Must Love Fangs ml-3

by Jessica Sims

  “Sure,” Ryder said, glancing meaningfully back at me.

  I stuck my pinky out, indicating that she should keep her mouth shut. I hadn’t come this far to be undone by my best friend’s concerns.

  • • •

  It was the longest car drive home ever. I took the back roads, terrified to get on the highway, lest I pass out. Luckily, I made it into my apartment. I collapsed on the couch and slept for a few hours, though it wasn’t very restful. I knew it was due to the loss of blood, not to any recovery.

  The worst part was knowing that if my plan was going to work, I’d have to do this again. Repeatedly. I shuddered. I needed to scrub the skin under those cheery Band-Aids and wipe myself clean of his touch.

  This was a nightmare.

  I sat up and rubbed my face, composing myself, and forced myself to look at things rationally. I might only have to put up with Andre for a short period of time. It didn’t sound like he was averse to the thought of turning me. I could use him until I got what I wanted, and then terminate the relationship. Surely vampires broke up every now and then, didn’t they?

  So why did it feel so very awful and mercenary? Andre wanted to use me, too—last night was proof of that.

  My phone rang. I picked it up and stared at Josh’s number, then let it go to voice mail.

  If I talked to him right now, I might give in to self-pity. I might be ashamed of my choice and regret it. And I couldn’t afford that.

  • • •

  I showered and had just changed into a T-shirt and yoga pants when the doorbell rang. I frowned and moved to the door, looking through the peephole. It was Josh, a brown grocery bag in hand.

  “I heard that groan, Marie-Pierre,” he said cheerfully. “You keep forgetting that shifters have great hearing.”

  I felt a nervous, excited little flutter in my belly at the sight of him. Pure hormones, I told myself. I shouldn’t have been excited to see Josh. Not after we’d parted in such an ugly fashion.

  I’d done my best to drive him away, yet here he was, back again. He was determined not to let me shut him out.

  He wasn’t going to let me be alone in this.

  Tears flooded my eyes and I blinked them away quickly, then opened the door. “Hi,” I said warily.

  Josh looked mouthwatering. He’d exchanged his black security T-shirt for a dark blazer over a V-neck shirt, with jeans and a pair of sunglasses. He looked like a male model, so strikingly masculine that he took my breath away. His baseball cap was gone, his thick brown hair neatly combed.

  I felt the oddest urge to drag my fingers through it and mess up that hair. It was too tidy and unruffled to be my Josh.

  “Can I come in?” he asked, holding up the bag of groceries.

  I nodded and moved aside. To my surprise, he leaned in and gave me a light kiss on the mouth, then continued on to the kitchen.

  I shut the door behind him thoughtfully. “Where are you going, all dressed up?”

  “Hot date,” he announced, moving into the kitchen.

  My heart clenched. Criss. I kept my voice light. “Oh?”

  “Yeah,” he said casually, clanging about in my kitchen. “I know this chick who digs French stuff.”

  Out of curiosity, I followed to see what he was doing. And stared as he set up a small FryDaddy on my counter.

  “Well, French-Canadian cuisine,” he amended, and grinned at me.

  All my anxiety went out the door, and I felt like laughing. I went forward, peering over his shoulder as he pulled a bottle of oil out of the grocery bag. “What are you doing?”

  “I am making you poutine,” Josh said. “I’m going to make you some french fries, and then we’re going to slather those tasty things in disgusting cheese curds and brown gravy.”

  I laughed and smacked him on the arm. “It’s not disgusting. It’s delicious.”

  “Says the woman named Marie-Pierre.”

  I chuckled as he prepared the fryer. “This is a lot of work, just to make me some poutine.”

  “I know it is. I had to go to four damn stores to find cheese curds. It’s ridiculous.” As he plugged in the fryer, he stepped away from it and toward me. “The good news is that I get to give you a proper greeting while that’s heating up.”

  He reached for me, his fingers brushing over my tangled hair. He leaned in, that slight, roguish smile tugging at his mouth, then paused at the sight of the two Band-Aids on my neck. Some emotion flickered over his face, as if he was warring with himself. Then he leaned in a bit further and kissed me, ever so lightly, on the nose.

  That was . . . disappointing.

  I frowned as he stepped away. Did he not want to kiss me anymore? Just when I’d had my toes all curled in preparation?

  He moved back to the grocery bag and paused, resting his fists on the counter. His clenched fists, I noticed. Oh. He was furious and trying not to show it. Furious at me, then?

  I bit my lip, suddenly feeling anxious tears spring to my eyes. I didn’t want things to go like this between us. “I’m sorry I was so awful to you yesterday.”

  “You’re scared,” he said to the bag of groceries, not looking in my direction, his shoulders and fists still tense and clenched. “Your natural reaction is to try and push me away. I wanted to show you that you can’t push me out of your life. I want to be here for you.”

  They were good words. Just what I needed to hear. And yet . . . “Then why won’t you look at me?” The words came out soft, aching.

  “I’m . . . struggling with this,” he said, the words rough. “Because I see that bite on your neck and I know it’s exactly what you want, but it makes me an asshole because it makes me furious. I want to put my fist through a wall, and I know I should be congratulating you.”

  Strangely enough, his fury made me feel better. I could safely tell him about the unhappiness and vague discomfort I had about my chosen path. I moved toward him, smoothing my hands over the shoulders of his jacket, admiring the way it hugged his large frame. He’d dressed up for me? A flush of desire crept over me. “You don’t have to congratulate me,” I told him softly. “I didn’t enjoy it.”

  He turned and gave me an agonized look, and the breath sucked out of my throat. His dark eyes were tortured, his face drawn into harsh lines. The circles under his eyes told me that he wasn’t sleeping well, either. “What am I supposed to do, Marie? I want to rip his head off for touching you.” His eyes gleamed, catlike. “Instead, all I can do is sit here and try and support you, because I can’t stop you. If it’s what you need, I want you to get it. I just need to know where that puts me.”

  I reached over and unplugged the fryer. My hand stole under his jacket, slipping around his waist. “It puts you in my arms. That’s exactly where I need you to be. Here. With me. Kissing me. Touching me.”

  His jaw remained clenched. I felt the urge to kiss it and gave in to it, wrapping my other hand around his neck and drawing his face down so I could brush my lips over his unshaven cheek. He was stiff in my embrace, but not pulling away.

  Angry, but wanting to be here with me. Conflicted.

  I knew how that felt.

  “Thank you,” I said softly, and kissed his hard mouth, pressing my body against his.

  He grabbed my ass and pulled me against him, hard. His dark eyes stared into mine. “Don’t thank me just yet. I’m feeling rather territorial,” he rasped, his gaze going to my neck. “Fighting the urge to throw you down and mark the hell out of you to stake my claim.”

  Liquid heat poured through me. Mmm. I stroked my hand up his shirt under the jacket, feeling the play of muscles and feeling the odd need to purr like a kitten. “Then don’t fight it.”

  A low animal growl started in his throat. “Marie.”

  I leaned in and traced my tongue ever so lightly against the tight seam of his lips. My body pulsed with need—need for him, need for the promise in his voice. I brushed my breasts against his chest, my nipples hardening deliciously at the friction. “I’m yours, Josh.”


  For tonight, anyhow.

  His hand went to the back of my neck and he was holding me, pinned, and his mouth swooped over mine. It was a hard, branding kiss. This wasn’t the light, playful flirting we’d done before. This was a claim of territory, of possession, of ownership. It was delicious.

  “You sure you want to say that to me?”

  “Absolutely,” I breathed.

  Chapter Thirteen

  He grabbed me behind the knees, swinging me into his arms as if I weighed nothing. I yelped in surprise and flung my arms around his neck as he swept down the hall to my bedroom.

  Well now, this was more like it.

  Josh carried me to the bed and gently laid me down atop the blankets. “If you don’t want me, Marie,” he began, stripping off his jacket, “you’d better speak up now.”

  I sat up in the bed, my fingers going to his belt. “Oh, I want you. More than anything.”

  His fingers tangled in my hair and he growled with need, the sound shooting desire straight to my core. Blood pulsed, thick and heavy in my veins. I loved that he was so overcome at the thought of me touching him. I loosened his belt, then tugged his pants down, then his briefs. When his cock was free, I wrapped my hands around it and sighed in pleasure.

  “This is my favorite part of you,” I said, teasing.

  He drew his lips back in a half snarl, half grin, pushing at my hands. “Why don’t you show it how much you like it?”

  Desire pulsed through my body. My nipples ached with need, but not nearly as badly as I ached between my legs. I felt the sudden urge to slide my hand between my own legs and play with myself. But that meant I’d have to take my hands off him, and that was the last thing I wanted to do. I wanted my hands all over him. Wanted him kissing me. Touching me.

  I might not have another chance to touch him after tonight. I felt like somewhere out there, an hourglass was slowly losing grain after grain of sand. Who knew how much longer I had? And I was going to let nothing pass me by this night.

  Especially not Josh.

  I wrapped my fingers around his length and gave him a seductive smile, then slowly licked my lips.

  “Mmmhmm.” His eyes were avid as they gazed down at me.

  I licked the head like I would a lollipop. A long, slow lap of my tongue, savoring every moment and drawing it out. At his tortured groan, I began to swirl my tongue around the crown. I wasn’t an expert on blow jobs, but this seemed like common sense. Take him in my hands and mouth. Drive him crazy. Simple enough.

  “Suck it,” he breathed, his hand fisting in my curls. “Suck on me, Marie.”

  An eager flutter in my belly, I ran my tongue along the head again, then took him deeper into my mouth. He pushed his hips even as I took him deeper, and I loved the feeling of him filling my mouth, the feeling of him butting against the back of my throat.

  “Jesus, Marie. Your mouth is amazing.”

  I worked him deeper, then released him to stroke the wet length again. “Do you like that?”

  “Hell, yes. Do you?”

  “Mmm,” I said in response and put my tongue on the head of his cock again. My fingers went to my panties, and sure enough, I was wet with need. “See how much I like it?”

  His eyes glittered and his nostrils flared, as if taking in my scent. “Seems unfair for me to have all the fun,” he said and pulled away.

  I whined in response, only to have him grab me by the waist. He fell onto his back, dragging me down with him. “Undress. Quick.”

  “But—”

  “Just do it,” he said, and playfully bit my arm.

  I yelped, backing away and stripping off my clothing. He ripped off his shirt and kicked away the remainder of his clothing pooled at his feet. I tossed mine onto the floor as well. Then his hot hands were on my waist, dragging me down against him, and Josh’s mouth was on mine, kissing me wildly. I moaned when his tongue stroked into my mouth and thrust against my own. He tasted so good.

  “Take my cock in your mouth, Marie,” he whispered when we broke the kiss.

  That sounded good to me. I slid down his big body and shifted to the side, grasping his cock in my hand and running my lips along it.

  He reached out for my thigh and tugged on it. “Give me your hips, Marie.”

  I looked up from the attention I was lavishing on his cock, dazed. “What do you mean?”

  He gave me a feline grin. “I want your hips. In my face. Come straddle me.”

  A hot blush crept over my cheeks at the mental image. “Josh, I—”

  Then he was grabbing my hips and hauling me bodily over him. I barely had time to get my balance, my knees on either side of his face and me feeling a little ridiculous. My blush was scalding my cheeks.

  “Very pretty,” he said in a husky voice that sent shivers down my spine. I felt him run a finger along the seam. “Spread your legs for me, Marie.”

  But spreading my legs meant that my hips would descend on his waiting face. I felt so open and exposed. So vulnerable. His hands gently held my thighs, encouraging me, and when I hesitated a moment more, he nipped at the inside of a thigh with his sharp teeth. “Open for me, Marie.”

  I sank down, my entire body tense with need and a strange sense of anxiety. My hands clutched at his cock, wrapped around the thick length.

  His tongue stroked through the slick folds of my sex and I jolted, my entire body fluttering. Oh, that was . . .

  He did it again, and I felt the rumble of his purr under my body even as I jolted again. “You taste amazing, Marie. So sweet. I could lick you for hours.”

  I’d probably turn into a helpless pile of mush if he did. I forced myself to concentrate on pleasing him instead, and took the head of his cock again. It was wet with pre-cum, and I licked it clean, pleased when he groaned in response. As I swiped at his cock with my tongue, he continued to lick my sex with long, smooth strokes of his tongue. It made me want to wriggle with ticklishness, but it wasn’t unpleasant. It wasn’t relaxing, either, though.

  Then his tongue speared against my clit. I gasped, only to have my mouth suddenly full of his cock as his hips thrust forward. Distracted, I sucked him deep, working him with my tongue. He continued to flick his tongue against my clit in small, swift licks that made me want to squirm away as much as it made me want to bear down on his face. It felt . . . amazing. I whimpered in response, my mouth full of his cock, and he thrust again, raising his hips.

  “Love the taste of you, Marie,” Josh whispered against my female flesh, nuzzling at me. When his tongue stroked the length of my sex again, I raised my hips, involuntarily following his tongue. He chuckled at my response, and then I felt him thrust his tongue deep into my core even as he thrust into my mouth.

  My senses in overload, I worked the length of his cock with my tongue and my mouth, but the feel of his tongue thrusting deep inside me was distracting me beyond my limits, and my movements were jerky and abrupt. Josh didn’t seem to mind—when I stopped working, he would thrust his hips up a little, pushing into my mouth again, and I would start anew, sucking and licking at him. The torture of his mouth was incredibly distracting, making my entire body drawn and tense with need.

  I felt his hand lift from one of my thighs, and as his tongue speared deep again, I felt his thumb graze my clit, rolling it against the pad of his finger. Oh, my God. That was . . . I rocked my hips against his face, hard, no longer caring about being shy. His purr grew louder, and I could feel it in his tongue as he stroked it inside my sex, the faintest hint of vibration deep in his throat. Stroke, vibration, thumb on my clit. Stroke, purr, thumb on my clit. I was lost in that chain, barely realizing that I wasn’t fulfilling my end of things and only licking wildly at his cock. All of my attention was on his mouth on my sex.

  His thumb rubbed my clit hard, just as he stroked his tongue deep again. I gave a sharp little cry and came, the orgasm ripping through me with startling intensity. He murmured something that sounded like praise, his thumb still rubbing my clit, drawing
out the crashing waves of the orgasm as I writhed over his face, lost in need.

  When he stopped, I gasped for breath, only to find him sliding out from under me. His hands grabbed my hips, his movements almost rough, and hauled them into the air, my cheek pressed to the bed as I lay on my stomach. I felt him raise up behind me, felt the hard probe of his cock against my sex.

  He thrust in a finger, and I bucked my hips. It felt tight but so good. He hissed in response. “So wet.” He pushed again, and it felt . . . thicker. Two fingers. Then he scissored his fingers inside me, and I gasped at the sensation. “Are you ready, Marie?”

  I nodded, feeling tension building in my body all over again. I wanted another orgasm; needed more from him.

  He gripped my hips and I felt him nudge at my entrance—and this time he pushed in, and it was big and hot. I bit my lip as he pushed in, inch by inch. It felt deep and thick, and like he was stretching me. Delicious and full and intense.

  When he stopped moving, he stroked my buttock and thigh. “Am I hurting you?”

  I gave a tentative wiggle, more of a tease than anything. I felt his big body over mine, his knees up against my spread ones. His cock was buried deep inside me. “It feels amazing.”

  “Good,” Josh gritted, and then he thrust.

  I gasped again. That was . . . incredible. “Keep going!”

  He pushed deep and began to slowly stroke into me with quick, hard thrusts. His hips pistoned his cock into me, stroking over and over. The surge deep inside me made the tingle inside me build again, and I rocked my hips back against his next thrust, needing more force, more friction, more everything.

  He groaned, his fingers digging into my backside as his thrusts became harder, rougher, less controlled. “You’re mine,” he growled, and punctuated each word with a hard drive into me. “Say it, Marie.”

  “Yours,” I breathed, and was rewarded with another hard stroke. His touch was branding me. Owning me. And right now, I wanted to be owned. More than anything else, I wanted to be his. “All yours.”

  Josh gave a feral snarl and his fingers dug into my hips. Claws pricked at my skin and I gasped at the bite of pain.