by Rose, Renee
“What are you smiling at?” Bo asks, looking over my shoulder.
I hide my phone from his view. “Nunya.”
Austin and Wilde look over like they know exactly who I’m texting.
Fuckers.
I look back at my screen, trying to come up with a plan. I can’t be seen with her, not by my dad. Not by my friends. Not by any pack member, which is pretty much most everyone in the fucking stadium. Meet me in the Dairy Queen parking lot in a half hour.
I stare at my screen but she doesn’t answer.
That makes me smile, too. I like it when she gives it back to me. I like her spunk. Her smart mouth.
Those earnest tears.
My cock twitches and I toss my phone back in my locker before I get a full-on boner in front of the whole team. I hope she shows up tonight. She’d better, because if she doesn’t, I’m gonna make sure I find her, and there will be hell to pay.
And that makes me smile, too.
Not even the ass-chewing Coach Jamison gives me for throwing the ball too far brings me down.
* * *
Bailey
There’s no way in hell I’m going to go meet Cole Muchmore in the Dairy Queen parking lot. I don’t know why my stomach is in twists and flutters thinking about it.
Rayne and I walk around the block to where it’s not quite so embarrassing to be picked up by my mom who pulls up in her Corolla, still wearing work clothes.
“Hi, girls, how was it?” she asks overly brightly. She’s thrilled I made a friend.
“Okay.” I slide into the front seat and Rayne climbs in the back. “Are you just getting off work?”
“Yes. I decided to work late since I knew I was picking you two up. Tell your mom thanks for driving you over.” My mom looks over her shoulder and smiles at Rayne.
I fiddle with the radio, switching stations until it lands on an 80s song my mom likes by the Cure, Friday I’m in Love.
My mom cranks it..
When we get to Rayne’s house, I hop out to give her a hug.
“Be careful,” she murmurs in my ear.
I pull away. “What do you mean?”
“You’re going to meet Cole. Just be careful.”
I hadn’t shown her the texts—she must’ve peeked. I’m not pissed, though. It’s nice that she has my back. “I’m not going,” I say quickly.
“You’re thinking about it.”
I shake my head. “You’re wiser than your age, you know that?”
“That’s what happens when you’re the runt. Plenty of time to observe because you’re always left out.”
I blink, gutted to hear her voice what I’d only sensed about her social life. “Fuck. I’m sorry.”
She shrugs and lifts her chin toward the car. “Go. Your mom’s waiting. Just be careful. Gird your loins.” She grins.
“Gird my loins.” I snort. “I think that’s my new favorite saying.”
“As it should be. Let me know how it goes.”
“I’m not going,” I insist, but she just mumbles, “Yeah right” as she heads to her door.
Twenty minutes later, I tell my mom I’m going to run to Dairy Queen. It’s a sign of how broken I’ve been that she’s delighted rather than shocked. “Are you taking the car?” The hope in her voice is too obvious.
“No, I’ll walk.”
Now she frowns. “That sounds like a bad idea.”
“Wolf Ridge has to be the safest area in all of northern Phoenix. Everyone knows each other around here. What could happen?”
Her eyes narrow. “Why didn’t you ask to stop there when we passed it on the way? Are you meeting someone?”
I tuck the pink chunk of my hair behind my ear. “Maybe. Yeah. I don’t know. I’m a little late now.”
“Well, let me drive you back there.”
“No,” I say quickly. Eighteen-year-olds shouldn’t be getting rides from their moms. It’s just stupid. “I’ll see you later—bye!” I run out before we can discuss it any further.
As I walk down the street, the conversations in my head run marathon loops. It’s a bad idea to meet Cole Muchmore. He’s an alpha-hole looking to score. He wants to use me. No, it’s worse than that. He’s still out to punish me because of my mom. And his dad. And what I saw and know about his home life.
But he’s also the guy who punched Mr. Brumgard in the face. And took me to the abandoned playground. And made sure it was okay for me to skip class.
And hasn’t told anyone about what happened, as far as I know.
So I can’t just write him off. And then there’s our very strong physical attraction.
I hit puberty at twelve. Got my period and breasts and hips. Fooled around with some kids at parties. But my sexual awakening didn’t happen until I met Cole Muchmore.
It’s like my body comes alive around him. I only just realized I’m a sexual being with needs and desires. And those desires could be fulfilled by my hot, dickwad neighbor.
So, yeah. It’s a bad idea, but I’m still going.
I’m testing fate, because I stalled long enough that I’m now late. He may just assume I’m not coming and leave. And that would be fine.
I take the side streets there. It’s been an hour since Cole’s text, and when I arrive, the Dairy Queen is closed. The parking lot is empty.
Except for the old classic Ford truck parked in the back corner.
My heart starts hammering. He waited an extra thirty minutes to see if I’d show.
Cole slides out of the driver’s side, his moves languid and graceful for such a big guy. Anger radiates from him.
I falter, then stop.
Cole stops, too, leaving three feet of space between us, like he sees I’m scared and doesn’t want to freak me out. “You walked here from home? Christ, Pink, are you nuts? You do know it’s eleven at night, right?”
My brows shoot up in surprise. He’s mad I walked? Not that I’m late or that he thought I wasn’t coming?
“I don’t drive,” I tell him.
He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I know.” Now he steps in closer, which is exactly where my body wants him to be. He tilts his head to the side. “Why is that, Pink?”
I shake my head. I’m definitely not discussing it with him. I must’ve unconsciously rubbed my tattoo because he grabs my wrists to stop the movement and examines the Catrina skull. In full Day of the Dead tradition, it’s decorated with eyes for flowers, and vines and leaves. A wreath of roses around the head.
“Because of this?” Cole demands.
Shock ripples through me at his guess. I try to pull my hands away, but he holds me fast. “Who was Catrina? She died in a car accident?”
I look up to the stars to keep the tears that filled my eyes from falling. I suddenly can’t breathe at all. My throats too tight. Too choked with sharp edges of grief that scrape and burn.
“Fuck, Pink.” Cole sounds shocked, like whatever he sees on my face unnerves him. He cradles one side of my head and yanks me against his hard form. My cheek hits his muscled chest, and I draw in a horrible, loud sobbing breath. “Fuck,” he mutters again. “Who was she?”
I haven’t talked about it. Everyone at my old school knew the story. They were all careful not to bring it up around me.
Now it all comes out at once. The crushing guilt. The trauma. The agony of loss.
“My best friend,” I croak against his t-shirt. My tears are already soaking the soft cotton. “I killed her.”
“Fuck.” His arms tighten around me.
I sob it out, ugly shaking, heaving cries against the chest of my enemy.
As fast as it came on, it stops. Like I just had this tidal wave in me that needed to come out, and then the waters stilled.
I stop shaking and lift my head. I suddenly want to tell him. Want to say the words out loud and have them witnessed. “I was driving and the road was icy. We spun out of control and smashed into a guard rail. A piece of metal came through the windshield and punctured her skull. One minute we were jok
ing about her ability to make popcorn, the next minute she was gone. Not just gone, a scene that plays in my nightmares. My best friend, eyes unblinking and the blood. So much blood.”
I sense Cole’s shock, but his face shows nothing. I’m grateful not to see sympathy or horror. Just grim acknowledgment.
“So now you don’t drive.” It’s a statement.
I nod.
“Because you’re scared or to punish yourself?”
Hmm. Good question. I’m grateful for the chance to untangle the hulking mess that’s been my past. “Both, I guess.”
He shakes his head like it’s the wrong answer. “You’re driving,” he says firmly, like I’m in big trouble and he’s laying down the law. He takes my elbow firmly and tugs me toward the driver side of his truck.
I resist, but he’s too strong and sure. He pushes me up against the door, pressing his body against mine from behind. His cock is hard, but this doesn’t feel totally sexual. It’s something more. He wraps his hand around my throat but doesn’t squeeze. “Here’s how it’s going to go, Pink.” His lips are right at my ear, hot breath feathering at my temple. “I’m going to be in charge of punishing. And the fear, we’re going to release. Okay?”
I have absolutely no idea what that means, but my body seems to understand. Tingles race all down my skin. My pussy clenches. He presses his lips to my temple and drags them along the skin. Not a kiss. Something hotter. Meaner.
“Wh-what do you mean?” I manage to say.
To my disappointment, he pulls away and frees me, but it’s only for a moment. He pulls open his car door and pushes my torso down over the seat. His hand cracks down on my butt, hard.
“Oh!” I cry out in shock.
He squeezes the place he just spanked, rubbing away the sting. My whole body bursts into flames, sizzling under his touch. “You want to be punished? I get to be the guy who gives it. Not you.” He spanks the other side, just as hard.
I cry out again, but the pain instantly morphs into heat. Especially with his large palm massaging and rubbing. “Cole,” I whimper.
He rubs some more. “Fuck, baby. I love it when you say my name like that.”
I don’t know what’s happening. I mean, I vaguely do, but I’m still a virgin. And this is beyond Advanced Placement sex. This is graduate school level. Is this even sex? I can’t be sure, I only know that the thrills running through my body, the lust curling my toes, is enough energy to power a large city.
“Cole.” I can’t help myself. I don’t even say it because he wants me to. I just whimper because I want more. Need more. And I’m not even sure what more means.
“Say yes, Cole.” He strokes between my legs, but not over my slit. Off to the side, just brushing where I want him to be. He’s purposely teasing me. He delivers three hard slaps in a row. “I’m going to do the punishing. Tell me you agree.”
My stomach flip flops. Squirms. Excitement rages. “Yeah. Maybe,” I agree.
“Yes,” he corrects firmly. “You know I need to be the guy who punishes you. And you need me to do it. Right?”
Yes is on the tip of my tongue. He has me mesmerized. All good sense thrown out the window. But I hang on to a scrap of reason. “I’m not sure what I’m agreeing to.”
His hand strokes over my ass, kneading and squeezing, circling. He rests his other hand beside me on the seat cushion and leans down to meet my gaze. “I’m going to take care of you, Bailey.”
It sounds like a promise. Again, I’m not sure what it means, but I believe him. I believe his sincerity. “Okay,” I whisper.
Satisfaction lights his gaze and he pulls up, then slides a hand beneath my knees to pick me up and slide me behind the wheel.
I panic. “No.” I try to get out, but he blocks my way. “You’re driving,” he growls. “Tonight.”
My hands flutter to the wheel but I look up at him, pleading for mercy. “I can’t.”
He catches my face between both hands and kisses me hard. “You can. And you will.” He slams the door and walks around to the passenger side, then climbs in.
“Here.” He hands me the keys. “Do you know how to drive a manual?”
“Yes.” I drove a Subaru back in Colorado. My mom wanted me to learn on a manual so I’d have that skill. My hands tremble as I put the key in, press the clutch and brake down and start it. “What would you do if I didn’t?”
“Teach you,” he says immediately. Like it’s a no-brainer. He points to the street. “Take a right out of here.”
I draw in a shaky breath. His truck is so different from the Subaru or my mom’s car, that it doesn’t ignite the PTSD as badly. I check that the gear is in first and ease off the clutch. There’s a lurch that makes me scream, but then we’re on the road driving. I’m breathing hard, my heart beating as I nervously check and recheck the rearview mirrors, but it’s fine. There’s no traffic.
I’m driving!
Cole directs me up toward the mountains. At first I think we’re going to the same secret playground, but instead he guides me to an overlook. “Park it here,” he orders and I do, relieved to turn the truck off and collapse back against the seat.
“You did it.” Cole’s grin is boyish. Happy. It’s an incredible look on him, devastating, really. Shifting position to face me, he puts one knee on the long seat cushion and braces the other against the floor. “Now your reward.”
In a flash, he grabs my waist and pulls me to my back on the seat, my dress hiked up to my waist.
“Cole!” That seems to be the only word I’m capable of, and in the next moment, I lose the ability to articulate at all, because Cole shoves my panties to the side and presses his mouth to my pussy.
I jerk at the soft contact of his lips against my most sensitive parts. When he uses his tongue, I nearly pop off the seat. He has to pin my pelvis down, hold me in place as he strokes his tongue all up and down my slit, tracing my inner lips, flicking it at the apex, where the clit is supposed to be, but I’ve never really found it.
Doesn’t matter. Cole knows where it is. He tortures me, lapping, sucking, nipping. I squeal and wriggle. Moan and whimper.
My legs thrash beneath him. I’m desperate. It’s too intense. I push his head away. “Wait,” I cry hoarsely.
I’m reassured by his compliance. He stops immediately and lifts his head, studying my face. “You’re scared,” he says. Not a question.
My face grows hot. “I don’t know. Yes. Maybe.”
“But you like it. I can taste your nectar, Pink. Just let go. Take your reward. I promise it will be good.” He reaches up and pinches one nipple through my dress fabric and bra, then slaps the side of my breast. He repeats the action with the other side.
My mouth falls open in shock, but my pussy pulses with total glee.
And I don’t protest when he dips his head again to return to pleasuring me.
* * *
Cole
I don’t know how I’m keeping my wolf in check. She’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. Face flushed, dark hair fanned out around her head like a storm, eyes wild and glassy. She tastes like all my fantasies rolled into one and I can’t fucking wait to watch her go off.
She’s fighting it, though.
I lift my head and rub her clit with my thumb. “Do you make yourself come, Pink?”
She shakes her head. “N-not really. But I did… after—”
I raise my brows in question.
“After you kissed me.”
Satisfaction explodes through me.
“Oh, babygirl. I fucked my hand so hard that night I almost broke my dick off.”
She’s shocked, which I love. I guess I have a bit of the sadist in me. I never knew. Or maybe it’s just for her. Just for Pink. Because she took all my hate and twisted it around into something sexual. Something painful but beautiful.
Fuck, spanking her was like finding the meaning of life.
I’ve never felt so powerful. Not in a mean way, either. It was fucking ecstasy. The scent of he
r arousal filling my nostrils while she made those surprised cries of pain. The fact that she fucking let me spank her like that—that she liked it.
And somehow playing that role helps me keep my head. The raging hormones of a teen wolf don’t drive me the way they have with other girls. Oh, I definitely want her—to a degree that is painful—but I have the reins on my lust. Bailey turned control over to me, so I can’t fuck it up. I have to keep my head.
“How did you make yourself come? What did you do?” I explore her tight entrance, screw my index finger into her channel while I keep tapping and rubbing her clit with my thumb.
She rolls her head from side to side. “I… um… I used my hand.”
“Where were you, babygirl? In the shower? On your bed?”
“On my bed,” she gasps, arching into my hand. “On my stomach.”
I smile at the secret she shared. “Humping your hand?”
“Yeah,” she gasps.
I pull my index finger out and work my thumb in, instead. “When I say it’s time, Pink, you’re going to let go and come. Can you do that for me?”
She nods quickly, like she’s eager to comply. “I-I’ll try.”
“Good girl.” I get my thumb fully seated and mold the rest of my hand over her mound, so I can put pressure on her clit. Then I start slowly fucking her with my thickest digit. She’s tighter than a fist.
She moans low and soft.
I pump it faster.
Her ass squeezes, belly shudders on a breath. “Cole,” she whines.
“Come, Bailey,” I snarl, my own need starting to making my vision dome. “You’re going to fucking come when I tell you to, and you’re going to scream my name.”
She comes before I can tell her again. It’s glorious. Her muscles seize and tighten around my thumb in quick pulses as her knees press in on my shoulders.
I barely wait until she’s done and then I’m up on my knees, pulling my cock out and fisting it.
For a moment, she’s too blissed out to know what I’m doing. Then she freaks out.
“Cole!” she gasps, pushing up to her elbows and staring at the purple head of my dick. I abuse it with my fist, jerking hard. It’s only going to take me thirty seconds to blow. “I-I’m not ready for that—”