Heart Mates

by Mary Hughes

  He stroked himself to fullness, then slipped the ring around the root of his erection. He pointed to his cock, taking her attention off the ring. “This is yours. You get to do with it whatever you want.”

  “Mine?” She licked her lips. “Whatever?”

  It nodded eagerly. He smiled.

  She bent and petted it with her tongue. He sucked in a breath. She tickled the tip. He groaned.

  “Anything, hmm?” She pushed his cock down against his belly, straddled his hips and carefully eased herself forward, sliding him flat under her. She was wet with excitement and her pussy slid along his length like going down a slide. He groaned louder. So she did it again. And again, pumping along him over and over.

  As she pumped, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him like they were mating mouths. Each thrust of her tongue caused a corresponding jump of his cock under her, nudging the swollen softness of her sex.

  She stilled when he cupped her breasts, one in each hand, and gently thumbed her nipples erect. He kissed her, his tongue tangling with hers, as he started rolling his hips under her, cock sliding along her sex, mimicking the tangle of their tongues. Each roll tugged at her until she was squirming and her belly went taut with longing.

  Finally she couldn’t stand it any more. She raised herself, dripping, from his hips, settled the head of his erection at the entrance of her body, and slid, slowly, down.

  He groaned the whole way, a long moan forced through gritted teeth, expelling air when the final inch of her spread to take him. She wriggled, her pelvis achingly full.

  He poked the thickened part of the ring between them. It started vibrating, directly against her clit.

  She squealed. Her hips popped up at the surge of sensation and she nearly came off.

  He grabbed her waist, held her on and thrust up. He began thrusting hard, beating against her in an ever-quickening tempo.

  She moaned, tightened her arms around his neck and hung on for the ride. He began to pause at the height of each thrust to grind against her. It pressed the tiny vibrator into her soft wet flesh. Her breath sped up with each grinding buzz.

  She couldn’t keep still. Her mouth fell open and her teeth caught the tender lobe of his ear. She nibbled gently as he rose and fell under her. His breath was harsh on her shoulder, dampening her skin. She pressed closer, rubbing her nipples into his chest, then flattening her breasts against him. His abs scrubbed her belly. His shoulders under her arms dewed. The mated smell, rising with the heat of his skin, was strong.

  She began to churn against him in her own rhythm, slightly out of sync with his. They pistoned again and again and then out of the blue a thrust would come together, so hard their skin smacked and her eyes popped open and her clit hit the buzzer and sang.

  She rose higher, sensations like sweet alarms ringing her nipples, sex and everything in between. He synced his thrusts with her and they drove into each other like fighters, doubling the impact. She gasped with each smack. Her nipples were tight nubs and his cock had swollen fatter. She was about to come.

  He changed rhythm, harder, slower. Deeper. She released him to hang onto his wrists. Each thrust of his powerful hips raised her in the air. She flew for a split second each time he recovered for another thrust. He bounced her on his hips until she was nearly crazy with need and love.

  Wrapping arms around her back, he thrust one last time, so powerfully it felt as if he were touching her soul. Joy ripped through her. She began to come, strong contractions that released powerful waves of color and light and happiness. Her joy wasn’t complete, though. She slid one hand between them, razzed a bit of magic and broke the ring open.

  And then he shouted and they were coming together, hard spasms of ecstasy that shot and burst like fireworks. It was almost frightening how hard they came. They clutched each other in sweaty arms and gasped and cried out as orgasm ripped them bare.

  It ebbed only slowly. She came to with her head resting in the damp crook of his neck, his cheek against her crown. His arms relaxed, holding her loosely as her heart slowed. “Your magic...?”

  “Surprise.” She raised her eyes and, arms still wrapped around his neck, gazed into his softly glowing gold eyes. “Just a bit, but it’s a start. That was amazing.”

  He said, “That is how much I love you. And if you let me, I’ll show you how much every day for the rest of our lives.”

  She released a depressed sigh. “If the Council lets us.”

  “Hey.” He took her chin in his fingertips and raised her head. Searched her eyes. “We have five years. Maybe we can give our house two addresses. We’ll figure it out. And in the meantime…” Inside her, his cock started to fatten.

  Her eyes widened. “There are apparently advantages to mating an alpha wolf.”

  “There certainly are.” He began to bounce her again.

  “Say.” She closed her eyes and enjoyed. “You never did tell me. How many babies do shifters have at a time?”

  “In the wild? The average is five.”

  She shrieked, every muscle shouting stop. “That’s average?”

  “Relax.” He chuckled. “It’s different mating with a human. My mother only had me.”

  “Oh. Good.”

  And so they were married discreetly in the little church next to the bookstore. Jayden swept in as Sophia finished dressing to give her a mischievous grin. He said, “Sticking it to the Witches’ Council. I’m proud of you, kid.” When he swept out, she saw the pink bow, the one briefly worn by King, nestled in among the baby’s breath and roses of her bouquet. She smiled.

  Mason was the best man and her aunt the maid of honor. Sophia’s brother Gabriel gave her away. Mr. Kibbles was the wedding planner and the Misses Jamies sat in the back row and passed out programs and tissues.

  Her familiar Kat, who’d felt her use of magic all the way in the Bahamas, made it back for the wedding. She spent the whole ceremony staring at Bram…who was still gazing at his hands. Wouldn’t have worked anyway. She was a cat and he was a bird. Or maybe that was really why she was staring at him.

  Their wolf pack filled both sides of the church. With Ivan gone, the women were starting to come out of their shells. With Noah guiding local businesses, the workers were starting to return to Matinsfield. Killer, for his part in the murder of wolves, was sent to jail. Bonnie and Clyde and Killer’s little brother Marlowe were already mellowing, and Noah allowed Attila to stay on the condition he take anger management classes. Several new jobs opened up in town, which brought back even more of the pack workers.

  As Sophia waited in the vestibule, Aunt Linda gave her another “talk”. Not the one about the wedding night, thank goodness. But about head, hands and heart. Apparently the reason she’d lived through the death magic was her connection to Noah. Not only was he there for her, soothing her and getting her through the worst of the pain like a birthing coach, but he brought some serious countermagic to bear. Shifter head-hands-heart rituals were so drenched and deep-seated in life that Noah’s power far overshadowed her death magic. It was further aided by his father’s life magic, which had also come from the heart. And finally, Noah’s love protected her.

  Magic was all about potentials, and thank goodness for that.

  When Noah and Sophia had their first litter—triplets, but at least it wasn’t five—Jayden came by, wanting their firstborn to be named after him. Noah said he only owed that if the hex neutralization had worked, which it hadn’t. Jayden kicked the floor and pouted. Noah grinned and said, “Power can be used for good or ill, but it can also be fun.” Jayden looked shocked, then grinned too.

  A year later Noah and Sophia sat in the living room of the cozy bungalow the pack had built for them on the outskirts of Matinsfield. The triplets were finally all asleep at the same time and she and Noah were cuddling on the couch. “Who would have thought it.” She nuzzled his neck. “A witch w
ho rejected magic ending up with not only all her magic but also with shifter magic—mated to an alpha who is also a wizard prince.”

  Noah smiled. “I desperately didn’t want to be a wizard. But somehow both of us, in throwing away our powers, got something stronger back.

  “Each other.”

  About the Author

  As a girl, I spun romantic, happily-ever-after stories to get to sleep. A husband, a family, two degrees and a black belt later, I’m delighted to spin them for readers.

  I’ve lived with love and loss, in bright times and dark, and learned we can all use a break from reality every now and then.

  So join me for action, sparkling humor and red-hot love. Strong men. Stronger women. Hugs! ~Mary

  I’d love to hear from you! Write me at mary@maryhughesbooks.com.

  Or visit me online!

  Website: www.maryhughesbooks.com

  Facebook: MaryHughesAuthor

  Twitter: @MaryHughesBooks

  Look for these titles by Mary Hughes

  Now Available:

  Biting Love

  Bite My Fire

  Biting Nixie

  The Bite of Silence

  Biting Me Softly

  Biting Oz

  Beauty Bites

  Downbeat

  Assassins Bite

  Pull of the Moon

  Heart Mates

  Coming Soon:

  Biting Love

  Passion Bites

  Only her light can burn away his shadows.

  Assassins Bite

  © 2014 Mary Hughes

  Biting Love, Book 8

  On her first night as a police officer, Sunny Ruffles takes down three felons…only to be attacked by a gang of vampires who are a whole new level of hurt.

  Then a mysterious shadow man intervenes, saving Sunny before he disappears. She runs after him, telling herself her pursuit has nothing to do with his sharp, stubbled jaw, his powerful shoulders, or his sexy-as-hell, kissable lips.

  Rescuing the humans makes Aiden Blackthorne late for a critical meeting with the vampire Nosferatu’s daughter. Yet clompy, bumbling Sunny draws him back like wild honey. He kisses her, and he’s almost got her down to her underwear when a bomb meant for him explodes.

  The last thing Aiden wants is to drag Sunny into his hellish conflict with Nosferatu. But Aiden’s a loner whose only friend has mysteriously disappeared, and the woman who smells and tastes like his mate is the only backup he has left. He’ll need her, everything he is, everything he was—and everything he might have been—to defeat his evil master and claim the love he never dared hope to have.

  Warning: This book contains shadowy assassins shooping off vampire heads, cops bumbling in at the worst of times and opposites attracting, colliding, and exploding in lust—a.k.a., explicit fighting, humor, and sex.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Assassins Bite:

  I had less than an hour to clean myself up before Captain Titus arrived. That wasn’t quite enough time to go home and come back—at least, not if Mom was awake and talking—so I went to the restroom. I’d been at the MCPD before so I knew where they were. I put on my jacket and shirt to walk there. I wasn’t shy or particularly modest, but I didn’t like offending anyone else’s sense of propriety.

  I regretted that decision. The cut blouse was no protection and each step rubbed scratchy wool against my poor skin. By the time I got to the restroom I was biting back whimpers, my eyes stinging with tears.

  The first floor ladies was three stalls, scarred wood countertop, sink and mirror. Various sticky notes decorated the mirror, including a couple that read “Glock For Sale. Retired officer, rarely used. Contact Blatzky”. I stood in front of the mirror, peering at what showed of my pale, round face as I opened the buttons and peeled off wool and cotton. I set the shirt and jacket on the sink.

  My chest was red and raw. Smeared blood streaked my skin. No wonder it hurt so much.

  “Nasty.” Behind me, a shadow separated from the gunmetal-gray stall doors.

  “Crap!” I spun. Aiden Blackthorne was right on top of me, his eyes burning. I swallowed hard. Inanely, I said, “Can I help you?”

  The corners of his lips turned up, making me want to grab him by the ears and scuba dive. He said, “I want to help you.”

  My experience with people trying to help was my mother baking brownies for my GirlGroup Troop, treats which sent us all running for the bathroom because she’d substituted sauerkraut for sugar because they both began with S. Not that I was doing so well on my own, but the pain made me whiny and he got the brunt of it. “Nobody can help me. Have you paid your parking ticket?”

  “I have ten days.” His head tilted as he considered me. “Let me treat your wounds.”

  I coughed. “No thanks. You’re not supposed to use ointment for burns—”

  “Not ointment. This.” He seized my wrists. I was so surprised I let him lift my arms up and away from my body, exposing my chest to whatever he wanted to do. Which was to drop his head, open his mouth…and lick me, one broad swipe across the length of my collarbones.

  My pain…lifted. Just along that swatch, so I knew it wasn’t coincidence. My belly fluttered. He had a magic tongue?

  He licked again, and though his hot, rasping tongue should have been excruciating, it was lovely, exhilarating. As he continued licking, my pain melted away.

  Gradually I became aware of how intimate this was. His rough tongue, the heat and moisture of his mouth, excited me—and he was heading lower. In a few more swipes he’d be tonguing the tops of my breasts. My belly thrilled at the thought.

  So when he released my wrists, I slid my fingers into his black hair, thick and strong yet silky warm, and urged him to go lower. Faster. “More.” I moaned it.

  With a satisfied growl, he complied, swiping heat into the valley between my breasts.

  I sighed in pleasure and lifted my breasts, encouraging him to do more, again. My flesh tightened in anticipation.

  But he raised his head and looked me in the eye, an unspoken question in his. How far did I want him to go?

  In response I smiled. As far as you want.

  He made a small, choked noise and dashed to the bathroom door. Before I could panic, he flipped a shiny-new thumb lock with an urgent click and stood before me again almost instantly.

  That revved me hotter.

  Cupping my chin, he asked another question with eyes gone velvety black. Are you sure?

  I didn’t know what this hot attraction between us meant, or if it was more than physical—after all, how permanent could an assassin get with a cop?

  But for now? I nodded and smiled again.

  With a sigh, he reached around and unhooked my bra with one quick flip. His eyes flicked over my revealed breasts as he tossed the bra onto the counter. Before I could wonder how interesting he’d find my small, tight body, his gaze went nova. “You’re perfect.” He bent, grasped my breasts, one in each hand, and lifted them to his mouth.

  It was hard, hot and fast. As if he wanted to devour them both at once, he kissed and licked and sucked nipples in quick turn. Whichever breast he wasn’t lavishing with attention he stimulated with his thumb.

  I gasped. His kisses were hot; his suckling was incendiary. His fingers were extraordinarily strong and clever. I’d been with older boys—these were a man’s hands fondling me, strong and sure. I closed my eyes and savored.

  He finally settled on my left breast and suckled the nipple until it was diamond-hard with longing. My fingers threaded into his hair again and tightened in response to each tug, until I was practically pulling his hair out by the roots. All he did was make a tiny sound, half-pain, half-bliss.

  He kept suckling. Each draw on my nipple yanked a silken cord of need deep inside. The sensations came closer together, ho
tter, deeper, until I was churning with them. My belly was heavy, my lips swollen, my legs yielding and my skin screaming to shed the rest of my clothes. All that, just from suckling.

  My mouth ached with the need to suck on him in return. My fingers were still tight in his hair so I wrenched on his head, trying to lift him from my breast, to get my hands under his shirt and peel it off over his head.

  He made another small sound, an uh-uh of undeniable not slowing, and continued to suckle.

  With the last of my willpower I reached over his bent head, grabbed his sleeveless T-shirt as far back as I could and started winching it toward his neck.

  I’d made about two inches of headway, barely enough to expose the small of his back, when the suckling drove me completely insane. I gave a throttled shriek and tried to rip the shirt off.

  He chuckled. With a see-you-soon lick to my ripe nipple, he straightened and finished what I’d inadequately started, stripping himself of the shirt even faster than last time.

  My eyes drank their fill. If he was a vampire it didn’t show in his skin, a sun-drenched bronze. His nipples were tight and dark. His chest was smooth and hairless. I reached for it.

  He tossed his shirt on top of my bra and reached for me at the same time. As I palmed his pectorals, he crushed me to him. My breasts and palms flattened against male flesh, its warm scent filling my every quickened breath. He grabbed my mouth in a searing kiss and his taste filled me. I basked in him, touch, scent and taste, meeting his mouth and clutching his chest and rippling against him with the need for even more.

  Opening his hands on my back, he went exploring, gliding along my skin until he met the thick wool of my trousers.

  If I thought that would stop him, I didn’t know him very well. His hands continued to glide down, rubbing the cloth over my buttocks, then grasping me and pulling me into him. My hips met a large, firm and growing bulge. He backed off on the kiss, his tongue flicking and teasing. Now he was trying to go slower, but I wasn’t having any of that.

  I stood on tiptoes and went after his mouth, thrusting my tongue between his lips and rubbing my hands over him, feeling the pinpricks of his nipples roll under my palms.