a spike of searing desire. "We can't do this here," I mumbled against his lips. Mostly because it felt like something I was supposed to say, given that this was Sam's bathroom and an entire apartment full of people was having a party on the other side of the door. But I knew, even as I said the words, that were absolutely going to do this here. It didn't seem like Frederick even heard what I'd said. If he did, he certainly wasn't paying it any mind. His kisses grew bolder, the exquisite pressure of his mouth increasing until I parted my lips for him on a ragged sigh. He tasted like breath mints and the wine he must have pretended to drink earlier this evening. I wanted to lose myself in it--- in the way he slid his tongue along mine, coaxing a whimper from my throat; in his strong arms, as they encircled me and pulled me closer. I could feel his sharp, prominent canines against my tongue as I kissed him, something I'd certainly never noticed before when I'd seen him smile. A thrilling flash of heat shot through me, the visceral reminder of who and what he was startling me for only a moment before I lost myself in the kiss again.”

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“I never imagined you would want this with someone like me." I frowned at that. I'd never taken Reggie as someone with low self-esteem. "What's wrong with kissing someone like you?" I asked. He pressed a kiss to the tip of my nose, and to the apple of each of my cheeks. I kept my eyes open so I could see the blue of his, count the light freckles that dusted the bridge of his nose. "It's just... unexpected. All of this. You." "Bad unexpected?" I asked. He shook his head. "No." He paused, then added, "It might add some... complications. But this is the very opposite of bad." What did he mean by complications? He kissed me again before I could ask, bolder now, his tongue darting out to trace along the seam of my lips. I opened for him on instinct and he groaned, placing one hand at either side of my waist and hoisting me onto the kitchen table as he thrust his tongue into my mouth. I thought back to the night we met, how I'd wondered whether Reggie kissed like the world was ending, and oh, it was exactly like that, the way he carded his fingers through my hair, tugging just shy of too hard, as he tilted his head and kissed me deeper, harder. It was like a dam had burst inside him, all the restraint I hadn't even realized he'd been using swept away with the tide, until I had to pull back, gasping for breath in his arms. "I want to taste you," he murmured, his lips finding my jaw, my clavicle, pressing hungry, open-mouthed kisses down the side of my neck. "God, I'm so fucking hard, just thinking about how sweet I know you'd be.”

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Book:My Vampire Plus-One
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“His mouth was on mine before I could draw breath, devouring me in a way that left me gasping, showing none of the gentleness he had a moment ago. He kissed like a man on the verge of drowning breathes: desperate, and like he couldn't get enough. His lips pressed so hard to mine it felt bruising, his tongue tracing the seam of my lips for only a moment before plunging within.”

Vampire RomanceVampire Kisses
Book:My Vampire Plus-One
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“Before I knew what was happening, he had me crowded up against the wall that separated my living room from my bedroom. He nipped a gentle line down the column of my throat, letting his teeth lightly scrape against me as he moved. His real teeth; not the ones he showed the world. "I've wanted to touch you for so long." His mouth was everywhere. On my neck, my collarbone, then moving back up to kiss along my jaw. He gave my ass a firm, possessive squeeze. Mine, it said. It felt so good I nearly moaned out loud. "Do you know how many times I've thought about it?" "Tell me," I gasped. I didn't know where that bravery was coming from, but I needed to know. "Please." He answered with an excruciatingly slow swipe of his tongue along the sweet, sensitive spot where my neck met my shoulder. His touch was like wildfire, and I keened, my body alight with anticipation as he mouthed at me. My knees felt seconds away from buckling. I threw my arms around his neck so that I wouldn't fall to the floor. As though sensing my insatiability, he thrust his hips forward, pinning me in place between his body and the wall. "At the coffee shop," he mumbled against my neck. His words were gentle vibrations against my heated flesh that I could feel down to my knees. "At your family's party. Every time you touched my hand, smiled, and leaned over in that tiny fucking black dress.”

Vampire RomanceForeplayVampire Kisses
Book:My Vampire Plus-One
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“It was like a switch flipped inside him. Whereas moments ago his kisses had been gentle and restrained, now he was a man unleashed. His hands slid down my body and gripped my ass, hauling me closer to him, the chill of his touch seeping through the fabric of my clothes and down to my skin. My arms wrapped instinctively around his neck, and he held me tight, tighter, as he ravished my mouth, his tongue tracing the seam of my lips before delving inside. He smelled incredible--- like the laundry detergent he must have used on his shirt, cool male skin, and his own uniquely Reggie scent. It was indescribably erotic, what we were doing. I moaned against the pleasure already rising inside me. "I'm going to make you feel so good tonight," he promised against my lips. "Can I tell you what I plan to do?" There was a hint of wickedness in his voice. I melted against him. "Yes." My hands slid into his hair, tugging hard on the strands of messy gold. He groaned--- he liked that, I thought through my haze of lust; I'd have to file that away for later--- and gripped my ass hard. "Tell me." It took him a moment to regain composure enough to respond. "I'm going to bend you over every flat surface in this apartment like we are in one of those filthy Regency novels Frederick pretends he doesn't read," he murmured against my cheek.”

Vampire RomanceForeplayVampire Kisses
Book:My Vampire Plus-One
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“But the moment Frederick buried his face between my legs it was clear there was nothing in the world he would rather be doing than this. He tasted and licked, breathing me in as he took his sweet, deliberate time. My fingertips found purchase on his shoulders, and I clung to them for dear life as he teased me, the wool of the sweater he still wore deliciously smooth against my bare legs. My head fell back against the pillow again and I writhed on the mattress, bucking up towards his mouth in search of greater friction, needing more. But he wouldn't be rushed. His hands gripped my hips harder as my body sought to move against him, keeping me pinned helplessly to the mattress in the exact spot he wanted me. I whined in delicious agony as he traced the shape of my clit with the achingly soft flat of his tongue, dancing around the direct contact my body was screaming for. I could feel how wet I was growing, could hear the sharp keening sounds I was making as if from a distance. But he would not be rushed by my desperation as he kissed, and lapped, and tasted. "Frederick." I tangled my fingers in his soft hair and tugged, moaning. I was going to pieces. I was out of my head with need. "Please." At my naked plea something must have broken inside him. He groaned, long and loud, the reverberations from it sending sparks of sensation rocketing down my spine--- And then, at last, his tongue was right there, licking me senseless as his lips closed around my clit. He sucked gently, then with greater pressure, and the room, the bed beneath us, fell away. The world collapsed down to a pinprick, nothing existing anymore outside of Frederick and the exquisite, cresting pleasure. "Oh, god," I moaned, bucking against his mouth. I was outside of myself, outside of reason. "Please---" My orgasm came upon me like a tidal wave--- devastating, and all-consuming, my toes curling with the spine-melting pleasure of it. Distantly, I could feel Frederick shifting on the bed, kissing his way up my body, whispering praise to my bare legs, my stomach, my breasts.”

Vampire RomanceSexual TensionCunnilingusOrgasmic
Book:My Roommate Is a Vampire
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“As I slid off my coat and pulled a hanger from the closet, I noticed Gracie glaring at me sanctimoniously. Gracie had an uncannily strong drunk detector for a nine-year-old cat, and her you stayed out past curfew face was something to behold. It told me she knew I'd had too much to drink on a Tuesday night and lied to my family about having a boyfriend. It also told me I should have been home to play with her hours ago. "Meow," Gracie lectured. I couldn't even be mad. "I deserve that," I agreed. "Meow," Gracie said again, with feeling. Okay, that was a bridge too far. "Look. I've had a really rough day." Part of me knew it was ridiculous to get into an argument with a cat. The rest of me needed Gracie to understand. Instead of understanding, Gracie chose to jump onto the kitchen counter where Sophie put my mail. Right there, on top of the spring issue of the University of Chicago alumni magazine and the new issue of Cat Fanciers was the wedding invitation Mom had said was coming. I looked helplessly at Gracie, who seemed to have given up on judging my life choices in favor of bathing her right front paw. "I don't want to open it," I told her. Instead of backing me up, Gracie signaled this conversation was over by jumping off the counter and sauntering over to my living room couch. One downside to having a nonhuman roommate was when I needed someone to validate me, I was usually out of luck.”

CatCondescensionNonhuman
Book:My Vampire Plus-One
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“Based on the parts of this... this scene that are not covered in refuse, and the drawings you have done for me, I know you are an artist with talent. Maybe I have old-fashioned views, but I simply don't understand why you would spend your time creating something like this." He shrugged his shoulders. "The sort of art I am used to seeing is more..." I raised an eyebrow. "More what?" He bit his lip, as though searching for the right words. "Pleasant to look at, I suppose." He shrugged again. "Scenes from nature. Little girls wearing filly white dresses and playing beside riverbanks. Bowls of fruit." "This piece shows a beach and a lake," I pointed out. "It's a scene from nature." "But it's covered in refuse." I nodded. "My art combines objects I find with images I paint. Sometimes what I find and incorporate is literal trash. But I also feel that my art is more than just trash. It's meaningful. These pieces aren't just flat, lifeless images on canvas. They say something." "Oh." He came even closer to the landscapes, kneeling so he could peer at them up close. "And what does your art... say?" His nose was just a few inches from an old McDonald's Quarter Pounder wrapper I'd laminated to the canvas so it looked like it was rising out of Lake Michigan. I'd meant for it to represent capitalism's crushing stranglehold on the natural world. Also, it just sort of looked cool. But I decided to give him a broader explanation. "I want to create something memorable with my art. Something lasting. I want to give people who see my works an experience that won't fade away. Something that will stay with them long after they see it." He frowned skeptically. "And you accomplish that by displaying ephemera others throw away?" I was about to counter by telling him that even the prettiest painting in the fanciest museum faded from memory once the patrons went home. That by using things other people throw away, I took the ephemeral and make it permanent in a way no pretty watercolor ever could.”

RecycledAssemblageEphemeraUpcyclingArtistic ViewDifferent Opinion
Book:My Roommate Is a Vampire
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“I sit at my desk at 2 in the morning, desperately trying to remind myself that Miss Greenberg is a lady. A lady whose beauty far surpasses what I noticed when we first met. A lady with lovely curves, delightful freckles dusting the bridge of her nose, and a mouth that will now haunt my dreams--- but a lady nonetheless. It would appear that I must also remind a certain traitorous part of my anatomy--- one that has not responded thusly to a woman in over one hundred years--- of this fact as well.”

Vampire RomanceDiary EntrySexual Arousal
Book:My Roommate Is a Vampire
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“Frederick looked great in the parade of old-fashioned suits I'd seen in since we'd met, of course. More than great. But I realized now that his consistently too-formal, out-of-date attire served as a constant reminder to me that Frederick was out of my league in every imaginable way--- and completely off-limits. Untouchable. And other. Now, though... "What do you think?" he asked. "Do I look like I fit in with modern society now?" With difficulty, I tore my eyes from the broad expanse of his chest now covered in a forest-green Henley that fit him like a glove and met his gaze. He was fidgeting a little as I looked back at him, drumming his fingertips against his upper thigh again, looking at me with a nervous intensity that stole the breath from my lungs. I let my eyes trail slowly down his body, drinking him in, taking in his new shirt and the dark blue jeans that fit him so well you wouldn't have guessed he'd had no idea what size he was twenty minutes ago. The other jeans he'd tried on lay folded in a pile on the chair beside him; his suit hung neatly on a hanger in the dressing room. I focused on these other details to distract myself from how Frederick not only looked just as hot in more casual clothes as he did in his stuffy suits, but also how he now looked attainable in a way that was dangerous to me, specifically. I had to avert my eyes. Looking right at him felt a little too much like looking directly at the sun. "You look great. You look unbelievable, actually." I heard his sharp intake of breath, only then realizing that that hadn't quite been what he'd asked me. All he'd asked was whether he looked like he fit in. My stomach swooped, my face suddenly feeling like it was on fire. Idiot. "That is... that is to say---" "You think I look great?" He was looking at me with an expression that felt somewhere between surprise and pleasure. He stepped from the dressing room, stopping when he was only a few inches away from me. I took an involuntary breath, breathing in the scent of lavender soap and new clothes that clung to him.”

Vampire RomanceMasculine BeautySexually AttractiveAttainableFully Fitted
Book:My Roommate Is a Vampire
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“The hat was hideous, but the man could wear a garbage bag as a dress and look amazing. Truly unfair. "Green matches your complexion." He placed a hand over his heart in mock offense. "My complexion? You wound me," he said in a theatrical voice I didn't think he had in him. I was just about to tell him the chicken hat matched his complexion even better”

FlirtingVampire RomanceTeasingVerbal SaltHat
Book:Road Trip With a Vampire
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“Do you ever drink animal blood? I thought some vampires drank animal blood." He snorted. "Twilight?" I blushed. "Um. Yeah." "Listen, as kickass as I've always found Edward Cullen, an entire family of celibate vampires living only on animal blood... well." He smirked, his mask of cool indifference back in place. "None of those details apply to me." My face went hot at the innuendo.”

TwilightVampire RomanceInnuendoComparisonsBlood Drinking
Book:My Vampire Plus-One
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“But now that I was here, standing less than two feet away from the most gorgeous man I had ever seen... Frederick J. Fitzwilliam's appearance was all I could think about. He looked like he was maybe in his mid-thirties, though he had the sort of long, pale, slightly angular face where it was hard to tell. And his voice wasn't the only thing with high production values. No, he also had this ridiculously thick, dark hair that fell rakishly across his forehead like he'd sprung fully formed out of a period drama where people with English accents kissed in the rain. Or like he was the hero from the last historical romance novel I'd read. When he gave me a small, expectant smile, a dimple popped in his right cheek.”

Sex AppealMale BeautyFirst MetHandsome Man
Book:My Roommate Is a Vampire
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