Page 77 of Zomromcom

“Bites alone wouldn’t make you orgasm like that, human.” Benevolent superiority saturated every smug word. “Trust me.”

Okay, he sounded entirely too satisfied with himself. “I assume you used other vampire sex tricks or your Supernatural powers, then.”

“No tricks or powers necessary,” he told her breezily. “Unless you consider my incredible stamina, my total dedication to your pleasure, and my vast quantity of natural fucking-related talent to betricks. And while I am, obviously, a creature of great and ineffable power, I didn’t require its usage to make you come like a godsdamn freight train. Five times.”

Oh good. He’d missed one of them.

“No, wait.” At which point, the jerkface made a big production of counting it out. “Three times with my mouth and hands, then four…five…six. Six times in total. A full half dozen.”

He let her go and edged back a few inches, all so she could more clearly see his smirk and watch him hold up one hand, palm out, along with his other thumb.

“Six,” he emphasized.

In response, she held up one finger. A single, very expressive finger. And when his obnoxious beam only became brighter and cockier, she realized her mistake.

“Oh, darling,” he said condescendingly. “You already did.”

She feigned a heavy sigh. “I knew you’d rub this in.”

He mimed fingering her. “And so I did. Quite spectacularly.”

“Dammit, Chad.”

This time, when she laughed, he laughed too.

19

Far too early the next morning, Edie and Max showered, donned fresh clothing, and discussed anything other than what awaited them that day.

“Chad thinks a clitoris is related to a rhinoceros,” she said as she checked her knives, sheathed them, and tucked them away. “Or maybe a hippopotamus. Every time he hears that old song, he wants one for Christmas.”

Max snorted. “No, he thinks they’re fictional. Like unicorns, or remunerative work.”

“He thinks a clitoris is a new hybrid car model.” She filled a fluted wineglass with tap water. “And he’s not a fan of models found outside the pages ofSports Illustrated’s annual Swimsuit Issue.”

“Because a clitoris has a hood, he thinks it’s shy and he shouldn’t bother it.” When she choked on her water, he rubbed her back until she could talk again.

Clearing her throat, she pretended to push a button repeatedly. “The first time a hookup pointed out her clitoris, he kept booping it and waiting for candy to emerge from her vagina.”

That did the trick. The tension darkening Max’s irises and stiffening his frame abruptly disappeared as he began laughing.

“God, Edie.” His chin dipped to his chest, and his shoulders quaked. “You win.”

“What’s that?” She cupped a hand around her ear. “What did you say? I couldn’t quite hear you. Please say it again, much more loudly.”

Raising his head and a cocky brow, he held up six fingers again, like he’d been doing all morning. Only this time she actually believed that annoyingly supercilious smile.

“I faked it,” she told him. “Every time. Mentally, I was compiling a grocery list.”

His grin broadened. “Unless your grocery list makes you squirt, I think not.”

“So crude.” She rubbed her hands over her face so he couldn’t see her snicker. “You’d think someone your age would have more class. That age being…what?”

Silence.

“Was Pangaea still a thing? Or had the continents drifted apart already?”

When she uncovered her face, he was shaking his head at her. Still grinning. And gods, she hated to return their attention to more serious matters, but time was slipping through their fingers. They didn’t have much left, not if they wanted to leave at dawn.