“Tómame,” he growls, holding me suspended in the air and waiting for me to accept him. “Soy tuyo para siempre.”
“Fill me, mi lobo,” I answer, because want and consent are two different things. “I want all of you. Don’t hold back.”
Slamming me down on his length, he hisses with how tight I am while I cry out his name in elation. Any discomfort is overpowered by pleasure as he pushes deeper inside me than any other, and I immediately start riding him hard. Taking a wide stance to hold us steady, he adjusts his arm to better support my back, and his other hand moves to grip my hip, his fingers digging into my flesh hard enough to leave bruises. He follows my lead, pounding into me at the pace I want, and I feel weightless in his arms.
I hold onto his shoulders with all my strength, close my eyes, and tip my head back. While the water pours over our bodies, Connor takes the opportunity to suck one of my nipples between his lips, abusing the delicate point with his teeth. The bite of pain on the right side of pleasure sends a jolt through me, like a firework exploding, and I cry out again, the sound amplified in the spacious shower. He continues to mark me with his mouth, a mixture of sucking and biting across my chest, shoulder, and neck.
My fingernails claw into his skin as need pours from him into me and back. This is a fusing of two bodies. Mating. Claiming. Becoming one. Our souls, already intertwined for years, dance in celebration that he is mine and I am his. Forever, we are woven into the tapestry of the other by love and magic.
I return bite for bite, capturing his lip between my teeth as we kiss, his earlobe as I moan my pleasure into his ear, and on his shoulder, right next to the pearlescent scar that is testament to the explosive nature of my power. The magic of gods pulses through my veins and it calls to him. My protector. My lover. My wolf.
“Ah, mi reina,” he gasps, his muscles flexing and tightening as we climb together toward oblivion. “Te amo siempre y para siempre.”
“I love you too,” I pant, drowning in his joy and pleasure and reflecting my own into him. “Forever and always.”
The steam of the shower and the intensity of our lovemaking makes it feel like the world is spinning wildly beneath us, and I enjoy riding the waves, trusting Connor not to drop me. Fatigue builds within my arms and legs as my muscles clench under the pressure of our building climax, because not only am I close, but I can feel how close he is, the sensations bleeding into each other until I’m buckling beneath one loud song.
“I’m close...fuck,” I shout with a hint of frustration.
“Me too,” he echoes, his voice strained.
Since he’s busy making sure we don’t fall, I push one of my hands between us and tease my clit, my knuckles brushing against the base of his cock each time he pounds into me. My inner walls clench around him, and I ride him as hard and as fast as I can in this position.
Connor’s release comes like a flash of light that pierces hot within me, and I shatter beneath it, my climax a bright array of sensations sparking through every nerve ending. He groans a litany of mumbled Spanish that, despite all of the years I’ve studied, I can’t understand, though the words I do know are colorful curses. He wobbles, desperate to hold us both up although his joints protest. Quickly, I magic over a small, wooden bench that was fitted against the one tile wall so that it’s in the perfect spot for Connor to sit. He collapses gratefully, panting and shivering as he holds me against him while the water beats onto the top of our heads.
For a long moment, we’re both quiet, recovering from the explosion of our shared experience. A mixed blessing, that one. Its pleasure is unmatched, but experiencing two people’s orgasms nearly simultaneously is very draining. Nothing like starting the day with sex so intense my legs don’t work.
Once he seems to come back to himself, Connor gently kisses my forehead and the tip of my nose, then he softly presses his lips against mine. His brows furrow when his gaze shifts to the hickies and bite marks he’s left on my body.
“Are you alright?” he murmurs, his fingers carefully tracing a rather impressive one on my left breast.
I fight the desire to roll my eyes, because this husband has always been a bizarre juxtaposition of being a fierce advocate of my power while also being oversensitive in regard to any perceived threat to my body—even if it’s his love bites given in the midst of passion. My other husbands would gloat. This one frowns.
“I’m fine,” I assure him, letting the easy flow of magic roll over my skin to heal the small abrasions as I did the night before with any lingering marks from being tied up. With a wicked grin, I add, “More than fine.”
Feeling like a sexy goddess, I attempt to slide off of him and stand, but, forgetting that I have newborn calf legs thanks to being fucked into oblivion, my right leg doesn’t quite clear his bent knee, and I fall back on top of him. Obnoxiously well recovered, he easily catches me, stands without issue, and gently leads me to sit down on the vacated bench.
“Don’t look so proud of yourself,” I complain with faux outrage, folding my arms underneath my breasts.
Any lingering worry has left Connor’s eyes, replaced with a familiar expression of masculine satisfaction while he goes to retrieve my toiletries from a corner of the shower. Apparently, bruises and bite marks are reasons for concern, but my legs not working due to the intensity of his lovemaking, well, that was just fine.
While pouring shower gel into my loofah, his gaze roams my wet body, paying special attention to my lifted breasts, and his cock begins to harden again.
“Don’t even think about it,” I warn with a pointed look. “Once is enough for you this morning. This wife needs to be bathed and fed. Get to it.”
“Yes, my queen,” he replies, using my pet name in English for effect as he drops gracefully to his knees before me. With a sly smirk on his lips and heat in his eyes—an expression full of the confident machismo of a man who knows he’s desirable—he starts soaping one of my legs, his strong fingers kneading my muscles below the slippery pomegranate scented soap.
To his credit, he only helps me bathe, just like I asked. After he makes sure every inch of my body is clean, he takes special effort to wash and condition my hair, carefully running a thick comb through my wavy tresses to work the conditioner evenly throughout. It’s a heavenly experience, even if I’m left feeling mildly horny, because, well…he’s extremely attractive and more of a shower than a grower. He has quite a lot of inches on display.
After the shower, he’s just as attentive to helping me dry off, rubbing lotion all over my skin, and patiently combing and drying my hair. My pale grey eyes watch him work through the reflection in the large mirror that hangs over a wide counter with double sinks. A towel hangs loosely tucked around his slim hips, and his brown hair is a messy mop on the top of his head. He’s both aware and oblivious of his innate beauty. His expression is one of marital joy that comes with the easy freedom to touch and care for one’s partner. Helping me get ready is something he enjoys doing, he takes every opportunity he can, and I can’t help but feel like the queen he’s always called me. Pampered and loved.
Once he’s finished, I head for the giant walk-in closet. Digging through my suitcase, I pull out panties and a sundress. Connor smiles as he watches me dress, his arms folded over his chest as he leans against the doorframe, amused by the patterns on my clothes. There are candy canes on my white bikini cut panties, and a dense pattern of mistletoe on my spaghetti strap sundress. I leave the girls free since the only people who will see me are my men.
“What do you think?” I ask while doing a small twirl, the skirt of the dress swishing about my hips.
“Festive,” he answers in all of his concise glory, his smile growing to a grin. He’s never grown out of the delight of frustrating me with one word answers.
“Thank you, oh succinct one,” I retort with a raised eyebrow, fighting a smile because I really shouldn’t encourage his behavior.
He nods, his grin nothing but teeth at this point.
&
nbsp; Sighing, I walk over to him, lean up on my tiptoes, and kiss him on the cheek. “You’re lucky I love you,” I mutter.
Connor’s expression sobers for a moment, and he looks directly into my eyes when answering, “Yes, I am.”
There’s a cold pang in my chest, the call and answer to what he’s really saying with those three words. He’s not just a man happy to be loved by his wife, but a survivor elated to be loved at all. Most of our wounds have scabbed over and are now scars, but some still have the tactile bump that’s easily felt when brushed against.
I acknowledge his words with a soft kiss, and he rubs his cheek against mine, the scrape of his stubble abrasive against my skin. We stand together in our little bubble until hunger audibly grumbles from my stomach, ending our quiet moment.
“Off with you,” I demand with a light push against his unyielding pec. “I’m hungry, and you need to get dressed.”
After planting another kiss on top of my head, he rolls to stand upright and unhurriedly makes his journey toward the bedroom door. Because I’m still low-grade horny and it’s his fault, I snag the towel from his waist to reveal him in all of his naked glory. He really does have such a nice ass.
He squints down at me, and I answer with a coy batting of my eyelashes, an expression of innocent confusion… or as best as I can manage while also trying not to giggle like an idiot. “Go on. Breakfast awaits. I think I smell French toast.”
There’s a raised eyebrow followed by a twitch of his lips, but he inevitably shrugs his shoulders and continues on his way because he’s a wolf shifter, and therefore not concerned with something so pedestrian as nudity.
I wait at my bedroom door until I hear the groans and grumbles from my other men stating that just because they’re family, that doesn’t mean they want to see him naked. Nolan pipes up that he has no complaints and encourages Connor to walk around naked as much as he wants. There’s the low rumble of Donovan informing Nolan where he should be looking. Felix laughs while also lamenting that some things can never be unseen, as if this isn’t the umpteenth time he’s been faced with nude Connor. Kaleb groans that he just wants to eat his breakfast in peace.
Hooting with laughter, I make my way toward the kitchen, ready to enjoy good food with great company. It really is good to be me.
Chapter 3
Sitting at the marble island in the kitchen, I swish my hand, and frosting floats from its container and spreads over the sugar cookie. As a final touch, little candy ornaments follow suit, spacing themselves evenly to look like garland.
“I’m pretty sure that’s cheating,” Felix accuses while he attempts to frost his portion of sugar cookies with a butter knife. He has as much frosting on his hands as the sugar cookies have on their surfaces.
“I’m playing to my strengths,” I reply smugly, moving the decorated cookie to the finished rack and getting a new one from the naked cookies on a plate between Felix and me. “I don’t have an artistic bone in my body, but magic means I don’t need one. I imagine what the final product should look like, and poof, a perfectly decorated cookie.”
“In other words, cheating,” he retorts, licking some of the frosting off the side of his hand.
My imagination shifts from pretty cookies to what it would be like to suck the frosting from his fingers. Seriously, I need to get my mind out of the gutter. I literally got laid last night and this morning. How can I still have sex on the brain? Apparently the momentary thought shows on my face, because in the corner of my eye, I notice Nolan smirking at me knowingly from his seat on one of the counters.
Felix is oblivious because, well, he’s always oblivious. Despite all of our years together and the many times I’ve jumped him, he’s still surprised by the concept that I actively lust after him. It took a lot of time for him to really be comfortable in his own body, and though he’s not ignorant to the fact that he’s attractive, there still seems to be a disconnect with understanding his wife thinking he’s hot when he’s doing benign activities. Fortunately, I find it cute every time he gets all red when he realizes I’m seducing him.
“D, Callie’s using magic to decorate the cookies!” Felix tattles, but he has a goofy smile on his face as he says it.
“I don’t care,” Donovan grumbles, then smacks Nolan’s hand as he tries to steal a bite of cherry pie filling. “Fucking hell, you’re like children.”
“See? Not cheating,” I taunt, doing exaggerated gestures as I magic another cookie to be perfectly decorated.
Felix gets up from his stool to stand behind me, his thick arms wrapping around my waist. “You know, you could just magic all the cookies into frosted goodness.”
“What would be the fun in that?” I reply sweetly, tipping my head back to look up at him. Waggling my eyebrows, I add, “Besides, I like you all covered in frosting.”
“Oh yeah?” Felix challenges, his cheeks already starting to flush. He reaches over me to dig three fingers into the container of frosting, and then he rubs them all over my face. I squeal, some of the frosting falling from my face and down my dress. “Frosting looks good on you too, my pretty wife.”
He cringes as if preparing for a counterattack of flying frosting, but instead I give in to my earlier dirty thoughts and suck one of his frosting covered fingers into my mouth. “Tastes good too.”
Felix swallows heavily, his bright green eyes looking at my frosting coated lips and chest with new intentions. His free hand gently wraps around my throat, supporting my upturned face, and his lips part as he watches me feed another one of his fingers into my mouth.
“Oh, I want to play too,” Nolan purrs, leaping off the counter, and with blinding speed, he appears at my side armed with a can of whipped cream. Normally, he moves at speeds appropriate for humans, but apparently when it involves the possibility of food and sex, out comes the vampire reflexes. In no time, I feel the cold touch of whipped cream down my chest, followed by Nolan’s hot tongue. I moan around Felix’s fingers as Nolan makes his way toward my breasts, teasing one of my nipples through my messy sundress.
Donovan braces his hands on the kitchen counter, the muscles of his back flexing from his grip. Though it’s a sign of his strained patience, it’s a nice view since he’s naked from the waist up except for a plain black apron.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” he states, the gravelly element to his voice made all the stronger with his tested restraint, “but if you’re gonna fuck, it won’t be in my kitchen. I’m trying to make a nice dinner, for fuck’s sake, and I don’t need jizz making it into one of the damn main courses.”
“But protein is good for you,” Nolan jokes, earning a glare from D, followed by him shouting, “Out!”
Giggling, we flee into a nearby den, Nolan nabbing the can of whipped cream on our way out. The room has smooth cement flooring that’s cool under my bare feet, and light shines in from the mostly glass roof. I tug on Felix’s arm, dragging him down with me onto one of the two plush, off-white couches that sit L-shaped around an avant-garde fireplace—a floating orb attached to a flue that has special sealing through the glass roof.
For a moment, I wonder if it’s fair to have sex in easy hearing distance from the kitchen, but my thoughts flutter away as Felix claims my mouth with his, lust having pushed away any of his lingering awkwardness. His tongue aggressively dives into my mouth, and he tastes sugary sweet thanks to the frosting. Another moan escapes my lips when he pushes the straps of my dress down and cups one of my naked breasts, pinching my nipple between his fingers.
When Felix releases my mouth to kiss my neck, I notice the combination of frosting and whipped cream that is slathered on me is also transferring to the couch. My voice breathy due to Felix’s attentions, I question, “Should we be doing this here? Frosting and...other things might be hard to get out of the upholstery.”
“I’m sure it’s seen worse many times,” Nolan comments with twisted amusement, and I remember that this is my in-laws’ house. Sex and the exploration of physic
al pleasure is something deeply rooted into vampire culture—it’s hard not to be when a vampire’s bite is designed to arouse their partner—and I take in the room that is stylishly minimalist with new eyes.
Felix mumbles a frustrated, “Really didn’t need to know that,” at the same time I put together that Mr. & Mrs. Campbell’s work ‘retreats’ out here were likely euphemisms for swinger parties.
Nolan laughs at my expression then leans over, bracing one of his knees on the couch, and whispers, “Felix and I better get to work if you can still think about furniture at a time like this.”
Abandoning the can of whipped cream on the floor, he tugs his shirt off, his short platinum hair looking mildly mussed in a sexy kind of way. His arctic blue eyes are full of desire, and he gently guides me to lie on my back, my head pillowed on Felix’s lap. I nuzzle Felix’s growing erection through his cotton shorts, causing him to gasp.
“You should help him out with that,” Nolan suggests with a wicked smile as he spreads my legs on either side of him, “and I’ll help myself to this.”
He slides his hand up my leg, reaching under my dress to the dripping panties underneath. I moan when his thumb finds my clit and he begins stroking me through the fabric. With his other hand, he pulls my dress down until it’s nothing more than gathered cloth at my waist.
“You have the most perfect breasts,” he murmurs, his fingers brushing against them with featherlight touches.
Felix hums his agreement and goes back to fondling and teasing my nipples with one hand, while the other lightly cups the back of my head. My skin burns under their caresses and heated gazes, and the need to touch back spurs me into action. Twisting at the waist, I angle myself so my mouth is positioned at the head of Felix’s cock. I stroke him through the fabric while the tip of my tongue licks the growing wet spot.
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