Just One Taste Read online

  I stalk over to his hiding spot up against a wall in the corner. Jumping up, I wrap my arms around his shoulders while placing my heels on the wall to either side of his waist. His cock rests in his hand, offering guidance to help me mount him.

  A harsh breath escapes him as I lower slowly down the shaft while fastening my mouth to his neck. My sharp teeth gently break his delectable skin as I shout in his mind.

  MINE!

  The sweet taste of his blood flows into my mouth as he responds.

  Technically, it’s attached to me, but I’ll let you borrow it.

  The small puncture on his neck releases very little blood with my first taste. The snarky rejoinder from him becomes a thing of the past with my first deep pull.

  Rafe grabs my hips and jerks himself forward in response. In two thrusts, he’s seated all the way in.

  “God, you feel like a fist wrapped around me.”

  “Mmm… ” I murmur against his neck, unwilling to let go yet.

  Never taking more than a mouthful or two, I savor every drop I ingest from his glorious body. His cock slides out from my sheath slowly. The sheer size of him pulls the skin while forcing my body to stretch and accommodate, even as he withdraws. Never has any lover fit me this well; it’s like he was made a little bit bigger than I’d need. The teasing I’ve experienced all afternoon through my projections has left me moist, open and ready.

  Drawing more blood will only make him peak faster, so I stop, wanting to draw out our enjoyment. Sometimes, reading my lover’s mind is not a bad thing.

  Not yet, not yet… got to hang on… God, she feels so wet… so damn tight… slow down…

  I know he doesn’t mean to project, but our tight bond permits most surface thoughts to leak through.

  His voice sounds rough. “Stop, slow down, Dria. I don’t want to come yet. I’m so damn close.”

  He pushes in deep, holding my hips firmly against him. His strong hands lock me in place, making it impossible for me to pull back and ride him no matter how much I’m aching to. I start to squirm, writhing a bit on him, using my actions to beg him to continue.

  I seal the small wound with a tiny lick, then draw back from his neck. Drinking from him pushes me closer to the edge as well. I hold still to allow him to catch hold of the sensations raging through his body, but my inner muscles start to convulse around him.

  “No!” he shouts. It will push me over. I’m not through with you yet!

  The twitching and spasms continue whether I want them to or not.

  I can’t hold back!

  Rafe pulls me from his cock.

  In one swift motion, he lifts my whole body up to center my opening at his face. His hot lapping tongue zeros in on my clit; soft lips lock onto my swollen ones. My head and arms are close to the ceiling, so I reach up to grab the rafters to steady myself.

  Rafe tightens his lips and sucks. It pushes me over the edge, with bright white light exploding behind my eyes.

  Throwing my head back, I shout my release to the room. It comes out a bit like a small scream, and causes me to lock my thighs around his head while riding out the waves of pleasure.

  When I think I’m coming down, he snakes his hand around from my hips, moistens a finger in my pussy, and pulls back to tickle my rear opening. The wetness helps him to slide a thick digit in. Nice and slow.

  It feels like an electric shock from my ass to my clit.

  I gasp, sucking in air as I feel myself pushed back up the hill of my next orgasm. I let go of the rafters for Rafe to ease me down his body while he keeps a finger deep in place. My hard nipples push against the inside of my bra as I slide down, feeling the soft knit of his polo on my descent.

  I shiver at the erotic picture we make of him fully clothed and me almost nude. When my heels touch down, I look up into his passion-filled gaze.

  “Got to work this tight little ass of yours if I’m going to get back in any time soon,” he whispers softly, pushing his thick finger in and out of my tight pink bud.

  He knows I love anal play. It takes a lot of preparation on my end because of his size. Sometimes, I think the warm-up for the event is just as much fun. Thankfully, so does he. It took me nearly a decade to discover he’d enjoy the same sensations I do, and boy has that been fun to explore.

  He leans a bit down, hunching around my body so he can angle himself to watch his finger go deep into my pert bottom. I’m on my tiptoes in my heels and lean into him as the feelings of fullness start to overwhelm me. My hips move back and forth a bit on their own volition. His left hand leaves my side to journey to my front, and two fingers plunge deep inside my pussy. Not to be outdone, I reach out to his jutting cock, grabbing it in a firm grasp to pleasure him as well.

  Rafe sucks in his breath while pulling his lower-half back, successfully breaking his member from my grip.

  “Not yet,” he says.

  My response comes out as a whimper. The sensations of being entered from my front and back are so intense, I feel like there’s molten lava brewing inside me. The pressure starts to build again and I want more.

  I need your cock back inside.

  Rafe responds by pulling his hands away then sweeping an arm out to clear the workbench. Tools scatter haphazardly to the ground, clattering as they land. I’m seized roughly by my waist and slammed down hard onto the dirty, waist-high table. Something digs into my back and my head feels wedged against a steel vise. The moment he presses against my wet, hot center, I cease to care where I am.

  I draw my thighs up to rest against his chest. His left arm wraps over my legs to hold them together while the other drags me across the bench toward him. My body angles down off the surface, giving him the best position to thrust inside.

  I growl out, “Hard, I want it hard.”

  Rafe grunts, his body reacting with a steady rhythm. The pressure increases with each plunge as he slams into me with increasing strength. His movements cause the workbench to creak under the strain.

  “More!” I bark out harshly. Going to come… come with me… Now!

  Rafe’s hips piston with a last burst of energy. My back arches as I throw my head back, flailing blindly for his chest. I grab hold of both of his nipples and twist them while I let go. Wave after wave of release crashes over me, tightening my inner walls with each pulse.

  The scream building in my throat works its way out as my vision clouds and goes black. It seems like the moans I’m hearing from Rafe come from a great distance. I know he’s reached his peak too, but I’m so far gone, I can’t tell much of the details.

  God, Viv, that was good. I needed it.

  I can’t help but laugh. That’s my husband, the master of the obvious.

  Chapter Five

  When our glow has worn off, Rafe flicks on the worktable light. My kind, gentle lover helps to peel the tools off my back. The items became slightly embedded in my flesh when he changed our position for the spectacular ending.

  Ah… there’s nothing like a good rogering from your husband to make you feel special and push the cares of the day away.

  “Okay, sweet cheeks, jump on down. You look fine.” He punctuates this with a slap to my hip.

  My indignant look falls on his uninterested visage as he starts to whistle softly in his happiness. I’m a non-whistler. Those who like to whistle, who aren’t very good, like Rafe, can be difficult to suffer through.

  I decide not to let anything bring my mood down, especially after I have supped so sweetly from my mate’s neck. A girl can forgive a lot after some fornicating, two great orgasms and a blood chaser. Never taking more than a taste allows me to indulge more frequently. A lap of my tongue and the enzymes from my saliva repair any damage to leave Rafe unblemished. At my age, I don’t need much sustenance to survive. After a full feeding, I could go weeks without additional nourishment if I really had to, which isn’t an issue with Rafe on hand.

  Never one to let an opportunity to tease slip by, I jump down gracefully and stare Rafe square in t
he eye. He towers over me by seven inches, but the come-fuck-me-heels put us a little closer. Intensifying my look, I drop my lids and recall the way my body felt when I came that last time. I push out a bit and watch his pupils dilate with passion.

  Want to go again? His voice rumbles in my mind.

  I turn and step away. I hesitate a bit then look back over my shoulder. The corner of my mouth turns up in a delicious little grin.

  “Later,” I say aloud. “Can you keep up, baby?”

  He smiles, reaching out to smack my rump. I prance away with a little burst of speed so his fingers miss me, but barely. I spread my legs in a wide stance before bending from the waist to pick up my discarded dress. His quick intake of breath indicates the only answer I need. Oh yes, he’ll be ready to play again later.

  With the dress in hand, I rise to walk away without looking back. “Come have some coffee with me. I need to discuss our new guests and see what you think.” I walk up the stairs, with my naked butt jiggling in the breeze, the dress draped over my arm.

  Who happens to be standing at the top of the stairs but Jonathan. Damn! Caught almost nudie with blatant physical evidence on me that I’ve recently made love. I can do this. I can pretend I always walk around like this.

  “Umm,” I raise an eyebrow then look down at my watch, “you’re a bit early. It’s only 7:30.”

  I love to flirt, but it’s usually on my terms, not being caught by surprise after making love with my husband.

  Jonathan, a sturdy man of medium height, stands not much taller than me. He’s dressed as usual: jeans and layers of thermal with a plaid flannel shirt. His good-old-boy style screams lumberjack, but it helps him blend in well with the locals. The smell surrounding him contains elements of the outdoors with hints of animal musk too. His thick chest supports crossed arms, which I know are corded with muscle under the bulky clothes.

  I imagine he could’ve made an excellent wrestler, but picturing him rolling around in tight clothes may not be a good idea right now. His quick smile adds to his natural aura of confidence, making him a great choice to handle dealings in town.

  Jonathan inhales deeply, which triggers a low-pitched rumble in his chest. That bastard scents my recent releases and gets off on it! Arrogant prick.

  “Down, boy,” I say with as much nonchalance as I can muster. “Let me get a robe on.”

  I walk toward the bedroom as gracefully as I can in my semi-naked state. I’m not going to cover up with my hands, acting embarrassed. It would show weakness to a predator, which is exactly what this werewolf is, something I can never allow myself to forget.

  “I’ll be back in a minute,” I add.

  I can feel his eyes follow me as I walk away.

  He starts to snigger, “Nice hammer imprint on your shoulder blade.”

  Deciding to rise above his school-aged amusement, I ignore him and keep walking. Rafe comes up the stairs as I cross into our closet for a robe. I grab the closest one, an emerald silk number, before hustling back out.

  “Watcha doing here, Wolfman? Like to listen in to what you’ll never get?”

  Uh-oh. Danger, Will Robinson, danger! I sprint down the hall projecting calm happy thoughts into their minds before inserting myself between the two. Catching them both right as Jonathan straightens to launch himself at Rafe.

  “Now, now, let’s play nice. Rafe, you must know why I’ve called Jonathan here.”

  Jonathan’s the only werewolf on our compound. He left his pack in Canada about seven years ago when he didn’t want to challenge his Alpha for dominance. In my eyes, it made him an honorable man for doing so. Two powerful male wolves, Alphas, can’t stay in the same pack for long or a fight to the death would occur. Rafe stares down at the shorter but still powerful man.

  Time to get everyone back on track and off the lingering scent of sex in the air.

  “The whole ‘dead body in the shed’ thing,” I remind Rafe. He comes back to himself and meets my eyes with a fond smile. He loves baiting Jon, the jerk.

  “What are you talking about, Viv?” Jon looks like he’s almost back to his normal laid-back self. His hazel eyes leak back from the lighter golden brown of his wolf form. Rafe loses interest in poking at him and sits down at the kitchen table. I fill Jonathan in on everything we know so far, including the location of the body in the shed, finishing up with the question he never did answer.

  “Why are you here early? That’s not like you.”

  Jonathan doesn’t avoid the main building—he’s just busier outside of it. In addition to being head groundskeeper, he cares for a huge pack of thirty Alaskan Malamute-wolf crossbreeds, which he employs to patrol the property. Jon does come over when we ask him to, but it isn’t a habit of his to hang out and mingle at the bar. He’s a bit of a loner and it’s fine by me. Once I started feeding from him seven years ago, Rafe hasn’t been overly friendly toward him. Jonathan made his intentions clear: he wants to be my bonded mate, which will never happen.

  The simple fact remains that Were blood carries more potency than a human’s. I need more blood than can safely be taken from Rafe in order to stay up around the clock during the long darkness, which is not normal vampire behavior. He’s never minded in the past when I had to feed from some of the employees out of necessity, but when Jonathan entered the picture, it became a whole new game.

  Jon’s blood makes me temporarily stronger. Let’s face a cold hard fact: with so many powerful vamps on site, it wouldn’t pay to be weak. Nor does it help matters that this wolf is arrogant and makes a play for me whenever he thinks he can get away with it.

  On principal, Rafe understands. He’s secure in our relationship and trusts me, but he doesn’t like Jon. The cold reality exists that through these feedings, Jon became my servant. He wants to please, protect and provide for me. All the things a servant should want after a dual exchange of blood takes place. This relationship, with all its complications, leads Rafe to tweak Jon at every turn. He wants to put the Were firmly in his place and suffers no qualms about being cruel to do it.

  Other monogamous, mated couples who need servants may not choose a Were for the job, with good reason. Weres are desirable as hell by nature; it’s a pheromone they put off. Jon’s blood smells like dark chocolate to me, which makes feeding from him akin to drinking down hot cocoa spiked with adrenaline. The mate bond allows Rafe to experience first hand the delectable taste of Jon’s blood. That’s a hard lump for any man to swallow—they too desire the man their wife feeds from on a regular basis.

  Jon answers my question about why he arrived early. “There’s an unknown vampire on the property.”

  “What? I don’t understand,” I say, recoiling in shock. “Do you think you may have confused the scent with someone here on vacation?”

  “No,” Jon snorts. “I don’t make simple mistakes. Besides, I double-checked outside all the cabins and all the entrances to the hotel. The trace isn’t from a guest nor is it someone who’s ever stayed here before.”

  “Hmm,” Rafe comments, “which means it could have something to do with John Pierre’s dead body in room six.”

  That’s my Rafe: he loves to tease me, but he’s not some sharp-tongued, witty detective either. I don’t release my snide observation of his less-than-stellar addition, having learned enough over the years to keep such thoughts in.

  “Is it possible, Viv,” he continues, “that you missed the scent of another vamp?”

  Okay, now he has a valid point, dammit.

  I think back to the moment. The smell of the blood overwhelmed everything. So yes, I could have missed another vamp scent. And to be honest, I did not think to walk around the room like a bloodhound. While it would have been awkward in my dress, it could have revealed some new information.

  “Yes, it’s a possibility.” I turn to Jon. “I don’t have time now, but do you want to check the room out later with me? If it is a match, we should both get familiar with the scent.”

  “Yeah, I’ll head up whenever y
ou’re ready. Have you thought to question the other guests yet?” Is it condescension I hear in Jon’s voice? I know I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, but I do remember to question people.

  “No, and I’m not an idiot. I will ask them. It’s only been,” I check my watch, “about two and a half hours since we discovered the corpse. I’ve had other things to do, you know. Business to run, guests to see to…things like that.”

  “You left off ‘husband to shag’,” smiles Rafe.

  What can I say? I have a very strong sense of priorities and shagging my husband remains at the top of the list. Yeah, yeah, I’m horny, so sue me. He loves the trait and that’s all that matters in the big picture.

  “Yes, well, no need to point out the obvious now, is there?” I reply with some heat.

  “Uh-um,” Jon clears his throat. “I came by early to tell you both my news, but why did you call me here?”

  Jon can figure out why I called him; he just wants to hear me say it.

  “It’s time for me to take a full feeding again. It’s been a few weeks so I knew you’d be able.” I try to keep my tone light and neutral.

  Projecting my need, I let the hunger envelope him so he knows what to expect. It’s not a rip-your-throat-out kind of feel, more of a topping-off-the-tank one. I don’t ever get famished with Rafe around. The murder makes me prefer to play it safe and be at my peak when I know it may be needed.

  Jon’s face lights up like he’s anticipating this could be the moment he’s been dreaming about.

  “Finally decided to dump that human you’ve shackled yourself to and mate with the stronger man?” He grins and I know it’s partly to hide his own feelings of self-doubt. Rafe just snorts while walking away from the table.

  “Anytime you want to see who the stronger man is, Jon, you let me know.” Rafe goes to the fridge to collect ingredients for his dinner. He gives Jon his back, a clear sign to the Were he doesn’t consider him a real threat. The blood bond between us has made Rafe as fast as a vamp and as strong. My husband doesn’t need to prove his point or fear Jon in any way, and he knows it.