It’s hotter in the dark…
He’s six-foot four inches of male perfection. Glorious, gorgeous, and blessed with a body and sensuous lips promising wave after wave of ecstasy, Michael Rourke is a Varkyre—the most damned species of vampire. When he wants a woman, she is his. And the woman he wants is Erin Kennedy, a mortal who does not yet know the real meaning of pleasure.
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WILD NIGHTS includes Camille’s Dawn by Kate Douglas, from her popular Wolf Tales series, Midnight Man by Sharon Page, and Night Pleasures by Kathleen Dante.
Read an Excerpt
This excerpt contains explicit sexual material and is intended for readers 18 years of age and older.
“We were supposed to meet in public, not have sex in public.”
Erin’s voice, sultry and breathy, wrapped around Michael Rourke—tempting, rich, and classy, like sweaty sex on hot silk sheets. The subtle note of warning in it made him grin—carefully, to hide the tips of his retracted fangs.
He brushed his knuckles against Erin’s outer thigh, just below the hem of her skirt. “No, love, I’m not going to make love to you here.”
Her emerald-green eyes glinted in the soft amber light of the pub, and he caught the flash of disappointment. She was excited, he knew, despite the way she glanced at other tables to ensure no one was looking their way. “Then what do you plan to do?”
Michael unfurled his fingers to cup her bare leg, her skin warm and satin smooth against his cool palm. His wrist caught the edge of her tailored skirt, lifting it as his fingers crept slowly toward the hot nest between her thighs.
This game of seduction with his intended soul mate was giving him the most agonizing rock-hard erection of his two-hundred-year existence.
She tensed her thigh, and he stroked gently until her leg relaxed at his touch.
In three months of trading steamy e-mails—three months of sharing her secret desires—Erin had lain her soul bare for him, whether she knew it or not.
She wanted adventure. She wanted great sex. But after building a successful private- investigation agency chasing adulterers, she didn’t believe in love.
And he had to.
“I plan to pleasure you here, Erin.” And I plan to capture your heart.
“Oh, you do?” She crossed her arms on the table and leaned closer to him, giving him a view down her white silk crossover blouse, a peek at the shadowy valley between the lightly freckled swells of her breasts. Again, he smiled at the trace of confrontation in her tone—even when she so obviously desired him. “And how do you plan to pleasure me in public?”
“That’s to be my surprise, sweet.”
Her brows drew together in an exaggerated frown, drawing a chuckle from deep in his throat. Michael winced at the sound—rusty, unused. How long since he’d last felt the urge to laugh?
“No,” she insisted. “Tell me.”
She didn’t like him to take control, but he found it impossible to understand her complex rules about equality. He was a Varkyre, the damned of the damned, the most predatory subspecies of vampire, and when he wanted a woman, he claimed her.
Hell, he’d always lived outside the rules of human society, even in his mortal life. Michael had no qualms over bringing his intended soul mate to a screaming orgasm in an intimate little curved booth in Bellissima’s, the most popular bar downtown.
He had to take Erin beyond her sensual limits, take her beyond the rigid, protective walls she’d erected. He had to teach her to trust.
To trust him.
“I like to start with the neck.” And you, sweetheart, possess the sexiest neck I’ve found in two centuries. He lifted Erin’s thick auburn hair and pressed his lips to her skin. Flicking his tongue along her peach-soft flesh, he tasted traces of salty sweat and wild-flower soap. Delicious.
He drew slow circles on her leg, letting his finger dip down farther over her inner thigh with each spiral.
Her nipples puckered, tenting the silk. The draped fabric shivered with her quick, shallow breaths.
“Are you really going to put your hand in my panties here, Michael?”
Her direct question sent a surge of desire through him just as his fangs lengthened and grazed her flesh. Shuddering, he backed off to break the contact before he lost it and sank his teeth in. Before he revealed to her what he was.
Erin’s hips rocked, slowly, seductively, and he knew she wanted him to lift his hand higher. By playing his game, she was taking a first step in trust.
Michael took three deep breaths. And for the first time in his cursed existence, his fangs retreated, even as desire burned in him.
Only with his soul mate could he have that kind of control.
“No one can see,” he promised. “They think we’re just necking in the corner.”
“I’ve never done anything like this before.” Her voice shivered with awe and arousal.
He had. In his mortal past, he’d often engaged in public sex at brothels and parties.
“Naughty, isn’t it?” he teased. He slid his hand around her upper thigh to cradle her ass. As his fingers encountered soft bare skin, his brows lifted in astonishment, and his cock jerked up against the hard zipper of his leather motorcycle pants. “You’re not wearing underwear.”
“I am,” she protested in a whisper. “A thong.” Her warm breath coasted over the rim of his ear.
“So your ass is essentially naked.”
“Under my skirt, yes.”
He laughed at that. Her legs parted slightly, and he knew his breath had played its own magic against her ear. He trailed his fingers back up, over her leg, to the damp, lacy thong nestled between her thighs.
“Have you decided?” their pony-tailed server trilled as he flipped out his pad and parked himself with his hip jutting against the table.
Michael stroked his fingers along Erin’s hot, wet thong.
She gasped. But her composure returned admirably fast. “I’m not hungry.”
“We’re fine,” he instructed the waiter, breathing a sigh of relief. He had a beer in front of him, barely touched. Since he could consume only blood, he’d used his ability to move faster than human senses could detect to pour it out and make it look like he was drinking.
Bloody ironic. He had finally found the woman who might free him from imminent destruction—if he could convince her to believe in him—and he’d done nothing but lie to her so far. The only topic on which he could be honest with Erin was sex.
As soon as their server left, he bent and nibbled her neck again. This time his fangs remained retracted.
Sex was the way to capture her heart.
She whimpered, bending her head so her hair spilled over him.
He loved hearing her moan with need. Loved the way her auburn waves shivered over her shoulders as she tilted her head. And he adored the throaty melody of her laugh, the honey-sweet sighs of arousal she made at his touch—
The elastic trim of her thong snapped against her skin as Michael worked to slide his index finger underneath.
Springy curls brushed his fingertip.
He nipped her earlobe gently. “You are so wet.”
Her cleft was snug and hot, and he pressed two fingers against her clit. With a moan, she jumped on the seat.
“Relax.” His fingers circled over her, and her eyes opened wide. “Trust me.”
“That’s so good, Michael.” Her hand dropped to his thigh to brace herself as her head arched back in pleasure.
“Touch me.” He kept his voice low and seductive. He wished he could compel her to do as he asked, but he couldn’t. He could not do that with his soul mate.
Erin drew her hand up his leg, her touch all the more erotic because he knew it came from her desire.
“I’ve never groped a man in public,” she confided. Yes, she was beginning to trust him, revealing more and more to him. “But writing all those wild, hot e-mails to you—” She pressed her open palm to the bulge in his pants. “Can you feel that through the leather?”
His hips bucked as her hand slid along the zipper of his pants, following the line of his swelling cock until she found the engorged head stuffed against his waistband. She cupped him with her palm.
His head swam as his blood pooled in his crotch, as his cock grew and grew and grew and pushed urgently with no place to go. Hunger surged with every pulse of his rigid shaft.
Control it. Fight it.
His jaw throbbed, burned even, but, by a miracle, his fangs stayed retracted.
“You’ve unleashed a side of me I never knew existed,” she murmured as she glanced down to watch the motion of her hand coasting over the black leather—pulled taut over the broad head of his prick. Her firm gliding motion almost took him to the brink.
Yes, trust me, he almost groaned. “I sensed it existed, love. This is no surprise to me.”
The lips of her pussy parted for his fingers. Michael crooked them within her, dipping into her wet heat. Stirring her, he inhaled her scent deeply. Musky and primal, it made him ache with want. He withdrew his fingers and tapped the sticky tips against her clit.
Her green eyes glazed with desire; she looked as needy as he felt. “This is like going to bed with a stranger.”
No, don’t draw back, Erin. “We’ve already been intimate, love.”
“On a computer screen. Which makes this a lot weirder than I expected.”
Despite her words, she squeezed his cock through the leather. Both lust and hope shot through him, a mix so intense he almost exploded on the spot. “Weird?” he rasped. “Are you disappointed, then?”
“In you?” Her eyes opened wide in surprise. “No. I mean, to be honest, when I pictured us meeting, I skipped over the getting-to-know-you part—”
He plunged his finger into her pussy. Her flame-hot, creamy walls clamped around his finger as his thumb lightly rubbed the tip of her clit.
She jammed her fist into her mouth and moaned around it.
“—and put us right into bed,” she finished hoarsely.
“Sounds good to me.” He kissed her soft, freckled cheek, tasting a trace of vanilla-flavored lotion, savoring her delightful feminine flavor.
Expertly, he shifted his hand to fill her tight pussy with two fingers, to stroke her snug ass with his index finger, all the while teasing her clit. An orgasm would chip away at her defenses.
His cock throbbed painfully as she sank her teeth into her own fingers. He saw the bite marks as she moved her mouth away, and his groin clenched.
“You’ve got to stop, Michael.” She lifted her hand from his cock. “This is really hot…really sexy, but—”
He silenced her protests by slanting his mouth over hers.
Erin moaned into Michael’s mouth as he kissed her. She tried to slide her tongue inside, to taste him even more intimately, but his wouldn’t retreat. His powerful body shifted over hers, possessive and dominant, sandwiching her between his hot, hard chest and the warm leather seat. Her swollen, sensitive breasts squashed against him. Her nipples poked into unyielding muscle.
This is one large, dominant guy, her inner voice warned. A strong, large, dominant guy.
Yeah, but she could handle a large guy. All those kickboxing lessons hadn’t been for nothing.
He smelled so masculine. So erotically of sandalwood and leather and the clean heat of his skin. She loved the hot, wet, minty taste of his tongue in her mouth. Strange—she didn’t taste or smell beer on his breath.
He deepened the kiss, ravished her mouth. She’d never been kissed with such hunger, such raw need. As though he’d yearned for this moment for a lifetime.
Erin clutched his leather-clad shoulders.
Suddenly she realized she was sliding back along the booth, pulling him with her.
Her chest was tight with desire, her throat dry with it; her heart hammered against her rib cage. She felt ready to combust on the spot.
Erin now understood why people would risk everything for sex. She was horny enough to do him in public. Which would be a crazy thing to do for a woman who made her living by being discreet.
Dimly she saw waiters race by them, couples pass by, a group of guys in suits leer at them.
She struggled to cool down and sit up.
Just take the man home and screw his brains out. What more reassurance do you need?
She’d run every kind of background check imaginable on Michael Rourke, to the point of trying to follow up his public school records in England.
A raven-haired, totally gorgeous sex god had his hand up her skirt and was kissing her like his life depended on it.
A sex god without a criminal record, an ex-wife, dependents, restraining orders. A sex god with a good job—VP for vam-pire.com, a ruthless vulture company that sucked the life out of failing start-ups, kept the lifeblood, and sold off the shell. He was a millionaire. She knew. She’d checked.
What was the main risk with too-good-to-be-true guys on the Internet, besides the risk of an existing wife or a criminal record? They were in it for the sex. And what did she really want? Not “ever after”. Just a sexy guy who got a real charge out of making her come and who conveniently disappeared with the light of day so she could run her business.
Get on with it. Crook your finger, and tell him to follow you home. Or, better yet, lead him by the big, hot bulge in his pants.
He moved his mouth from hers, and Erin almost sobbed at the loss.
“Do you know what I truly want, love?”
His voice flowed over her, deep, compelling, and complete with a sexy upper-crust English accent. In response, her pussy clenched greedily around his large fingers.
This guy was the best British import since Cadbury chocolate.
“What do you truly want, Michael?”
His fallen-angel mouth quirked up into a wicked smile. “I want your first orgasm to be on my face.”
Her first orgasm? While she was perfectly capable of multiple orgasms, only she and her lifelike “drawer willies” knew that for sure. Her sexual encounters involved lots of screaming, groaning, and Oscar-worthy cries of delight, but no real pop. She’d never come with a man. Come close, but never actually hit the peak, rang the bell, gone over the edge—
He wouldn’t…would he? Erin pulled away to look into Michael’s eyes. Teasing, glittering eyes. The irises were the strangest shade of silvery purple, a startling contrast to his thick midnight-black eyelashes and straight black brows. “You aren’t planning to do that here, are you?” she asked.
Erin moaned at the sudden vision of being stretched out on her back across the leather booth, skirt forced up, legs spread wide while he ate her. Fondling each other under the table while the jazz and low laughter swirled around was wild enough. Naughty, just as he’d said.
But oral sex…?
With the hand that was not stuffed in her pussy, Michael lifted hers from his hard bulge. He twined his fingers with hers, laid their clasped hands on his thighs. Encased in black motorcycle pants, the muscular length of his leg was like granite.
“What do you want, love? Where do we go from here?”
He held her gaze captive. His fingers slid in and out. She could barely form words.
What she wanted to do with Michael Rourke, Internet lover extraordinaire, meant trusting him, at least for tonight.
She knew exactly where she wanted to take him. A place she could strip him naked and run her tongue all over his buff bod. A place she would finally unleash the do-me-now, sex-crazed vixen inside—the one threatening to burst out of her skin like an alien life form.