Page 39 of A Malicious Menagerie (Fangs & Fables #1)

As Chase continues to slick his tongue through my folds and suck leisurely at my clit, I arch into his clever mouth, my head dropping back against the bicep of my raised arm.

In between breathless moans, I peer dizzily down at Chase, admiring the way the light through the leaves dapples his shoulders in a continuously shifting kaleidoscope of golden shapes.

The warm glow spotlights the freckles dotted across his skin like clouds playing peek-a-boo with faraway constellations.

A shiver races through me as I watch the muscles in his back flex and release, the sheer power in his movements mesmerizing.

His expression is one of utter contentment as he delves his tongue past my entrance again.

With Chase otherwise, ahem, occupied , I finally have free rein to look at him the way I’ve been dying to for weeks.

I’ve had to content myself with fleeting, stolen glances, not wanting to be caught ogling him like the lovesick teenager he makes me revert to.

It’s like going to Thanksgiving dinner on a diet and nibbling on green beans when all you want to do is eat the whole damn pumpkin pie.

My eyes have been famished, desperate to take in every detail.

But before long, my gaze struggles to hold focus, the world blurring into streaks of color and light as my body submits to the pleasure.

Chase’s clever mouth coaxes my nerves to spark and build from an ember to something closer to an inferno.

My inner thighs are hot and sticky where they frame his face, and I know I’m a mess, but I find that I can’t bring myself to care.

The air smells of sex and pine, so thick between us that I can almost taste the musk, and sweet Jesus, the sounds .

The wet smacking noises when Chase strokes through my pussy relentlessly are indecent, but somehow, they make the whole thing more real when it would be so easy to believe that the past hour is just a fever dream I concocted in my lonely twin bed one morning.

What starts as an ache low in my hips morphs into something snarling and wanting , and the hungrier that feeling gets, the more I dig my heels into Chase’s back and grind myself against his lips.

I chase the sensation like a wolf hunting a rabbit, the sounds escaping my lips somewhere between predator and prey, and then suddenly I’m there, my quarry caught with a snap as pleasure so intense it borders on pain rolls through me in consuming waves.

I cry out Chase’s name, the sound ripped from my chest, and his answering growl against my sensitive flesh pushes me higher.

My vision swims back into focus by slow degrees, the first thing I see the vibrant dance of light and shadow on the tree canopy.

Once the ecstasy ebbs to an occasional gentle pulse, my muscles go limp as noodles as I pant to catch my breath.

Before I can get my short-circuited brain back online, Chase suddenly pushes himself up to stand, my back sliding up the metal bars a few inches before he lets my body slide down his chest until he has my thighs hitched over his hips.

His lips claim mine again, and I taste my own musky satisfaction as his tongue seeks out mine.

Suddenly, Chase tilts my hips, and I feel the broad, smooth head of his cock slip readily through my slick folds to notch at my entrance.

Instantly, the warm, gooey post-orgasm feeling drains away to be replaced by panic, and I stiffen against him. Whoa, now!

“Chase, stop,” I plead, my fingernails digging into his solid chest.

Chase goes completely still against me, and for an interminable moment, we’re frozen in a tableau, his fingertips indenting my thighs as I dig half-moons into the slabs of his pecs.

Face flaming, I force myself to look up into his golden eyes.

His dark brows are drawn in consternation. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just…” I wriggle, unable to concentrate on my own tangled feelings or this conversation with his dick right there. “Can you put me down? Please?”

Chase is careful as he lowers my legs and sets me down, making sure I’m stable on my feet before he takes a step back. Unable to look at him—Is he mad? Disappointed?—I focus on adjusting my bra and straightening my shirt the best I can when only a couple of stubborn buttons are holding on.

When I finally work up the courage to look back at him, Chase is frowning thoughtfully, his eyes scanning me from head to toe. “Did I hurt you?” he asks gruffly, and I can tell the idea distresses him.

“What? No!” I assure him, feeling guilty that I made him worry. “No, not at all. I’m just…” I shrug. “Not ready.”

To my embarrassment and horror, his nostrils flare as he takes in my scent. “You smell ready,” he growls, eyes hot as he takes an involuntary step toward me.

Ugh. Werewolf senses. I give him a gentle push backward with my fingertips on his chest, and he stands firm for a few seconds before relenting.

I quickly duck to scoop up my pants and pull them on, wanting a barrier between my (admittedly very ready) lady bits and his stupid nose.

“Fine, yes, my body says yes. It’s my brain that’s the problem. ”

He looks even more lost now. “What’s wrong with your brain? ”

I snort a self-deprecating laugh. “Do you want a list?”

He squints at me. “I feel like that was a trick question.”

Well, whether he wants a list or not, he’s going to get it.

“It’s just, I can’t stop thinking that this went further than I’d planned, and that I’m on the clock right now, and that we don’t have a condom, and that you are way bigger than my ex-boyfriend.

” His abrupt laughter makes me cringe, but really, I kind of brought that on myself.

Trying to pull back the reins on this runaway horse, I add, “Besides the fact that you are a prisoner and I’m your jailor. ”

Chase is doubled over, one hand pressed to his ribs as if I’ve got him in stitches. “Kinky,” he chuckles. “Where are your handcuffs?”

“Can you please be serious?”

“I’m sorry,” he says as he catches his breath. “You’re right. I’m sorry. You’re just so fucking cute.”

“Nothing a girl likes more than being called ‘cute’ after getting naked with a guy,” I mumble sourly. Well, almost naked, but whatever.

Too fast for me to follow, Chase steps forward and cages me in again with his hands gripping the bars near my head and his body pressed close to mine.

I gasp when I feel the hard evidence of his desire against my bare belly where my shirt hangs open, and my own body responds in a way I’m embarrassingly sure that Chase can smell.

My hands fly up to press to his stomach, intending to push him away.

Instead, I linger, reveling in the heat of his skin.

“You are cute,” Chase rumbles against my ear. “But if you want proof that I think you’re more than cute, you’ve got it.”

“All I’m saying is that as long as you’re being held here against your will, I just… can’t. Sleep with you, that is. No matter how I feel about you.”

He’s quiet for a moment, his body still except for the steady rise and fall of his chest against me and the gust of his warm breath against my neck. Finally, he asks, “And how do you feel about me?”

Shoring up my courage, I admit, “I like you. A lot.”

“How much?”

“Enough to upend my entire life to break you out, obviously,” I huff, finally pushing him away. Rather than looking annoyed, he’s grinning.

“I ‘like’ you, too,” Chase replies easily, and I can tell by the emphasis he puts on my word that he thinks I’m being cute again. I’m debating telling him off when he adds, “Enough to upend my entire life by inviting you home with me.”

Well, he’s got me there.

“So… where does that leave us?” I ask.

“Same place we were before: counting down the days until we get out of here.” He grins, fangs fully on display. “But with added incentive.”