Fur and Fangs Box Set Page 3

  “Don’t I know it,” Isabeau chuckles. “I don’t regret it, though. I found a useful purpose, and my apartment’s rent controlled. What about you?” She peers at me curiously. “Why hasn’t someone snatched up a tasty morsel like you?”

  “Well, there’s the werewolf thing…”

  “So? Plenty of werewolves get dates. You’re on one right now.”

  My heart flutters at the confirmation that we are, indeed, on a date, although there’s really no question. “Maybe I just don’t put myself out there enough? I wasn’t the most popular gal on the market back in Georgia. Went out with a few girls, but none of ‘em stuck.”

  “You put yourself out there to me just fine on the train,” Isabeau says. “And I think most of Georgia needs to get their eyes checked. Oh, here we are.”

  Isabeau stops in front of a brownstone. It's charming, crumbled only in the right way, with some well-placed strands of ivy. The vertical brass numbers at the foot of the stone steps read '1260'.

  "You have your phone, baby?"

  I dig it out of my pocket, and Isabeau poses against the post. I swear, the woman would look right at home in the centerfold of a fashion magazine.

  "Take a picture and send it to somebody you trust. That way they'll know where you are and who you're with."

  I'm touched. No one's ever tried to make me—the big, bad werewolf—feel safe and comfortable before. Usually, I'm the one struggling to make the girl I'm seeing feel safe from me. I zoom in just enough to get a full body shot. I'm sure Colin will appreciate it, anyway. "Say gelato."

  "Gelato." Isabeau flashes her fangs, and I'm so dazzled I barely remember to snap the picture. My thumb fumbles as I open my most recent text message with Colin and send it along. He responds almost immediately: a string of emojis with lots of teardrops and 'ok' signs.

  "I take it your friend approves." Isabeau sneaks up beside me again, close enough for our arms to touch. "You have no idea how much I love smartphones. Before them, doing my makeup was a real chore with the whole mirror thing. Now I can just prop an iPad up on a stand in the bathroom."

  "I bet that helps." I tuck my phone away. "So, uh, should we...?"

  Isabeau hooks her arm through mine and leads me up the steps. I've never felt her curves so close, and I almost choke on my tongue as the swell of her breast presses into my upper arm. Her apartment's on the first floor. She unlocks the door, and I'm hit with a wash of bright colors. There are royal blue drapes, green throw rugs, and decorations of all different shades. The wide shelf of books that takes up one wall is practically a rainbow. To top it all off, the main item of furniture is a huge yellow couch with fluffy pink throw pillows. Somehow, it all goes together, although I sure as hell can't figure out how.

  Isabeau notices my shock. "I keep my black drapes and coffin in the bedroom," she teases, and I blush.

  "No, I love it," I assure her. "It's just..."

  "Surprising?" Isabeau removes her sunglasses, setting them on a small table beside the front door. Also, sitting on the edge is a giant bottle of lotion marked: 'Nightshade SPF 100, Extra UVB Protection Added, blocks 99.9% of harmful rays!' I’m guessing that’s the source of the scent that always swims around her.

  I look up from the bottle to see Isabeau staring at me. Without her sunglasses, her cheekbones and nose are even more beautiful. "It's you," I say. "Definitely you. You can't hope to turn a home into more than that."

  "Riley..." Isabeau cups my cheek, gazing straight into my eyes and probably beyond them too. "I really want to kiss you. Would that be okay?"

  Would that be okay? The real question is, how have I survived without kissing her for this long already? I nod and lean in.

  Our lips touch. As it turns out, Isabeau's mouth is the only part of her body that's warm so far. Her hand might have been a block of ice, but her lips radiate heat. It's like she was storing up all the warmth she had just to kiss me with, and my mouth burns with it—or maybe that's just because my face is on fire.

  Then there's the taste. The hint of copper I'm expecting is subtle, and the rest is lip gloss mixed with something uniquely her. It's a sweet, sticky flavor I can't get enough of. I want to drown in her, and my knees buckle beneath me. It's not my fault that was one hell of a first kiss.

  Isabeau holds my elbow, and I stumble, embarrassed. Before I can stammer an excuse, her eyes slide suggestively toward the yellow couch. "Let's get somewhere comfortable. That is, if you want to."

  She doesn't have to tell me twice. When she takes my fingers in her cool ones and leads me over to the couch, I trail obediently behind. Once she gets there, she turns and fists my sweater vest, pulling gently.

  We collapse onto the couch, lips locked, hands roaming everywhere. Isabeau's body shifts constantly against mine, all soft curves and winding limbs and rolling hips. Even through our clothes, I can feel every inch of it. She's underneath me, but she still has total control of the kiss, and as her tongue sweeps across my teeth, I feel her fangs—not biting down, but scraping the edge of my bottom lip. It sends a thrill through me, part danger and part curiosity.

  Isabeau pulls back a centimeter, gazing up into my eyes, and I can tell she's trying to gauge my reaction. I have no idea what to say, but I smile to let her know everything's okay. Kissing is easier than talking for me, and I’m getting more confident.

  Our mouths meet again, longer and deeper. Isabeau runs her fingers through my tousled hair, curling her legs around mine to cradle my pelvis. Part of me still can't believe I'm doing this—making out with a vampire, a practical stranger, in an apartment that looks like Lisa Frank got drunk and threw paint all over it—but it feels unbelievably right, way better than making out with girls I’ve known for longer. I want more. So much more.

  Isabeau moans when I slide my fingertips up along her thighs, and I take that as a sign of encouragement. I don't want to wander too high and ruin the moment, but her legs are so smooth. Even the subtle coolness doesn't bother me. It's a nice contrast to the furnace my body has become, and I'm entranced by the imprints my fingertips leave as they press into her soft skin.

  "You're beautiful," I mutter without even realizing it.

  Our string of kisses tapers off as Isabeau caresses my cheek. She seems to approve of the compliment, if the way she runs her tongue over her plump lips is any indication. "And you, Riley, are just delicious."

  Those words unlock a fierce hunger within me, one that hurts. Suddenly, I'm kissing Isabeau again, without conscious thought. Our mouths clash, all tongues and teeth, and my nails dig deeper into her thigh. It's only when I feel a soft, breathy gasp against my lips that I realize how hard I'm squeezing.

  "Sorry," I mumble, loosening my hold.

  "What for?" Isabeau's skin might be cool, but her eyes are warm and soft. "I like it a little rough occasionally."

  "You do?" My head is spinning.

  "Of course. I like it all kinds of ways..." She begins toying with my shaggy hair, twisting it around her fingers. "I like it rough and fast. I like it slow and passionate. As long as it's with the woman I want, I'm happy. So just be you, Riley. Show me what you've got. That is, if you want to."

  My heart swells. No one's ever said that to me before with such honesty and conviction. No one’s ever checked in with me this often, either. I kiss Isabeau again and keep my hands right where they are on her soft, smooth thighs.

  We spend a long time just kissing, but somehow, it doesn't feel like long enough. Isabeau's lips have me drunk, and even when we break apart to breathe, her eyes keep me dizzy. I feel like I'm being sucked down into a whirlpool, but I don't want to escape. I just want more of her lips, more of her tongue, even more of her fangs nibbling the corner of my mouth.

  It isn't until Isabeau links the fingers of her left hand through my right and brings it up along her stomach that I remember there's still a lot of landscape left to explore. She guides me until I'm cupping her breast, and I feel a little more heat, as well as a faint heartbeat. It beats slow, maybe on
ce every five seconds, but it’s unmistakable.

  Isabeau chuckles at my surprise. "Where do you think the blood I drink goes? I'm using it."

  "Well, I didn't get vampire biology lessons in school."

  "Nothing like hands-on learning," Isabeau purrs. She gives my hand another squeeze, and I suddenly remember where it is and what it's holding. Her breasts are large enough to fill my hands and then some, but they've still got some firmness. I give a tentative squeeze, and when Isabeau hums in approval, I take it as a sign to keep going.

  Soon, I've got the straps of her dress pulled down, both of her breasts in my hands, and one thigh riding between her legs. Her nipples are long and thick, and she whimpers every time I tug them. She starts rubbing against my knee as I kiss down her neck, and she pushes lightly on the top of my head, asking without words.

  The sounds she makes when I take one of the stiff peaks between my lips are an angel's chorus. Her skin tastes sweet, but I think it's got nothing to do with the lotion and everything to do with her. My nose twitches, and I realize her scent is changing. It's becoming thicker, muskier, and wetter—and as she rocks against my thigh, I realize why.

  She's turned on. There's a damp spot in the middle of her panties that I can feel with her dress rucked up. I kiss and nip my way over to her other breast, and the smell gets even stronger. New York can be exhausting to a werewolf's nose, but this particular scent, Isabeau's scent, makes the extra sensitivity worth it.

  But I don't just want to smell. I want to taste. I want to kiss my way down that cute, curvy stomach of hers in search of the faint but growing heat I can feel between her legs. I want to know for sure if the flavor in my nose will sit even better on my tongue. I start peeling her dress the rest of the way down, and she lifts her hips to help.

  The sight of Isabeau's body, naked except for her underwear, is riveting. Her breasts sway a little with each ragged breath she takes, and even though she looks so soft and vulnerable all spread out beneath me, I can tell she's anything but.

  "Take off your shirt," she asks, striking a note somewhere in between a plea and a demand.

  I'm more interested in getting rid of her panties, but it's only fair. I sit back on my heels and strip off my sweater vest, then the shirt underneath. My binder comes next—a tip from Colin—and Isabeau's eyes widen as I strip it off. She licks her lips, and I sigh with relief. Judging from the look on her face, she likes what she sees. Hopefully that won’t change when she sees the rest of me.

  "Come back here," Isabeau says, opening her arms.

  I'm powerless to resist. This time, her mouth finds my collarbone. She inhales deeply, burying her nose in the crook of my neck, and I shiver, wondering exactly what she smells.

  She must feel me go stiff, because she plants a soft, wet kiss on my pulse point. "I don't bite unless invited, remember?" But when she kisses me again, she lets her fangs skate over the same sensitive spot. I'm not ready for her to bite me, not yet, but the idea has butterflies erupting in my belly.

  "I want you to fuck me, Riley," she whispers into my throat. "Can you do that for me?"

  A growl rumbles in my throat—pure mating instinct. Even if it’s been a while, that’s definitely something I remember how to do.

  I run my hands up along Isabeau's legs and hook my thumbs in both sides of her underwear, finally tugging them down. The sight I'm graced with as she spreads her legs is more than worth the wait. She’s shaved, except for a small strip of black hair pointing down to the prize. Her outer lips are dark, puffy, with the faintest ring of pink just inside her entrance. Then there's her clit, swollen past its hood, just the right size to fit in my mouth. It's all shining and slippery and smooth, and I whine as the smell around me grows stronger.

  I touch with my fingers first. She's not scalding-hot, but she's warm enough for me to feel it on my fingertips. When I graze along her entrance, she groans. When I touch her clit, her whole body twitches. Isabeau remains patient at first, letting me play for a while. Her eyes stay right on me, while mine flick between her face and what my hand is doing. When I first slip a finger inside her, it's almost by accident. She's so wet that I can't really help it, and her muscles pull me in effortlessly. But when she hums and shudders, clenching down around me, sealing me in, I push deeper—this time on purpose.

  It doesn't take me long to find her spots. Isabeau is incredibly responsive. She tilts her hips to show me where to press and rocks them to show me how fast she wants me to move. Soon, I'm curling into her front wall with two fingers, and my lips are latched onto her nipple again.

  "Riley," she gasps, tangling her fingers back in my hair. "Harder."

  Hearing Isabeau say my name is heady praise and hearing her say 'harder' lights a flame in my stomach. I hook harder, and when she yelps, I know I've found the perfect angle.

  "Yes, just like that...but harder..."

  My brow furrows, and my eyes flit back up to her face. "You sure?" I rasp, releasing her breast with a soft pop. "I'm already going pretty hard. I don't wanna hurt you."

  "You won't," she promises, and looking into her eyes, I believe her.

  I remember what Colin said, about a vampire being able to take everything I can dish out. Every hair on my body tingles. The tips of my fingers and ears begin to itch. I run my tongue over my dry lips and notice my teeth are even sharper than usual. I'm teetering on the edge of going feral, and it takes an effort of will to push it back.

  "Come on, Riley," Isabeau says, and the way her lips wrap around my name feels like a caress. "Give me all you've got." I close my eyes, praying she really means it.

  When I open them again, I know they're glowing. I know because Isabeau's breath hitches, but instead of recoiling, she beams. "They're like lanterns," she murmurs, almost in awe. “You’re gorgeous.”

  At first, I'm stunned Isabeau thinks they're pretty. “You…like it?” I ask, a little uncertain. No other girl has ever thought to pause and sincerely compliment me before when I’m in this state. It freaks them out and they ask to stop, or they keep going because they want to check ‘fuck a werewolf’ off their bucket list. I hadn’t realized how much a simple positive statement could mean.

  Isabeau kisses me again, soft, but a gesture of absolute certainty. “‘Like’ is an understatement,” she pants when it’s over. “I liked you before, and I really like you now.”

  We gaze into each other’s eyes a while, then suddenly, I remember I'm still knuckles deep inside her. I start thrusting again, my forearm muscles flexing. Far be it from me to leave a lady disappointed. Isabeau rolls and arches beneath me, encouraging me to go faster and deeper. I plunge in and out of her, hooking against the special spot I've found on each thrust, but she can't seem to get enough. Her moans get higher and prettier and her lashes brush her cheeks as her eyelids flutter, half way between open and closed.

  She reaches up to caress my cheek, and at first, I think she's about to draw me in for another kiss. She does, eventually, but not before playing with the new points of my ears. It tickles, and I end up laughing into her lips even as I pump my hand harder, going as rough as I can without digging my claws in.

  Isabeau pulls my bottom lip between both of hers and sucks. Her fangs dig in, not deep enough to break the skin, but that isn't what sends a shockwave through me. It's the way her inner walls start rippling around me, pulsing quick and light. I can tell she's about to come, I can smell that she's about to come, and the knowledge that I'm the one helping her hit that high sends me over the moon.

  I rub my thumb in circles, searching for the bud of her clit, and once I start massaging the shaft through its hood, Isabeau's muscles go wild. She clenches tight around me, then releases with a wail, covering my hand with more sticky heat as her hips jerk in time with her contractions.

  It's magical, feeling her like this. My only regret is that I can't watch the pleasure passing over her face, because our mouths are still locked together. But I can smell her, and I can feel her pulsing around my fingers
and into the pad of my thumb, and that's enough.

  Or, it would have been, if my mouth hadn't started watering. I don't just want her coming around my fingers. I want her in my mouth, spilling all over my tongue. I break away from her lips and start kissing and nipping my way down her body as fast as I can. She hooks her knees over my shoulders and spreads her legs wide, and we smile at each other before I lower my head.

  I'm right. Isabeau tastes even better than she smells. She's sweeter than strawberry pie and twice as sticky, but I don't mind the way she clings to my chin. At first, I'm all tongue and no technique, lapping up every drop I can get. Lucky for me, Isabeau doesn't mind. She squeals, and to my surprise, she comes again, tugging sharply at my hair. I growl as more wetness washes over my lips, desperate to catch it all.

  It's only after I've licked her clean that I move back up to Isabeau's clit. She twitches as I suck it into my mouth, but with a few feather-light flicks, she's shaking and muttering. "Yes, Riley...Fuck, yes, just like that. Oh, your mouth..."

  I'm determined to show her just what my mouth can do. I alternate between sucking and licking, flattening my tongue against her twitching opening before sliding back up to tease her clit. Isabeau's all sighs then, her calves tightening against my back, heels digging in. If I can make her come a third time, forget the moon. I'll fly clear out of the solar system and take her right along with me.

  I feel the second it hits—the tension, the stillness. She goes rigid, and then melts, screaming my name to the ceiling. A salty-sweet river flows into my mouth, and the only thing I can compare it to is the fresh burst of blood that comes right after I bring down a deer. It's a comparison most humans would probably find terrifying, but I bet Isabeau would understand—not just because she's a vampire, but because she's been so damn nice to me, right from the beginning.

  By the time Isabeau's quivering stops and she pulls me away, both of us are panting. She's not sweating even a little, but my skin's practically soaked, and the short, fuzzy patches of fur I've grown in a few places feel a bit matted.