Page 47 of A Malicious Menagerie (Fangs & Fables #1)
The Promise
C hase and I ping-pong our way through the hallway to the bathroom, laughing between kisses as our distraction leads to more than one collision with the wall.
Once Chase sets me down, my toes curling against the cold black-and-white tile, I attack his borrowed coveralls, growling with frustration when the zipper gets caught.
Chase chuckles at the sound. “That was pretty good for a human.”
“I learned from the best,” I reply distractedly, then grin when I finally get the zipper down.
Between the two of us, we manage to push them down his shoulders and off.
I hum appreciatively at the sight of his powerful chest, muscular thighs, and that deep V that points down to his rapidly hardening cock.
“It’s such a relief to finally have permission to look,” I tell him with a cheeky smirk.
“Trust me, I wouldn’t have minded at any point,” Chase replies wryly.
His broad palms glide down my sides, his thumbs brushing the undersides of my breasts before he strokes over my waist to where my dress is caught at my hips.
Chase’s eyes are molten when they meet mine, and his voice is sultry when he asks, “Do I have permission to look?”
“Always,” I reply breathlessly, and his clever fingers hook in the fabric to make quick work of my tattered skirt and panties in one go. When I lean over to turn the water on, Chase’s hands are all over me, molding to my hips before slipping down to cup my ass and massage both cheeks .
I huff out a shuddering breath and let him play while I set the water to nearly scalding.
“Hope you like your water hot,” I warn him as I turn and guide him in by one wrist. It’s a tight fit, but we both manage to slide into the narrow shower stall, only a hairsbreadth of space between our naked bodies.
“As hot as my mate,” he teases with a grin, not seeming to mind as the hot spray washes over his back.
I roll my eyes, but I can’t help my smile or my blush. “That was cheesy.”
“But you liked it.”
“As much as I like my fiancé,” I fire back, and if he hadn’t already made it clear just how much he cares about me, the look he gives me in that moment would have eliminated any doubt.
Once my feet are submerged in the shallow pool that collects on the tiles before being whisked away by the drain, I wince, every pinecone, gravel path, and abrasive rock face coming back with a vengeance.
Instantly, Chase’s expression shifts from heat and affection to concern, and he leans over to peer down at my feet.
“Shit, I forgot you were barefoot. You okay?”
“All good,” I reassure him. “Washing them will help.”
“Maybe we should—”
“If you’re about to say ‘maybe we should wait,’ I will hit you.”
He shoots me a challenging grin. “Maybe I’d like it.”
“Hush,” I reply, reaching up to pull out the few bobby pins in my hair as I turn my back to him, “and wash my hair for me, please.”
Immediately, Chase presses up against my back, and I gasp at the sensation of his slick, hot skin pressing against me.
He leans down to murmur, “Lean back,” his warm breath coasting over my ear, and I comply with a shiver.
He guides my head back under the spray, and I close my eyes as the water soaks my hair and washes away the grime and fear of the past few hours.
The sound of a bottle opening and then snapping shut again precedes the scent of my apple shampoo, sweet and heady.
I let out a low moan as Chase’s strong fingers begin massaging the fragrant foam into my scalp. “This is amazing,” I murmur muzzily.
“I aim to please,” Chase teases, being careful not to tug on any knots.
A minute later, Chase guides me to lean back again so he can rinse the shampoo from my hair.
This time, he lets his hard cock brush my lower back, the thick length gliding easily through the leftover soap suds over the top of the cleft of my ass.
I press against him with a gasp, wanting to feel more of him, but he leans away with a chuckle.
“I’m not done,” he teases, amused. “Don’t girls condition and shit? ”
At war with myself—I really do need to condition my hair, or I’ll never get a comb through it again—I let Chase reach for the next bottle and work his fingers through my long tresses.
The air is thick with steam now, giving the enclosed space a sultry, dream-like quality, and I don’t know how much longer I’m going to make it before I give in to the urge to ease the sharp ache between my thighs.
Thankfully, as Chase lets the water cascade over my hair in one more rinse, his hands begin to explore.
First, his palms, still slick with soap, glide over my shoulders and upper chest, thoroughly removing the last remnants of Chad Smarman.
I didn’t realize how much wearing his blood on my skin was weighing on me until Chase’s gentle touch wipes it away.
I shudder at the memory of Smarman’s body behind me, pressing me into the unforgiving iron bars as his hands aggressively tugged at my clothes.
I must tense or start breathing more quickly, because before I can spiral too far into the memory, Chase leans down to my ear again and murmurs, “You okay?”
The sound of his familiar deep voice, smooth now instead of rough with lack of use like when I first met him, pulls me back to the present.
I relax against him, raising one arm to twine my fingers in his wet hair.
“I’m amazing,” I tell him honestly, and he answers with a growl and a hot kiss pressed just below my ear.
Chase slips his palms down to cup my breasts, squeezing the soft mounds before circling my tight nipples and pinching gently.
The spark of pleasure arrows down my belly like a lit fuse to detonate an intense need between my thighs.
I arch into his touch with a gasp, and his growl is a constant rumble in my ear now as he traces one slick palm down my belly, the other still cradling my breast. When his fingers brush the border between my bare skin and the dark blonde curls hiding my sex, I part my thighs, inviting him in.
His satisfied hum reverberates against my ear as he cups my mound possessively.
When his fingertips gently coax my lower lips apart and brush my clit, I moan and grasp his forearm in my free hand, holding him where I want him.
As his fingers slick back and forth over the sensitive bundle of nerves, I feel the play of his muscles under his skin like steel cords strung tight along his bones.
When he slips down to circle a fingertip at my entrance, I tilt my hips, encouraging him, and almost sob with relief when he presses inside.
As he strokes in and out of me, brushing a place inside me each time that has me seeing stars against the backs of my closed eyelids, I let my head loll back against his shoulder.
For a few blissful minutes, there’s nothing but the feel of his hot, slick skin against my back and the thick, insistent press of his fingers filling me again and again.
Nothing but the sounds of our panting breaths, the steady patter of the water against the tiles, and the slick noises from the juncture of my thighs, all loud in the enclosed space.
Nothing but thick, apple-scented steam filling my lungs, an intoxicating haze that warms me from the inside out.
The climax builds gradually, a slow, irresistible tightening deep in my core.
I almost don’t realize I’m nearly there until my sheath clamps down on his fingers as if trying to hold him inside me.
I gasp his name as I come, my body seized by the force of it.
A frenzied whirlwind of colors dances across my vision until I wonder if my mind might simply unravel.
Chase keeps his fingers pressed inside me, his thumb slowly working my clit, the precise friction drawing out deep, resonant tremors and every last shudder and whimper from my sensitized body.
When I come back to myself after long, hazy moments, I gently pull his hand away from my pussy, exhaling sharply at the feeling of his fingers slipping from inside my body.
Drawing his hand up to my lips, I kiss his scarred knuckles, the musky scent of my desire perfuming the air between us, before I turn around to press a smile to his lips. “My turn.”
For a long moment, I get caught up kissing him, sucking the water from his lower lip as I reach up to scratch my short nails through the stubble along his jaw.
When I finally pull back to look at him, I’m struck again by just how beautiful he is.
His inky black hair, shorter now than when I met him, hangs untidily over his forehead, and his long eyelashes are spiked and beaded with crystalline water droplets.
Water runs in rivulets over his prominent cheekbones and his firm lips before cascading from his squared chin.
Still, as always, there’s something covetous and feral in his eyes that would be more at home on a wolf tracking a doe from the shade between trees, and some primitive instinct deep in my hindbrain shudders.
He’ll never be quite human, something more always lurking just under his skin.
He will never think quite like a human, and he will never feel things quite like a human.
And yet, he has already proven that he will protect me, kill for me, care for me, and love me until his last breath. And how many women can say that about their human men?
I must stare for a beat too long because he quirks a smile. Suddenly, man, wolf, or somewhere in between, he’s just Chase. “What are you thinking?”
“That I love you,” I reply honestly, leaning up to kiss him again before reaching for my body wash on one of the corner shelves. “You’re going to smell like me,” I warn him, figuring he might not want to smell like a pumpkin spice latte.
“Fuck, I hope so,” he replies with a grin, and that’s all the permission I need to get my greedy hands on him.