each other to want, only had to brush against each other to need.
Familiar yet forever exciting, his mouth met mine. Tongues touched, hands wandered. I shoved mine under what was left of his shirt, warmed my chilled fingers against him, learning again the contours of his skin.
His erection pressed into my stomach, warm where I was cold. The kiss melted toward more; his mouth traced my jaw, my neck; he mouthed first one nipple, then the other, through the gauze of my soaked shirt.
I couldn't help it, I lifted my feet, wrapped my thighs around his hips, and pressed us together through several layers of soaked clothing. The fit was close, but not quite there.
As if knowing what I wanted, needed, probably because he wanted it, too, he swung me around until my back was against the side of the pool, then ground us together, even as his mouth opened, taking more of me, his tongue pressing, laving, teasing.
I arched, gasping, begging. Against me he pulsed, the rhythmic beat calling my own. The cave echoed with the rasp of our breathing and the lap of the water upon the rock face, the two sounds syncopated, nearly as arousing as the heat of his body and the pulse of his heart.
He pressed his face to the curve of my neck. Inhaling deeply, as if he wanted to memorize my scent. Right now I probably smelled like—
Blood.
I stiffened, even as he licked my skin, grazed the damp flesh with his teeth, took a fold into his mouth and suckled.
Images flickered—other women in his arms, other men. The taste of the blood, the sexual pull of it. The desire to feed, to devour, to possess, the struggle not to kill.
I felt everything as if those feelings were mine. I tasted the blood; I wanted it, too. I wanted him to feed on me while he took me, hard against the wall, the orgasm made stronger by the draining of my life into his mouth.
I shuddered and pushed at his shoulders. Without any hesitation, he let me go.
"You saw?" he murmured.
My eyes narrowed. He'd done that on purpose.
"Did you think I'd be disgusted?" I asked. "That I wouldn't understand? That isn't you, Jimmy."
His lips curved into a humorless smile. "The Strega's dead. Who else could it be?"
"I felt your struggle. You didn't—" I paused. "Did you?"
"Didn't what?" He looked at me, one quick glance and then away. "Force them? I never have to force anyone. Once I drink from them a few times, they'll do anything I want."
"Excuse me?"
He hauled himself out of the pool; his clothes dripped enough water onto the dirt floor of the cave to create a puddle of mud. "Remember the Strega's harem?"
How could I forget? The women had behaved like something out of a sci-fi movie—robots on parade.
"The more a vampire feeds on someone, the more they're tied to him."
I sloshed to the side of the pool as my mind mulled over Jimmy's words. Was that why I couldn't seem to let him go? How many times had he fed on me in Manhat-tan? I couldn't remember.
Except I'd staked him in that glass tower, had planned to stake him again, until, at the death of the strega, Jimmy had snapped out of his evil twin persona. I wouldn't have been able to hurt him if he were capable of controlling me.
And the undeniable attraction I had for him dated from way back. Even when he'd broken my heart, walked out of my life, I'd never been able to forget him. That I couldn't now was just more of the same, not some new mind control brought about by his sinking his fangs into me one too many times.
I hoisted myself out of the water as a sudden thought drove out the others. "If vampires can control humans by feeding on them, that means they could take over the earth."
"I think that's what Daddy had planned."
"Why hasn't it happened already?" I asked. "I'm sure there are plenty of bloodsuckers out there; they're feeding at will, so how is it that the whole world isn't one big vampire harem?"
"Because most vampires kill. Once they start feeding, they can't stop. They don't want to."
"So what was wrong with
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