Page 6 of Unwavering
“They help us keep warm,” Will translated. “For snuggling.”
I turned back to Marc. “Next time, just say that.”
“Next time, I’ll burn this fucking house down around your ears,” came the muttered reply, and then Marc was grabbing Will’s hand and off they went. Will looked at us over his shoulder and opened his mouth as the door (finally) started to swing shut.
“Sorry to bother y—“
Slam. Click. Fuck?
“Yes,” Sinclair said, but before he could do the old grab n’toss, I gave him a shove and followed him onto the bed. We tussled like puppies (horny pupp—nope, no, never mind, terrible simile) for a few seconds until I stretched out on top of him. I lowered my head and indulged in a long kiss.
“I don’t care if they find a bomb in our basement (again).We’re not leaving this room and we’re not answering the door for anything.”
“Agreed. Now if it won’t trouble you overmuch, could you...ah...that? Please?”
I smiled against his throat, took another sip. Marveled for the hundredth time that something that sounded disgusting could feel so indecently amazing. Drinking my husband’s blood was like the best drug rush ever coupled with the best brownie sundae ever and the cherry on top was multiple orgasms.
Fromonenibble. Just one.
Pleased with his delighted groans, I kissed my way down his throat, across his shoulders, down his chest. I licked and licked at his nipples—Sinclair’s were as sensitive as the cup of my ear was. His fingers were already sliding through my hair and carefully cupping the back of my skull.
There ought to be a law against you.
Well, there isn’t. But there are laws against some of the things I do, if that’s any consolation.
Surprisingly: yes!
I kept working my way down until I was eye to eye (so to speak) with his cock. Here’s something fun: the stereotype about big tall men who have large hands and feet? Totally true. I licked the plummy head for a few seconds
(hhhhhhnnnnnngggggg)
and then sucked him in, taking care with my fangs. Sure, we healed pretty instantly, but who wants to risk a fang to the testicle? I didn’t evenhavetesticles and it sounded terrible. My lips had to stretch just a bit to accommodate him, but given that he was always happy to go down on me for half-hour stretches, I in turn was always happy to return the favor. Well. Maybe not a thirty-minute favor, because if I wasn’t bouncing on his cock in another minute, I wasn’t going to be responsible for my actions, even the really bitchy ones.
“I know, I know,” I said, pulling off, giving the crown of his cock a buh-bye-for-now kiss, then straddling him. “The lack of foreplay—it’s gauche. Rushed. Sophomoric!”
“Fine, it’s fine, everything’s fine, whatever you want is fine, that’s fine.” (Oral sex rendered my husband incapable of using synonyms.)
“Terrific! Glad you’re on board. And technically we’ve been indulging in foreplay since the kitchen. Interrupted foreplay, but nonetheless...you mind grabbing...?” I gestured toward the drawer beside bed and Sinclair tried to vocalize
“Muh?”
and then groped for the bedside table. My book (I was re-reading my favorite,Gone with the Wind...I still remembered reading it for the romance and being kind of amazed to find there was a huge war in there, too), the lamp, and our old-fashioned (it wasn’t even digital! oldoldfashioned) clock all hit the carpet, the latter with a jangly thump. For a second I was afraid he’d just rip the drawer out and hurl it across the room, but I needn’t have worried.
“Dammit!” he growled, “whereisthe blasted thing?”
He just yanked the drawer all the way out, then upended it, then nearly pitched me to the floor when he moved over to scoop the contents off the floor, and finally tossed it to me in triumph. I caught the tube of a sexually active vampire’s best friend (mint chocolate chip flavored), flipped open the top, squeezed a generous dollop into my palm. In the old days, I’d hold it in a clenched fist to warm it a little, but...
Sinclair’s sly thought slipped into my brain:This would be a perfect time to utilize one of the heating pads.
“Don’t even start with that,” I warned, but couldn’t stifle the giggle. “And brace yourself.”
He let out a hiss as I slicked him up, and nearly leaped off the bed when I squeezed his length while running my lubed palm over and over and over the head of his cock. One of those don’t-stop-wait-too-much-don’t-stop sensations. (I felt the same way whenever I wolfed down a DQ Peanut Buster Parfait.)
I leaned forward a bit, he leaned up a bit, and then his thick cock was filling me exactly the way I liked: hard and inexorable and so, so fine. I pressed my palms against his shoulders and started to rock back and forth
(ah God that’s good)
as I took from him exactly what he wanted to give me, which was everything. “Christ,” he gasped, gripping my hips hard enough to bruise, and I leaned down for another kiss, nibbling on his lower lip and teasing him with my tongue.
