Chapter 21
Threading my horns through the neck of my t-shirt, I chuckle to myself. The post-shower picture I sent Vanessa is sure to have her breaking every speed limit in her haste to get here and hop on my cock.
Speaking of, the damn thing is still half-hard after our phone call.
A semi-lewd selfie was only fair after she had me coming in my pants. It’s a good thing Viktor and Maggie were busy with wedding planning today and I had the warehouse to myself. That’s an awkward situation I don’t want to deal with… now, or ever.
But I made such a mess in my pants that I had to stop at home for a shower and new clothes. I didn’t need one of the grounds crew catching me with a suspicious, rapidly growing wet spot on the front of my jeans.
After shrugging a flannel over my t-shirt, I head to the living room and throw a few logs on the fire. It may be mid-March, but there’s still a chill in the late winter air, and I like my home toasty warm at all times.
On my way through the kitchen, a sparkle draws my eyes to the counter. The little glass snowflake from all those months ago lays on a pile of mail. For some unknown reason, I’ve been carrying the damn thing around with me everywhere I go.
A piece of Vanessa that I stole before I realized how badly I really wanted her to be mine.
Mine. That’s what she is now.
The sudden realization has my heart skipping a beat as I wrap my fingers around the cool glass and slip it into my pocket. At this point, I should probably string it onto a piece of twine and wear it around my neck.
Seems fitting to have this slice of my mate resting against my heart.
Once it’s nestled in my pocket, I head out to my sugar shack. Syrup isn’t gonna make itself. The end of the season is nearing, so I need to stock up now in preparation for selling to customers. Plus, my duties at the orchard take up most of my time come spring, summer, and fall.
Vanessa and I have been doing this long-distance thing for over three months now. Weekends with her are amazing, whether we’re here or in the city. She’s shown me so many amazing hidden parts of the city that I no longer hate going there.
It’s not the cramped, noisy, smelly place I thought it was anymore.
When we’re together, I soak up every fucking millisecond of time with Vanessa like a parched sponge. Basking in her sunshine and hoarding the glorious rays of happiness for when we’re apart.
The only thing that would make it better is her in my bed every morning when I wake up.
Hopefully, that will come with time.
On autopilot, I check the batch of sap in the evaporator and get out my bottling supplies. Usually, I’d work in Maggie’s warehouse, but I don’t want to miss my little vampire minx’s arrival. So here I sit, hands keeping themselves busy while my mind stays on my bratty mate.
The surprise I have planned for her this weekend will hopefully move our relationship to the next level, the first step toward her living here permanently. If that’s what she wants, of course.
I meant what I said when I told her I don’t want her to give up her career or dream for me.
But opening her new spa in Maple Ridge Hollow could be the answer to all our problems.
An hour later, the countertop is full of freshly bottled syrup. The sweet scent of caramelized sugar wafts through the warm, humid air in the small shed. Amber liquid dances under the winter sun as it pours through the single window above me.
My ears twitch, the hair on the back of my neck rising when gravel crunches in the distance. She’s here.
Keeping our game of teasing going, my butt stays glued to the stool.
Let the horny female come to me. I chuckle, twisting the cap off the glass bottle.
My pinky dives inside until it’s coated in the thick, sticky sauce.
I slip it into my mouth just as the sugar shack door slams open with a force that could knock a grown minotaur on its ass.
My hooves clack against the floor, spinning me to face the vixen stomping my way. Cheeks flushed a rosy hue and hair wrangled into a messy braid, Vanessa’s eyes are blazing as she stops in front of me.
We’re eye-to-eye, chest-to-chest, hers heaving with labored breaths. That picture did the trick.
Tipped in light-pink polish, her finger lands between my pecs. “It isn’t nice to tease, Luc.”
I’m on my feet in the next instant, her energy feeding me.
Towering over her, I swap our positions until her ass hits the edge of my workbench. Soft black floral fabric meets my fingers when I nestle them around her narrow hips and boost her onto the worn wooden counter.
Drawn together like magnets, our mouths hover together until we’re breathing the same oxygen.
“I never claimed to be nice.” Like the finest strands of silk, I wrap the long braid around my fist, tugging her head back.
The gasp that flutters from her mouth has my lips curving into a smirk against her neck.
“Especially not right now.” A dark shadow of lust deepens my voice.
“Not when I plan to fuck you like I own you. Parce que tu es à moi, mon soleil.” Hot and wet, my tongue drags over her pulse, which gallops under her flesh.
Trekking north, my teeth nip her earlobe, tugging until she whimpers.
I continue my assault on her neck with my lips and tongue. Her toned thighs squeeze my waist, and she moans. “I was hoping you’d say that.” Matching mine, her voice exudes sultriness. “I’m yours, Luc. Use me.”
Fuck, her words are my undoing, unleashing the beast within.
Trembling, frantic hands slide up to her waist, tugging on the bow holding her dress closed. I lean back as I peel the thin cotton open, nearly swallowing my tongue at what I find. Like a kid opening his presents on Christmas morning, I can’t take my eyes off the stunning creature before me.
Black lace encases her tits, pressing the small globes together to make a valley I want to run my tongue—or my cock—through.
Below that, smooth silken porcelain that I want to redden with my teeth, lips, and hands.
My eyes drift farther south, but instead of matching panties, I find her bare cunt.
An animalistic growl crawls up my throat, breaking free to fill the quiet shack as I thread my fingers through the dark-blonde curls on her mound.
A gentle tug on the soft hair has her back arching, her weight braced behind her on her palms.
“Tu es à moi,” I growl. “You’re mine.”
“Yes.” Since Vanessa is a troublemaker, she doesn’t leave it at that.
Non. She shrugs her dress from her shoulders, the fabric pooling to the workbench.
One arm sneaks behind her back, then her breasts spring free, supple and round, when the lace falls away.
“I was hoping I could get some of your golden drizzle.” She picks up the syrup bottle, wiggling it in front of me.
“I’ve heard it’s the best in the state. Never an unsatisfied customer. ” She snorts.
“Brat.” I snatch the bottle from her hand, thumb sweeping over the embossed name she’s turned into an innuendo. “You want my nectar, Ness?” I play along because licking syrup off her sounds pretty fucking hot to me. “Lie back.”
Question quirks her eyebrow, but she does as I say, stretching her lithe body across the workbench.
Twisting the cap off the syrup, I toss it over my shoulder and smirk. “Here it comes, baby.”
Starting at her nipples, which pucker under my heated gaze, I drizzle a trail of sticky amber, connecting one peaked bud to the other.
Her belly caves, ribs flaring, when I continue down her stomach. Golden Drizzle overflows her cute little belly button, and I’m salivating at the idea of licking it empty.
My trail comes to an end at the thatch of hair between her thighs, which tense around me when the first drop of warm liquid hits her clit. Her hips cant, head tipping back on a moan.
“Is this what you had in mind?” Setting the bottle to the side, my thumb lands on her pussy, massaging the liquid gold into her sensitive flesh.
Her back arches. “Not quite, but… don’t stop.”
I don’t. I can’t.
Not with her hips writhing against my hand.
Not with her eyes on me, pupils blown wide.
And certainly not with the sweet, sweet syrup calling my tongue.
Taste. Lick. Suck.
Happily.
I’ll drown in her body if it means hearing her cries of pleasure, having her cunt strangle my cock, and pumping her full of my seed.
I really do have a breeding kink.
Or maybe I have a Vanessa kink.
Mouth on her tits, tongue following the trail until it reaches the bullseye of her nipple, I groan as the distinct maple flavor overwhelms my taste buds.
But there’s something else there.
A sweetness that’s distinctly Vanessa.
Twisting my wrist, I massage her entrance before slipping a finger inside, all while I feast on her chest.
“Yes, Luc. You feel so good.” Her cries are music to my ears.
I add a second finger, and her moans intensify, hips rocking to meet each slow thrust. Right now isn’t about getting her off, but working her to the edge of sanity. Until she’s delirious with the need to orgasm. I want her to beg and plead.
Then, and only then, will I let her come.
It’s torture for me, too. Cock like a bar of steel in my pants, leaking profusely. I pin my hips to the hard edge of the workbench to ease some of the ache, but it does absolutely nothing.
So, I focus on Vanessa instead. My tongue trails down her stomach, finally delving into the pool of sweetness in her belly button. She shivers when I scoop out the contents, moaning at the intoxicating flavor.
“More, Luc.” Her delicate fingers wrap around my horns. The tight grip sends a rush of pleasure down my spine. Crisse. My balls are heavy, lead weights between my legs, and my cock is ready to burst. Not yet.