Four-Letter Words by Evans, Gabrielle (top 10 books of all time .txt) 📗

His sac tightened, squeezing his balls and tugging them closer to his body. A tingle started at the base of his skull and traveled down his spine as he pushed back into his lover, grinding his ass against Thane’s groin. “More,” Zasha demanded.

Thane responded with a low, breathless growl. His fist constricted around Zasha’s hard shaft, flying over the length in a blur. The hand on Zasha’s stomach crept upward to pinch and tug at his nipples, pulling a ragged groan from him that echoed around the porch.

Soft lips skimmed along the shell of his ear, and Thane rocked into him, rubbing his trapped erection against Zasha’s backside. The sound of his mate’s moans, the feel of the hand on his cock, and the sweet taste that lingered on his tongue combined to make his head spin.

When Thane buried his face into Zasha’s shoulder and gasped, the implication didn’t fully register until the scent of the witch’s climax hit him like a goddamn wrecking ball. Slamming his fist against the beige siding, Zasha dropped his head and growled while his hips jerked sporadically. Semen jetted from his cock in a never-ending river, spilling onto the wooden planks beneath him until he felt drained.

“Gods, I needed that.” Thane moved in closer and rubbed his cheek against the top of Zasha’s head. “Feeling better?”

He heard the words but they didn’t make any sense. Now that one hunger had been sated, the other came roaring to life like a locomotive. He intended to warn his mate, to tell Thane to go, to run, but when he opened his mouth, all that came out was a feral snarl.

In the next heartbeat, without any conscious decision on his part, their positions were reversed. By the time he realized what was happening, Zasha had his lover pinned against the house with his fangs embedded in the supple flesh of Thane’s throat.

* * * *

The abruptness in which he found himself with a neck full of fang startled him, but the bite itself caused his softening cock to twitch inside his sticky boxers. There was no pain associated with Zasha’s bite, no discomfort of any kind. On the contrary, each gentle draw on the wound made him want to rub against his lover like a wanton slut.

Zasha was getting the nutrients he needed while marking his territory, so to speak. Thane received the satisfaction of providing for his mate, adding something to their relationship after so long of feeling useless. The passion in the moment, the high he felt from the simple act, transported him to another time and place when things hadn’t been so complicated.

“Mmm,” Thane purred as he caressed his lover’s cheek. “I love that part.”

Zasha sprawled atop him so that their naked chests pressed together. A layer of perspiration made his smooth skin glisten in the flickering light from the solitary candle at their bedside. His kiss-swollen lips stretched into a grin, showing off his pointed canines as he nuzzled his cheek against Thane’s palm.

“I can’t say I enjoy it as much as you, love, but it is nice.” Zasha exhaled a contented sigh through his nose, causing his nostrils to flare. Pushing into a sitting position to straddle Thane’s hips, he reached out and traced his finger around the puncture wounds on Thane’s neck. “I like the thought of having a part of you inside me, and I know I need the nourishment. I just wish I didn’t have to mark you to get it.”

“I’m honored to wear your mark,” Thane argued. Zasha was the most beautiful man he’d ever met in any of his lifetimes, but there was so much more to the vampire, qualities that had captivated him instantly.

Zasha was fearless, brave and honorable to a fault, and he was so selfless he almost didn’t seem real sometimes. He hurt for those in pain, whether he knew them or not, and he gave more of himself than Thane thought was fair. If there was a way for Zasha to help, he’d find it. When he couldn’t ease another’s suffering, he agonized over it for days. He loved unconditionally and trusted far too easily.

Passion, honesty, kindness, loyalty, beauty, grace—there was no end to the list of traits that made Zasha truly remarkable in Thane’s eyes. Fate had honored him with an amazing gift, and each day, he strived to be worthy to call himself Zasha’s mate.

A change in his lover’s body language pulled him from his daydream, and Thane wanted to bang his head against the wall. He should have known it was too good to last. The difference was subtle at first, but then, like a switch being flipped, Zasha ceased all motion and went completely rigid in his arms. With surprising accuracy, Thane could pinpoint the exact moment Zasha’s actions coalesced with his lust-addled brain.

With such carefulness, as if he was taking precautions so as not to startle him, Zasha withdrew his canines and placed a heartbreakingly tender kiss over the bite. “I’m so sorry.”

Though whispered, Thane felt every ounce of agony in those three little words. His chest constricted, his stomach clenched, and his throat burned with his rising emotions. “Zasha.” Taking his lover’s cheeks in both hands, he lifted Zasha’s face up to the moonlight and rubbed their lips together in comfort. “Look at me.”

It was a long time before Zasha finally opened his eyes. “I thought I was stronger than that. I guess I was wrong.”

“Zasha, there is nothing wrong with your self-control.” Now, he was getting pissed. “If you throw a starving dog into a chicken coop, it doesn’t matter how well trained he is. He’s going to do what it takes to survive.”

“Did you just call me a mutt?”

Under different circumstances, Thane might have laughed. Right then, however, he didn’t appreciate the deflection. “No. What I’m saying is you’re not getting what you need from that bagged crap. You won’t let me take care