Fangs But No Fangs yb-2

by Kathy Love

  Her hands explored the hard muscles of his back and his shoulders, wanting to touch all of him. She pulled at his jacket, trying to get the garment out of the way so she could get closer to his skin, only to encounter the crisp warm cotton of his shirt underneath.

  She groaned in frustration against his mouth. In return, she felt him smile.

  “Can… I… help… you?” he asked between kisses down her jawline and neck.

  She let her head fall back, lost for a moment in the feeling of his velvety lips brushing over her sensitive skin. But she wanted too desperately to touch him not to refocus on her task.

  “Yes,” she murmured. “Lose the shirt and jacket.”

  He lifted his head and grinned at her. Then he shrugged out of the jacket, letting it fall to the floor. His hands loosened the red tie, pulling it off over his head only to loop it around hers. She grinned, straightening it against her top. Then his fingers went to the buttons of his shirt, and her smile faded, replaced by pure admiration as with each flick a little more golden skin appeared. He peeled the shirt off, too. It landed on the jacket.

  She drank in the sight of him, his broad shoulders and chest corded with lean muscles, narrowing down to a rock-hard abdomen. Tentatively she touched his shoulder, feeling the heat of his skin and sinew underneath. Her fingers stroked down over his chest, lower to his stomach, unhurriedly exploring him. His muscles rippled under her fingers, holding her captivated.

  Slowly, her hand still discovering him, she circled him. Tracing the muscles that defined his ribs, around to his back, caressing the indentation of his spine, up to his broad, powerfully muscled shoulders.

  “You are beautiful,” she whispered, lost in the textures of his body. She pressed an openmouthed kiss to his shoulder blade, feeling him tense under the touch.

  She paused, afraid that she’d done something he didn’t like, or worse, something that reminded him of Lilah.

  “Don’t stop,” he told her, his voice low.

  She smiled and began to kiss the length of his spine, resisting the urge to nibble him, just in case it brought back unwanted reminders of Lilah. She slipped her hands around his waist, stroking the rise and fall of the muscles that lined his belly. Her fingers brushed the waistband of his pants, then downward. She pressed her cheek to his back, stretching an arm down to cup her hand over the hardness under his zipper.

  “Oh,” she breathed, feeling the hard, full length of him against her palm. Her breath caught then. He was huge!

  He growled low in his throat, then revolved to face her. He caught his tie, still around her neck, and slowly walked backward, tugging her with him.

  “Where— where are we going?” she managed, still far too amazed and aroused by his incredible body to think straight.

  “I need you in a bed. Now.” He led her down the dark hallway.

  She nodded adamantly, even though he couldn’t see her.

  Once in her small room, he flipped on the light and then kissed her, the pressure of his lips insistent, a little wild. She responded in kind, so on fire she was surprised her clothing wasn’t singed.

  But she didn’t get too long to be surprised. Christian ended the kiss, only to tug her top off over her head. Quickly followed by her skirt, which dropped down around her ankles. She stepped out of it and reached for the button of Christian’s pants. But he caught her wrists, spreading her arms wide, his eyes roaming down her body slowly, admiration in his pale eyes.

  Her body reacted as if he were touching her. Her nipples strained against her black bra. Need moistened her already damp panties. She shivered, desire making her nerve endings go haywire.

  “I’ve never seen anyone as beautiful as you,” he murmured.

  She didn’t know if that was true or not, but she was pretty sure he’d probably never been with a woman in black underwear wearing a red tie and pink flip-flops. She probably looked rather silly, but she felt beautiful under his intense gaze. She wanted to be his.

  “Touch me,” she pleaded.

  He released her arms; his large, perfectly formed hands slid up her sides to pull her against him. He kissed her on the lips, then on the neck, slipping the tie up over her head and casting it aside. His lips found a sensitive spot right at the base of her throat. She whimpered as yearning seemed to shoot directly from that point to between her thighs. God, she wanted this man.

  He continued down across her chest to the swell of her breasts above the top of her bra. His lips caressed the pale skin, while his hands shaped the curve of her bottom, pulling her hips tight to his.

  The thick hardness of his erection pressed to her mound, and she cried out. She was almost frantic to have all of that delicious length deep inside her.

  “Christian, you’re killing me!” She squirmed in his arms, trying to get free to lead him to the bed, but he didn’t let go.

  He smiled, a slow, sexy smile. “That isn’t my intent.”

  She felt his hands working at her back, and her bra sprang free. He nudged the scrap of cotton out of the way and took one of her nipples into his mouth. She cried out as he sucked on the sensitive flesh, abrading it gently with the edge of his teeth.

  “Yes, it is,” she said almost petulantly. “Death by desire.”

  His lips stilled on her nipple, but before she could ask him what was wrong, he changed breasts, lavishing her with little nips and sucks. She moaned, any other coherent thought gone.

  She couldn’t take much more of this torture. She needed him inside her. Deep.

  “Christian, please,” she pleaded, rubbing him again.

  “Please what?” he asked against her breast, ending the question with a flick of his tongue against her aching nipple. Her knees threatened to buckle, but he held her weight easily.

  “Please make love to me.”

  “Patience. It’s been a long time. And I want to take my time. I want to enjoy every inch of you.” As if to prove it, he moved back to the other nipple.

  Briefly, she wondered how long it had been for him, but she couldn’t concentrate on anything other than his lips at her breast. She gasped, her hips automatically grinding against him.

  After several more suckling nibbles, his mouth left her breast to burn a trail of wet, lingering kisses on her stomach. His tongue delved into her belly button, and she wiggled at the ticklish and erotic sensation.

  He smiled up at her indulgently, then caught her hips, holding them immobile. His lips brushed the edge of her panties, his tongue tracing the edge from the top of her thigh to where the thin strip of material disappeared between her legs.

  He released her hips and slid the material down her hips, over her thighs to her ankles. She balanced herself on his shoulders as he lifted each of her feet to cast the flip-flops and then panties aside. He remained kneeling as he looked up at her. She panted at the sight of him, his eyes blazing like blue fire, his perfectly sculpted mouth just inches from the curls at the apex of her thighs. The image was so exciting, so erotic that she whimpered. Her whole body hummed with eager heat.

  He smiled at her reaction, leaning forward to slowly place a kiss to her curls, never breaking eye contact with her. She gasped, again her legs shaking. He stood then, scooping her easily to his bare chest. He placed her in the center of the bed. He didn’t follow her. Instead he remained at the edge, his hands going to the button on his pants.

  She watched with fascination as he flicked the button free, then pushed down the zipper. He shoved the waistband past his narrow hips, letting the pants drop to the floor. Her eyes dropped to the part of his body that she’d only felt, but never seen. His penis rose up, magnificently thick and long, from a nest of dark gold curls.

  She sat up, wanting to hold him, to feel his width and heat in her hands. To explore him. He crawled on the bed before she could reach for him. Then he moved over her, his mouth finding hers, the weight of his body pressing on hers, wonderfully hard and powerful, his skin smooth like golden velvet over tempered steel. She gave herself over t
o his touch, gasping as he started down her body, raining dozens of nibbling kisses over her.

  “This is agony,” she said, wiggling under him, her body burning up. Burning for him and for release.

  “No, this is ecstasy.”

  He was right. Who knew they could be one in the same? Who knew she could want a man so badly her body threatened to ignite?

  His lips brushed the curls between her thighs. Her hips rose at the slight touch. He smiled up at her, his grin sinfully sexy.

  “I wonder what you taste like? All hot and sweet like warmed honey?”

  He trailed a finger down the slit of her sex, just a teasing graze of his fingertip.

  “Maybe I shouldn’t taste you, though, since this is agony.”

  She glared at him as best she could, although it was hard to concentrate on the action as his finger made another grazing pass. Then he spread her legs apart and situated himself fully between them. With his thumbs he spread the folds of her sex, looking at her, his eyes hungry.

  She dug her hands into the comforter, another broken whimper escaping her parted lips.

  “You do look luscious.”

  He was evil. Deliciously, wonderfully evil.

  “Maybe just a little taste.” He looked up at her, then brought his mouth to her, licking his tongue along the full length of her labia. Again he didn’t break eye contact; he watched her reaction, making it all the more intense.

  She lifted her hips, crying out, the comforter knotted in her clenched fists. His tongue found her clitoris, swirling around and around the small nub, in tight, raspy little circles, only leaving to dip deeper into her.

  His mouth was ecstasy, his lips, his tongue making love to her, his blond head moving between her spread thighs. And all the time he watched her as if every nuance of her arousal was important to him. It was the most thrilling, most mind-bogglingly erotic thing she’d ever experienced.

  His tongue began to speed up, moving in rapid, steady flicks, building the fire inside her, until she tensed under him. Her orgasm burst through her like fire touched to the head of a match, sizzling alive, hot and fast.

  Jolee cried out, and Christian felt her convulse under his mouth. Sweetness washed over his tongue, her release tasting like honey, just as he knew it would. The small noises she made. The quiver of her body. Her sweet taste and spicy scent all fired his own arousal, but he didn’t leave her. He lapped her, savoring her taste and the gradually slowing ripples of her orgasm until her body calmed, and she sprawled limply on the bed. He kissed her damp curls, then slid up beside her.

  She smiled at him, the slow curl of her lips languid and satisfied. “Holy cow.”

  He smiled back. “Is that good?”

  “Mmm-hmm.” She curled against him like a content cat.

  Then he tensed, waiting.

  She lifted her head. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m waiting for something or someone to ruin this moment.”

  She frowned, then laughed. “I think we broke the curse.”

  He paused, slightly wondering if her words were really true, and not about their previously interrupted escapades. He still hadn’t felt the hunger. Only his arousal. How could that be?

  She snuggled against him and he suddenly didn’t much care. He was too filled with smug pride, and also just a hint of surprise at how easily he was remembering where and how to touch a woman. He hadn’t done this in nearly two hundred years. He wondered now how he’d believed human mating was base and distasteful. Touching Jolee, hearing her pleasured sounds and feeling her body react, was anything but distasteful. It was absolutely awe-inspiring. He loved every reaction she gave him, reveling in it. Of course, with Jolee there was something just naturally right, something innate about being with her. He simply knew how to touch her. How to please her.

  He wanted to continue making love to her, to hear those delightful little noises she made, but he restrained himself, letting her relax after her intense release. Lazily, he ran his hand up and down her narrow back. He loved the feeling of her silky skin against his. He was content just to touch her. Content. He liked that word. He liked the feeling even more.

  Desire still pulsed throughout his body, but his own gratification didn’t matter at this moment. His mental contentment was as gratifying and had been out of his reach for… forever. He nuzzled his cheek against the top of her head, smelling the fresh herbal scent of her hair.

  “I love the feeling of your body against mine,” she sighed, running a leg up the length of his.

  Arousal shot through him at the delicious friction.

  “I love your body, period,” he murmured, his hand gliding down to explore the soft roundness of her bottom. He felt her smile against his chest.

  “What did you mean when you said you haven’t done this in a long time?” she asked.

  He lifted his head slightly to look at her, although from his angle he could only see the top of her head and her dark auburn hair cascading across his chest. He considered what to tell her. He could hardly tell her the truth. He couldn’t even recall the last female mortal he’d been with. Probably some lightskirt he picked up in White Chapel. The exchange of a few silver pieces, a quick tumble in his carriage, then she was back to the street for another man with too much money and too much drink to take his turn. Perhaps that was why it had been so easy for Lilah to convince him that mortal sex was so vile. He hadn’t had many truly beautiful moments. But that had been his choices, not the act itself.

  He stroked his hand back up Jolee’s spine. If he’d found Jolee first would he have even been tempted by Lilah? He didn’t think so. Even with her vampire powers, Lilah couldn’t compare to this slender mortal curled around him.

  God, why couldn’t he have found Jolee first? Rhys flashed into his mind. His face anguished, unbearable pain darkening his eyes. And rage. Rage at Christian for what he’d done. Done to Jane. His mortal. His love.

  Jolee lifted her head to look at him, concern in her dark eyes. “Are you all right?”

  He didn’t deserve her concern. She wouldn’t give it if she knew the truth. Then she touched her slender fingers to his cheek and smiled, and damn him, he couldn’t end this need for her. Even though he didn’t deserve one moment of this kind of heaven. He pulled her up so he could taste the lushness and warmth of that smile.

  When they parted, Jolee regarded him with solemn eyes. “I haven’t been with a man in over two years. I want you to know that I don’t just go to bed with men on a whim. You… you are special.”

  He smiled, running his fingers along her cheekbone. “I haven’t been with a woman longer than that.” Much longer.

  “Really?” Her eyes widened. “But when did you leave Lilah?”

  “About six months ago.”

  She frowned. “You didn’t… with Lilah?”

  He shook his head. “She didn’t like to have conventional sex.”

  Her frown deepened, the puzzled look in her eyes almost comical. “What did she like?” Then she blushed. “I shouldn’t have asked that.”

  Her words were his out; he could just not talk about it. But he needed to. He wanted her to understand that the gentle warmth, her uninhibited response, her affection, it was all so special to him, too.

  “She preferred violence, as I said. The only gentleness she showed was to manipulate. She was very good at manipulation and control. She enjoyed finding her own release through that violence. My gratification was only to be derived from satisfying her.”

  “Was it?”

  “Not often.”

  “You poor thing,” she murmured, pressing a lingering kiss to his jaw. “But it seems to me I’m not doing much better. I haven’t hurt you, but I haven’t satisfied you either.”

  His cock throbbed at her softly accented words. “Yes, you have. More than you know.”

  “Well, I want to give you more,” she said. Her hand, which lay in the middle of his chest, glided down his torso, fingering the line of hair beneath his navel to
the thatch of curls surrounding his sex. Her fingertips grazed the coarse hair. His cock pulsed eagerly at the teasing touch.

  She rose up to press a kiss to his chest.

  “Is it my turn to play with you?” she asked, flicking her small pink tongue against his nipple.

  “Do you want to play?”

  She nodded, her dark eyes no longer drowsy, but sparkling, eager, and a little naughty. She traced her finger up the sensitive underside of his cock, and he groaned.

  “You’re so hot,” she murmured as she ran her finger up the length again. Sitting up, she gazed at him, her lips parted just slightly, her breathing uneven as if touching him was as arousing for her as for him.

  “And you are so big,” she said, her voice breathy. Her fingers curled as far around his girth as she could. She squeezed gently, then worked her tightened fingers up the shaft, then back down him.

  He closed his eyes. God, she felt good. He couldn’t even imagine what if would feel like to be buried deep inside her body.

  “How could she not want to touch you?”

  It took him a few moments to figure out who «she» was.

  Two hundred years of obsession, and with the touch of Jolee’s fingers, it was all gone.

  She leaned over him, her hair falling forward, tickling his skin. Pressing openmouthed kisses to his chest and stomach, she continued to stroke his cock, tapered little fingers milking his hardened flesh. Sheer willpower kept him from throwing her down on the bed and sinking deep inside her. Her mouth moved to the jut of his hipbone, then over to the line of hair leading to his groin. She kissed downward, her wide, impossibly full lips getting closer to his erection.

  He groaned again.

  She lifted her head. “Does that feel good?”

  He nodded, meeting her gaze. “Yes.”

  He continued to watch her in awe as she lowered her head, her pink tongue darting out to lick the head of his cock. His hips rose in reaction to the fleeting touch.

  “And that? Do you like that?”

  “God, yes.”