Soft As Moonlight

by J. A. Saare

  “Large everywhere.” Her hushed voice trembled, but he didn’t detect fear, only a slight hesitance. Her eyes drifted past his stomach until she gazed up at him. Her blonde hair was mussed, her sapphire eyes large and radiant. She was beautiful, a paragon intended to ease centuries of loneliness.

  He wanted to kneel down to reassure her, but remained still, unable to deny himself the pleasure she offered.

  “You’ll like it, t’keeira. I promise you.”

  Those sparkling eyes lowered, and she shifted forward, lifting her hands. He held his breath, biting back a moan when she wrapped a hand around the base of his cock. Her soft palm was like silk against his flesh, the slick skin of his shaft slipping smoothly against the haven she provided.

  She brought her hand to the head and paused, swirling her thumb along the outer rim and then massaging the thin slit in the tip. “So soft,” she said, repeating the impossibly erotic motion until he couldn’t help but thrust his hips forward as a plea for more. Her fingers worked in harmony with the motions of his pelvis, her hands stroking his length from head to tip.

  “That’s so good,” he groaned, arching his neck and closing his eyes.

  Had any other brought this level of pleasure with a mere touch? He couldn’t recall anything that had felt so good until she darted out her tongue, flicked the thin slit in the head, collected the bead that glistened on the tip, and took him into her mouth.

  “Jesus,” he gasped, knees going weak. If the sensation wasn’t enough to bring him to climax, the act itself and the expression on her face would certainly see to it.

  “I was right, Wolfe.” She ran her tongue along the edge of the crown, paused, and pulled away to gaze up at him.

  “Right?” He exhaled, chest heaving.

  Her lips curved, the most sinful smile he’d ever witnessed bestowed just for him, and she purred, “You taste incredible.”

  Her mouth returned to lavish attention on his cock, but this time, she took the entire tip into those moist warm depths. Her tongue ran along the bottom, cradling and massaging, and her hand came up to knead at the sensitive sac hanging beneath.

  The vow not to touch her evaporated into the abyss. Wolfe wound his hands into her hair, palming the back of her head. The wet heat of her mouth robbed him of air, and brought him so close to orgasm he rode the fine line between pleasure and pain. She suckled hungrily, taking as much of him into her mouth and throat as possible. The former hesitation and nervousness was gone, her motions following an intentional pattern.

  To his relief, he perceived the instinct overwhelming her. The need to tempt him, a feral reaction intended to entice him to mate. He’d feared it wouldn’t, as she was half vampire and not wholly human or Lycae. But he heard the jumbled thoughts that guided her actions, coming at random.

  Keening moans vibrated along his shaft, ecstasy so intense he had to struggle for control. With each pass, her mouth went deeper, each caress of her hand deliberate. Her delicate fingers surrounded the base, moving in rhythm of her lips and tongue. She was desperate for relief, aching for it. He could hear, smell, and sense her readiness.

  She fought him when he tried to break free, wrapping her hands around his ass and bringing him forward. He felt the barb extend, the thick portion just under the head of his cock intended to latch into the womb and keep him embedded deeply within.

  “No more, t’keeira.” He kept his tone firm but soft and groaned with the effort it took to pry away from her wicked little mouth. “You’ll have me spend my seed before I’m ready.”

  The eyes that lifted and met his were cloudy, full lips shiny and slightly swollen. Her forehead creased, eyebrows going taut. The confusion over her actions and newfound want consumed her.

  Turning from her, Wolfe peered around the small space. There was no bathtub, no fluffy towels, or candles. A basket was nestled in the farthest crook of the walk in shower. Soap, shampoo, and clean hand rags were dry and at the ready. He walked to the glass door, slid it open, and turned the stainless steel nozzles. The spray was heavy and the water heated quickly, warming the cool tile.

  Arden was in the same place and position he left her, on her knees, watching him. Wolfe brought her to her feet, bending at the waist and claiming her trembling lips. He didn’t bother undoing her bra, extending a claw and rending the lace in the center in two. Her panties soon followed, leaving her as bare and ready as he was.

  Her breasts were like the rest of her, perfectly formed. The rounded swells were crowned with pert, pink nipples, each one pebbled and hard. He caressed them, cupping and pressing his thumb in slow, lazy circles. She lifted her face and he met her halfway, darting his tongue out and brushing past lips that parted in welcome. The tentative contact of her tongue combined with a muffled moan spoke volumes. His hands descended to her waist. He lifted her, brought them chest to chest, and then pulled his head away.

  “The shower waits, cher.”

  The door slid open and steam escaped, invading the cooler part of the room. Wolfe stood in front of the foggy streams of water, situating her before him. Winding his fingers into her hair, he urged her head back to soak the thick locks. She sighed, lifting her hands to remove uncooperative strands from her face.

  Wolfe bathed her while she stood quietly, a soft moan or sigh escaping as he lathered her body with milk soap, washed her hair with honeysuckle lather, and cleaned her face. Each contour received the same treatment, his hands learning her lean curves and placing them to memory. He knelt before her again and soaped up her ass, belly, and hips. Random scars scattered here and there marred the perfection of her alabaster skin.

  “How did you come by these?” he asked, tracing the edges of a ragged line on the opposite leg.

  “I wasn’t always immortal. The change didn’t come until I was eighteen.” Her breath caught when his hand drifted to her sex, his fingers teasing the outer folds lightly. “I wasn’t as quick or as balanced before the transition. That meant I caught the sharp end of the blade on more than one occasion.”

  A red haze distorted his vision.

  “These are marks from the Thymeria?”

  “Yes.”

  Thinking of her engaged in combat while unaware of the power she would be granted upon maturity infuriated him. His mate could have been killed for nothing more than petty games in the vampire war for supremacy.

  “Wolfe.” Her concerned voice dimmed the rising fury. “Are you all right?”

  He wasn’t all right. He wanted to hunt down each and every Thymeria and sever their heads from their bodies.

  “I’m fine,” he answered quietly, focusing on her body and not her worried face. Things were different now. If the Thymeria came, he would kill them. Lycae or not, she was his mate.

  That made her pack.

  When she was clean, he considered asking a return of the favor, eager to feel her fingers clutching his body. But he quickly decided against it. If she touched him as she’d done earlier, he would lose all self-restraint. His cock was still rock hard, the ache in his sac growing heavier.

  He cupped her hips and rose slowly, placing his tongue at the vulnerable hollow of her belly and working his way up. He snagged a taut bud between his lips, bit down gently, and then bathed the flesh with his tongue. The skin beneath his hands shivered, and a soft cry erupted from her chest. He felt her hands twine in his hair, bringing him closer.

  “Your mouth feels so good,” she whimpered, and sagged.

  “Just wait, t’keeira,” he promised, nuzzling his head between her breasts.

  Her fingers wrapped in his hair, and she forced his head back until he met her eyes. “I don’t want to wait.”

  Wolfe vaguely remembered carrying her from the stall, toweling her supple body in rough motions. The beast inside him raged for what it needed, clamoring to be heard.

  Claim her. Take her.

  His mind projected the fantasy from earlier, her legs over his shoulders and her ass against the counter while he buried himself between he
r thighs. He thrust her upon the counter, pressing her back against the wall length mirror and placing her bent knees over his shoulders.

  “W-wolfe,” she stammered. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m doing what I’ve wanted to do since I first scented you,” he growled, snagging her hips and sliding his hands around until he cupped her ass.

  Her sex was hairless, and he marveled at the sleek smoothness. Her swollen lips were pink from his petting in the shower, the center just inside glistening. He parted her and lifted his eyes as he created a path with his tongue, tasting her in a long, deep stroke. She shuddered, legs going limp and her long, pale fingers clutching at the edge of the counter.

  Her taste was better than the honeysuckle, absolutely cock-rocking, and he realized he would never get enough of this woman.

  Not now, not tomorrow—not ever.

  Chapter Nine

  She was experiencing heaven.

  Wolfe’s tongue tormented and teased as he sucked and licked at her sex with abandon, and Arden encouraged him by releasing the counter and clutching his head. She never wanted him to stop, desperate to know what it meant to be consumed and brought to climax.

  He growled in approval, settling in and bathing her core with warm laps of his tongue. Each stroke was longer, delving deeper, and soon she felt a large finger glide along the wet heat created by her arousal. He entered her carefully, pressing forward until his knuckle brushed her most sensitive flesh. After several thrusts, he added a second, and worked her slow and steady.

  “Are you ready for me?” His voice had changed, hoarse and throaty. “Your body says you are. You’re sex is as hot as fire and as sleek as satin, so tight and warm around my fingers.”

  She moaned in response, unable to formulate words. It felt too good, too incredible. A humming vibration began overtaking her body, starting at his lips and fingers and extending outward. Things seemed to rattle, her vision shaky, and after a moment, she realized she was trembling violently.

  “You want to come so badly, t’keeira. Relax and let go.”

  Unpleasant memories kept the promise of pleasure at bay, reminding her of the last time she’d allowed herself to take the risk. A climax brought out baser needs, namely bloodlust, and she hadn’t been able to stop herself. Wolfe was strong, but a vampire locked in the lust would be formidable—even if only a halfling.

  Again, the pinnacle neared, approaching rapidly. She groaned and writhed, leveling her hips and pressing against his hand. When her conscience braced to steer her body away from orgasm, Wolfe thrust his fingers into her roughly, latched onto her swollen and pulsating clitoris, and she went over the edge.

  The light overhead mingled with red speckles that clouded her vision when her body detonated, an ecstasy so intense that she allowed her limbs to thrash freely. The back of her throat went dry, and she released Wolfe’s head. She tried to reach for him, unable to think clearly and starved for the taste of his blood as she reveled in climax. His free hand came up and pressed flat against her belly, forcing her to remain as she was, and she fisted the counter, disintegrating ceramic plaster and molding with her fingers.

  Wolfe released the swollen nub between his lips. Moving away, he stretched her with his fingers and watched as she shattered. The sensations passed too quickly, leaving her a mass of quivering muscle and syrupy bones. Then, the hunger lessened, the throbbing ache in her canines fading. Arden sagged against the mirror and the counter, releasing the latter which crumbled to the floor and out of her fingers.

  “I was right, t’keeira.” He rose and shifted her legs to his waist, his body like a blanket.

  “Right?” she panted, cleared her throat, and repeated the word he had spoken to her just minutes before.

  “You’re positively breathtaking when you come.”

  Her sex clenched at the admission, and she started to whisper something back when a loud blaring screech sounded from the living room. Common sense returned with a good dose of self-preservation. The alarm only sounded when the property was breeched by something malevolent. The banshee enchantment Trevor had crafted for her home ensured it.

  They had been followed.

  “Son of a bitch!” she shrieked.

  “What’s that noise?” Wolfe frowned, trapping her between him and the cool ceramic.

  “Get dressed,” she barked, shoving him hard enough to ensure he knew she meant business. When he backed away, she leaped from the counter, retrieved his clothes, and tossed them into his chest.

  His eyes narrowed and the irises flashed, the green nearly neon.

  “Don’t waste your temper on me,” she snapped and presented Wolfe with a seething glare of her own. “Save it for whatever is coming up the stairs.”

  Before he could question her further, she pivoted, rushed across the hall, and walked into the bedroom. She chose another black lace bra and panties and slid them on before diving for the closet and snagging a fresh pair of leathers and a black turtleneck. She chose another worn pair of boots and felt around for the socks buried inside. She slid them on, pulled the boots over her feet, and tightened the laces.

  As she stood and stomped her feet lightly to acclimate herself, Wolfe’s large body engulfed the door way. He was dressed, but his clothing was wrinkled, and the huge hard-on displayed clearly through his slacks indicated why he was scowling at her.

  “What the fuck is going on?”

  She sighed and turned away from him, walking to the back of the closet to open the enormous safe pressed flush against it.

  “I have a lot of enemies, Wolfe. Ones that would prefer to see me dead. I imagine they couldn’t resist the opportunity to follow us here, even if it means wrangling with a Lycae.”

  A sigh of air escaped when the lock released and the safe opened. Arden quickly chose a holster and latched it across her chest, securing it in place before she returned for Berettas. She checked each chamber with deft motions before popping the safety and placing them into the holsters beneath her arms.

  She jumped as Wolfe murmured next to her ear, “Who are your enemies, Arden?”

  “I can’t be certain,” she answered truthfully, shrugging and taking several magically enhanced clips from the safe. “I’ve pissed off vampyren, vampires, Lycae, demons, witches, Warlocks, ghouls, zombies, and a random Chimera or three. Anyone or anything could be coming up to say hello.”

  Large hands surrounded her shoulders and turned her around. She hesitated before peering into Wolfe’s face. His fangs were different from hers, both upper and lower incisors growing long and lethal.

  “I won’t let anything touch you,” he vowed softly in a voice so unlike his face.

  She couldn’t disguise the smile that formed. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” she whispered and lifted a hand to his cheek. Her heart faltered as she gazed into his eyes, and her stomach knotted in fear.

  If something happened to him because of her . . .

  The screech from the living room changed, the high-pitched shrill causing the walls to vibrate and her ears to ring. Arden lowered her hand and slid the clips into the back of her leathers before grabbing a dark pair of shades that she quickly placed over her eyes.

  Whoever was approaching wasn’t far now.

  “Come on.” She gripped Wolfe’s fingers and led him back to the bedroom, toward a window situated on the side wall.

  She released his hand, snatched the black drapes, and ripped them free from the long metal bar above. A loud crash echoed from the other end of the apartment and Arden didn’t bother with the bolted latch on the window. She stepped back and spun around, taking out the glass with a kick that shattered the pane.

  Dark shapes flittered in her peripheral vision and she heard a horrible bray of warning so menacing she found herself wide-eyed and pressed against the empty pane.

  At first, she assumed the noise came from the three-headed Cerberus that waited several feet away, with muzzles strong enough to detach limbs from bodies. She was shocked t
hat someone wanted to dispose of her badly enough to take the risk of summoning a hound from the gates of Hades.

  Then, she glanced at Wolfe.

  His clothing was in tatters, lying scattered around a furry body the size of a large pony with paws the size of dinner plates. His glossy black fur rippled with each movement of his muscles, and a warning growl was accentuated with a terrifying hum that carried through the floor and ceiling. He never turned to look at her, his eyes homed straight ahead.

  The Cerberus moved and Wolfe met the creature midway. His massive jaws went for the throat of one of the heads, and when he found his target, she heard the horrific crunch of bone as the neck was crushed. The second head snapped at the flesh beneath Wolfe’s shoulder along with the third, sharp teeth nipping and vicious throats snarling.