The Fangover (The Fangover 1)

“I don’t know.” She honestly wasn’t sure if she had been meaning to say anything or not. All she could think about was his tongue and the delicious strokes it was now making across her clitoris. “Yes, yes.”

Letting her eyes drift shut, she gave herself over to the sensations that were swamping her, the tight pressure of his hands on her thighs, his hair tickling her pelvis, his breath coming in short, hot bursts on her sensitive flesh. His mouth licking and sucking and eating her. Moisture flooded her and she groaned in ecstasy.

She thought he might tease her, take her to the edge and pull back, but he didn’t. He just kept doing those delicious things to her, his tongue darting inside her moist opening, and back again, until she felt the orgasm building up, higher and higher. Still she held it back, not trusting it, but Wyatt urged her on.

“Go ahead, I can feel how close you are. Let go.”

So she did. She let go of everything. The past. Her inhibitions. The need for order. She just gave in to her body, to Wyatt, to the love she felt for him.

With a yell, she came in the most freeing orgasm she’d ever had, the waves of pleasure not tumultuous, but sweeping and fluid. “Yes, yes, yes,” she chanted.

Then Wyatt was shucking his own jeans and moving in between her legs. His erection teased at her warmth, triggering little aftershocks of delight. Catching her under the knee, Wyatt drew her right foot up to his shoulder. She wasn’t sure why it surprised her but it did, in a good way. She knew he was going to be deep, deep inside her and that was such a wonderful thing. He held her gaze, waiting, drawing out the mutual suspense.

Stella knew how to change that. Letting go of the sheet, she rolled her palm over her nipple, biting her bottom lip on the gasp the movement elicited.

It worked. Wyatt groaned and thrust into her, burying himself to the hilt.

Oh, yeah. That’s what she was talking about. Stella lay back and dropped her free hip farther open. For him. She wanted to take him as deep as she possibly could, feel the immense pleasure that the man she loved could give her with his c**k fully inside her warmth.

“Make me come again,” she demanded.

“I’m happy to.” Wyatt struggled to maintain his composure. Stella had no idea what she did to him. She turned him inside out. Took him to the very edge of his control.

Her body wrapped around his c**k in a warm, tight embrace and he could feel the pulsations of her building orgasm. He was barely moving, just a slow slide in and out, not pulling out all the way, and she was already reacting to him like she was going to come. That he could do that to her so easily made him want to come. Her taste lingered on his tongue and her body was lithe and sexy beneath him. Her taut ni**les rose toward him and he turned his head to kiss her smooth delicate calf.

Wyatt set a hard rhythm, knowing that’s the way she would want it. Stella liked to take it. And he was determined to give it to her.

Pumping faster, he bit back a groan, meeting her gaze as her eyes widened in pleasure.

“Oh, yes. That feels so good.”

“Good?” he asked. “That’s it?” He wanted to hear her say it. He wanted her to beg for it.

So he pulled all the way out of her, gritting his teeth on a silent curse as his c**k throbbed in protest. Stella yelled out, her hand coming toward him.

“Wyatt, no! Don’t stop.”

That’s all he needed to hear. He fisted in her hair and plunged deep inside her.

Stella’s body stiffened, then she broke apart in a gorgeous, big, no-holds-barred orgasm, a frantic yell of ecstasy breaking past her lips. Wyatt had thought to hold off on his own release, but when he saw her, heard her, there was no way he could stop himself.

With his own groan he came in a ball-draining explosion that wiped his mind clean and shook him to the core.

So that’s what it was like to have sex with the woman you loved.

It was the hottest damn thing he’d ever encountered.

“Holy moly,” was Stella’s opinion.

He couldn’t have said it better. “Babe. Damn.” He’d find better words when his blood returned to his brain. At the moment he was nothing but shaky arms and deep gut-grinding satisfaction.

Pulling out with a sigh, Wyatt collapsed on the bed next to her. “I love you.”

She gave a giggle, which made him laugh. “I love you, too.”

She did. He could see it in her eyes when he looked down at her. They were glassy and filled with softness. “You’re beautiful.”

Her finger reached out and traced his bottom lip. “Together feels better than alone.”

“That it does.”

With a sigh, she snuggled up against him. “I’m sleepy.”

“So sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

He would be there forever.

* * *

WYATT WATCHED STELLA sleeping from the step to his courtyard, inordinately pleased with having her in his bed, and with the fact that he had completely worn her out. She needed the sleep, even if it was just a short nap. The last few nights had been eventful, to say the least.

The moonlight was flooding his room from the open windows and door, glancing off of Stella’s curled-up body. Her face was tucked in the shadows, her hair falling over her cheek, a soft crisp breeze drifting over him, bringing the scent of flowers to mingle with the tangy aftereffects of their lovemaking. He had pulled the sheet over her lower half and put on jeans before lounging on the bricks, bare chest and feet. He loved his little courtyard, a private oasis in the crowded and noisy Quarter. Now he loved it even more that he wasn’t there alone.

Stella filled the space nicely and he didn’t want her to leave. But that was a discussion for another night sometime in the future, when they’d gotten their relationship legs steady beneath them. For now, he was content to share his space whenever she liked.

A thump in the back of the courtyard had his eyes straining to see into the dark. There were a number of stray cats who liked to visit and he didn’t mind. Most wouldn’t get too close to him since he gave off an undead vibe, but there was one tiger who was bold enough to offer his ears for a rub. But this sounded like something bigger than a cat and Wyatt stood up, suddenly on alert.

“Hey,” came a whispered, urgent voice from the corner behind a banana plant.

Wyatt pulled the door closed behind him in one swift motion, protective instincts kicking in. “Who’s there? Step into the open so I can see you.”

The person obliged, moving into the middle of the courtyard, full moonlight shining on him and his AC/DC T-shirt.