Chapter 21 Lemon
Lemon
The zingy scent of tequila mixed with the chilly wetness dripping down my thighs has me panting.
Furyon keeps touching me, teasing at my channel without giving me near enough of what I need.
I lost track of the number of times I came outside when I bit him, but it’s like my body didn’t get that release at all.
Vampires are naturally sensual, but even for a girl like me with a crazy high libido, this teasing is overwhelming.
“I can’t wait,” I beg. “Please, Furyon.”
His answering chuckle tells me I’m not getting what I want anytime soon. With a growl, I move to flip over, but he grabs my hand and pulls it behind my back. His other hand comes to the back of my neck, and he pushes me down onto the bed.
“Stay, slut.”
A full body shudder racks me. The darker his degradation, the hotter I’ll get.
“If you don’t, I won’t give you what you’re about to start beggin’ for. Am I clear?” His fingers tighten in my hair, a pinching sensation tugging at my scalp.
I’m so hot, I’m gonna combust.
He rocks his hips against my ass, his cock brushing against my entrance and slipping past it to rest against my belly. “Say you understand.”
I move my hips from side to side so I can feel that thick length rubbing against my clit.
Every pass stokes the fire burning inside me until I’m rolling back and forth, using his dick.
Back and forth, back and forth. Furyon’s silent as I start to pant.
Reaching beneath me, I slide a hand along his cock and jack him.
He’s soaked and dripping precum all over me and the sheets.
“Fuck,” he says on a grunt. “You keep doin’ that, and I’m gonna make a godsdamned mess.”
But I can’t stop.
“I need you.” I stroke his cock harder, pinching the tip even as I ride the length, coating him in slick. It’s not enough, not nearly enough. Frustrated, I let go and bury my face in the sheets. I grip them and push against his hips, begging him to understand, to give me that perfect cock.
“Lemon, flip over, baby.” He pats my hip.
Helpless to disobey him, I roll onto my back and settle in the deep pillows.
Pale eyes narrow as he looks appreciatively down my body. When he meets my gaze again, he reaches down and runs a hand over his cock head. He squeezes it, coating his fingers in precum. Then he bends down and slips two fingers into my channel, curling them and stroking in rhythmic circles.
Immediate bliss spreads through me, and I let my thighs fall wide, back arching as I roll my hips to meet the steady thrust of his fingers.
“I need you,” I blurt out. “Need to connect with you. Please!” What am I even begging for? Do I even know?
Furyon’s fingers never stop as he pushes me toward a mind-melting orgasm. “Why, city girl?”
I can’t say it, can’t say the word yet for what he is to me. If I say it aloud, it’ll be real, and I’m afraid.
“Furyon, I need you,” I whisper, unable to look away from him.
The vibe immediately shifts. And where normally I’d have to tell a partner to stop with a certain kink, Furyon seems to read it in my expression. Or maybe it’s the desperate tone of my plea.
He leans down and presses his forehead to mine, sliding a hand under me and up my back.
“Because I’m yours. You know that, right?
” His eyes drop to my mouth, like he’s begging me to admit it, to admit what we both know.
“Try it out,” he encourages. “I’ll go first if you want.
” He smiles. “I didn’t expect you, city girl, but I fuckin’ needed you. ”
“Mate,” I whisper.
Furyon’s nostrils flare, and a smile overtakes him, curving those sinful lips up.
“Godsdamn, Lemon, that sounds good.” He bends down and presses a tender line of kisses up the side of my neck.
“I can sense you’re afraid, and I don’t wanna push you too hard, but I think you deserve a little something for stepping outta your comfort zone. ”
He rises tall and grips his cock, slapping it against my clit with a rumble of pleasure. His eyes drift up my body to meet mine again as he jerks his head toward the slatted headboard. “Hang on to something, Sparkle Boots.”
I reach up and grab the top of the headboard with one hand. Furyon lines his cock up with my channel and thrusts once, hard and deep, filling me in a swift move that sends my eyes to the back of my head. Fuck, he’s so thick, so deep, and I’m dying at the pleasure of having him inside me.
“Mmm, the way you clench up has me hot,” he rumbles.
“I need you screaming, Lemon.” He rocks in and out, slow but hard, his hips crashing against mine as the bed squeaks and groans.
I slide a hand up his chest to rest my fingers around the base of his throat.
His hips roll, abs flexing and popping with every slam of his body against mine.
“Furyon,” I cry out his name as bliss builds until every slick slide of his cock into me has me squirming, desperate to come. But I need him to unleash. I need him in all his raging, furious glory. “Faster, please!”
He chuckles, even as his eyes roll into his head. “You ain’t gettin’ that version of me tonight, Lemon Knox Denton. You’re gettin’ what you need, baby.”
I groan, the sound dragging long as he pounds relentlessly, slowly pushing me to the brink as I beg him to unleash.
“Please, please, please.” I’m gasping, chest heaving as I grip the headboard harder, my body tightening around that perfect cock.
Orgasm’s building slow and hard, and when he tips me over the edge, I’m gonna lose my fucking mind.
It hits with a crash, my body locking up tight as a wail echoes from the depths of my chest. I can’t focus on a fucking thing other than the way Furyon never stops.
He keeps driving home with slow, hard thrusts that stoke the orgasm until one turns into two.
He joins me, roaring his release as he lashes my womb with hot seed.
Fangs throbbing, I gnash at the air as I gasp for breath and thrust my hips against his. Oh gods, gods, another orgasm drags long, until my entire body’s fluttering and throbbing around him. His cock kicks inside me as he comes again, falling over top of me as the rhythm of his hips slows.
Groaning, I arch against him, offering my chest and neck.
He latches onto my breast and bites, stretching bliss out long as my pussy trembles, clasping him hard and deep.
He releases the bite and moves up my neck to where it meets my shoulder.
Mouth open wide, he lurches forward and sinks his fangs into my skin.
His aren’t as long as mine, but the effect of being bitten by him is instantaneous—ecstasy erupts once more, flowing through my system slow and hot like molten lava.
Every inch of me is aware of where he’s touching me and that spot where we’re connected.
His bite is possessive, dominant, and the need to submit to him rides me hard. I stretch into him, wanting more of his skin touching mine. More, I want more. It’ll never be enough.
I will never tire of touching this man.
Gods, I want to flip him and bite him and do this all over.
Furyon releases the bite, kissing a trail up my jawline until he can capture my lips. His kiss is deep, rough, his tongue dipping into my mouth with practiced intensity. When we part, breathing rapidly, he flips us so I’m on top. Warm hands slide up my back and press me down on his chest.
“C’mere, Lemon.” The depth of his voice is like a soothing warm bath. Pressing my chin to his chest, I stare at him in wonder.
He smiles, but it seems tentative as he strokes down my spine. “I didn’t push you too hard with any of that, right? The words, I mean…”
I kiss his pec, never looking away. “The degradation was hot.”
He chuckles, but it falls off. “How’d it feel to call me mate?”
Heat flares through me again, and I press my hips against his. “Good,” I admit. “Better than good. It felt so right to call you that.”
His smile lights up the room, and I decide then and there that I have to have every one of his smiles.
I don’t know how to make this work, but I know I don’t want him to feel unsure about what I am to him.
Not if I can help it. Not if I can make it right.
I don’t know how to figure our situation out, but I know he’ll help me. I’m not alone. Not anymore.
I sit up and scratch my nails gently over his chest. He groans and shudders, eyes rolling into his head. “Mmm, feels good, city girl.”
“Mate,” I correct. “Feels good, mate.”
His eyes flash with emotion, those sinful lips curling up again. “We doing this, Lemon? I know you didn’t wanna rush—”
“Feels good, mate,” I say a little more forcefully, reaching down to put a finger beneath his chin. “Let me hear it, Furyon.”
He growls, soft and low, the sound both warning and intoxicating. “Say it again while I fuck you, mate.”
Laughing, I slide down his body. I need that fantastic fucking cock in my mouth again. So I take what I want. And he gives and gives and gives until we’re both a boneless mess.
“Just toss the corn that way.” Furyon grins at me as I reach into the bucket and throw a handful of corn for his chickens. Two of the pit hells stand beside me, snorfling my boots—the boots he let me borrow that are caked with mud and who-knows-what—as I stand in front of the chicken coop door.
“Who’d have thought I’d ever be in this situation?
” I mutter as I grab a second handful of corn and throw it for the hens.
They crowd around my feet, chasing the dogs out of the way.
Roger, the rooster, sits awkwardly on my shoulder, his claws digging into my skin.
Furyon says it means Roger likes me. I don’t know how one can tell, though, because every time I turn my head to look at him he pecks my cheek.
Gently, but still. Are pecks a rooster love language? Is that a thing?
“What situation?” Furyon comes to my side and grips my throat, running his thumb over my swollen lips. “Wearin’ nothin’ but my work shirt and boots, feeding chickens while my dogs yowl at you? We got the horses next. Don’t forget about Zig and Zag.”
I laugh and nip at his thumb. “Yeah. If my family could see me now.”
He opens his mouth to respond, but the sound of tires echoes toward us from the road. We turn to look. Bluebell barrels toward us in her green pickup. Oz is next to her, arm out the window. I do believe they’re singing.
Alan Jackson. My gods, a fave of mine for sure.
Furyon snorts. “Are they listenin’ to human country music?”
“It’s my absolute fave,” I gush. “We’re gonna talk about that sometime. I’ll introduce you to all the best bands. Old school country from the human nineties is best, but there are a few newer bands I dig.”
He stares at me, eyes wrinkling in the corners, his smile soft. He reaches out, dragging his knuckles along my jawline. “I can’t wait to find out everything about you that I don’t know yet. You are fascinating to me, Miss Knox.”
I love that he uses the last name I gave him rather than my real one, like he’s happy to keep playing into that farce if it makes me feel good.
He winks. “I almost hope I get to arrest you ‘cause the idea of cuffing you and bending you over my truck is mighty appealing.”
I scoff right as Bluebell screeches to a halt, dirt and rocks flying.
The chickens squawk and rush around in chaotic circles while the pit hells holler and shriek, crowding her door and jumping up to peer inside.
The rooster, whose name is apparently Roger, squawks loudly and rushes the tire, pecking at it, the pit hells, and anything he can reach.
She hops out of the truck, dropping to a knee as the dogs flood her, licking her face while she baby-talks them.
Oz swans out of the truck with both hands on his hips. “Well, look at this, Furyon Zayle, consorting with the enemy and having dalliances with beautiful vampires? She’s a criminal, you know.” He winks at me.
I grab a handful of chicken feed and toss it at him. “I’ve never even been charged!”
“Doubt you ever will be,” Furyon says, pinching my ass. “Unless you’ve truly pulled the wool over my eyes. I’m pretty good, though, so I doubt it.”
Oz giggles. “Humble, too.”
Bluebell extricates herself from the dogs, walking over and waving at my outfit. “Well, it looks like what I thought happened to you last night is exactly what happened to you last night.” She looks up at Furyon. “We’re taking her out tonight, though. You can’t have her.”
He chuckles. “I’m workin’ tonight. Got plans with Echo. Should I warn y’all to behave, or is Lemon gonna be The Gossip’s headline this next edition too?”
Oz daintily steps around the clucking chickens, keeping one eye on them as he joins us. “I can’t guarantee anything, but our only plans are a skyball game, possibly some bull riding, maybe a few drinky drinks.” He eyes Furyon. “Do we return her here, or back to her place? What’s the living sitch?”
Furyon snorts and looks between us. “Pretty sure that’s up to Lemon and ain’t none of your business. So, when your good times are done, take her wherever she wants to go or call me and I’ll come get ‘er.”
“Mmkay.” Oz barely restrains a smile as he looks at me, eyes drifting down my figure. “Lemon, are there very short shorts under that shirt?”
Bluebell joins me and grabs the neckline, pulling it out and looking straight down.
I scoff and slap the side of her boob. “Get outta there.”
She shakes her head. “Confirming complete absence of underthings.”
My friends beam at me. I’m pretty sure I’m going to hear all of their thoughts as soon as we get together.
I wrap my arms around myself, chicken feed bucket dangling from my fingertips. “Where do I need to meet you and what time?”
Oz grins. “I’ll pick you up at noon ‘cause the skyball game’s at two, and obviously we’ll be tailgating beforehand.
There’s usually a rodeo afterward, so if we’re feeling up for that, we can do it.
Then, of course, we’ll likely end up at one of the bars.
Gonna be a good time, but don’t wear those sparkly boots unless you want to get them covered in dust.”
I roll my eyes, grumbling. Everyone hates on my boots, and I love them.
“I happen to have a particular affinity for those boots,” Furyon says. “Let’s keep ‘em in good shape. You can leave ‘em here if you want, Miss Knox.”
I bite my lip to avoid a smile. The idea of leaving things at his house feels so good.
Are we really doing this?
I think we are…