Page 71 of Road Trip with a Vampire
I rested my head on Peter’s chest again, reveling in how good it felt to be pressed together like this, skin to skin. “I’ll keep better control next time.”
He lifted my chin so I could look at him. “Don’t.”
“No?”
He shook his head. “No.” Then he whispered, low and dirty into my ear, “I love that you lose control when I fuck you.”
The way this man spoke would be my undoing. I swallowed thickly before murmuring, “Yeah?”
As if to prove his point, Peter gently rolled me onto my back. He hovered above me and grinned wolfishly. “The way you looked when you came, your power pouring out of you…the way youfelt, pulsing around my cock…” He shuddered, already hardening again against my stomach. It reallywastrue, what they said about vampires and their stamina. “You were yourself in that moment, Zelda. I want to feel that with you again. As often as you’ll let me.”
The look he gave me stole my breath. I swallowed hard and mustered all my bravado. “You…liked that, did you?”
He nodded solemnly. And then, with a smirk, he said, “Now,if you’ll be quiet and let me focus, I will show you exactly what it felt like.”
He kissed his way down my body and proceeded to do exactly that.
At some point we movedinto one of the suite’s two gorgeously appointed bedrooms. But we were both too wired, too happy, to sleep. As I lay on the bed cuddled in Peter’s strong arms, he flipped channels on the large wall-mounted television, trying to find something to doze off to.
This—all of it—was so unbearably domestic. All those years, all the adventures I’d had—I’d never hadthis. Snuggling after sex with a man I was attracted to, watching garbage television together. It was a marvel what telling him the truth about myself had done. He’d breached some massive, impenetrable wall I’d built—and all he’d done was listen to my story.
My heart clenched. I didn’t dare look at what was happening too closely. Because what if it disappeared if I did?
An idea struck me. “Want to watch goat yoga videos?”
At my question, Peter craned his neck a little to peer down at me. “Goat yoga videos?” He said it slowly, as if it was a language he didn’t speak. “I understood each of those words individually.”
I laughed. “If you understood the words individually, you understand the concept. It’s literally just people doing yoga with goats.”
He quirked an eyebrow. “That’s a thing?”
“Apparently.”
“But why?”
“No idea,” I admitted. “But it’s so popular on social media that Lindsay and Becky have decided Yoga Magic needs to cash in. We’re doing our first goat event in a few weeks.” I gestured tomy laptop on the dresser. “They sent me links to YouTube videos so I can see how it’s done before the goats show up. I don’t think I’ll learn much, but I might as well humor my friends.”
Peter’s eyes went to my laptop, then found mine again. “Ever feel like you’ve been alive too long?” he asked weakly.
I snorted. “Routinely.”
We snuggled in closer as the first video began to play. According to its caption, it had been filmed in October in western Massachusetts. I had to ignore the cold fingers of dread that gripped me at the inadvertent reminder of Salem and of all that had happened there to innocent women hundreds of years ago.
The backdrop was beautiful, though. An inspired setting for social media, which was likely the point. The video began with a panorama of trees with vibrant red and gold leaves before moving lower to where there were two dozen people with yoga mats spread out on the ground.
The instructor introduced herself as Sabrina, then welcomed everyone to the event. A moment later, she led them through some basic Sun Salutations. Given that it was autumn in New England they were more bundled up than we would be at our Northern California event, wearing leggings and sweatshirts instead of tank tops and bike shorts. It otherwise looked just like what we did in my studio.
Then there was a loud, bleatingbaaaaaa, and things got ridiculous.
“Here they are!” Sabrina cheerfully exclaimed. Three of the most robust-looking goats I’d ever seen sauntered in from somewhere off-camera. They’dclearlynever suffered a Polish winter in the 1700s. The students fell out of their poses, craning their heads to look at the newcomers.
“Remember,” Sabrina crooned, “goat yoga is about so muchmore than practicing yoga with goats.” That was news to me. I’d thought goat yoga was exclusively about practicing yoga with goats. “This practice is designed to put you in touch not just with your breath and movement but with nature and with the harmony of all living things.” She grinned serenely. “Snuggling with a goat is just a pleasant additional bonus.”
“Huh,” Peter said, sounding bemused.
“And remember,” Sabrina continued. “If one of them relieves themselves on you, it is considered lucky! A blessing.”
“That has to be a joke,” Peter said. “These peoplewantgoats to do their business on them?”
