A beautiful face flashed in his mind. Delilah. He could pretend it was Delilah.
Right, that was the plan.
Perfect plan.
The stripper wouldn’t object. After all, it was what she was paid for. She’d do whatever he wanted her to do.
Excellent.
There was only one problem with his brilliant plan.
His cock had gone completely limp.
Dead.
Absolutely fucking dead!
Not a single blood cell rushing to it to rouse him, not a one.
Shriveled up like a prune.
What the hell was going on? It had been working fine only a few minutes ago, and now, with a naked woman waiting to be fucked, he couldn’t get it up!
Not even an inch, not half an inch.
No movement whatsoever.
“What are you waiting for, big boy?” she teased him and batted her mascara-crusted eyelashes at him.
Samson glared at her. Was she mocking him?
She took two steps toward him and placed her hand over the zipper of his pants.
“Oh.” She let out a disappointed sigh.
With lightning speed, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand off him. He pushed her away from him with his next breath.
“Fuck!”
The guys downstairs toasted each other when they heard Samson’s voice from upstairs. In the old Victorian voices carried well.
“Now, that’s either been one hell of an orgasm,” Ricky began.
“Fucking hell!” Samson’s voice came from above.
A few choice expletives followed. The guys looked at each other.
“Or none at all,” Amaury mused.
They raised their heads toward the ceiling to listen for more, when they heard heavy footsteps on the stairs.
“None at all,” Thomas confirmed.
“Oh bugger.” That was Milo. “Poor sod!”
Samson had already stormed into the kitchen and overheard Milo’s comment. He was fuming and ready to kill somebody. Thomas protectively stepped in front of Milo.
“Fuck!” With the power of a sledgehammer Samson slammed his fist onto the counter, cracking the granite countertop. It split into several pieces.
His eyes glared red, and his fangs were extended. He could barely control his anger.
“Amaury, get him some blood, now,” Ricky ordered calmly, though he didn’t take his eyes off of Samson.
“I’m already on it.” Amaury handed Samson a glass with the lukewarm red liquid.
“Here you go, Samson, take a drink. You need it.”
Samson snatched the glass out of Amaury’s hand and gulped it down in one go, then glared at Ricky.
“You’d better make it clear to that stripper that if she breathes one word about this to anybody, I’ll snap her pretty little neck in half. Is that understood?”
The feral look in his eyes confirmed that he meant it.
Ricky nodded. “We’d better be leaving. Guys!” He waved them out of the kitchen.
Samson could hear them in the hallway as the stripper came down the stairs.
“But he had a hard-on when that woman was here. I saw it. In fact, it was hard to miss,” Thomas whispered loud enough for Samson’s sensitive hearing to pick it up.
“I guess it would have worked with her. Shame she’s a mortal,” Amaury whispered back. Then his tone changed. “Hey honey, since we’ve hired you for the entire night, how about you come back with me. I have something you could squeeze in between those big tits …”
A giggle was the stripper’s reply.
Seconds later they were gone. The place was quiet again. Too quiet.
Amaury was right. It would have worked with her. Samson was positive. So why couldn’t he get it up with the stripper? She had a good body, she was willing.
But she wasn’t Delilah. She didn’t have her scent or her beauty. Damn, her lips had been so delicious, and that timid tongue he’d finally coaxed out of her. Heaven. What a kiss, and what a pliable little body with just the right curves. He knew it hadn’t been one-sided. He’d sensed her arousal. And then, when he’d come down the stairs bringing her dry clothes, her eyes had examined every inch of his body, and she’d liked what she’d seen. In fact, she’d licked her lips even though he was sure she hadn’t noticed she was doing it. In her eyes he’d seen heat.
Fuck, he wanted her. Whatever it took, he had to have her.
Samson dialed a number. The call was answered immediately.
“Dr. Drake’s office. How may I help you?” Barbie doll purred like a kitten.
“Samson Woodford. I need to see Dr. Drake.”
“We’re fully booked tonight. How about tomorrow at 1 &A.M&?” she offered, her voice much cooler now. He’d never shown her any interest in all the times he’d visited the practice, and she’d finally given up wasting her charms on him. Just as well. Samson couldn’t stand her or her sugary smile.
“I think you can do better than that. Considering the outrageous fee your office charges me, I don’t care who you have to cancel.” This was a true emergency.
“One moment.” There was a click on the line and a short silence before she came back. “He can see you in half an hour.”
“Thought so.”
Samson hung up, snatched his coat off the rack and headed for the door. He could walk to Pacific Heights. The night air would clear his head. He sure needed it.
He stalked through the night, his collar turned up, his hands buried deep in his coat pockets. The rain had eased. The streets were still busy with humans. He ignored them. After midnight the streets generally became more deserted, and more vamps would be out. But it was still too early for that.
Samson didn’t understand why this human woman had affected him the way she had. True, she had a nice body and she was pretty, but he was used to beautiful women. As one of the most eligible bachelors in the city, he always had his pick of the cream of the crop.
He’d dated lots of beautiful women. Maybe “dated” wasn’t the right word—he’d had sex with lots of beautiful women pretty much whenever he felt like it. There was always a steady supply of willing females, all vampires of course, to satisfy his carnal desires in the hope that maybe he’d pick one of them as his mate.
But then he’d picked one, and all his troubles had started.
Samson always supported some of the local charities and went to two or three charity balls a year. At one such ball he’d spotted a new woman in town. He’d heard her name mentioned before, but he hadn’t yet seen her or been introduced to her. The moment he’d seen the tall redhead amongst the crowd, he’d fallen head over heels—in lust.
Rumor had it that Ilona Hampstead had come from a large coven in Chicago and was very well connected in the vampire world. She was the quintessential socialite and had decided to make San Francisco her home.
She played hard to get, and Samson’s hunting instincts took over instantly. It took him more than a month to get her into bed. During that time he’d continued fucking every available vampire female to get over his frustration. But finally he had his trophy and wasn’t shy about showing her off at every society event. She could be seen on his arm whenever he was out on the town.
The society pages were full with pictures, showing them at event after event. Contrary to common belief, vampires did show up in pictures. In fact, many were rather photogenic.
Despite his need for privacy, Samson enjoyed the attention and admiration of his fellow vampires for landing a beauty like her. While she was what he would call a high-maintenance woman, she did have her charms. She expected exclusivity, and he hadn’t objected.