withdrawing, Dylan pulled up Emmy to sit, cradled by his thighs. He kissed her shoulders and neck. Smoothed his hands over her breasts and belly as her shudders quieted.
With a deep sigh, she rested her head on his shoulder. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, and Emmy looked up. His head descended and their tongues entangled, lapping without their mouths pressing together.
Their tongues parted and they stared into each other’s eyes.
Emmy wrinkled her nose. “I think we need baths.”
“Love is in the air.”
She grimaced. “If you break into the Love Boat song, I’ll lose all respect for you. I’ve created a monster.”
“You didn’t think vampires had a sense of humor? You inspire the comedic monster in me.” He bussed her lips. “We’ll shower. Then I’ll have to leave for a little while.”
Her eyelids dropped. “Can I come with you?”
“No, but you’ll be safe. Quentin will be here.”
“And your demon dogs. Maybe, I’ll take a nap. Promise to wake me up when you come home?”
“I promise.” He slapped her thigh lightly. “Now get up.”
Together, they rose. Emmy’s hands curled into little fists at her sides, and she didn’t look at him. She knelt to pick up her ruined blouse.
“Emmy, are you embarrassed?”
“Um, is there anything for me to wear?”
“Into the shower?”
Her blush colored the tops of her breasts. “Well, I’m not like you.”
“Not like me how?”
“Perfect. Do you always answer a question with a question?”
“You’re deliberately changing the subject. Emmy, don’t you know you’re beautiful?”
She looked disappointed in his answer. “You don’t have to say that. I know what I am.”
“And what might that be?”
This time she glared at him, but he wanted to know what was in her mind.
“Fat,” she said, and her chin raised a notch, daring him to declare otherwise.
“Come with me.” He walked past her, his hand snagging hers to pull her into the foyer and up the stairs.
Emmy hoped Quentin stayed wherever Quentin was, or he’d get an eyeful of her ass as she jogged upstairs.
Dylan led her straight into his bathroom and halted them in front of his counter-to-ceiling mirror.
She took a deep breath and looked around the room—at the towel rack, the silver toilet paper dispenser—anywhere, but at her own reflection.
His hand gripped the top of her head and pointed her face toward the mirror. “Emmy, what do you see when you look at yourself in the mirror?”
He wasn’t going to let her off. So she started at the top. “I see frizzy blonde hair.”
He shook his head. “A golden halo of wavy hair.”
“Fat boobs.”
“Lush, firm breasts with rosy areolas, and nipples like eraser-tips.”
She wrinkled her nose at him.
Dylan shrugged. “Only the truth, however unpoetic. I like erasers. Go on.”
“A poochy tummy.”
“I see a rounded, womanly belly. Soft, where a woman should be soft.”
Moisture gathered at the edges of her eyes, and she batted her lids to keep the tears at bay. “A wide, J-Lo ass.”
He slid his hand over her hips to close over a generous cheek. “An ass that cushions a man’s belly.”
Scarlet stained her cheeks. He’s going to make me cry. Time for a joke. “You probably need glasses. You’re what? Older than Methuselah. They say the eyes go first.”
Dylan pulled her in front of him and ran his hands from her shoulders, down her belly, and then between her thighs. “You’re soft where a man is hard to complement him. You’re not fat—you’re voluptuous, womanly. Incredibly sexy.” His finger found her clit and he rubbed. “Do you believe me?” His gaze bored into hers.
“I believe you see me that way.”
“Does anybody’s else opinion matter?”
Her smile started slowly, then spread to warm her heart. Dylan found her ass sexy. “No.”
“Now, wash my back.”
* * * * *
Dylan pulled the covers over her nude body. She smelled of talcum and fresh sex.
“This has been
With a deep sigh, she rested her head on his shoulder. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, and Emmy looked up. His head descended and their tongues entangled, lapping without their mouths pressing together.
Their tongues parted and they stared into each other’s eyes.
Emmy wrinkled her nose. “I think we need baths.”
“Love is in the air.”
She grimaced. “If you break into the Love Boat song, I’ll lose all respect for you. I’ve created a monster.”
“You didn’t think vampires had a sense of humor? You inspire the comedic monster in me.” He bussed her lips. “We’ll shower. Then I’ll have to leave for a little while.”
Her eyelids dropped. “Can I come with you?”
“No, but you’ll be safe. Quentin will be here.”
“And your demon dogs. Maybe, I’ll take a nap. Promise to wake me up when you come home?”
“I promise.” He slapped her thigh lightly. “Now get up.”
Together, they rose. Emmy’s hands curled into little fists at her sides, and she didn’t look at him. She knelt to pick up her ruined blouse.
“Emmy, are you embarrassed?”
“Um, is there anything for me to wear?”
“Into the shower?”
Her blush colored the tops of her breasts. “Well, I’m not like you.”
“Not like me how?”
“Perfect. Do you always answer a question with a question?”
“You’re deliberately changing the subject. Emmy, don’t you know you’re beautiful?”
She looked disappointed in his answer. “You don’t have to say that. I know what I am.”
“And what might that be?”
This time she glared at him, but he wanted to know what was in her mind.
“Fat,” she said, and her chin raised a notch, daring him to declare otherwise.
“Come with me.” He walked past her, his hand snagging hers to pull her into the foyer and up the stairs.
Emmy hoped Quentin stayed wherever Quentin was, or he’d get an eyeful of her ass as she jogged upstairs.
Dylan led her straight into his bathroom and halted them in front of his counter-to-ceiling mirror.
She took a deep breath and looked around the room—at the towel rack, the silver toilet paper dispenser—anywhere, but at her own reflection.
His hand gripped the top of her head and pointed her face toward the mirror. “Emmy, what do you see when you look at yourself in the mirror?”
He wasn’t going to let her off. So she started at the top. “I see frizzy blonde hair.”
He shook his head. “A golden halo of wavy hair.”
“Fat boobs.”
“Lush, firm breasts with rosy areolas, and nipples like eraser-tips.”
She wrinkled her nose at him.
Dylan shrugged. “Only the truth, however unpoetic. I like erasers. Go on.”
“A poochy tummy.”
“I see a rounded, womanly belly. Soft, where a woman should be soft.”
Moisture gathered at the edges of her eyes, and she batted her lids to keep the tears at bay. “A wide, J-Lo ass.”
He slid his hand over her hips to close over a generous cheek. “An ass that cushions a man’s belly.”
Scarlet stained her cheeks. He’s going to make me cry. Time for a joke. “You probably need glasses. You’re what? Older than Methuselah. They say the eyes go first.”
Dylan pulled her in front of him and ran his hands from her shoulders, down her belly, and then between her thighs. “You’re soft where a man is hard to complement him. You’re not fat—you’re voluptuous, womanly. Incredibly sexy.” His finger found her clit and he rubbed. “Do you believe me?” His gaze bored into hers.
“I believe you see me that way.”
“Does anybody’s else opinion matter?”
Her smile started slowly, then spread to warm her heart. Dylan found her ass sexy. “No.”
“Now, wash my back.”
* * * * *
Dylan pulled the covers over her nude body. She smelled of talcum and fresh sex.
“This has been
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