"Hey, honey," I blearily called to my sexy Viking from the table of our Vegas suite, "it says in this magazine that Chuck Norris only takes baths." I was on my second cup of coffee trying to sufficiently caffeinate my brain to get through another night of vampire pomp and circumstance.
"Who is Chuck Norris and why would I care if he bathes?" asked Eric as he swaggered past me to fetch a True Blood from the mini-fridge.
"You know," I said showing him the picture from the blurb, "he was in those prisoner of war movies in the 80's and now he does info-mercials for exercise equipment."
He stared at the picture, apparently trying to jog his memory. He crossed the kitchenette to remove his blood from the microwave when the timer sounded then returned to gaze over my shoulder again. I had already moved onto the next page, an article about Brittany Spears and her latest public fiasco. My Viking had other things in mind.
"Doesn't this Mr. Norris know of the many advantages of showers?" Eric purred in my ear. He tenderly swept my hair to the side and began placing cool kisses at the nape of my neck.
Eric and I had quite the history in the shower: his shower, my shower, our shower, hotel showers, even the shower at Fangtasia had been utilized by us a time or two in the two years that we had been an exclusive couple.
"Eric," I rolled my eyes at him, "I took a shower when I got done screening the crew for the dinner for de Castro today." The humans in the King's employ were expected to keep vampire hours with the exception of when he needed a job done during the day. So today, this human had gotten up at noon after only four hours of sleep and headed to the kitchen, like a good little telepath, to screen the minds of everyone from the catering company. On the plus side, I was able to sample the cuisine. Vampires don't eat, but when they do a party, they do it up right. I had been to enough of these events to know that there would be a wide assortment of provisions for the vampires present also, and I was expected to meet Victor before dinner to screen them as well. When I really stopped to think about it, preparing the vampire's meals really was less labor intensive than for the humans.
"Yes, but then you crawled back into bed with filthy, unshowered me." Eric tugged my chair away from the table, and pulled into a firm embrace against his amazing chest. I don't think I will ever get tired of being pressed against that chest. "Tonight is important for de Castro. I'm quite certain he wouldn't want his prized telepath to show up smelling of a horny Viking."
"Eric, I just want to finish my coffee and read the free magazine." I snorted. "Besides, with all you vamps and your supersonic sense of smell, everyone would know that I had just had sex with the horny Viking."
Eric caressed my ear with a flick of his talented tongue and rubbed circles over my shoulder blades with his thumbs. Despite my best efforts, my body was beginning to respond. "But honey," he cooed in his sweetest voice, "how would it look to all the other vampires if my bonded showed up at a formal affair smelling as though she had NOT had sex with me?"
"Eric," I whined, though I knew I was losing ground. Hell, I didn't even want to gain it back anymore. "I just want my coffee."
At vampire speed he picked up my cup in one hand and grabbed me around the waist with the other arm carrying us to the bathroom. "Let's take this Mr. Morris's suggestion and check out the spa tub."
"It's Mr. Norris."
"Yeah him." He carefully placed my cup on the edge of the tub. Lord bless him, he had learned not to come between me and my coffee. "I think these spa jets may feel rather enjoyable to you if we position ourselves right." He had the water running; a warm cloud of mist was creeping over the room.
"You know, one of these days buddy you're going to have to learn to take no for an answer," I said in my best growl, although I imagine it came out more as a whimper due to the fact that Eric had already removed my nightgown and was suckling at my breast.
He didn't even dignify that comment with a response.
We utilized the time it took the tub to fill to share a round of toe curling kisses. Eric often commented on how much he liked the taste of my morning (or evening as was often the case) coffee. Today he was fully taking in the flavor, and I was freely sharing.
Eric climbed into the massive tub and eased himself against the back before extending his hand to me. I settled myself in between his powerful legs.
The water truly did feel wonderful. I hadn't realized how tense the past few days of working for de Castro had made me. We relaxed in silence for a few minutes before Eric returned to his previous intentions. He began by softly massaging my breasts. My head lulled back against his shoulder, and I let out a gratuitous moan. I could feel his arousal growing against my back as I felt my own build. His right hand journeyed to my center while his left continued to pay close attention to my chest.
"Lean up a little, my Lover," Eric whispered to me.
We shifted so I was now straddling his legs. He let out a groan as I slid onto him. I began to move at a familiar slow pace continuing the extraordinary pleasure that he his hand had started. He shifted slightly beneath me and reached forward to adjust the jets on either side of the tub.
"Oh my!" I gasped as the pulsating water hit the target Eric intended.
I continued the rocking motion, increasing the tempo as the mood dictated. Eric moved his hands to my front to assure that the water jets had adequate access to elicit my release.
"This Mr. Norman must be a brilliant fellow," he teased.
"Ahh!" I thought about correcting Eric on the name again, but at the moment, I couldn't remember his name either. "A genius," I managed to gasp.
I clawed the edges of the tub in near desperation. Eric ran one hand up into my hair and pulled me firmly back against his chest. He turned my head to the side and slid his fangs into my pulsating flesh. If I said it was like nothing I had ever felt before, I would be lying; I am a very lucky woman. With Eric, I felt pleasures like this on a near daily basis, but at the exact moment of climax, each time feels like the best ever. This one was no exception.
We settled back into our pre-copulation seating arrangement and enjoyed the last few moments of tranquility before we had to dress for the gala.
With my hair all in place and my make-up perfected, I wandered back to the kitchenette to finish off my pot of coffee. Gran always taught me not to waste. I flipped the magazine back to the picture of Chuck Norris. It was a still shot from one of his particularly bloody movies.
I let out a snort when I re-read the caption. In my sleep deprived stupor I had failed to realize that I had been reading the humor page. "Chuck Norris does not take showers, he only takes blood baths," the caption read.
"What's so funny?" Eric asked, peering from the bathroom doorway.
"Oh, just a joke from the magazine," I said calmly.
I stood in front of him to straighten his tie.
"Why don't we try to duck out early, so we can subject this bath theory to further testing before we check out," he said as he leaned forward to brush a kiss across my lips.
"I'm game for another spa treatment!" I suppose I really should tell him that it was a joke, but that could wait until we were back home with our ordinary tub.