Captiva Craving - Vampire Werewolf Menage (Six Feet Under Series Book Two) (32 page)

Jayce flicked a glance at Blythe when she shuddered, patting her on the knee in encouragement. They were covering for Sixten’s participation. Bane could have killed Gianni, but he had given Sixten the
honor
. What kind of world was this where killing was an honor? Though a world without Gianni, she reminded herself, isn’t that bad. “Thank you,” she said quietly, a major understatement. “I don’t have anything else to offer you, but my appreciation.”

“We don’t require payment from you or Sixten.” Jayce explained, “Doesn’t work that way with us, Blythe. No matter what you think, or anybody says, I’ll treat you as one of mine. But I would ask for your word on something.”

“Of course,” she said, flinching under Ryan’s needle. He’d hint a tender spot. By the looks of it, she figured it to be a bone of some sort. Ew! He was closer now, working on her inner wrist in vampiric speed after leaving her ankle. The smell of blood hit her palate, though Ryan and Oycher weren’t bothered by it.

“Like my Beta, I’m pushy.” Jayce’s head canted, blue flares seeking. “You don’t become Alpha by filling out a job application, you know? If all this doesn’t work out,” he explained, looking between her and Ryan, “talk to me. Consider all your options. Before stopping your loving heart, come to me first. ”

She could easily give him that. “I will. And…though I’m saying no to this ‘rights to mate’, you’ll still help me and Sixten with Prince Volos?”

“Helping a vampire is always against my better judgment,” he said honestly, “but yeah.”

He asked Bane, “How’s Dru?”

“He’s right as rain.”

Without another word, he winked at Blythe and misted away.

He sucked his lower lip between his teeth, a habit of his. “Sweet Blythe, I think you
want
me to bite you. And those new tattoos of yours,” he groaned like a man lost. “Let’s just say, I’m picturing you hanging from there.” He motioned to the human cages suspended from Six Feet Under’s ceiling. The club lights flickered in his beaded hair. “Or…umm,
that
would be perfect if you were naked.”

She knew Oycher wasn’t into her, but enjoyed pushing her buttons as much as Sixten’s. She shaded her eyes from the flickering lights, following his interest on the upper dance floor. ‘Wet leather’ covered Sophie’s body, well, in certain places, as she twirled around on what Ryan referred to as ‘the trapeze noir’. She wasn’t wearing a safety harness, probably looking for bigger tips. But when Ryan caught her, look out Sophie. “Ryan would never let me do it, no matter how much I begged. And I really needed the extra money, too. Pays more than the cages,” she added, remembering how the dancers earned more than her meager wages as a bookkeeper. A few of the cages were empty, and she found that curious. The more dancers, the more money Ryan pocketed. “Wonder what Six would do if I did a little dance for him up there. Wanna give me a boost, mind stalker?”

Before Oycher could respond, familiar hands wrapped themselves around her waist, pulling her back onto firm planes and drugging scent. “What would I do? I would pull down your panties and spank you in front of everyone here.”

“I’m not wearing any.”

A slow hiss and then, “Panties or not, my wife will not be jiggling the goods for anyone other than myself. Clear?”

“The trapeze then?”

“I’ll order one for the house,” he whispered in her ear, discreetly rubbing his semi against her ass, and she wanted him to take her there.
Oh, shit, Oycher don’t you dare tell him that
.

“It’s time for a perimeter check,” Oycher said with a flash of teeth. “Kash is heading back from Marco Island, said he would get with you later tonight.”

“I’m only getting with Blythe later tonight,” he whispered, his tongue flicking against her lobe. He caressed his fingertips down the sides of her body, her nipples pebbling impossibly. “You’re more relaxed.”

“I am.”

Oycher took off. Blythe watched his powerful body, somewhat larger than Sixten’s, move through the crowd. Horny women grabbed at him, but he was on duty, so he ignored them easily.

“Hungry?”

For something salty, yes. “No food. You.”

“I want to kiss your plump lips.” One hand came up, gliding over her mouth. “Not these.”

Now, she wished she’d worn panties. Moisture leaked, slicking her inner thighs. And if she sat down in this dress, a twist-waist jersey mini Sixten paid too much money for, she would spot the back.

Blythe spun around, staring up at him. “Dance?”

A thumb brushed over her pleading nipple in vampiric speed no human could track. “Yes.”

As they moved forward, the dance floor booming under their feet, she suddenly didn’t like what she saw. Per usual, random women were eye-fucking her man. She arched a dangerous brow at the more obvious ones.
Not gonna happen, bitches.

Sixten cupped her cheeks, bringing her face back to his. He was tense, his mouth suddenly forming a straight line. “I want to kill every man in here. I can’t stay. It’s too soon and I’m having…territorial issues.” He shook his head, blades of hair falling over his sharp cheeks, lights turning them green before flashing to gold. “Maybe we should dance somewhere more private. Or do something other than dance. We
need
time that is more private. We have plenty of opportunity for this stuff…” He looked around the club and then zeroed in on her hardened nipples. “God, I don’t know when I’ll be less possessive. Probably never. Let’s just go.”

They moved to the back, exiting through a side door after she waved at Ryan. She hadn’t had the chance to really talk to him, and he’d kept his conversation to a minimum around Bane. With a whisper in her ear, he made her promise to catch up with him when Sixten settled down. When was Sixten going to settle down?

The stench of the alleyway bothered her. “Your sense of smell is better than mine. How do you walk past a dumpster without an epic hurl showdown?”

He lifted her, cradling her body against his chest, making her feel feminine and protected. He frowned and then pulled her dress tightly against her ass right after a warm breeze brushed the most private part of her body. “Unless you’re at home, or I deem another location acceptable, this missing panties thing won’t happen again.” He bit her hard, piercing her throat unexpectedly.

And they were off, their bodily cells joining high above Fort Myers, heading for the island. She loved it when Sixten kept her conscious. Giggling as though she were a small child, she watched the water ripple across the river as it flowed into the ocean, the starlight dancing overhead as the buildings receded beneath them. He drew her closer, whipping her glittering form over the Sanibel Causeway. Spinning and spiraling, his way of dancing with her before they headed home. She glanced down, the water nearing her feet. All the pelicans were sleeping on various perches, ignoring them. The cars drove back and forth, rather lazily. No one seemed to be in a hurry tonight, and for once, they weren’t, either.

Sixten solidified when they reached their Captiva manse.
Theirs.
After releasing his bite, she formed next to him on the side deck overlooking the beach. Her mind wiggled a second or two before resettling.

“And to answer your question, I’m used to smells from dumpsters and such. What I’m not used to is my mate smelling of werewolves. Hate it, Blythe.” He extended his claws, shredding her crazy-priced dress into a thousand ribbons. They whirled around before they landed at her heels. “I truly do. And what’s more? You wore that tiny dress while Ryan marked your gorgeous skin. What was I thinking letting you out of the house that way?” He brushed the back of a claw across one nipple and then the next, staring as they stood out for him. With a menacing hiss, he gripped her elbows, flicking the hair from his eyes and pulling back to take a good look at her new Druid-inspired tattoos. “Are you
trying
to get your friend killed?” Leaning in, inhaling at her throat, a warning mixed with a heady welcoming whisper, “I think you are.”

She batted her lashes. “What was the question?” He was gorgeous, and he’d put her in the deer-in-the-headlights trance without even trying. Tonight, no leather, just slim fit jeans he barely fit into wrapped his long, thick legs. He’d contrasted it with a Dolce and Gabanna linen and silk blazer the color of the night. A tight, long-sleeved cotton jersey hugged his chest, warmed and dampened with his scent. The clean white bringing out the platinum streaks in his flaxen hair, he looked like heaven and hell rolled into one.

“Ah, your love is as fierce as mine.” He smiled knowingly. “It amazes me every time I see it reflected in your eyes. Don’t you know I can’t breathe without you?”

“Do you really need to breathe, Six?”

“Some days,” he murmured, dropping his eyes to her pussy, “depends on my mood.”

“Hmmm.” She kicked the fragments of her dress away, spreading her legs wide in invitation. Nothing but flesh and heels, though he, on the other hand, was still dressed. “What’s your mood now?”

“You wanted to dance,” he played a dangerous game with her. “Your wish and all of those romantic notions of yours are my commands.”

“Romantic notions?” She sucked the end of her finger, traced it through the cleavage of her ginormous breasts, twirling it around her navel a couple of times before tapping her clit. “No one commands you, Six.”

“No?”

“Nope,” she said on a moan, dipping her finger inside and then pulling out slowly. His lip lifted on one side, not a smile, but a fang making an appearance. She brought her finger to his mouth and he sucked, a rhythmic motion only pulled off by vampires, scraping her nail with his fang when she pulled away.

“Then I’ll command you.” He tapped the top of her head, and she knew exactly what he wanted. His jacket came off, one he paid two grand for, and he dropped it to the deck to cushion her knees. “Leave your heels on, angel.” He unzipped his jeans slowly, tugging on the zipper while staring down at her swollen breasts. Since he went commando tonight, a crime he wasn’t forgiving
her
for, his thick cock sprang free on the final tug. Her tongue snaked out, greedy to dabble at that crystalline bead sitting on the tip. “You said you weren’t hungry,” he reminded.

“You want me to keep talking or use my tongue for better things?” Blythe took the base, wrapping a firm hand around half his thickness and curled the back of her tongue over his crown. She swirled a few times, unable to go past the first ridge of three. She looked up, finding the stark tendons in his neck flexing and releasing. Instead of grabbing her face, he kept his hands on his hips. A dominant position? Definitely. She loved that about
him
, but she knew the real reason he was standing this way, he was too fired up to touch her.

He moaned loudly and she mimicked him, sending vibrations up his stalk.

“I felt that in my balls, moja láska.”

Her long hair draped her back, and she knew he itched to fist it and pull her closer. Blythe brought her hand down when she sucked in; meeting her lips with her pumping fist, an opposite rhythm that always drove Sixten nuts.

“I’ll have that again, my wife.”

She obliged, picking up steam through his hoarse praising. Finally, his hands came to her, ruffling her long hair before fisting it, increasing her strokes with his hands. Those blue lines stiffened, seeking her out, fondling her tongue with the same pleasure that they granted her sex.

Quickly, it became too much for her. She groaned, her core literally dripping, and she wondered if he was as lost as she was. Testing, she raked her teeth over those alien cords, and he hissed in the way of vampires, prickling her naked flesh with lust and a touch of trepidation.

But she wasn’t quitting for anything.

She managed to suck the second ridge in, though her lips were straining, and a blast of precome coated her tongue. “Blythe,” he warned, “in your pussy not your mouth.”

Refusing to listen, she dipped down to her sex, finger fucking her core a few times while she sucked.

“Oh, you little temptress, a spanking it is.” But he didn’t pull back.

Continuing her sucking, she reached in his jeans with her dripping fingers and palmed his balls. Not gently. No. He wasn’t a human male, and he didn’t do gentle with his balls. Blythe pulled roughly, twisting, bouncing them as she bobbed her head and hummed around his crown. And in a wicked move, she slid her fingertips underneath his scrotum and thrust two fingers in his ass, thrusting in time with her tongue while her thumb circled a spot just underneath and presto.

“Holy shit!”

She quickly lost a chunk of hair, scalp stinging while a flood of come jumped over her tongue and hit the back of her throat. No matter how fast she swallowed, she still choked. He traced her straining lips with his fingertip, before breaking the suction and cupping his head to catch the last of his release.

“Oh, my little angel has been so naughty,” he warned, picking her up by the waist with one arm and settling them onto a lounge. She landed on his lap. Her breasts pushed over his left thigh, his still-hard cock pressing against her side. Without another word, he worked the rest of his release in her dark crevice, palming her up and down with his natural lubricant. “There are so many things I have in store for you.” One finger shoved all the way in her ass without stopping. “I have a mental list.” The second joined the first.

She chewed her lip, enjoying the bite of pain.
Too Delicious.
“Sixten.”

“No talking. Hmmm, what a pretty hole you have. Still much too tight for anything I have to offer. Before long, we’ll stretch you out for my heavy cock and I’ll take you there right on this deck, watching your delectable breasts bounce in time to my fucking.”

He reached between his legs and pinched her throbbing clit, already coated with moisture, and rolled it between his finger and thumb as he leisurely thrust into her bottom. Her nipples taut, a cool sheen of perspiration covered her body.
So close. So very, very close.