Havermouth, Present Time
Talen did as he had promised, the moment they were outside of the bar, he scooped her up and threw her over the back of his shoulder, his hands holding onto her thighs, her shriek of laughter and the exposure of her thigh highs scandalizing the yuppies at their meals and cocktails.
As Talen strode down the street, indifferent to the stares, she saw Heath stand from one of the tables, pulling his waistcoat down, his expression furious, his mother reaching out to touch his wrist, preventing him from pursuing.
She was breathless from the position, the blood rushing to her head, and by Talen’s strength, as he didn’t even seem to notice her on his shoulder as he strode to the corner. “Which way, sexy?” He asked, nipping the side of her thigh nearest to her, the drag of his sharp teeth across her flesh delicious.
“Right,” she told him. “And right again.”
Rhett was at the door of his studio, seeing off his client, and she met his eyes as they passed. She blew him a kiss, and saw his knuckles whiten on the doorframe and his wolf lept to his eyes.
“How long have you been in town,” Talen wondered.
“Arrived last night,” she replied bracing her palms against his back and pushing up in order to alleviate the dig of her corset into her ribs.
"And already attracting attention,” he commented. “The blonde in the suit and the tattoo artist.”
“Ah, well, you know, you can never totally escape your past. Straight here. The house with all the gravel,” she directed.
“Hmm.” He set her to her feet on the porch. “Four minutes.”
She was breathless as she gazed up at him. Fuck, she thought, he was fucking massive. And she had five years of celibacy behind her… What the fuck was she thinking bringing home a mountain of a man she’d met less than fifteen minutes earlier?
He cupped her cheek. “Don’t be afraid,” he said, leaning down, his lips brushing over hers, the tickle of his beard against her skin a new experience for her. The kiss deepened, and she moaned, her hands gripping behind his head, her body cleaving to his. His hands rested on her lower back, and she could feel that he was hard, but otherwise there was silence…
This was how it was, she thought, for normal people. She was not sure if it was an improvement or a disadvantage.
They managed to open the door without separating, their limbs tangled, their bodies straining, their mouths devouring. Clothing followed them down the hall until they were in her bedroom, and she gave a push on his chest. He grinned and compliantly laid down on the single bed. He was so large that there was hardly any room left, his feet hanging off the ends.
He was beautiful, she thought, as she straddled him, stroking her hands down his sides. He had a sleeve tattoo that cupped his shoulder and over half his chest, which was thickly pelted, his left nipple pierced. His body was, as promised by his height and the way he had filled his leather jacket, heavily muscled, and his cock… Oh, fuck, she thought as she gripped it with both hands, she was going remember him in the morning, and every time she sat down for a week.
His pubic hair was as blonde as the rest of him. She lifted over and took him into her. Watching the darkness of her own hair mesh with his pale curls was as erotic as watching the width and length of him disappear within her. His body arched back, his eyes closing and his mouth open as he lost himself to sensation.
“Fuck,” his hands closed on her hips, and he rolled her under him, lifting his weight onto his arms so that he could thrust deeply, the width of his hips spreading her thighs, his skin bronze against her white. The bed groaned in protest, the squeak of the springs an unmistakable rhythm as old as time.
In the moonlight through the window, a red light flared within his pupils. Not werewolf, she thought in bewilderment, but something other than human.
His thrusts increased in speed, the force of his body into hers sending her nerves haywire, confused signals of pain and pleasure. He bowed his head over her, sucking his way up her neck as her fingers tangled into his hair. Pleasure, she decided, her moans echoing off the walls in a rising pitch as her body tightened like a string. Oh, fuck, pleasure.
The string snapped and she came so hard that she was sure she pulled a muscle, the orgasm, almost like a cramp, clutching around his cock, causing him to bite her at the climax, deep enough to make her bleed. His hand squeezing her breast at the same time as he sucked, counterbalancing one sensation with the other, expertly. Like the sex, her body was uncertain if it was pleasure or pain. Until he came, his groan wet, and in that moment, the silence of his mind was broken, and she felt his pleasure as if it were her own, both of them crying out in surprise as she came again.
His tongue licked over her skin. “Fuck me,” he breathed out. “Aren’t you a surprisingly fun little package? Are you up for more? I have a hankering to eat myself out of you.”
She laughed. “Handsome, get down there and suck.”
He grinned, his canine and premolar’s catching the light, unnaturally lengthened for a human, longer still than a werewolf. He slid down her body to lift her thighs over his shoulder and feast on her clit. “Fuck,” she moaned. He was certainly enthusiastic, she thought, and his tongue knew precisely where to go and what to do there.
Vampire, she decided. Her grandmother’s grimoire had a small section on them.
Fuck, she hoped he wouldn’t bite her anywhere that he shouldn’t whilst he was between her thighs…
The moonlight lit his skin in silvered tones as he rose to his feet, pulling her hips off the edge of the bed and thrusting into her again with a moan.
“Fuck,” she cried out on the edge of another orgasm.
“Fuck yeah, until dawn,” he grinned, leaning forward to scoop her up off the bed, holding her effortlessly against him as gravity worked wonders, his arse muscles clenching beneath her heels as he ground up into her. She caught his face between her hands and kissed him, tasting the metallic residue of her own blood on his tongue.
She threw back her head in invitation as she neared orgasm, and felt the confusing bite of his teeth, and then the flood of sensation so intense that she did not know if she came, or he did, or both. He lowered them back onto the bed without pulling out, and they laid in the spill of the moon through the window, tightly entangled, the position intimate, but oddly, considering the short time they had known each other, comfortably so.
She had pulled his hair loose of the bun whilst they had fucked, and stroked it now over his shoulder, until its ends brushed his chest hair. He began to thrust slowly, and they both watched his cock slide out and then back into her.
“I am here until Saturday,” he said softly.
“I’m sure we can keep you busy until then,” she replied, and he chuckled.