Shifted into werewolf form, naked and glistening beneath the moonlight, his wife’s body glided above Creed Saint-Pierre. Her rhythm grew faster, frenzied. The soft black fur at her shoulders, hips and thighs gleamed like moonspun hematite. Nearby, faery lights danced within the thick foliage surrounding them on this cozy moss-covered dais within the forest.
She squeezed his cock with her powerful muscles, forging him into hot steel, pulsing and ready—so close. Creed dug his fingers into the moss and clenched his teeth. A fang cut his lip and blood rolled down his chin. His hips bucked and his thigh muscles strained.
And when he could no longer resist the call to lunge forward and sink his fangs into his lover’s neck, he instead closed his eyes and surrendered to the wicked union of vampire and werewolf. Exquisite. Dangerous. Blu’s throaty growls preceded the orgasm that captured them and shook their bodies together, spasming, clutching, clinging.
Loving. Always and ever.
Creed’s groan, long and loud, echoed up through the tree canopy. He exhaled, his tight muscles giving way to the luxurious fire molting through him.
Blu pushed away from him with taloned paws. His cock slipped from her hot depths and landed on his stomach. The werewolf lashed her tongue across the crimson claw marks serrating his chest above the nipple. Leaping off him, she dashed into the night.
“I love you, too,” he called after her. “You gorgeous she-wolf!”
The faeries bobbling overhead swirled in a ribbon behind the werewolf, eager to follow her romping lopes. The wolf’s howls echoed up to her moonlight master, a gorgeous silver medallion suspended high in the charcoal spring sky.
Propping up on his elbows, Creed dragged his tongue over the blood pearling on his lip. His fangs always came down during sex, though he could control it if he had the mind to. “I’ve got to stop doing that.” Then he chuckled, because being so lost in the enjoyment of his wife was not something he ever wanted to stop.
He stroked his fingers over the talon wounds on his chest, feeling the skin knit and heal with a tightening that always made him wince. Rolling onto his side, he spied the silhouette of his wife framed between birch trees that had only begun leafing out from their buds to perfume the air with spring. Her body shifted and her wolfish head changed to human form. Luscious dark hair spilled down her slender neck and her shoulders dropped, losing the muscle and bulk she took on when in werewolf shape. A beautiful creature, she, when wearing fur and howling at the moon, yet more stunning when in human form and with moonlight bejeweling her pale, dewy skin.
He watched as she raked her fingers through her hair, causing it to spill out in the dark veil Creed loved to feel sweep across his body. Blu turned and skipped back to him, her bare feet tracking the forest floor still carpeted with fall’s soggy, brown leaves. With a giggle, she landed on him, straddling his hips and brushing aside the hair from his face. The glitter in her gray eyes could lead a man through the darkest night, yet Creed would allow no man to follow his wife, for she belonged to him.
“Sorry about that, lover.” She kissed the scars tracing from his shoulder to pectoral; the skin would be smooth, scarless by morning. “You know my wolf likes it rough.”
“I like you rough, howling, and any way I can get you.”
“Mmm, you’re so good to me, vampire.” She nipped him on the shoulder, but didn’t sink in her teeth. Though he bit her on rare occasions, she had not developed a blood hunger, and had never bitten him to drink blood in return. “Race you to the shower?”
“Only if we can do this again. Inside?”
“Hell yeah, I’m not sated yet. And to judge from this hard fella—” She sucked the head of his cock slowly, twisting her tongue about it, then winked at him. “—you’re not, either. Go!”
She dashed off, and Creed sat up, chuckling at her antics. He’d let her win. Because she always won. She was faster than him. Faster to tease him, faster to fall into his arms. Faster to love him.
And he was grateful his heart had grown steadfast for his werewolf wife.
Cherry-red fingernails glided over the black satin sheets, clutching, then releasing the slippery fabric. Her lover’s tongue performed the same slippery glide over her skin, purposeful and determined to lick every inch, and taste every drop of water following the shower. He meant to devour her and she enjoyed being the feast.