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Such normal things, which people did all across the planet every day, vampires and humans alike: proof that in certain prosaic activities the two species were not so different after all.
He would have killed to see her do them once.
Better yet, he wanted to do them with her. Her sink. His sink. Maybe they would argue over the fact that he dropped his floss on the edge of the wastepaper basket instead of making sure it got all the way in.
Life. Together.
He reached forward, put his fingertip on the mirror, and ran it over the glass. Then he forced himself to dematerialize without going to her bedside again.
As he disappeared for good this time, he knew that if he'd been a male who cried, he would have been bawling now. Instead he thought of the Grey Goose that was waiting for him back at the Pit. He had every intention of being completely faced for the next two days.
They were going to have to pour him back into these Hugh Hefner silks and hold him up at that f**king Primale ceremony.
Chapter Thirty-seven
At midnight John was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling above him. It was a fancy ceiling, with a lot of molding and stuff around the edges, so there was plenty to look at. It made him think of a birthday cake, actually. No... a wedding cake. Especially because in the middle there was a light fixture with a lot of curlicue thingies around it, kind of like what those little bride and groom dolls would go on.
For some strange reason he liked the way it all came together. He didn't know jack about architecture, but he was drawn to the lushness, the stately symmetry, the balance between the ornate and the smooth -
Okay, maybe he was stalling here.
Crap.
He'd woken up about a half hour ago, hit the bathroom, and then gone back between the sheets. There was no class tonight, and he should be catching up on his work before he went out, but that whole textbook thing so wasn't happening.
He had some business to take care of.
Which at the moment was lying rock-hard on his belly.
He'd been hanging in bed debating whether he could do this. What it felt like. Whether he'd even be into it. What if he lost his erection? God, that conversation with Z hung over him. Like if he wasn't... successful at it, there might be something wrong with him.
Oh, for f**k's sake, he needed to jump off the bridge already.
John took his hand and put it on his pec, feeling his lungs expanding and contracting and his heart beating hard. With a wince he moved his palm downward, heading for that throb that was literally talking to him, it was so loud. Man, the damn thing was craving sensation, desperate to boil over. And underneath it? His balls were so tight he felt like they were about to crack open from the pressure. He so had to do this, and not just to check that his plumbing was right. The need to release was past the ache stage and into flat-out pain.
His hand hit his belly and he pushed it farther down. His skin was warm and smooth and hairless and stretched over hard muscle and heavy bone. He couldn't get over how big he was now. His stomach seemed to stretch as far as a football field.
He stopped just before he touched himself. Then, with a curse, he grabbed the thing and pulled it.
A moan rumbled out of his chest and leaped from his mouth as his erection kicked in his hand. Oh, shit, that felt good, He repeated the slow tugging motion, sweat breaking out across his chest. He felt like someone had put him under a heat lamp - no, it was more like warmth was radiating from inside of him.
He arched while he stroked himself, feeling guilty and embarrassed and sinfully erotic. Oh ... so good... Settling into a rhythm, he shoved the covers off with his foot and looked down his body. With illicit pride, he watched himself, liking the thick head of him, the outrageous size, the way his hand gripped tight.
Oh... f**k. Faster. Faster with his hand. A little clicking noise rose up, the result of the clear, slippery lubricant that came out of the tip getting on his palm. The stuff ran down the shaft, making the erection glisten.
Oh... f**k.
From out of nowhere the picture of a female came to him... Shit, it was that hard-ass security guard from ZeroSum, and he saw in HD with her man's haircut and her muscled shoulders and her shrewd face and her powerful presence. In a stunning moment of boldness, he imagined the two of them at the club. She had him pressed against the wall, with her hand down his pants and she was kissing him hard, her tongue in his mouth.
Jesus . . . God in heaven... his hand moved at blurring speed, his c**k hard as marble, his mind filled with the idea of being inside that female.
Critical overload hit when he pictured her breaking off from the kiss and easing down onto her knees. He saw her unzip his pants, take himself out, and suck him into her mouth -
Fuck!
John flipped over onto his side, the pillow getting knocked to the floor, his knees coming up. He shouted without making a sound and jerked around as warm jets went everywhere, landing on his chest and the tops of his thighs and getting on his hand. He kept stroking, eyes nailed shut, veins popping out at his neck, lungs burning.
When there was nothing left in him, John swallowed hard, caught his breath, and opened his eyes. He wasn't sure, but he thought he'd come twice. Maybe three times.
Crap. The sheets. He'd made a mess.
Man, it had been worth it, though. That was great. That shit was... great.
Except he did feel guilty about what he'd pictured in his mind. He would die if she ever found out -
His cell phone went off. Wiping his hand on the sheets, he picked the thing up. It was a text from Qhuinn, telling him to get his ass to Blay's in a half hour so they could hit ZeroSum before the action dried up.
John hardened again as he thought of the security guard.
Okay, this could turn out to be a pain, he thought as he looked at his erection. Especially if he went to the club and saw that female and... yeah, threw a whole lot of wood.
But then, hey, he should look on the bright side: At least his parts were in working order.
John sobered. Yeah, everything worked and he had enjoyed it... at least by himself. But the idea of having that go down with someone else?
Still left him cold.
When Phury walked into ZeroSum at about one a.m., he was glad he wasn't with his brothers. He needed some privacy for what he was going to do.
With grim resolve he went to the VIP section, took a seat at the Brotherhood's table, and ordered a martini, hoping like hell none of the Brotherhood decided to do a fly-by. He would have much preferred to go somewhere else, but ZeroSum was the only place in town that offered what he was looking for. So he was hung.
The first martini was good. His second was better.
As he drank, human women came up to the table. The first was a brunette, so that wasn't happening. Too much like Bella. Next one was blond, which was good... but she was the short-haired one Z had once fed from, so that just felt wrong. Then there was another blond who looked so strung out she gave him the guilts, followed by a black-haired one who looked like Xena: Warrior Princess and kind of scared him.
But then... a redhead stopped in front of the table.
She was a tiny thing, no more than five-five even with her stripper stillies, but her hair was huge. Dressed in a bubblegum-pink bustier and micromini, she looked like a cartoon character.
"You looking for some play, daddy?"
He shifted in the seat and told himself to quit being picky and get it over with. It was just sex, for God's sake. "Maybe. What's a ticket on the fifty-yard line going to cost?"
She lifted up her hand and touched her lips with two fingers. "For a full game."
Two hundred bucks to get rid of his virginity. Which boiled down to less than a dollar a year. What a steal.
Phury was half-dead as he got to his feet. "Sounds good."
As he followed the prostitute to the back of the VIP area, he had some vague thought that in a parallel universe he would be doing this for the first time with someone he loved. Or cared about. Or at least knew. It wouldn't be about a pair of Benjis and a public bathroom.
Unfortunately, he was where he was.
The woman opened a glossy black door and he went in behind her. As he shut them in together the techno music faded a little.
He was nervous as hell as he held out the money.
She smiled up at him as she took it. "I'm not going to mind this with you at all. God, that hair. Is it extensions?"
He shook his head.
When she reached for his belt he took a knee-jerk step back and banged into the damn door.
"Sorry," he said.
She gave him a strange look. "No problem. This your first time with someone like me?"
