Page 11 of The Vampire Kingpin
“Whatever you say, my lord.” I flung my arms wide. “But if you wanna feel me up, why don’t you just ask nicely?”
Amusement softened his hard mouth. Squatting down, he skimmed his fingers up my thighs inside my dress, lingering on the band of my thigh-highs before moving to my butt, left bare by my thong. His big, warm hands closed on my naked cheeks.
He gave a hum of appreciation. “You do have a sweet ass, Lark Nightstar.”
My throat worked. This time I made myself stay still. But my pussy clenched, completely on board with whatever he had in mind, the scent of my arousal drenching the air.
He picked up on it, of course. A vampire’s senses are ten times as keen as a human’s. He went motionless. Then he lifted his head, his dark gaze burning into mine from where he crouched at my feet.
Electricity arced between us. The back of his fingers brushed the crotch of my thong, sending a shock of pleasure radiating up my spine. He found my clit and rotated a knuckle over it.
“Very sweet,” he added in a husky murmur.
I briefly closed my eyes. Then I fisted my hands and deliberately looked past him. “Are you finished?”
“Yeah.” He stood back up, a small, we-both-know-you-liked-it smile playing on his lips.
I waited for him to call me on it, but he just said, “C’mere,” and before I knew what was happening, his long fingers were wrapped around my head, holding my face to his broad chest.
“What now?” I grumbled, voice muffled, and tried not to breathe. This time, I was not going to notice how good he smelled.
“Hush.”
I couldn’t see what he was doing with his other hand, but a few seconds later, a door creaked open behind me. Interesting. An entrance to the Underworld I didn’t know about.
“You first.” He indicated the opening with his chin.
I obeyed, accepting that for now, I was his prisoner. At least he wasn’t Jared Darkman.
Spider sent a last look up and down the alley, then followed me onto the flimsy metal landing. Darkness enveloped us.
He glided past me. “You can see?”
“Yeah,” I said, my eyes adjusting to the low lighting.
“Stick close. The rats know not to mess with me.” He started down a flight of sketchy-looking stairs.
I jogged after him. “I’m not afraid of rats.”
I’d even made friends with a couple of them—the only friends I’d made in Grim’s lair. At least the rats I could trust.
We descended two flights. At the bottom, the murkiness swallowed us whole—too thick even for our night-adapted eyes to penetrate. Spider flicked on a tiny flashlight, revealing an ancient subway tunnel that looked like it predated New York City itself—cracked white tiles, dank pools of water. We continued, picking our way over the rotted wooden ties beneath our feet.
A flash of movement made me look down—directly into a pair of beady red eyes. I automatically reached for the handful of dried corn I usually kept in my jeans, but since I was wearing a dress, I came up empty-handed. Unfortunately, this skinny, beady-eyed dude didn’t seem to have heard about the rats I’d befriended outside my cousin’s lair.
“Good boy,” I said weakly.
Spider threw a look over his shoulder. “Don’t worry, he won’t bother you.”
“How d’you know? That guy looks hungry.”
“Probably ‘cause he is.”
“Not helping,” I muttered, and I could’ve sworn he stifled a laugh.
Then, to my relief, he bared his fangs and hissed at the rats. The darkness exploded with a half-dozen rodents emitting furious squeaks and scattering.
I may have let loose with a girly squeak myself. “Jesus, I hate how they travel in herds.”
