Maslow's Needs by Sheri Gilmore

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Detective Jessi Tanner searches for a killer while fighting her addiction to the psychic-sexual desires of Drayden Maslow, a Sanguinarian vampire, who knows more about the killer than he's telling.

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Shit! Nolan hadn't attacked her. Drayden looked at her bandaged hands, then back at the cuts and scratches on her face. He frowned. If his brother hadn't done this to her, who had?

She watched him with a narrowed gaze, and he knew he'd given too much away. When she eased away from him to stand, he registered the loss of her warmth. His lips tightened. He couldn't afford to get involved in a sexual relationship with a woman right now, especially this one. He shifted his hips to release some of the tension in the crotch of his jeans, but the second she turned away from him he caught a glimpse of her ass.

She still wore the black jeans she'd been wearing at the club. In the dim light he hadn't been able to make a good appraisal, but had known she looked good. He'd seen the way the other men had watched her, like a pack of wolves. He snorted. Some of them were! His club serviced not only the vampire community, but otherkin also. All goth peoples were welcome, as long as everyone followed the rules--the main one being, Don't munch on the cowans without an invitation.

Her hips swayed, and his mouth went dry. The denim fit her skin like a glove. She had one of those pear-shaped asses a guy just wanted to--

She turned; he glanced up. Her hands went to her hips.

Drayden smiled, knowing he couldn't deny he'd been staring at her ... assets. He shrugged. "What can I say? I'm human."

"Are you?"

Tension filled the space between them. Their eyes clashed.

He could see desire and wariness in hers. "I'm as human as you."

"You're not ... vampire?" Her head cocked in an angle of challenge.

"Yes." He nodded and stood, slowly. He could see hermuscles tense in preparation for defense. He wanted to ease her suspicions. He would give her as much information as he could. "But I'm human, and I'm also witch."

Her eyebrow shot up. "Like Konstantinos?"

His jaw clenched at the mention of the man who had been her escort that night. He'd seen the other witch in action before with other women--goth women, who knew the score. Drayden felt a rush of resentment that she would compare him with the writer-musician. "I am not like Konstantinos."

Her eyebrows drew down. "Then you're a different kind of witch?" She looked at him, and he saw the confusion in her eyes. "I-I didn't realize there were different kinds--"

Her confusion had allowed him to move closer. One more step and he stood directly in front of her. His fingers found her chin, but he made sure he didn't touch the cut he had cleaned. He lifted her face to his.

Her pupils dilated with surprise.

"There are different kinds of everything in this world, just like there are in yours. What I meant was that I don't sleep around with a different woman every night."

She pulled away from his touch. Her lips compressed into a thin line. "You said that earlier, and I told you it wasn't your concern."

"He's gone and left you here alone."

"So?"

He smiled and stepped in closer. "So, you must not be the flavor he wants at the moment."

She tried to shove past him, but he exerted his strength and didn't move. He caught her upper arms and pushed her back against the wall. Her strength amazed him. Even with her wounds, he had to tighten his muscles and dig his boots into the carpet to prevent her from breaking his hold.

After a few seconds, she relaxed and his weight fell into her. The gush of her scent as their bodies met assailed his nostrils. Once again his cock hardened. This time he didn't stop her from knowing he was aroused. The way they stood, he knew she could feel the outline of him against her abdomen. He pressed closer.

She jerked back, but couldn't go anywhere. Her head hit the wall.

"How long have you two been together?"

"A week."

"Has he fucked you?" The flame of jealousy he'd experienced earlier at the thought of them together returned.

Her entire body stiffened. He watched her skin flame from the neck of her shirt to the top of her forehead. He heard her words, angry and tense, scrape through clenched teeth.

"That's ... none ... of your ... damned ... business."

He smiled at the sound of her southern drawl, especially on the word damned. The accent might be slow, but the effect on his libido had him craving to hear her say a few more naughty words for him ... in bed. "Oh, but it is."

"Yeah?" She shoved him. "How do you figure?"

He caught her wrists below the bandages and forced her arms above her head. The sweater she wore rode up to reveal the smooth texture of her skin.

With a groan, he caught both wrists in one hand. His free hand moved to caress her beneath her rib cage. Her breath hissed in his ear. Her hips bucked, but he pressed closer, holding her in place. "I don't steal other men's women."

She stilled at that and raised her head. Their gazes met, once again, and locked. He circled his fingers, letting his fingernails brush the sensitive nerves lying just below the surface, one by one across the flat line of her belly. A surge of power engulfed him at the sight of her throat convulsing on a swallow.

"Are you one of his women?" His hand had lined up directly over her navel. He curled the tips of his fingers and his nails scraped her skin, harder, tugging lightly on a navel ring. He paused in surprise and delight. The detective had a wild streak. His fingers twitched. A tremor passed through her body.

"He has so many, what difference would it make if I am?"

He dipped his head to nibble the sensitive area behind her ear. He nipped her earlobe. With the tip of his tongue, he circled the rim of her ear, then let his breath fan the dampened area with a whisper. "I don't like to share."

She bucked her hips again, and he had to tighten his grip on her wrists. The flat of his palm pressed into her abdomen with the ends of his fingers submerged below the waistband of her low-cut jeans. He could feel the coarse hair of her pussy against his fingertips.

"Are you, Jessi?" He flicked his tongue along her jaw.

She groaned. "N-No!"

"Good." He dipped his head and took her mouth with his at the same time he slid his hand deeper into the crotch of her jeans to cup her mound. Warm, wet heat spread beneath his fingers, but he didn't try to enter her. Without the proper precautions, his nails could hurt her. For now, he'd let her move against the pressure of his hand to bring her release.

His tongue slid against and around hers. He sucked her bottom lip, bit her top one. And the entire time, she gave as good as she got. Her little moans and whimpers shimmered down his spine, making him want to sink his cock into her, deep and hard. The hum in his ears intensified, but he ignored the sound he knew indicated a psychic link. He'd felt the connection with her before. She had a highly developed system that she seemed unaware of.

Just a little more, then I'll stop before it gets too far out of hand.

Jessi curled her bandaged fingers around his hand, wanting to yank the loose layers of his poet's shirt and pull him closer. She opened her mouth to take more of his teasing mouth, feeling the cold swirl of his tongue-ring. She shuddered.

God, to feel that on my clit! She squirmed her hips against his hand, needing him to put his fingers deep inside her pussy. The pressure of his finger on her clit hardened, but he refused to go further.

She broke the suction of their kiss, and had to evade his lips that searched and demanded her return. She shook her head. "P-Put your finger in."