The Fangover (The Fangover 1)

Katie laughed, too.

Chapter Six

BENNY NEEDS TO JET

STELLA stared at Wyatt. Was he for real? That’s what he was worried about? His manly ability to hold his drink or not? She would honestly never understand men. Eighty-five years and they still managed to surprise her with their inability to ever see what was really important. She felt like a mother who’d never given birth. Instead, she was emotionally rearing a whole band of vampires. Maybe that was why she didn’t want to just toss Benny out into the street. She felt responsible for him as well now.

It was a heavy burden, one she admittedly had placed on herself. If she had any intelligence whatsoever, she’d leave them all to their own devices. They’d starve to death with a bag of blood in their hands.

She fought the urge to sigh. “No one is doubting your studly shots-drinking ability. I’m just saying that something weird happened last night and this guy got dragged into it. Let him take his shower and head to work and back to his own life without you challenging him. Is that really so hard to do?”

“I’m not challenging him. There’s no challenge there.”

“I suppose you’re not acting jealous either?” For all she despised jealousy, she had to admit that somewhere deep in her girlish heart, she appreciated that Wyatt felt something for her, whatever that might be. He cared about her. As a friend. That felt nice, especially now that Johnny was gone.

“Jealous of what? That guy?” Wyatt scoffed, tossing his hair back over his shoulder as he jerked his thumb in the direction of the bathroom. “I think you swallowed too much of the Mississippi and it’s chemically altered your brain. There is no way in hell I’d be jealous of that guy.”

“So you’re denying that you’ve been acting like you might lift your leg and pee on me at any given moment?” She was definitely feeling like a fire hydrant.

His mouth dropped open. “That’s ridiculous.”

Stella just raised an eyebrow. The way his jaw was working and his fist was opening and closing, she figured she’d hit the nail right on the head. Wyatt was seriously annoyed that she was with Benny. Well, not with Benny per se, but that he was around her. The thought gave her a fair amount of satisfaction. She gave him a slow smile. “So you’re saying you don’t want me to bite you, too?”

Watching the way his expression changed from astonished and embarrassed to smoldering with a deep, hot desire aroused Stella. She had just wanted to tweak him, but she’d done more than that. She’d reminded them both of the passion that had exploded between them two nights earlier with just one little kiss.

Wyatt moved closer, stepping in between her legs. Suddenly his jeans, sporting a prominent erection, were at eye level. His hands went into her hair, directing her to look up at him. “Oh, I want you to bite me. And you’re right. I am jealous that you bit Benny. Very, very jealous.”

Stella swallowed. When you play with fire . . .

“You don’t have any reason to be jealous. I only did it out of necessity.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t want to feel your fangs in me. Doesn’t mean I don’t want to see that pleasure cross your face.” Wyatt popped open the button on his jeans and exposed his hip. “Just take a little nip.”

Licking her lips, Stella stared up the length of Wyatt to his dark eyes and back down again to his smooth, muscular hip rising above the black waistband of his briefs. It was very tempting. Vampires weren’t supposed to feed off of each other and she was a rule follower.

But this wasn’t feeding.

This was foreplay.

If she bit him, her mouth so close to his cock, she wasn’t going to be able to resist taking a suck. Dragging his blood with the tip of her tongue over to his erection and flicking along the length of his hardness.

The same thoughts were probably running through his head, because he thrust his hips toward her in an unmistakable invitation.

Stella figured it would be inhospitable to turn down his generous offer. Opening her mouth, she bent her head over his flesh, drawing the scent of Wyatt into her nostrils. He had an earthy, masculine scent that tugged at her inner thighs. She already knew what his flesh tasted like, now she was going to draw his blood into her.

As she punctured his flesh, he moaned, and she closed her eyes in ecstasy. It occurred to her that this was an intimate act, more so than sex in some ways, but she wasn’t able to stop, to pull back at this point. Not when it tasted and felt so amazing. The sweet warmth of his blood rushed past her lips and down her throat like honey.

Oh, damn, that was good, good, good. Stella sighed through her nose, her sex wet and throbbing, her fingers gripping his hip tighter.

Suddenly Wyatt made a low sound in the back of his throat, and he pulled her away from him and up. He was strong, like all vampires, but usually he wasn’t so commanding. Now she had no choice but to stand up at his urging. He kissed her, the taste of his blood still on her tongue, mingling with the deliciousness of his lips, the pressure of his body pressed against hers exciting and a little bit scary.

She wasn’t sure where this sudden passion between her and Wyatt had come from. Or maybe it had always been there and she had ignored it. She didn’t know. All she knew at the moment was that they were wearing too many clothes.

Grappling with his shirt, trying to lift it, only to have it catch on the thick chain necklace with a gun dangling from it that Wyatt always wore, Stella didn’t hear the shower turn off.

She had forgotten Benny altogether until he spoke behind her. “Stella.” His voice sounded crushed.

Oh, no. Wincing, she pulled away from Wyatt. While she wasn’t thrilled with Benny’s infatuation for her and her fangs and didn’t intend to encourage it in any way, she didn’t want to crush the poor guy either. When she had been mortal, fresh off the boat from Ireland, she’d had a substantial crush on a banker in Chicago. He’d married an heiress and left her heartbroken.

Only not that Benny really liked her. He was more into the idea of vampirism, but still. She didn’t want to hurt anyone ever, and she clearly had.

“Benny, how was your shower?” she said in a cheerful voice as she turned, licking the last remnants of Wyatt’s blood off her lips behind her palm.

Wyatt made a sound of amusement, his T-shirt falling back into place over his chest.

“It was obviously long enough for you to get busy with rocker boy here.”

Resenting that she was feeling guilty and more than a little sheepish, Stella frowned at him. She could make out with whoever she wanted. She wasn’t married. She wasn’t dating anyone. She was over a hundred years old and perfectly capable of making good decisions. Most of the time. Barring alcohol and impulsive bat-morphing incidents.