He jumped down lightly from the bed of the truck. He was about to explain that he didn’t want to kill her date so he’d put him in a slight doze when he realized that he wasn’t quite himself. He felt odd just moving his legs. His upper thighs seemed heavier than usual like he carried a few more pounds. He glanced down and saw … not himself.
He was … José.
Holy hell, he’d just morphed.
Well, didn’t this change things up?
For a split second he considered telling her the truth, but when she lowered her arms and thrust her chest out, he thought he’d be a fool to do anything other than accept her invitation.
* * *
Marguerite looked her prey up and down. He was built like Thorne except beefier. She’d also felt the most important part of him and yeah, like Thorne, his assets were just right, maybe not quite as well endowed as Thorne but he’d do. God, yes, he’d do.
She smiled. She’d been waiting for this for a hundred years and three long weeks. She didn’t know why she’d even put this off. Anticipation streaked through her in fiery flashes, and watching José move toward her now like he meant to devour her in one big bite made her smile broaden.
José smiled back.
“What were you doing out there?” she asked when he reached the doorway.
“You should be inside,” he said. “I have neighbors.”
“Thought I’d give ’em a thrill.”
“You’re giving me a thrill.”
“That’s all that matters.” When he got close, she grabbed his arm and pulled him into the house then slammed the door.
He moved fast as he picked her up and lifted her high, really high, as in his-mouth-to-her-breast high. She slung her legs around his back. He slammed her against the door.
“You getting rough with me?” But she was panting a little.
“You complaining?”
“No.”
He settled in for a suck, taking her breast in his mouth and tugging in hard pulls, just the way she liked it. She knocked her head against the door because his mouth felt so good. This was what she wanted. This was what she needed.
Thorne used to suck her br**sts like this, like he was drinking from the fountain of life and couldn’t get enough. She had loved it then. She loved it now. Did all men enjoy br**sts like this? She didn’t know. The memories of the men she’d had before Thorne were a century distant, all but forgotten in terms of technique.
“Hey, where did you go?” José looked up at her. She liked his accent.
“I want my skirt off.”
All those big teeth gleamed in the dim light. He leaned back and let her slide to the floor. He stepped away from her, his lids at half-mast. She reached behind her and unzipped the tight red leather. The zipper could have been a little longer, but it made wiggling out of the damn thing the right kind of show to put on. It was a real trick to keep her thong on at the same time, but she managed. It was just a bit of lace and sheer red fabric, but he would probably appreciate a little more anticipation.
When José’s gaze felt to her bare mons, he whispered, “Nice wax.” And his eyes rolled in his head, then he licked his lips.
“Where’s your bedroom? I wanna be on my back.”
“I want you on your back.”
He didn’t give her directions; he slung one arm behind her back and the other behind her knees and she was airborne. He was just strong enough and she was just small enough that he tossed her in the air a little as he walked.
She giggled. She was so damn happy.
When they reached the master bedroom, he tossed her on the bed and she landed laughing. She spread her legs wide and because it was something Thorne had always loved, she slid her hand down her abdomen, beneath her thong, and massaged herself.
“You’ll make me come just standing here if you keep that up.” Yep, she really liked his accent. There was just something so smooth about a Latin cadence.
“You’ll have to stop me.”
His jaw trembled and he moved kinda slow so she kept rubbing. It felt good.
“You like your hand there?”
“Sometimes my hand is my best friend.”
“Not tonight.” But he leaned down and kissed the back of her hand and nuzzled her, pushing at her so that together they were giving her a thrill.
She liked José. She liked his style. Thorne would have done something like this. Thorne would have loved how bare she was.
Thorne again … and yet she didn’t feel quite so guilt-stricken. He’d probably taken off, at last, and now she was free.
She felt free.
José finally seemed to reach his limit with her self-ministrations. He pulled her hand away and slid her thong off, taking his time, but his gaze was fixed on the full lips of her lower body and again his tongue made an appearance. She leaned back on the bed, stretching out. She pulled her knees up but kept them spread wide.
He took a good long minute to look at her. She could hear him breathing. He sounded a little strangled.
She took the opportunity to let her gaze drift down his body. The sight of his broad chest and muscular pecs, his abs rolling down and down, caused her body to give one full undulating roll that ended with a strong tug deep inside. “I could come just looking at you,” she said.
He smiled. He unbuttoned his jeans and pushed them down. But unlike her, he caught his briefs at the same time so that his package sprang free and now it was her turn to lick her lips. Yep, almost as big as Thorne.
Funny how she kept thinking about Thorne and yet it no longer bothered her. Guess she was making progress.
About time.
José grabbed her ankles and pulled her to the edge of the bed. He knelt, then he got busy.
“Muy bueno,” she murmured.
Obsidian flame, above all else, requires surrender.
And surrender is never for the faint of heart.
—Collected Proverbs, Beatrice of Fourth
Chapter 2
Sweat popped all across Thorne’s forehead, but he wasn’t sure of the cause—whether it was the energy required to sustain the man he’d morphed into, or the sight of his woman bare, completely bare.
Oh … God.
His pulse throbbed in his neck. He wanted to sink his fangs and give her the potion she loved, but he couldn’t. He wasn’t even sure if in this form he could use his fangs.
Pity.
God, the things he wanted to do to Marguerite. Now that the breh-hedden had slammed him hard, all the usual desire he felt for her had about tripled so that he wept from his erection and his pulse pounded at every hinge of his body.