What Rough Beast [Blood Oath 1] (18 page)

Her mouth watered when he—finally—stalked toward her.

His hand dived into the gaping maw of his jeans to ease his cock from confining denim.

Dear God, but he was beautiful. Hard, thick, the bulbous head of his dick flushed purple with arousal, and Kate licked her greedy lips at the glistening precum gathered in the slit.

That was what she wanted.

To swallow his cock down and trace each vein with her tongue. Take him deep into her throat.

Garrick groaned wanton lust. His fingers wrapped around his gorgeous cock and gave it a slow, lazy pump.

Kate stared up at him.

"Open your mouth."

She parted her lips.

He stepped forward and fed his dick to her.

She moaned at the first salty taste of him. Her tongue dipped into his slit to lap it out, hungry for more as his musky sex smells enveloped her and became the air that she breathed. Intoxicating. So achingly wonderful to her. What she wanted? At that moment, with his dick sliding in and the husky sounds he made when she teased the underside echoing in her ears, Kate felt like sucking him was all she'd ever need. Garrick's cock pushed deeper filing her mouth. His fingers dug into her hair. She hummed happily, lips sealing around his length.

Her cheeks hollowed.

His dick hit the back of her throat.

She opened wide, eager to drive him out of his fucking mind.

For Kate, sucking cock wasn't just a pleasure. It was an avocation, one she loved and excelled at. There was nothing like taking a prick deep, swallowing to massage the tip and the husky groan he made? God, who wouldn't want that?

Kate loved to suck cock because when she did...

Rick was at her mercy.

He was hers to toy with. To pleasure. To tease. She could bring him to spine-melting climax in seconds—or long minutes. She had the power, skill, and desire to bring him to his knees.

She wanted to rock his world.

"You already do,” he said on a harsh pant.

When he slowly drew back, her tongue chased his dick. She licked. She sucked. She ran her tongue over the sensitive head.

And moaned out her feral delight along with him.
"Holy crap, you taste as good as you smell."
And she hadn't believed that possible.

Her fingers lifted to cradle his balls.

He shuddered.

Pushed back into her.

The fierce pleasure inside him poured through the link they shared, and she fed her own giddy arousal to him.

"God, love. Your mouth."
Garrick grunted, thighs shaking, when she swallowed around his cock again. “Not going to last."

Pride, joy, lust—they all burst inside her. She redoubled her efforts, sliding along the length of his dick, her lips sealing to create the sweetest suction as he fucked in and out of her.
"Want it. Want you."

No, it wasn't want anymore.

Need.

She
needed
him to shoot inside her, his dick spurting thick, salty semen into her throat and coating her tongue with the bitter taste of him. Kate had tasted his blood, had savored and treasured every drop, but she wanted it all. Everything he had.

His body quaked, muscles rigid as cement.
"Christ, have mercy. The way you talk... You're going to make me blow."

"Yes."

He shook his head.
"Too soon."
His hips bucked into her face to thrust deep. Deeper. “I never want this to end."

"It doesn't have to."
She gently kneaded his balls, rolling each in her fingers, while her other hand slid down her stomach and into her nest of curls to tease her slick, needy clit.
"You said I could have your cock any time I wanted. Your blood, your dick—mine."

He groaned out mindless lust. “Yes. Fuck, yes."

Deeply buried in his senses, Kate felt his orgasm nipping at the base of his spine, clawing to tear free. She shared the dizzy, soul-shattering rush. Sucking his dick, his precum flavoring her mouth, she rubbed her tingling clit, and primal pleasure jolted through her.
"Give it to me."

He pushed forward, burying her nose in his wiry bush of hair.

Her lips stretched.

His muscles tensed.

Busy fingers working her sopping pussy, riding the sharp edge of release, she looked up.

Because she wanted to see it take him.

Kate's orgasm knotted her belly. She needed to come, but she wanted to share that with him too. So she waited. Licking and laving his rigid length, she stared at the grimace of pleasure that made his eyes go black.

"Oh Christ, love. Now!"

His cock pulsed, shooting the first salty strings into her mouth. He roared, pushing his hips into her.

Kate's vision grayed.

There was only pleasure and soul-obliterating release.

Her husky whimpers. His hoarse moans.

His cum pulsing into her mouth and sliding down her throat. Her musky sex scenting her damp fingers.

He cradled her scalp, hands shaking as she sucked down every drop, then licked him clean. And kept licking him. Loving on him. Until his dick softened, the attention she gave him flirting with over-stimulation to his hypersensitive tip. Chest still rising and falling from her own orgasm, she let his dick slide from her lips.

Garrick stared down at her. A bead of sweat slid down his temple and traced the line of his scar.
"Love you."
He closed his eyes, his fingers in her hair petting her. “God, how I love you,” he said when he managed to catch his breath.

Finally sated, she leaned her forehead against his thigh and adored the heady scent of their spent sex. “I heard you the first time."

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Kate burrowed into the warmth of the comforter, surprised but not alarmed to find the other side of the bed empty. Garrick hadn't left her once in the past week, not while she was awake, at least. She knew he must, because he had given her his blood every night, and strong as Garrick was, even he must feed.

If nothing else, to maintain his stamina.

Kate's lips curved to a lazy smile at the delicious weight of her limbs, the sated exhaustion of her body, the mere memory of what he'd done to her, what she'd done to him, and how he made her feel.

Glorious.

Maybe Garrick was right. When need made her skin itch and her nerve endings scream, no, being a vampyr wasn't so great, and Kate resented it, him, everything. But wow, did she feel wonderful now.

She'd needed.

Garrick had provided.

Beautifully, generously.

Just as he'd said.

No reason to muddy up perfectly good sex up with messy emotions.

She all but purred as she stretched, slow and indolent, on the bed and still stubbornly refused to lift her too-heavy eyes. Why risk disrupting this magical feeling?

Content.

Kate sighed into her pillow, hugging it to her. Had she ever felt so perfectly content? Given how frequently instinct and the demands of her body had driven her to Garrick over the past days, this easy sense of satisfaction seemed foreign to her, but she felt it nonetheless, more than she ever had before.

Did she want Garrick still?

As before?

Yes.

Even more so.

Though he gave her pleasure night after night with his hands and his talented mouth, Garrick still denied them both the fucking they both craved. He said she wasn't ready, that when the time came she would know, and insisted they'd
make love
after their blood-mating was completed.

Kate was almost 100 percent sure that was bullshit.

Oh, she wasn't physically strong enough to revive him yet. That much was true. Her body had healed, rejuvenated by leaps and bounds during the last several nights. She'd feasted on him. Unapologetically. As far as Kate was concerned, it was Garrick's fault for getting her in this condition to start with, so who cared if he was forced to range farther and hunt more voraciously in his daily pursuit for blood? Garrick was a predator, through and through. He'd kept apace with her hunger. And his. That was all that mattered.

Still, the sly vampyr was holding out on her. Blood, she could have. In greedy abundance. Orgasms? Every night, he wringed them from her until her body slipped into sated exhaustion. But he refused to slide inside her, take her as they both wanted, and forget what Garrick had said. There was no reason to deny the inevitable. She wanted his cock in her. Badly.

She had to admire his duplicitous genius.

The man was using sex to lure her to him, to draw the both of them more firmly together. By the time her body was capable of resuscitating his, they'd both be crazed with lust to fuck each other, while at the same time, they would be as intimate as two beings could be.

Kate intended to savor every moment. The mind-bending passion that flared between them now,
and
the passion to come. Other than the whole bloodsucking-creature-of-the-night business, he wasn't too bad, really. She'd seen worse. She'd
dated
worse. She wasn't going to fall in love with him, no way, but she'd relented about opening her mind to him once she realized she'd been treating him like a vibrator. Garrick was still a jerk. But she'd been acting like a bigger one. Letting him in her head, just a little, wouldn't hurt. Besides, sharing odd casual moments with him felt...nice. As long as her heart wasn't in danger, why not? She could play well with others when the situation demanded it.

Her heart already thudded with want of him, but along with arousal lived confidence and anticipation. He would return to her. Soon. And he would do lovely, lovely things to her. Where once, she'd feared fucking him, Kate now longed for it, more and more each night. Maybe tonight, he'd bend. Maybe tonight, he'd thrust his cock inside her and—

"Ah, Sleeping Beauty awakes."

Kate's eyes sprang open.

Across the room at the fireplace mantle, a woman in faded jeans, hiking boots, and a fraying flannel shirt traced a finger along the nub of a candle they'd burned last night. Her hair shone honeyed gold, cut short to frame her pixie face in a sophisticated style Kate would've never been able to pull off, but then, Kate would've never been able to leave the first four buttons of her shirt undone either. The woman's eyes flashed feral yellow, her cheeks flushed, her lips full and red. They twisted to a smirk. “Hello, dear,” she said, scraping a long scratch on the candle wax with one sharp fingernail. “I thought it time we meet."

Her sultry, mocking soprano made Kate's stomach clench and instinctively, her mind sought out Garrick. Every sense in her demanded him there, her intuition shouting cold dread.
"Rick!"

"He's busy, darling, hunting with the pack,” the woman said as though reading her mind, but Kate knew that wasn't possible. Only Garrick and Luc could link with her. Only they had shared blood.

"Interrupt if you must, but really, can you deny Garrick the sustenance he requires to see to your...urges?” The woman ticked her fingernails across the row of candles as she strolled along the mantle, nearer now. So close Kate clutched the comforter around her throat and shifted higher on the bed, uncomfortably aware of her nakedness beneath. “You've been very, very demanding."

"Kate."

The relief of his presence in her mind eased the tension in her shoulders, and suddenly, her fear made Kate feel foolish and small. Waking up to find a stranger in her bedroom had unsettled her, but she wasn't a child. Garrick swore she was safe at Pridemore. She believed him. An entire pack of werewolves patrolled the estate, and if any threat managed to penetrate their defenses, Luc and Garrick, powerful vampyr both, were never far. Either man would die before risking her safety or allowing harm to come to her. If Kate was sure of anything, she was certain of that.

Yet she still cried like a terrified toddler to Garrick because some woman wandered into their private rooms.

Big deal.

She wouldn't be on the estate if she didn't belong there, if Garrick, Luc, and the weres all hadn't carefully vetted her.

Kate stiffened her spine. She was tired of being scared, sick of feeling vulnerable, ignorant, and weak. Something about the stranger rankled, but with so many to protect her, she couldn't be in any legitimate danger. She could handle one irritating woman by herself. Without Garrick or anyone else.

"Never mind. I shouldn't have bothered you."

"Who are you?” Kate asked, proud when her voice didn't quaver.

"Pardon my manners.” The woman smiled, sly and devious, as she meandered around the room. “I am Olivia, alpha female of the Pridemore weres, mated to Peter,” she said, an abrupt hard glitter in her gaze, “for now."

"I didn't know wolf packs had female alphas.” The other woman's hand rose to touch a narcissus blooming in a crystal vase, lowered to stroke the fine grain of the armoire. Proprietary. Aggressive. As though Kate were the interloper, not she.

But if Olivia was a were, then she had promised to protect her, from Garrick himself if necessary. She had nothing to fear. “I'm Kate, but you already know that. Pleased to meet you."

Olivia scowled, her fingers curling to claws on the polished oak.

A cold shiver sprinted up Kate's spine.

"Kate? You are anxious. Why?"

She must have committed some grave faux pas by not showing the proper deference or respect or whatever it is an introduction to the lead were female warranted, but biting her lip, Kate wondered what she was supposed to do. What could Olivia—or any of them—expect? Luc didn't tell her anything, didn't want anyone else around her, and Garrick was worse.

How was Kate to learn how to live as a vampyr and move in her new world if no one gave her the chance? Frustration gnawed at her, but resolution overwhelmed it.
Opportunity, thy name is Olivia
. And if Kate had failed to adhere to the appropriate etiquette for meeting the pack's female alpha, Olivia would have to live with the disappointment. Until last week, Kate hadn't believed werewolves existed.

"Kate!"

"Oh, for pity's sake. It's nothing, just some woman. You know, if you and Luc would tell me what—"