wolf who smells like chocolate.” He nipped the inside of her thigh, right there, where the slightest touch made her shiver in anticipation of where he would next touch her skin. “Even down here. Did you bathe in chocolate syrup?”
“I thought you liked sweet treats?”
“I do.” He lashed his tongue across her swollen clitoris, and Blu’s body reacted, her hips surging upward to receive more of his delicious torture. He did not disappoint.
“It’s bath oil,” she said. “Perfumes me even after I’ve dried off.”
“Wear it always.” His fingers slid along her folds, firmly, then softer, knowing exactly how to play her to a humming mess of want and desire. Surrender eddied in her core, challenging her to release even though she was already blissfully sated. “Come for me, lover. My beautiful chocolate-flavored wolf.”
“Not without you.”
Blu shifted her hips, taking Creed by surprise, and flipped him onto his back to land against the pillows with a moan. She shimmied down and kissed his mouth, his chest, his belly and then his magnificent cock.
He in turn spread her legs and buried his tongue inside her. When she nibbled along his thick shaft, he hummed against her delicate folds, and the vibrations rocketed her pleasure to the stratosphere. His hips bucked slowly, demanding his measure, and she slickened her strokes with her tongue and clasped the base of him tightly with one hand while cupping his testicles with the other.
Her vampire husband dropped his head and forgot his attentions to her. She loved that she could command him so easily. “That’s right. You’re mine,” she purred, and another giggle was unavoidable. “But don’t forget about me.”
As he growled against her clit and began to come, she relaxed her tight core muscles and surrendered to a matching climax. Together they cried out, harmonizing in ecstasy. Too much—and not enough—and always just right. Blu lifted up on her palms and her husband slickened her chest with his forceful release.
She fell aside, rolling onto her back, and slid a hand over her chest. Licking her fingers clean refocused her thoughts. So much potential for life in this substance. And then she thought about what she always tried not to think about after sex—a vampire could not get a werewolf pregnant. It wasn’t the way things worked between their breeds, for reasons beyond her ken. Though certainly a werewolf male could impregnate a female vampire. And she had heard rumors the reverse was possible with great magic, or voodoo, or who knew, maybe some kind of faery boon.
Creed nestled alongside her, nudging his nose into her coal-dark hair and cupping her breast with his wide, warm hand. His hard muscles melded against her softness like a puzzle piece finding home. He smelled like sex and chocolate and strength. “What are you thinking about, kitty cat?”
“Creed.”
“Wild-haired sex kitten?”
“Watch it, pale vampire dude.” She reached behind and over her hip and gripped his soft penis, tightly.
“All right, I’m sorry,” he quickly said. “No more teasing.”
She released him. “You start that, and I’ll have to call you longtooth.”
“My teeth are long.” He bit into her shoulder, not breaking skin, though she didn’t mind when he did, rarely, pierce her flesh. “On occasion.”
They’d been forced to marry in a match arranged by the Council, a group that oversaw the paranormal nations. The marriage had been a means to bring together the opposing breeds and begin peace talks. It had worked to the extent that some vampire tribes had gained respect from a few packs, but Blu wasn’t so foolish to believe either breed would ever drop their prejudices and embrace the other graciously.
Surprisingly to both of them, they had fallen in love, and the marriage could be counted a success. And after she’d learned to trust her vampire husband—who had once slain werewolves in medieval times—Blu had allowed him to bite her. With Creed’s bite, they had bonded in a way vampires bonded. Yet werewolves bitten by a vampire almost always developed an unnatural blood hunger. That had not happened to her yet, for which she was thankful. Probably because he had bitten her only a dozen times in a few years. She couldn’t fathom drinking blood for pleasure.
“Deep thoughts?” he wondered, tugging a sheet corner to wipe off her chest. The polite Frenchman to the core, he was warrior, lover and doting husband, all rolled into one fine package.
Deep brown eyes she could stare into forever looked suddenly worried in the soft glow from the bedside lamp. She’d mentioned her deep thoughts casually before, but had never dared say how much those thoughts haunted her of late. They’d been married two years. She adored her husband. To know she would enjoy centuries with him thrilled her beyond measure.
But something was missing. An innate, visceral call to the maternal.
“I want to have your children,” she whispered, feeling as if the confession was so sacred she could only share it with him, and only in quiet tones. “I wish there was a way, Creed.”
Feeling the tender, yet insistent, tug in her chest, she blinked, and Creed traced the tear below her eye.
“If I could make it so, I would, lover mine. I hate seeing you unhappy.”
“I’m never unhappy with you. It’s…well, you lying beside me right now? I was thinking how we’re like pieces of a puzzle perfectly fit. Yet a piece of me is missing, maybe fallen on the floor somewhere, and I can’t seem to find it.”
He kissed her chin, her lips, her eyelids. The reverent stillness allowed her to feel his heartbeats against her chest. If they embraced long enough their heartbeats would synch.
“Wolves are, by nature, family-centric,” she said, pressing her palm over his beating heart. “I want to make babies with you, lover. Have a pack.”
“What if they were vampire babies?”
“Do you think that matters to me? Honestly?”
“No. The whole hating the vamps thing is not within your nature. At least, not any more.”
“I could never hate you. Or any child I had that might have to drink blood to survive. Hell, if I can’t have a pack, I’ll have a tribe! But our children could be wolves.”
“Or half breeds,” he said. “I would love a child too. I crave innocence. The wonder of youth.”
Blu sighed. Such talk stirred a dangerous fantasy. Because that was all it could ever be. “I thought I heard something about saying blessings to Faery if one desired something with all their heart.”
“I’ll say them daily, then.” He clasped her hand and drew it against his heart. “I would die for you, Blu, you know that.”
“Yes, but if you were dead, then who would give me babies?”
He chuckled. “Is this what they call the ticking biological clock?”
“No, it’s an instinctual desire to create a family with the man I love.” She kissed him, dashing her tongue against his fangs, which she knew gave him a visceral thrill. “Would you be upset
