Oh my, but that made Soren’s inner vampirepreen.
“By all means.” Soren arched his back in display, running a hand over his chest and thumbing his nipple, his spent dick twitching at the sensation. “You know I love your cum on me.”
“You do?” Gabe asked, sounding more than a bit desperate, his fist working furiously.
“Oh yes,” Soren crooned. “Right where it belongs. Because, Highness?”
Gabe was panting now, his cock an angry red color at the tip. “Yes?”
“Every drop of what you have—blood, sweat, cum—all of it belongs to me.”
Gabe’s body jerked, and he spurted cum onto Soren’s chest with a drawn-out moan, draping over him immediately to run a finger through the mess, rubbing it into Soren’s skin like some sort of sacred oil.
“So beautiful,” he murmured again.
It could be considered predictable at this point, the way he praised Soren at every turn. So why did it still make Soren’s chest burn, that grateful adoration?
Love had made him foolish, was the answer. But it was hard to care, with his mate holding him close like this, stroking every bit of bare skin.
Afterward, cuddling on the couch, the horrid sportsball thankfully over, Gabe pressed a kiss to Soren’s shoulder. “Didn’t think you’d come back from cookie decorating so horny.”
Soren smiled to himself, pressing even further into Gabe’s solid body. “What can I say? Festivities get me excited.”
VAMPIRE’S MATE NOT CAMPING SHORT
Soren
Soren eyed the bedroom he was standing in with immense satisfaction.
This would do. This would do quite nicely.
The room was appropriately spacious, with a king-size bed, a walk-in closet, and an attached bathroom. Everything was decorated in whites and creams and pale blues, managing to seem faintly nautical but without any tacky beach decor telling someone to “leave it all on the sand” or claiming something inane like “Salt water cures everything.”
The latter was false, of course. Nothing cured everything.
Although, fucking a beautiful, built man who knew his place certainly curedsomethings.
All salt water did was leave one’s hair a complete mess.
But that wasn’t the point. The point was—the room would do. It also happened to be the largest of the six bedrooms in the rental, but Soren had done all the planning, so he figured some recompense was due.
There was a knock on the door.
“Yes?” Soren called, straightening a few wrinkles on the bedspread.
Jay stepped inside the room, his hands clasped in front of him, looking so solemn that Soren felt the teeniest, tiniest twinge of guilt.
He squashed it down immediately. “Did you find your bedroom all right?”
“Yes.” Jay nibbled on his lower lip, glancing around the room. “But, Soren…”
“Mm?”
“You said we would beglamping.”
“Is that the word I used?”
Jay nodded, still solemn, his lower lip now pushed out in the faintest pout. “You said that you’d make the arrangements, but it would be more like glamping, and I’d have to prepare myself for that.”
