Biting Oz: Biting Love, Book 5 (43 page)

“I can’t believe you came back from Wales just for me.” I snuggled into Glynn on our way to an on-site hotel room to wait out the daylight hours. I’d missed my plane to New York, but it didn’t matter. Glynn rebooked me for a flight tomorrow morning—with him in the seat next to me.

In the meantime, we were desperate for each other.

Oh, there were still issues to talk out. The usual things like do you want kids, do you hog the blankets. And some unusual things, like did vampires even sleep in beds? He also wanted to talk to my folks for some reason, but he said that could wait.

So for now, we were back in the same time zone. We stumbled into the room, kissing each other like maniacs, clawing off clothes (in his case, literally) and generally
not
talking.

Sometimes sex is slow and sweet, with a lot of foreplay. And sometimes the instant you’re naked, you push your partner flat on his back, climb on and yell whoo-hah like a cowgirl.

Glynn fell obligingly onto the bed when I shoved and even helped me into the saddle. But when I rolled my hips in long, delicious undulations, he grabbed me with both hands and started thrusting straight up, so hard and deep I took off like a rocket.

Planting both hands on his pecs, I slammed down with equal force. The slap of our hips was underlined by panting breaths and deep moans. Delicious buildup flushed both our chests, dampened our skin. Fangs erupting, he arched into me. I grabbed him with my thighs as his hot pleasure took me sailing over the edge. My climax was hard and quick.

He switched his grip on my hips, started rubbing against me, purring. The rumble rose from his chest, where my hands still dug into his pectorals.

His fangs gleamed white against his flushed lips. I leaned over to kiss him. A particularly forceful stroke of his hips sent me cascading open-mouthed into his face, and I ended up Frenching him savagely.

He released my hips to grab my face with both hands and kiss me back. His erection pulsed heavily inside me, a
basso continuo
to the counterpoint of caressing lips and quick, brilliant leaps of tongue. A crescendo of sensation overwhelmed me. I stopped thinking and doing and became a symphony of feeling.

My arms collapsed, pressing my body flush to a hot, hard male torso. His panting breath rubbed silky skin and ribbons of body hair against me, a dance of heat, texture, taste. Sheathed within me, stretching me in the fullness of throbbing pleasure, was his patiently waiting cock.

All that swelling feeling finally burst into action. I thrust my tongue into his mouth again. My fingers dug into his rock-hard muscles. My hips beat a savage rhythm. My whole body tightened with need. Where I sheathed him clenched tightest of all.

He shouted my name. Thick arms wrapped around me, shoulders to hips. He yanked me tight and spun us both. My back hit bed with my feet high in the air.

He pounded wildly, pummeling my mons, firing shockwaves with every stroke. His shaft grew thicker and longer, finally jarring into my cervix. I sucked in a cry.

He swept my legs onto his chest. With my feet framing his chin, my body doubled between us, he would go
deeper
. I opened my mouth to howl.

He sank fangs into the thick of my calf.

Climax, lightning-sharp, streaked through me. Pleasure lifted my cervix, and when my howl emerged, it was filled with satisfaction. He wasn’t too big now but just right. He rode my orgasm out, stroking into my contracting muscles until I lay limp and sweating beneath him.

He shifted our heads to the edge of the bed—and over.

I bent backward, my limp torso coating the side of the bed like melted wax. He tossed a couple pillows onto the floor, cushioning the crown of my head. Bracing a hand on the floor next to the pillows, he cupped my nape with the other. Belly to belly, his hips pinned mine to the mattress.

In this position, he pummeled me raw.

His chest, swelled to boulders, heaved over me. Or under me. It’s a strange position to be in, upside down and being screwed senseless. Blood rushed up…down…until my cranium was heavy and throbbing, like my sex. He thrust deep and hard, over and over. Lust built, sweet and powerful, the pressure increasing both in crown and pussy until it was unbearable.

Until it was no longer lust, but more.

His head bent, his rasping breath hot on my throat. I turned my head to give him greater access. Fangs pressed gently against my neck, all the more poignant for the wild thrusting of his hips. Tears sprang into my eyes, not of pain or fear or even need, but of intense happiness. Joy. Love.

He bit me. Climax raged through my body, igniting from neck to toe. Burned hot and fast, razing everything in its path.

His strokes slowed and shortened, the small after-strokes of lengthened fulfillment. His tongue touched my neck, swirling over the trickles of blood. I luxuriated again in sensation, suspended in a bright spot behind my closed eyelids that would settle into afterglow.

His tongue lapped once, twice, then paused.

“Growing up without a home, I learned to be self-sufficient. To take care of myself first, even with sex. Especially with sex.”

“Mmm.” I thought he’d taken care of me pretty well.

“I have care for my partner’s satisfaction,” he said as if he heard my thoughts. “But my own was always a concern. Until you. With you, I don’t worry about my pleasure. I thought it was because my satisfaction is wrapped up in yours. But there’s more. You take care of me too.”

My pussy flexed.

“You confronted Camille. You tried to get my tchotchkes back…sometimes I think you don’t even realize how you take care of me. You care about me. And I love you for it. I love you, Junior.”

I opened my eyes, saw his face through dark, spangled vision because I was still on my head. “I love you too, Glynn.”

He groaned and drove his cock into me to the hilt. And bit me again.

My blood-rushed brain detonated. Pleasure burst, a heavy liquid torrent. I screamed. He shuddered over me, quaking violently. I clawed at his back, seeking purchase in the raging consummation thrashing me. My hands met acres of skin, miles of muscle, vast shoulders.

Another massive wave rose up, crested. Collapsed, sweet oceans of pleasure drowning me. His thighs and butt clenched, driving another wave. It ebbed and I started to breathe—he rolled a few short strokes and sank his fangs just a little deeper. Yet another surge struck me. And another.

It went on and on. Even after he’d stopped moving, little aftershocks sparked. Even after he’d rolled us back up on the bed and his licks settled into nuzzling, even after he tucked me, with a few purrs, spoon-fashion into the crook of his body, small pulses glimmered. Even as we sank into sleep.

Much more than lust. It had been almost three weeks, not long but in some ways an eternity. And there were still many, many things to resolve.

But the basics were in place. I loved him. He loved me. We’d work it out from there.

Until, after we woke, I asked him why we he wanted to talk to my folks.

He said, “I must ask your father for permission.”

“What permission?”

“To marry you.”

“Junior. I
will
speak to your father.”

It was two weeks later, on my one night off from rehearsing the show in New York. Arms crossed and grimaces firmly in place, we sat on opposite sides of the taxi, headed from the airport for Meiers Corners and my folks’ home. Our first fight. Speaking of working things out. If I hadn’t been so mad, it would have been sweet.

“This isn’t the dark ages, Glynn. I make my own decisions. If you want to marry me, you ask me, not Pop. And I’ve already said no.”

“Your father will not say no. He needs money; I have money. He needs help with the business. I can help.”

“At what cost? You’ll never see Wales again. The very idea of you selling your Welsh homestead in some misguided notion of helping my folks—”

“I love you, not pieces of land and crumbling castles.”

“A hell of a lot of land that you spent all your life getting, peopled with folks you care for, friends. It must mean something, yeah? I don’t want you giving all that up.”

His gorgeous face set. “I’m going to talk to your father. End of conversation.”

It wasn’t, of course. We argued until the taxi pulled up outside the Wurstspeicher Haus, at nearly ten that night.

“You are not selling—hey.” I alighted from the cab, a neon orange TENFFOEG landing on my shirt. “The lights are on.”

“Your store has evening hours.” Glynn pulled out our overnight bag. “That’s why you had to hire help to play the musical.”

“Yeah, but even when I was home we closed by nine. And now my parents are the only ones running the place. They said they’d shut at five.”

His black brows pressed together. He took a step closer. His nostrils flared and he hissed. “
Vampire
.”

I ran straight for the door. “My folks—” I folded in two around his barring arm. Rubbing my middle, I backed off with a glare. “
Vampire
means they may be in trouble.”

“Exactly why you’ll stay here.”

I rolled eyes. “Because there are no vampires outside in the dark.”

“Bollocks. All right.” He reached into his ever-present black jacket, snicked out a long, silvery blade, and advanced. “Stay behind me.”

A bell tinkled as he opened the door…and an electronic tune squealed with guitar distortion. The tune sounded damned familiar.

“Welcome to
Wurst Und Käse
. How may I help you?”

The voice sounded familiar too. I peeked around Glynn’s black leather.

Cheese Dude Two stood behind the register. Cheese Dude One, beside him, was busily stuffing away fifty dollars’ worth of blood sausage into a green cloth sack.

The latest outrage. “They’re stealing our product! Attack!”

Glynn and I both charged at superhuman speed, Glynn because he was a vampire and me because I was fed up with this crap.

Cheese Dude One threw his hands up. I braced myself for a jalapeño stick hit but kept going at ramming speed—

I smashed into a wall of chest and bounced sprawling onto the floor.

Not Glynn this time, because he sprawled next to me. Standing over us, arms folded, was Julian Emerson.

“What the hell?” Glynn leaped to his feet, fanged and ready.

Julian waved him down. “Relax. I’m making an emergency food run for Nixie. Liver sausage and cream cheese, yum-yum. And some
blutwurst
for me. I appreciate only having to make one stop now. I didn’t want you to screw that up.”

I shoved to my feet, dusted off my butt. “What do you mean? We’ve sold blood sausage alongside our regular
wurst
for months.”

“But not the cream cheese. Or the Limburger.” He turned to the register. “Better add half a pound of that and some garlic summer. She’s on a stinky food kick too.”

“You got it, Mr. Emerson.” Cheese Dude One trotted over to the cooler…which was suspiciously clean and shiny, and hummed without a clank.

I whipped around.
All
the coolers were new. And inside them—rounds of cheese marched alongside sticks of sausage. On the shelves, silver cow charms were displayed pinned to sausage scarves. Yellow foam wedge-cheese hats even sat on the top shelf.

Mom and Pop would never countenance wasting precious retail space on someone else’s merchandise. I whipped back. “Where are my parents?”

“Dead to the world,” Cheese Dude Two said.

Horror catapulted me over the counter. I’d snap his fat neck with my bare hands.

Dude Two sprang aside with amazing agility, eyes wide. “Wait, no! The parents are just fine.” He flapped his meaty hands. “Better than fine. They’re asleep. Good thing, after all the work they’ve been doing, installing the new coolers, moving product.”

“That’s a lie!” I said. “They barely had enough money for one cooler.”

“We footed the bill.” Dude One trotted behind the counter, hands full of cheese and sausage. “Our goodwill offering to our new partners.”

“
What
?”

“Junior? What are you doing back?” A cookie elf came shuffling out of the back. Pop blinked, caught sight of Glynn. “Ah,
gut
. Welcome home, son.”

I whirled. “Pop, what’s going on? Why are the Cheese Dudes here? You hate them.”

“Ah, Junior, your mother and I…we heard you speak at the musical, and…it was mature. Sensible. And we were tired of the conflict. So when you left that morning, we went over to the Dudes’ place and hammered out a partnership.”

“But Pop, so fast?”

“The Cheese Dudes are making big profits.” Pop smiled. “And now we are too. Don’t worry. We’ll still leave the family store to you and Glynn and the little
liebchens
coming.”

While my mouth was hanging open, he shuffled back to bed.

“I heard about your speech,” Dude One said. “You really did a number on the collective city guilt gland. Coolers installed in less than a week, and we’ve got a contractor starting tomorrow to connect the two stores.”

Dude Two chimed in. “But until that’s done, we’re consolidating the best-selling product here. Mom and Pop Stieg run the place during the day and we run it at night. That way we can keep the store open 24/7 and get more customers.”