Read Online Fangs for the Memories by Molly Harper - Free Book Online
Authors: Molly Harper
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the extra fluids made me feel sort of sloshy, but I had to admit I felt better. The throbbing in my head was gone and my mouth had something resembling moisture in it, which was nice.
As I cuddled against Dickâs chest, my eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness.
He looked so sweet when he was asleep. His face was relaxed and untroubled. The puckish bend to his mouth was missing, and he lookedâI knew I was going to feel strange about thinking this laterâinnocent.
Dick Cheney saved me. Heâd come back. He didnât want me to wake up alone. He wanted to take care of me. Iâd never been with someone who wanted to take care of me instead of the other way around. I leaned closer, letting my nose brush against his. He didnât stir. Licking my lips lightly, I pressed forward and brushed my mouth against his.
He inhaled sharply and jerked awake. His eyes flew open wide, and I leaned back, a cold flash of fear in my belly warning me that I might have gone too far. One does not poke a sleeping predator. And making out with him without permission? Probably not a good idea, either. But in the darkness, I could see Dickâs lips curve upward. He lowered his forehead against mine, and after a long moment, he kissed me back. His lips were cool and smooth and molded against mine. I melted into him as I felt his hands sweep over my back and pull me even closer.
I wound my leg around his, bringing his hips closer to mine. I moaned into his mouth as his hands made their way from my back to caressing my bare arms. I twisted my fingers into his T-shirt. And, glancing down at the âGettinâ Lucky in Kentuckyâ logo, I tugged at it until he reached for the hem and pulled it over his head.
Finally, I got to see what Dick Cheney was hiding under those smartass T-shirts.
Wow.
Why did he wear shirts at all? It was practically a crime against humanity, or at least against the female half of the population. Dick wasnât beefy and overbuilt, but he had a lovely swimmerâs physiqueâa long, muscled torso, impressive pecs, and rangy, sinewed arms. And those arms were wrapped around me. It was heavenly.
Before I could make some awkward remark, he pressed his mouth against mine, effectively (and mercifully) shutting me up. I could feel his fangs growing against my mouth. I flicked my tongue, letting it flutter against the sensitive enamel of his canines. Dick growled, clutching my face between his hands as he sucked on my bottom lip and nipped at it. I hissed at the sharp, but not entirely unpleasant, sensation.
Dick retreated, rolling onto his back so I was straddling his hips. His hand slid up the back of my neck, tangling in my hair before cradling my cheek. He was panting, eyes closed, and seemed to be counting to himself. I watched as his fangs withdrew back into line with his blunt teeth.
He was getting himself back under control. For me. I scrambled up the length of his body to basically attack his mouth. A strange response to a manâs demonstrated resistance to violence, but good God, Dick Cheney restraining himself for my sake was one of the sexiest things Iâd ever seen.
This self-imposed âcooling offâ did not seem to affect the rather respectable bulge growing in his jeans. I rolled my hips, enjoying the little whimpering sounds he made in his throat as the growing warmth between my thighs made contact with that impressive erection. I grinned against his mouth, pleased and just a little smug.
He spread his large hand with its long, graceful fingers over my breast, pushing the lace camisole aside. He thumbed my nipple, while his other hand caressed the length of my spine. Those same long fingers pressed against my ass, pinning me against him as he bucked his hips. He nosed along my jaw, pressing cool, wet kisses that left me shivering in his wake. His forehead bumped against the bandage on my neck. I hissed against the throb of pain and he drew
As I cuddled against Dickâs chest, my eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness.
He looked so sweet when he was asleep. His face was relaxed and untroubled. The puckish bend to his mouth was missing, and he lookedâI knew I was going to feel strange about thinking this laterâinnocent.
Dick Cheney saved me. Heâd come back. He didnât want me to wake up alone. He wanted to take care of me. Iâd never been with someone who wanted to take care of me instead of the other way around. I leaned closer, letting my nose brush against his. He didnât stir. Licking my lips lightly, I pressed forward and brushed my mouth against his.
He inhaled sharply and jerked awake. His eyes flew open wide, and I leaned back, a cold flash of fear in my belly warning me that I might have gone too far. One does not poke a sleeping predator. And making out with him without permission? Probably not a good idea, either. But in the darkness, I could see Dickâs lips curve upward. He lowered his forehead against mine, and after a long moment, he kissed me back. His lips were cool and smooth and molded against mine. I melted into him as I felt his hands sweep over my back and pull me even closer.
I wound my leg around his, bringing his hips closer to mine. I moaned into his mouth as his hands made their way from my back to caressing my bare arms. I twisted my fingers into his T-shirt. And, glancing down at the âGettinâ Lucky in Kentuckyâ logo, I tugged at it until he reached for the hem and pulled it over his head.
Finally, I got to see what Dick Cheney was hiding under those smartass T-shirts.
Wow.
Why did he wear shirts at all? It was practically a crime against humanity, or at least against the female half of the population. Dick wasnât beefy and overbuilt, but he had a lovely swimmerâs physiqueâa long, muscled torso, impressive pecs, and rangy, sinewed arms. And those arms were wrapped around me. It was heavenly.
Before I could make some awkward remark, he pressed his mouth against mine, effectively (and mercifully) shutting me up. I could feel his fangs growing against my mouth. I flicked my tongue, letting it flutter against the sensitive enamel of his canines. Dick growled, clutching my face between his hands as he sucked on my bottom lip and nipped at it. I hissed at the sharp, but not entirely unpleasant, sensation.
Dick retreated, rolling onto his back so I was straddling his hips. His hand slid up the back of my neck, tangling in my hair before cradling my cheek. He was panting, eyes closed, and seemed to be counting to himself. I watched as his fangs withdrew back into line with his blunt teeth.
He was getting himself back under control. For me. I scrambled up the length of his body to basically attack his mouth. A strange response to a manâs demonstrated resistance to violence, but good God, Dick Cheney restraining himself for my sake was one of the sexiest things Iâd ever seen.
This self-imposed âcooling offâ did not seem to affect the rather respectable bulge growing in his jeans. I rolled my hips, enjoying the little whimpering sounds he made in his throat as the growing warmth between my thighs made contact with that impressive erection. I grinned against his mouth, pleased and just a little smug.
He spread his large hand with its long, graceful fingers over my breast, pushing the lace camisole aside. He thumbed my nipple, while his other hand caressed the length of my spine. Those same long fingers pressed against my ass, pinning me against him as he bucked his hips. He nosed along my jaw, pressing cool, wet kisses that left me shivering in his wake. His forehead bumped against the bandage on my neck. I hissed against the throb of pain and he drew
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