Blood Claim by Laura Mykles (free e books to read .txt) 📕

that thick, gorgeous rod tunneling into Matt's backside. “So much.” Such a desperate sound, muffled in the bend of Matt's neck. It matched the desperation racing through Matt's veins, filling the cock that Wolfe ruthlessly pumped as he rode Matt's body.

Matt whimpered, clutching at the sheets bunched beneath them, drowning in the heat that pressed around him.

"Come,” said the voice, followed by a deep, hard stab from the cock in his ass.

Pleasure erupted in Matt's balls, spilling upward through his cock, surging up his spine and nearly taking his head off as he shouted his release. A second wave of brutal pleasure tore through him following a sharp pain in the side of his neck. Matt cried out as his body shook, battered endlessly with a pleasure that seemed ready to cause him to explode. The arms that surrounded him kept him whole as Wolfe rode him hard to his own release.

Only as he sank into blissful, sated, undeniable sleep did it hit him that Wolfe's mouth was sucking at his neck. What?!

Sleep, said Wolfe, more felt than heard.

Inky black folded over Matthew's thoughts.

* * * *

Matt woke in a nest of rumpled sheets, the bedspread tucked up around him, blinking at the sunlight filtering through the blinds on his bedroom window.

Sunlight?

Bleary, he pushed up to his elbows, turning his head this way and that, searching for...

"Wolfe?"

No answer.

He turned over on his side, wincing slightly at the tenderness in his backside, a remembered ache that he'd not felt for a long time. That, at least, told him that he'd not imagined the sex.

The sex. He had to pause for a moment to pay homage in memory to truly spectacular sex. He could not recall having ever been fucked so hard or so well. With all respect to his dearly departed Daniel, his lover had never been able to wring him dry like that. Not in one session.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Matt shoved his fingers through his loose hair to push it back from his face. No sound from the kitchen or the open bathroom. No sound of the television in the next room. He was alone.

Disappointment crashed down on him. Hadn't Wolfe enjoyed him? Was that why he'd left? Although ... A check of the clock at his bedside said it was almost seven in the morning. Wolfe couldn't have arrived at his apartment much after six the previous night. The sex couldn't have taken more than an hour or two. Surprise made Matt blink at the rumpled drawstring pants which lay on the floor beside his feet. If the sex had even taken two hours, that meant Matt had slept over ten hours! He hadn't done that in as long as he could remember, even before Daniel died.

Damn! What must Wolfe had thought, for him to have passed out like that? Had Wolfe tried to wake him? Was there any part of the night that he didn't remember? Matt wracked his brain, but couldn't for the life of him remember anything after he'd come.

No. He remembered one thing!

Panicked, he shot to his feet and lunged into the bathroom. Hurriedly, he grabbed his hair to bare his neck and twisted around to see if ... Was that a bite? Were those two little red spots something normal? They certainly didn't look fresh, more like a wound from days ago where the scab had already fallen off. Had they been there before? Or had Wolfe really bitten him?

No. Wolfe couldn't be a vampire. Matt had talked to him countless times during the day. Though, Matt had never seen him during the day. Could he, maybe, be awake and out of sunlight? Or was the whole sunlight thing a sham?

Noting he was more confused than scared—and blaming that on the daylight—he left the bathroom to pad into the living room. There was a Post-it Note on one of his monitors.

Left the food. It reheats well.

I'll come by tonight. We need to talk.

W

The W was signed with a ridiculous flourish that seemed so very Wolfe that it made Matt's heart skip a beat.

The food. Italian. Garlic galore. He went to the kitchen and found that the contents of the paper bag had been removed and now sat in neat little covered tins in his refrigerator, all but the bread, which was wrapped in aluminum foil in the oven that Wolfe had left partially open. If Wolfe was a vampire, he couldn't stand garlic. Unless the garlic thing wasn't true.

Of course, Wolfe hadn't eaten any, had he?

Groaning, Matt went to sit, still naked, on his couch. He still held the yellow Post-it in his hand, slightly crumpled. His body still felt sated and warm, but a tingle of yearning burbled in his balls when he looked at the W again.

Wolfe? A vampire?

Matt wasn't in much better shape by sundown. He'd showered, dressed, and eaten. The pasta and salad had been as good as promised. He'd tried to work for a few hours, but it was useless.

His mind couldn't stray far from Wolfe. He went from frightened to turned on to pissed off within minutes, cycling through emotions like a hormonal teenager. He'd spent some time kneeling in Daniel's corner of his bedroom, shocked to realize that the candles had been burning. Only Wolfe could have lit them before he'd left. Matt was sure he'd doused them the day before and, if he hadn't, they would have burned down a lot more by now. But why would Wolfe light the candles? He didn't know Daniel. He didn't know the situation. He still didn't know why Matt wouldn't go out at night. Matt was missing a part of the story here, and Wolfe was the only one who could fill him in.

He had tried calling Wolfe's cell, not surprised to get voice mail. He didn't bother leaving a message. Wolfe's call log would tell him that Matt called, and Wolfe's own note had indicated that they needed to talk.

For a few hours, he