Fangs for Nothing (The Fangover 2)

Her body felt hot and hyperaware, her hand shaking a little as she further freed him of his jeans and his briefs. When she broke away this time, he lifted her up, completely off the ground, his vampiric strength in evidence.

As he held her there, eyes racing over her br**sts, he said, “Take your skirt off so I can f**k you.”

She wouldn’t have expected such brazen words to do anything but make her either offended or uncomfortable, or both. But instead, they only served to make her more desperate to have him do just that. She tossed her hair out of her way, and reached back to unzip her skirt. One small shove at the hips and it fell to the floor. It felt perfectly bizarre and perfectly arousing to be a foot or two off the ground, naked save for a lace bra, which was sliding down off her shoulders, her moisture stroked to the forefront by his touch glistening on her thighs.

“What now?” she asked him, lifting her leg to wrap it around his hip. She repeated the process with the other leg.

“Now I do this.” He shifted slightly, then suddenly he was thrusting deep inside her.

“Merde alors!” she swore, which should have embarrassed her, but didn’t, because she was beyond caring about anything but how goddamn good he made her feel.

Digging her fingernails into his shoulders and holding on, she threw her head back and accepted his hard c**k into her body. There was no way he was suffering from any sort of Irish curse. She may not have been around the block more than once or twice, but she was informed enough to understand that he was in possession of that which would be the envy of many a man. She was certainly feeling most appreciative.

So much so, that she had an orgasm.

Johnny felt Lizette’s muscles tightening around him, her head thrown back, hair tumbling freely into the air, and he pumped harder, enjoying the view of her pure pleasure.

He didn’t think that he had ever been so turned on, so completely lost in the moment of sex with a woman. Her face was very expressive, her eyes doelike, her sounds unchecked and raw. He hadn’t expected the elegant curtain to be pulled back quite so easily, yet all it had taken was one bite and she was gone, as far into the rush of lust as he was.

Now she was squeezing him everywhere, nails digging into his flesh, muscles clamping onto his c**k in a way that had his mouth hot with saliva and his balls tight. She felt so f**king good and he was losing control.

Not wanting to come so soon himself, the minute she quieted down, he carried her a few feet to the area rug in his living room and laid her down on it. The bedroom was too far, but he didn’t expect her to take it on the kitchen tiles. She gave a soft moan of protest when he pulled back out of her entirely. Like she thought he wasn’t going to come back. The irony of course was that he couldn’t leave her.

But he didn’t want to think about that. He just wanted to think about sinking back inside the warmth of her body and making her come a second time. Three was his current record with her, according to his fictionalized version of what had happened, so he wanted to best himself. What guy wouldn’t?

“Lizette, open your eyes,” he commanded as he plunged into her again. He wanted to see those expressive inky pools, wanted to see how good he made her feel. It mattered to him.

She did, but it clearly took effort, her arms slack, thighs sinking farther apart. She was enjoying herself, but in a slower, slumberous way, and taking it nice and pretty was not what he had in mind at the moment. Since he had so thoroughly enjoying biting her and she had so obviously liked it, too, he dipped down and sank into her shoulder, enjoying the hiss of approval from her right along with the first taste of tangy fluid rushing past his lips.

But she surprised him by raising her head and biting him right back on the opposite shoulder.

Holy shit. Johnny paused to close his eyes and just enjoy the ecstasy, the connection, the intimate and primal joining. It felt base and elevated all at the same time. Lizette bit him harder, her heels kicking into the backs of his thighs like she wanted him harder, deeper.

Still with his teeth in her skin, Johnny rolled her so she was on top, and while he’d intended her to stop there, she continued to roll until they were across the room, crashing into the coffee table with his hip and shoulder. They were both on their sides, him still thrusting inside her, Lizette pulling her fangs out to give a satisfied cry as she exploded in another orgasm. Her chin, her chest, her teeth, were all saturated with both of their blood, and he licked his lip, gritting his teeth. It was the hottest thing he’d ever seen, all that red against the pale, smooth white of her vampire flesh, her normally red lips stained even darker, a gruesome eroticism that only a vampire would understand. Biting was more intense than o**l s*x for mortals, and looking down at her, his puncture marks in her shoulder, her cries of anguished passion, he couldn’t resist his own body anymore.

Leaning down and taking her mouth, blending her blood with his, her tongue with his, her body with his, Johnny exploded in the most intense orgasm he’d ever had.

Stunned, they both lay there intertwined for a good two minutes, blinking at each other. Finally Johnny reached out and wiped some of the blood off her lip and licked it. “That. Was. Amazing.” There were actually no words to describe how off-the-charts awesome that had been.

“Indeed.”

It was such an understated, typical-Lizette response, he gave a choked laugh. “I think I found the most authentically French thing in the Quarter,” he told her.

“What? Me?” She brushed her hair back off her forehead, her br**sts still rising rapidly from their vigorous encounter.

“Your vagina.” He grinned and waited for the reaction.

It was immediate.

“Ah!” She gasped in indignation and smacked him on the shoulder. “How dare you!”

“Or as I like to call it ‘La Pussy.’”

“I like to call you ‘L’Asshole.’ Note the liaison due to the vowel sound.”

That made Johnny laugh even harder and he shifted, pulling out of her. “You’re killing me.”

“No, I am going to kill you. You are outrageous and inappropriate.”

“So you keep telling me. But I actually think you kind of like that about me.” He winked at her. He did think she liked it. It was like he said all the things she might think in her head but didn’t allow herself to say out loud.

“I think you are arrogant and insufferable.” Then she gave a smile. “But you are also right. I cannot exactly explain why I like you, but I do.”