Chapter 17
Star
Am I working for actual vampires?!
Or just two wannabes who think they’re vampires…?
For the millionth time since I’d locked myself in my bedroom at Aunt Carla’s house, I questioned what exactly I’d seen behind the wall of the Sizzling Discourse breakroom.
It was definitely a secret lair, even if I’d thought it was just a dude-bro hangout at first. Between the matte black walls, lack of windows, and brand new Nintendo set up in front of a couple of oversized bean bag chairs, it seemed to have everything two guys could want.
Well, almost everything.
There were no beds—which made sense at first, since I hadn’t originally assumed Max and Damon lived there. But then my gaze snagged on a pair of large, unusually-shaped objects in the far corner.
Coffins.
Two of them. Two coffins for two men who’d only minutes before suggested “disposing of the vile creature” that was my ex-bestie, Heather.
Which still doesn’t bother me as much as it probably should…
Discovering the guys I worked for slept in coffins—either because they had to or wanted to—hadn’t set off any alarm bells. Instead of immediately running in the opposite direction like a normal person, I’d calmly walked to the nearest one, slid open the lid, kicked off my boots, and climbed inside.
My only previous experience with coffins had been during my parents’ funeral when I was six, and that was a hazy memory at best. I did remember Aunt Carla insisting I pay my respects, even though all I’d wanted to do was remain plastered to the back wall of the funeral parlor’s viewing room—as far away from the dead bodies as possible.
That had been a closed casket situation, so this recent, ill-advised situation was the first time I’d realized just how plush and cozy the interior of these things were.
To make things weirder, the instant I settled onto the satin, I knew it was Damon’s coffin, as I was immediately assaulted by his signature scent of leather and coffee—unsurprising, considering he chugged the brew like his life depended on it—tinged with that unexpected hint of tangy citrus.
Old West Tropical Goth… my new favorite combo.
After that, I could barely spread my legs fast enough. Snaking a hand under my miniskirt, I whined to discover it was too tight to allow me to comfortably rub one out while my panties were still on.
So off they went!
Tossing the offending material aside, I immediately got to work, knowing it wouldn’t take me long to cross the finish line. It didn’t hurt that I was trespassing while remembering the way Damon had loomed over me, sniffing my goddamn neck, breathing me in like I smelled as good as he did.
I wish he would bite me while he was at it…
Make me bleed.
My horny thoughts drifted into a fantasy of Damon sitting me on the front counter of Sizzling Discourse so he could wrap my legs around his waist and fuck me hard.
The guys I’d dated—all from the Lone Pine side of town—thought they were getting the job done, but more often than not, I was left to finish the job after they were gone in order to actually feel satisfied.
That broody boy could hit it just right…
Or maybe I should be the one to hit it.
With that flip-fucking scenario in mind, it only took a few circles on my aching clit to have me arching my back, gasping Damon’s name so loudly, I wondered if—hoped—they’d hear it up front.
I guess I also like to be creeped on.
By these two specifically…
I’d never been a one-and-done kinda girl, so even while my body shuddered from the aftershocks, I knew I needed more. Peering over the side of Damon’s coffin, I hauled myself up and over to the adjacent one—groaning the instant I hit the matching red satin.
Aside from the heated looks I caught Max giving me when he thought I wasn’t looking, and the occasional flirty comment, he’d kept a professional physical distance between us since I started.
Because of this, I’d only caught occasional whiffs of his cologne, but now, I was so surrounded by his scent, it was a wonder I didn’t evaporate on the spot.
Or immediately soak the satin.
You would have thought Mr. Sunshine in Floral Print would be the one smelling sweet and fruity, but no.
Max’s scent was whiskey and cloves and hot, nasty sex.
Before I knew what I was doing, I’d straddled his pillow and started riding it like the wind—chasing another release while chanting his name like a desperate prayer.
Fucking Max would be a different story. Damon might pretend to be the one in charge, but something told me he obeyed the other man behind closed doors.
Closed… coffin lids…
Max was incredibly supportive and sweet at work, while still holding his own when I teased, so I also assumed those traits bled into the bedroom.
I’d never had the opportunity to be with anyone in the kink scene, but something told me Max mixed pain and pleasure in a way that would fulfill all of my secret desires.
Call me pretty while rearranging my guts, Sir!
I came so hard, I’d half-collapsed against the edge of the coffin and almost cracked open my skull in the process. It took a good few minutes for me to catch my breath again, but when I did, clarity came flooding in like a bucket of ice water.
I do have some shame.
Sometimes.
Horrified over what I’d done, I’d clamored out of the second soiled coffin, hurriedly laced my boots, and hustled the fuck out of there.
Without my panties.
It wasn’t until I got home that I realized I’d forgotten to search for them in or around Damon’s coffin.
By then, I called it a loss all around. There was no way in hell I could return to Sizzling Discourse, not only because of how I’d defiled the guys’ living—undead?
—space, but because Heather had tracked me down.
Maybe I should get a restraining order against her?
Before the guys get one against me…
Firmly back in my present reality, I sighed. No judge was going to take my claims of harassment seriously, especially with Heather’s family being so well-connected. My best bet would be to leave town completely—go live somewhere far enough away that Heather wouldn’t bother following me.
Like, the moon.
My aunt wouldn’t miss me. Yeah, she’d taken me in after my parents died, but only because there’d been no one else.
My basic needs were always met, but that was it, and as soon as I turned 18 a few years ago, she’d switched from family member to landlord.
The money I earned from Bodacious Babes easily covered my rent, but those savings had been slowly disappearing ever since I was forced out of my own business.
Hence, why I needed the job at Sizzling Discourse.
I puffed out another sigh, annoyed at myself for fucking up this job opportunity. All horniness aside, I enjoyed working for Max—I trusted him, which I thought I was incapable of at this point in my life—and Damon clearly had more of a soft spot for me than he’d initially let on.
The feeling was mutual. What I liked most about both of them—besides their overwhelming hotness—was that they were unapologetically themselves. Whether that meant flaunting a love of Hawaiian print in a sea of black or acting like the high lord of emo, they followed their hearts.
And that’s all I was trying to do with Bodacious Babes…
The sniffle that escaped me was unexpected, but once the first teardrop fell, there was no stopping the waterworks. I sank onto the bed and buried my face in my hands—ugly crying with a mix of pent-up rage, self-pity, and maybe a smidge of leftover post-orgasmic drop.
Until someone knocked.
On my window.
My gaze snapped to the sliver of darkness beyond the glass.
I couldn’t see much from where I was sitting, so I rose from the bed and cautiously approached.
It took a full ten seconds for my confused brain to register that Max was outside my window, and another ten to remember my bedroom was on the second floor.
So he’s just floating in mid-air…
Cool.
“Star?” Max’s muffled voice brought me out of my daze as he lightly tapped on the glass again. “Please, open the window.”
My survival instincts were screaming at me to remember all the horror movie lore that specifically stated not to let them in. But something was compelling me to ignore all that nonsense in favor of helpfully sliding open the window for my boss.
Since he’s been nothing but nice to me.
“Hey there.” Max flashed me the easy smile I’d come to know well over the past few weeks. “I just wanted to check on you and…” He squinted before his eyes widened. “Fuck, you’re not wearing any makeup, are you?”
Oh, crap.
Color rushed to my face. If I’d been standing here naked, I wouldn’t have felt more exposed. “N-no, I’m not. I washed it off when I got home because… well, it’s not waterproof and, um…”
This is so embarrassing.
Understanding washed over his handsome face. “Oh, baby, have you been crying?”
Baby…
My entire body melted into a pile of goo at his words, magically lifting all tension from my shoulders.
This man can call me baby all he wants.
While rearranging my guts.
“Oh, you liked that, huh?” Max chuckled low, his brown eyes growing even more hooded with desire. “C’mon, baby. Let me in.”
But he’s not just a man…
“No!” I hissed as my head abruptly cleared, shaking off whatever spell he’d cast over me with his sweet pillow talk and pet names. “What was your plan after I let you in, huh? Drink my blood, then kill me because of what I figured out about you guys?”
That you’re a…
Max’s seductive gaze suddenly snapped to focus in alarm. “Kill you?! What… no, Star. I want you to know what I am—what both Damon and I are—but you don’t need to be afraid of us just because you figured out we’re vampires. We would never hurt you.”
Luckily for him, his claim matched how both men—vampires—had behaved when Heather showed up. Still, I narrowed my eyes, shrewdly appraising the bloodsucker hovering outside my window. “Then why are you here?”
His expression softened. “I told you. I wanted to make sure you were okay. You were obviously upset earlier, and then you left the store so abruptly…”
My cheeks heated as I remembered exactly why I’d run out of Sizzling Discourse like a bat out of hell.
What happens in the coffin, stays in the coffin.
“And you forgot these.”
Oh, no.
I could only watch in horror as Max reached into his Hawaiian shirt pocket and pulled out my balled-up panties.
I’m just going to go find my own coffin now…
“Damon wanted to keep these for himself,” he purred with a wicked glint in his eyes. “Especially since you left them under his pillow. Like a present.”
Just kill me now.
“And speaking of pillows…”
Just bury me six feet under.
“It wasn’t very polite of you to rub that sweet pussy all over mine without offering me a taste.”
I gasped as the pussy in question throbbed. And my knees almost buckled when Max then inhaled as if he could smell me from there.
He probably can.
“A taste?” I managed to squeak.
“Yes, Star.” Max’s gaze pointedly dropped to my lower half. “I want to bury my face between your thighs so you can come on my tongue.” When I simply gaped at him, he grinned—displaying four fangs that only made me throb harder. “I promise, I won’t bite until you ask me to.”
“Don’t you mean unless?” I whispered.
“No, baby,” he chuckled. “Until. Now let me.”