Oycher (14 page)

She trembled, her thighs wrapping tightly around his head. Isla looked down at him with sparkling eyes. “Please, help me!”

Isla wasn’t the only one who needed help. He pulled away, gripping her behind the knees, and spun her until her face dangled between his legs. “Don’t try to take the whole thing in your mouth.” He felt her nose bounce against his head. “You can’t.” Her tiny finger followed a throbbing vein underneath his length. “Just suck the end.”

Her soft hands squeezed his erection, eliciting an electrical jolt from his balls and milking drops of semen. Another rhythmic tingle shot from his balls, rolling up his spine vertebrae by vertebrae, until the urge to explode in the back of her throat nearly took precedence over granting her a knockout orgasm.

He dove in face first, moving his mouth and nose back and forth over her nether lips, salivating at her flavor, putting it to memory for all time. He slipped over her anus, sensing her puckering beneath the exploration of his tongue. Oh, he wanted to take her there. And he would soon. The soft creases relaxed the more time he devoted to that region. Yeah, he would lose it hard for her ass.

She latched onto his balls, sucking the looser skin inside the warm haven of her mouth, running her tongue in circles over the trapped, sensitive flesh caught between her straight teeth as she stroked him. At the moment, he saw stars, a million of them.

He started losing his load at the pleasure pain. Spreading his tongue wider, he delved into her dark secret and tickled her opening. A flood of her muffled pleas echoed through the bedroom, one after the other. She obviously enjoyed anal play. But didn’t all werewolves?

Terje couldn’t hold back anymore. He cut off her pleas with a furious blast of semen. In answering spasms, her pussy contracted. His delicious mate creamed his mouth and his chin, her orgasm running down his throat just the way he liked it. “That’s it,” he whispered, swallowing hard and riding his throbbing wave. He emptied completely into her precious mouth. “Just… like that.”

In werewolf speed, Terje spun her and handed her off to Oycher. He knocked the blankets and pillows off the bed as Oycher placed her smack in the center. Her legs parted when her back hit the mattress and Terje took pride in the fact that she was swollen and glistening from his ministrations. Her eyes widened when she realized Oycher had taken her. “Is the shark back for more?”

Wearing only pants, he loomed over her, hovering. Part conflicted, part frustrated, and majorly horny, Oycher sighed. “Presently, I see everything you want from me in your mind,” he said, closing his eyes. “So I’ll do this the human way.” Opening his eyes, he lowered, bracing his palms flat on either side of her shoulders.

Their faces inches apart, she asked, “Is there a big difference between the vampire way and the human way?”

Lifting a hand, he braced his weight on one palm and trailed his fingers over the front of her throat, his breath accelerating. “I think all males are driven by hunger, and hunger comes in all forms.” Those fingers skated down, resting over her chest and feeling her heartbeat also accelerate. “Does my hunger differ from that of a human male?” He bared his fangs, watching her flinch. “In all ways, yes, but, for you…I am starving.”

She blinked a few times and then looped her arms around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss.

Terje sat on the edge of the bed, sensing her body shiver more than seeing it. A faint noise of appreciation left the back of her throat. Her fingers were curling around Oycher’s long hair, moving down to rub circles over his bare shoulders.

Oycher pulled her closer, deepening her kiss, a humming vibration leaving his body. Terje understood he was holding back, by honestly trying to appear human for her. He wondered how long that would last. The heat of the vampire’s body seemed to fill the room as he gripped her hip, keeping his claws retracted, squeezing the supple flesh found there.

Pulling back slightly, he murmured, “You were born for me, Nevesta.” He moved his face downward, avoiding her throat, and nuzzled between her breasts, sucking the left one deep inside his mouth.

“Watch the extra sharp teeth, please.” Isla had one fist in his hair and the other gripped the sheet by her hip, squirming, her black hair fanning across the white sheets.

Oycher leveled some of his weight on her, just enough to snuggle in between her knees, and slipped his hand between them. “One day you might change your mind.” He plunged his fingers deep inside her, testing her snugness. “Soon, I hope.”

Terje’s hand went to his dick, moving his palm up and down, twisting and pinching at the end. He could come all day with Isladora, and it would never be enough.

Her lips parted, panting. “No fangs. No biting. The human way, remember?”

Lifting his soaked fingers between them, he curled his tongue around them, tasting her. “Two things a vampire can drink, and you deny me one of them.” His cheekbones sharpened underneath his skin. “You are tasty, but I expected no less from my Bride.”

Reaching between them again, he unzipped his pants and released his cock, deftly keeping it from her view. She’d been freaked out enough over Terje’s tribal borings. Oycher’s circlet was just as intimidating, if not more.

When he swiped the head of his erection up and down her velvety lips, spreading them wide, her eyes blazed cerulean. In an answering call, his irisis bled into the whites of his eyes. She glanced over at Terje, and a craving swirled deep inside those immortal eyes. What it was, he wasn’t sure. Then she looked back at Oycher, a new dawning alight in her face. She could accept most of him, possibly, just not the feeding situation. For what Terje could sense, however, the part of her belonging to the werewolf was connecting in a tangible way to her soul mates. She was gorgeous beneath Oycher, taking Terje’s breath away.

Rolling his hips, Oycher inserted his head. “Ah,” he groaned. “She’s thick, swollen.”

Terje could see his co-mate was having a hard time restraining, his hips pulling back then his cock inching in. “But she’s wet enough to lubricate you.”

“Yes.” He slammed into her in one claiming thrust.

“Slow,” she pleaded, wiggling to accept him, her eyes dropping to his mouth. Her brow furrowed as Oycher’s fangs moved farther down his chin.

She jumped a tad, biting down on her lip. “What’s that?”

He eased back with human slowness, inch by calculated inch, and kissed her tenderly, threading his tongue between his immortal teeth. He slammed in again, moving his pelvis up and down. “Fangs.”

“Not your teeth,” she argued, her sex-dazed eyes narrowing. “I feel metal or something, when you push.”

He studied her as he pulled out methodically slow. His eyes moving from where they were joined, up her smooth torso, over each breast, and stopping at her throat a moment too long and licking his lips. “A circlet awarded me when I became Commanding Vojak.”

Isla tightened her legs around his waist as he plunged into her, her eyes widening at his inhuman girth. “It’s rotating…inside me.”

“Only for you,” Oycher promised, his voice raw.

Terje ran a hand down her arm, circling her wrist and licking the underside where her veins were the most sensitive. “Isla, take the pleasure the circlet provides.” His balls tightened beneath his cock, his need for her growing again. Oycher wasn’t the only one who wanted to bite down on her. Terje would love nothing more than to pin his mate with his extended canines in the way of the Were, marking her, while weighing her down against the damp earth, and sinking into her with her sex pulling tightly around him.

Oycher covered her with all his six-foot eight inch frame. She appeared so small when compared to her vampire, but Terje realized she must have looked that way with his powerful werewolf body earlier, too. So he reminded himself that although Oycher was dwarfing her, Isladora was made for him, exactly for them.

Oycher was at her mouth again, working his tongue in and out. His big hand brushed her hair away from her face, fisting, then dropping away before touching her throat.

Terje kept her wrist in his hand and moved his open mouth up her arm, peppering kisses on her flawless skin. Oycher released her mouth, kissing her chin, his fangs growing larger than typical. But Terje knew why. He wanted to take Isladora in a vampiric wedding ceremony that would bind their souls. That wish made for some long fangs.

“Human way,” Terje reminded nearly inaudibly, but Oycher moved his head slightly in acknowledgment, his length pounding her rippling walls in a human pace, though the restraint was obviously killing him.

“Oycher, Terje,” she said anxiously, addressing both of them, “I’m getting…urges.”

“Give in to them.” Terje sidled next to her, feeling her body rock with Oycher’s plunging. “Whatever they are, they’re natural.”

She shook her head no so quickly that her face blurred for a second. “I can’t!”

“Then feel this,” Oycher demanded, wrapping the backs of her knees over his forearms, and lifting her hips to meet his harried but mortal-like pace. “I’m at the top, claiming what’s mine.”

“Yes,…at the top,” she agreed on a disjointed breath. Oycher rotated his hips, staring down at her with loving adoration. When vampires found their true Brides they fell in love instantly, though he obviously hadn’t mentioned it to Isladora. “Oh!” she cried out, it’s swirling against my…”

“Against your hot spot,” Terje finished with a groan. He slid his hand where Oycher and Isla were joined and pressed down on her clit, moving his hand in werewolf speed, mimicking a vibrator. Her head started thrashing, her eyes illuminating like blue stars. Isla screamed as her orgasm overtook her.

“Terje.” Oycher’s voice a whip of steel.

Terje knew this was coming, but he still wasn’t quite prepared for it. He pulled his hand away from Isladora’s mound, brought his lips down on her mouth, and angled his neck, baring it for the vampire.

A waft of air warned him before fangs pierced his flesh. A white-hot burning entered his bloodstream that immediately changed to a pleasure-pain. Terje lapped at Isladora’s mouth, running his tongue over the fronts of her teeth. Oycher released another round of endorphins through his bite. Terje could feel himself moan more than he could hear it. He deepened his kiss, his tongue lengthening until he felt the back of Isla’s throat. Roaring fire, mind numbing carnality, thoughts of fucking and fucking and fucking until his cock would detonate sizzled throughout his body. A freight train headed his way, the lights blaring, before every nerve ending in his body exploded. A sheen of sweat covered his skin, and, for the briefest of moments, Terje went blind.

“Ah,” he groaned, shuddering as Oycher swallowed rhythmically against his throat. In an answering shudder, Isla screamed with another orgasm as Oycher finally emptied into her. The blasts of his semen were something he couldn’t mimic as human. They were far too powerful for that, and her answering climax would exhaust her.

When Terje’s head stopped spinning, and his vision came back into focus, he left Isla’s sweet mouth to catch his breath. Streams of Terje’s ejaculate littered all three of them. Oycher took over her mouth with a kiss as close to a human’s as he could get. He retracted his fangs, pressing his lips to the corner of her mouth almost tenderly, pulled back, and skimmed the side of her temple with the backs of his freshly protracted claws.

“Great sex, Commander,” she said breathlessly, “but that’s not exactly the human way.”

After nightfall, Isladora walked into the dining cabin with Terje in tow. Her eyes widened as she looked at Oycher. “You went to a lot of trouble.”

Oycher shrugged, hoping to please her. His time in courting her was limited. Already Sage had two leads, both hunts starting in two hours, with Oycher heading up his males and Flynn heading his. If it were a calmer time, he would have handed over temporary leadership to Sage, so Isladora could receive the very best of him. But this sort of killer leading the Hounds of Cyn to their doorstep allowed no room for change in leadership. And his Vojak’s urge to bring Renaldo to ground in honor of the fallen gnawed at his gut.

“You picked at your lunch.” After Oycher had taken her, they’d jumped into the ocean while Terje finished teaching the Younglings sparring, at the complex. Oycher kept Isla safe while she swam off her nervous Were energy. It’d been a far better outcome than her running through the marsh, considering there were no trees. And it gave him a nervous sense of exhilaration to protect what was finally his. “I’d like to see you nourish yourself.”

She examined the feast, item for item, noticing the fall colors. “Thanksgiving?” Her hand went to her chest. “It’s hardly summertime.”

Oycher held out a chair for her, sensing her growing excitement. She’d showered and pulled on a lavender dress that swirled around her knees when she sat. She kept glancing at the dress, as though she couldn’t believe it was hers. Terje had done well, buying her clothes. Oycher decided he, too, would spoil her with all things women covet.

“At the risk of your wrath, when you dreamed during your nap” - He waved over the table filled with everything she’d envisioned, down to the candles — “you were sitting at a table enjoying this human Thanksgiving with your family.” Though the faces in her dream were blank, since she’d never really grew up with a permanent family. And he had an idea she’d never experienced this holiday humans looked forward to annually.

Her brow puckered. “I must have slept hard. When I woke up, you were gone, and I usually sense movement better than that.”

“I found a nearby cellar,” he lied, “where most leeches prefer to sleep.” He scooted in her chair, and Terje sat next to her. “That is, when we’re not hanging from barn rafters.”

She pressed her face in the palms of her hands, hiding. “I’ll strike leech from my vocabulary.”

He sat down on the opposite side of her, pulling her hands away from her face and kissing the tip of her delicate nose. “Ah, you’re in much better spirits, willing to compromise and all.” Oycher poured two glasses of wine, handing them to the food eaters. “I’m guessing, moja žena, that screaming down the boat was just what you needed.”