The Fangover (The Fangover 1)

Wyatt was looking at her with such compassion, his muscular body close to hers as he brushed her hair back off her head. Stella had never really thought of him as much more than a slightly less annoying version of her brother. But now he looked like a perfect way to ignore what was really happening.

Plus, she was drunk.

It had been years since she’d tossed back that many shots in such a short amount of time. In combination with her shock, it had gone straight to her head. Why that meant she would ask Wyatt to kiss her, she wasn’t sure. But she had, and he was clearly going to oblige her, and that seemed like it all made sense to her.

She’d never noticed how intense his eyes could be. Or how perfectly pristine his fangs were.

His fangs were out.

That meant he was aroused.

By the mere idea of kissing her.

Which aroused Stella.

Wyatt was a good-looking guy. He had caramel-colored hair that skimmed his shoulders and a seductive mouth. Which was now on hers, kissing her with more finesse than she would have thought possible. Wyatt and Johnny had been two vampiric peas in an undead pod. Both jokesters, both happy-go-lucky, though truthfully, Wyatt was way more thoughtful and far less selfish than Johnny. She’d never thought of Wyatt as being a ladies’ man either, like her brother had been, though how Johnny had ever managed that was still a mystery to Stella.

Yet for never having a girlfriend that she could remember, Wyatt sure in the hell knew how to kiss. His lips were taking skilled possession of hers, warm and confident. It was the kind of kiss that made you want to keep kissing, for hours and hours or until you were naked, whichever came first. Stella gave a soft moan and opened her mouth.

But Wyatt pulled back. “That better?”

Yes and no. She nodded. “Do it again.”

He hesitated. “Are you sure?”

Instead of arguing with him, Stella just went up on her tiptoes, buried her fingers in his hair, and went at his mouth with her own. She was definitely not as smooth in her moves as he had been but it was effective. Within seconds, his tongue was sliding between her lips and tangling with hers. A sharp kick of lust between her thighs had her running her fingers over his hard chest and down to cup his suddenly obvious and quite impressive erection.

He tore his mouth off of hers, breathing hard. “Stella.”

“What?” She bent over and unzipped him, drawing that hard length out of his jeans.

“What are you doing?”

Forgetting. Distracting herself. Trying to feel alive, when for the first time in eight decades, she felt the weight of mortality. In a hazy fog of alcohol and grief, desire sliced through the murkiness and gave her something to hold on to.

Her ni**les beaded as she enclosed her mouth around his swollen cock. She figured that was a good enough answer to his question.

“Holy shit. Ahh.” His words were strangled, and he gripped her shoulders with enough pressure to cause bruising. “Damn, that feels so good.”

It did. It felt like she was back in control. As his breathing deepened, she stroked faster, feeling her own body respond. It had been years since she’d had sex. Probably since the ’80s, if she wanted to get technical about it. Mortals never seemed able to satisfy her and they moved in such a small world of vampires, there hadn’t really been any men she’d been interested in. Now she was wondering why the hell she hadn’t tried a little harder because this felt delightful. Vibrant.

Wyatt had a perfect penis, the kind that filled her mouth so completely she couldn’t help but imagine what it would do to another part of her.

He must have had the same thought because suddenly Wyatt was pulling back, pushing her off him and against the kitchen counter. Popping the button on her jeans, he stared at her intently. “Can I?”

Part of her insanely wanted to correct his grammar, another part of her was touched that he would ask, that he would give her an opportunity to say no. But the rest of her just wanted him inside her without any hesitation or interruptions.

“Yes. Yes.” She unzipped her jeans herself to lend credence to her words.

“Oh, Stella,” Wyatt groaned. Bending over, he took her mouth again, his tongue doing a delicious slide into her mouth while he took her jeans down to her knees in one swift motion.

Then he bit her bottom lip, hard enough to draw blood. He lapped at it, breathing deeply in through his nose as he took in her scent. It was Stella’s turn to moan. The last time someone had bitten her, she’d been wearing bell bottoms and a mohair vest, and that had been by a nutjob trying to become a vampire.

This was much better. This was electric. Each lap with the tip of Wyatt’s tongue, taking in her tangy blood, was an erotic jolt between her thighs. His thumb skimmed over her clitoris and she felt frantic, fumbling with her fingers to grab him, guide him to her. Wyatt was way ahead of her. Before she could even voice her desperate need, his c**k thrust inside her with such impact that she was actually lifted up onto her tiptoes.

She let out a startled moan. He swore. And she shivered in delight as he started to move in and out. Wyatt put his hand on the small of her back so that she wouldn’t slam into the counter as he picked up speed, gritting his teeth, eyes boring into her.

“You’re so tight. You feel so good,” he told her.

There was no way she could actually speak. She was too busy trying not to shatter into a thousand pieces and drop to the kitchen floor. Her senses were being assaulted: the feel of his grip on her hip, the lingering smell of her drying blood, the rustle of his jeans, the hot blast of his breath on her. And most of all, the thick pounding of his c**k into her slick, warm wetness.

“Oh, oh,” was all she could manage before she completely lost it and came with a startled shout. It was amazing how good it felt, how overwhelming and all-consuming it was. There was nothing but her body and his, and tight ecstasy.

Wyatt stopped pumping for a brief second, then resumed as his orgasm joined hers. Together they gripped and groaned and stared deep into each other’s eyes. It was a moment so intense Stella shook her head slightly in disbelief at the raw, deep connection she felt with Wyatt.

Then he pulled out and she came back to reality. As he ran his fingers through his hair and wiggled his ass a little to get his stuff back into his jeans, Stella felt her cheeks flame. What the frickety frack was that? She had just had rabbit sex with her brother’s best friend thirty minutes after finding her brother’s body—or what was left of it.

She was appalled. She was speechless. She was still feeling the effects of the vodka. And she was wishing that her body didn’t feel so goddamn satisfied.