Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter Colletion_ Books 11-15 - Laurell K. Hamilton [350]
“You know it’s rare for a woman to be able to do that.”
I had the drawer open and the moist towelettes in hand. “What’s rare?”
“You’re a rainmaker.” He was kneeling on the other side of the desk, with his arms on the desktop and his chin resting on them. It was a strangely childlike gesture, and it did nothing to make me feel better.
“The only definition I know for that term is a lawyer who brings in big bucks for their law firm. I’m assuming that rainmaker has a meaning that I don’t know.” I made sure my unhappiness about the whole topic showed in my voice. I was uncomfortable enough just cleaning myself up. I was wet down to my knees and beyond. Jesus, what a mess.
“It’s a term for a woman who can ejaculate.”
I took in a lot of air and let it out slowly. “Can we not talk about this?”
“Why are you mad?”
That was a fair question. Why was I mad? I had to think about it to be honest even with myself. I got the spare T-shirt from the bottom drawer and dried off with it. So much for extra clothes. I slipped my underwear back on, and felt better. I always felt better dressed. Why was I mad?
I sat down in my chair, getting out the spare hose that I also kept in a drawer. I went through a lot of hose in my line of work. They just weren’t meant to be worn to animal sacrifices, bad guy chases, or vampire slayings. Nope, nylons were just not made for my lifestyle. I started unzipping my boots so I could take off the hose we’d shredded struggling on the carpet.
“Why am I mad?” I said, almost to myself. My fingertips hurt, a sharp immediate pain as the last of the endorphins left. I’d torn off half my nails down to bloody quick. Once I saw the blood it hurt worse. Why did it always hurt worse when you saw the blood?
He stood up and zipped himself back into the dress slacks. There were stains on the legs of the trousers that weren’t going to be fixed by baby wipes and a T-shirt. I didn’t have extra clothes for Nathaniel. “Yes,” he said, when he got himself safely inside, still hard, still thick, still ready. “Why are you mad?”
“You didn’t go,” I said, and started peeling off the hose. It gave me something useful to do instead of meet his eyes.
“You’re mad because I didn’t go?”
“I’m mad because if you’d gone we’d have that barrier crossed, and now we don’t.”
“And?” he said.
I sighed. “And, if we’d crossed it, it would be easier to cross it again. But doing it this way, makes it more . . .”
“Important,” he said.
I nodded. “Yes.”
He came around the desk and went to his knees at my feet. “I want it to be important to you, Anita. I don’t just want to be someone you take because you have to take someone, anyone. I want you to want me.”
“You said that before.”
He touched my hands where they held the new hose, and he moved them gently out of my hands and laid them on the desk. He took both my hands in his, and there was such a serious look in his eyes that I was afraid. Afraid of what he’d say. “You loved me before today. You loved me without sex. No one’s ever loved me, or even wanted me, without fucking me first. No one since my mother died and . . . Nicholas . . .” He bowed his head for a second, and I squeezed his hands. I’d seen that memory, and I didn’t want him thinking about it. So horrible, and he’d been so little. I wanted to protect him from things like that. I wanted to keep him safe.
He smiled up at me. “Gabriel and Raina taught me that I could be worth something, but that worth was all about my body, the way I looked, and how good I could fuck.” He squeezed my hands tighter. “You taught me that I was worth more than just fucking. You taught me that I was worth more than just being used.”
I started to say something, but he put his fingertips against my lips. “I know what you’re going to say. You think you use me with