Rogue Wolf

by Alexis Pierce

He leans forward and grips my thighs, spreading my legs and pressing his lips to my lower stomach, right along the line of my panties. After last night, I hadn’t been expecting that we would continue having sex with each other, so I’m just wearing a plain pair of nude hip-huggers panties from Walmart as opposed to the sexy underwear I had on yesterday. He doesn’t seem to mind, though, dragging them down my thighs with rough hands.

  I tangle one hand in his hair and grip his shoulder with the other. If I don’t have anything to hold onto, I’ll definitely lose my balance as all the strength abandons my legs.

  “I’m going to fuck you until you can’t remember your name,” he growls, his hot breath sweeping over my mound. This elicits another moan, my hand tightening in his hair. One of his hands slides up and runs over my slit, but he doesn’t part me just yet. His touch is too soft to satisfy me, so I stand bare in front of him, whimpering as I wait until I can’t stand it anymore.

  “Please,” I whine, squeezing my eyes shut because watching him do this is far too much for me to handle. His first and third finger spread on either side of my crease, and his middle finger finally parts me shallowly.

  “You are so fucking wet,” he says, placing a kiss on my hip bone. I suck in a breath, doing my best to moderate my body and keep from getting too out of control. Then, he bites down on my hip, and I buck up against him. He uses the opportunity to shove his finger inside me, rubbing it up and down my slick wall and finding the perfect spot.

  “Anderson,” I cry. Maybe I should be self conscious about writhing in his face as he finger-fucks me, but the slow movements are too good for me to give a shit.

  He slips another finger inside, pumping in and out. Then, his lips trace down along my hip until they’re directly beside my swollen sex. A spasm works its way through me as I wait for him to start licking and sucking me aggressively. Instead, though, he places the gentlest kiss on the front of my slit. I ache with need and tighten my nails on his shoulder, and his lips move into a smile over my sensitive skin.

  For a moment, I wonder if I should have shaved or waxed for this, but all thoughts flee my body when his tongue gently pries me the rest of the way open, sliding down to where his fingers are inside me and then back up to the hot, painful nub of my clit.

  Still, he moves slow, painfully so. I tighten my hand in his hair and thrust against him. It’s not hard enough to hurt him, but definitely enough to get the message across.

  Instead of going harder, though, he pulls away, breathing heavily as he lets out a chuckle against my tender skin. His breath sweeps over my cunt and thighs, and my body tingles with need. I’m not sure how much longer I can remain standing if he’s going to keep teasing me like this. “Impatient, much?”

  As I open my mouth to let out a smartass response, he latches onto my cunt, sucking my clit so hard that it knocks my breath out of me and I nearly fall. He grabs my ass and drags me along, and I trip on the edge of the bed and come to rest on my knees above his face. He pulls his hand out of me and gives a tiny kiss on my inner thigh while I try to find my bearings.

  “How about we scoot up for this part?” he asks, dragging his lips across the wet skin where my thigh connects at my groin.

  I nod shakily, climbing off of him so he can move up to a more comfortable position. When he reaches the headboard, I straddle his hips, expecting this to just turn into regular old sex.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Anderson grabs my ass, his fingers digging into the skin to force me up higher on the bed. “I wasn’t done with your delicious little pussy.”

  The words send another tremor through me. I’m not sure how much of this I can take, but I’m willing to test myself. I move forward, placing my knees above his broad shoulders. “That’s it, sweetheart,” he says, although his tone doesn’t indicate an ounce of the sweetness he’s talking about. He guides me down, his tongue penetrating my folds instantly this time. He has a thin sprinkling of facial hair from not shaving for the past day, and my thighs heat at the friction. His tongue moves in and out of my entrance, but he soon moves it up and replaces it with one, then two, then three fingers while he circles my clit with his tongue.

  I lean forward and grip the headboard like my life depends on it, trying my hardest to avoid thrusting against his face. Pretty quickly, though, he realizes what I’m doing, then uses the remaining hand on my ass to roll my hips, switching from licking to sucking my clit. Pressure builds inside me so fast that I think I’m going to pass out. Instead, I clench my thighs around him, speeding up as my mind falls to pieces. He smacks my ass so hard that I gasp. It stings, but the pain sweetens the orgasm. I’m ready for it to be over, but he keeps sucking and pumping his fingers inside me, and the waves of pleasure just keep crashing through me.

  “Anderson,” I whine, my hands turning to claws. I have to grit my teeth to keep anything else from changing, but he just doesn’t stop until every last part of my body is finished. I gasp for breath when it finally ends, pressing my forehead almost painfully against the top edge of the wooden headboard.

  “Fuck,” I gasp. My legs have grown so weak that they’re hardly supporting me, and I have to let Anderson guide me down onto the bed. I press my body to his instantly, everything heavy and slow. He sapped every ounce of energy out of me, and I want nothing more than to sleep. “Fuck,” I say again.

  He chuckles and wipes his mouth on the back of his arm while I use his bicep as a pillow, my eyelids closing without my permission.

  “I didn’t know it would be so easy to render you speechless,” he says, pressing his lips to the top of my head.

  I shake my head and then burrow my face in his chest, breathing in his scent. I want to argue with him, but it’s been such a long day, although it’s probably not even noon yet.

  Before he can say anything else, sleep pulls me away.

  Chapter Ten

  Thompson

  Freya has never been as into me as she’s been today. After she returned from her tantrum smelling like the salon, it seems like everywhere I go, there she is. She sits on her knees in the office, chattering about how shady Victoria is. She follows me to the communal kitchen and insists on making me food. I know she and Anderson were sleeping together, but now that he’s unavailable, it seems she’s finally set her sights on me.

  I hate to admit that I like the attention. Despite my position as the pack beta, I’ve never had someone interested in me. My father has always fawned over Anderson, compared me to him. Anderson is stronger than me, taller, a better hunter and leader. Hell, Dad gave him a two-bedroom while sticking me in a ratty studio.

  Sometimes, I’m certain that Dad is going to promote Anderson to beta. He clearly prefers him over me. I sort of wish that I’d been the one to mate with Victoria. If she’s a pure-blooded wolf, Dad would respect me at least a little more. At the very least, he’d get off my back about everything else whilst expecting me to continue our family line.

  “Your tattoos are amazing,” Freya says, her tone sultry. Her lips are full and pouty, and her hand trails up my arm. Her nails are long and newly manicured, which makes no sense to me. Even if she chooses not to shift most of the time, she’ll have to shift during the full moon and ruin the whole point of an expensive manicure.

  “Thanks,” I say, nerves making my heart flutter. I have absolutely no idea how to flirt. Am I doing it right? I adjust my glasses as her fingers continue to explore the geeky designs that cover my arms all the way up to my shoulders beneath the button-up.

  “Can you believe Anderson would mate with the first outside slut that shows up?” she asks, snapping me back to myself.

  I shake my head. “You shouldn’t say that about Victoria. She seems nice.” I don’t actually know anything about the woman other than her fondness for Lord of the Rings, but Freya doesn’t need to know that. It’s just unfair of her to say this type of thing when Victoria isn’t here to defend herself. I get enough of that from my dad, and I’ve learned that people who say that shit to
you will say it about you just as easily.

  Freya rolls her eyes. “Why do you even care? We don’t know her. For all we know, she could be lying. It’s not like your dad ever checks the stuff people say. He just kills them if they fall out of line.”

  I grit my teeth and lean back on the kitchen counter. It’s a part of the downstairs community center that anyone in the pack can use, and as such contains basic white appliances with cheap vinyl flooring and an ugly tiled ceiling. It was nice a decade ago, but now half the appliances don’t work and the room stinks of grime and mold. I have to hang out down here for a few more hours as the pulled pork cooks in the five slow cookers I have lined up across the counter. At least twice a week, I cook a meal to bring to the families most in need of assistance. If I leave it cooking alone and Dad shows up, it will get thrown in the garbage or taken to his apartment.

  Freya bustles about the room, making a huge mess while preparing what appears to just be a peanut butter and…something sandwich. There’s definitely peanut butter, but I’m afraid to ask what else she’s putting on it. She hands it to me with a frown when it’s done. “You should eat more,” she says, changing the subject abruptly. I refuse to show my disgust at the burnt toast, instead eating it in silence.

  “I get that a lot,” I admit. Part of the reason Dad is so disappointed in me is because I never grew into myself. I’ve always been tall and lanky, and he expected that to turn into tall and muscular. No matter how much time I spend at the gym, though, my body refuses to pack on any muscle. I have plenty of tone, but I’m still skinny. And what kind of werewolf needs glasses, anyway?

  I move over to one of the round plastic tables, opening my ancient laptop. I’ve been taking online classes in my free time, and cooking days are great for catching up on assignments.

  “What are you doing?” Freya asks, sitting across from me and propping her elbows up on the table, resting her face in her hands. Her freckles are like blood splatters against her ivory skin, something I’ve never noticed before. Then again, we’ve never spent that much time together.

  “Homework,” I say. It’s not a secret that I’m taking classes, although I’m a little embarrassed to be saying it out loud. My father thinks that I should do literally anything else with my time than online schooling.

  She scoots her chair forward a little, the scraping reverberating through the kitchen. “Why?”

  I roll my eyes. Okay, I may have liked the attention at first, but now it’s getting annoying. “Business.”

  It’s an overly simple answer, but one she seems to accept. She nods as though she’s at all interested, but her eyes begin to glaze over with boredom.

  “I think I need to be alone,” I say when she won’t stop staring at me. She huffs and leaves, finally giving me some space. She’s clearly angry at my words, but I don’t particularly care. I just want to finish my assignment for my Intro to Marketing class.

  As the afternoon draws toward evening, voices shuffle past the kitchen door. The pack is returning home from their day jobs, and the pups are finished with their classes for the day. Still, nobody comes in. Most people cook in their own homes, so the kitchen is fairly empty most of the time.

  A familiar scent draws me out of my homework trance, though, and I glance up to find Victoria sniffing the slow cooker nearest me. She’s leaning over the counter, her back arched gracefully and ass out toward me. She’s wearing a different outfit from this morning, a tiny pair of black cut-off shorts and a crop top made from an old concert tee. The smell of sex is clear from where I’m sitting, and I have to dig my nails into my palms to keep myself sane.

  Anderson walks in behind her and runs a hand over her ass, his eyes flicking to me in warning. The meaning is pretty clear. Do not touch.

  Anderson

  I don’t like the way Thompson looks at Eve. His eyes linger over her body as she checks out the meal he made, and her revealing outfit must be sending all sorts of thoughts through his head. After sleeping all afternoon, she decided to finally tour the whole building, but the scent of pulled pork drew her into the kitchen when we were nearly finished wandering the public areas.

  “Victoria,” Thompson says, nodding at her when she glances his way. He sets his jaw, his nostrils flaring. That’s right. She’s mine, and you can smell it.

  “Thompson,” she says. “The food smells good.”

  I lean against the counter and draw her into my arms, resting my hands on the sliver of skin between her high-rise shorts and cropped t-shirt. She settles in willingly, her ass pressing right up against me. How can I still be so damn horny?

  “Thanks,” Thompson says, his voice distant as he goes back to staring at his computer. He must have homework to do. He’s always studying for his online classes. I envy him. I was never that great at school, and college has always been out of the question for me.

  I don’t hate my job as a bouncer at one of the many human clubs in the city, but sometimes I like to imagine being an intellectual like him. I tried taking a two-year mechanical class, but the first week showed me just how out of my depth I was. The words and numbers on the textbook pages made no sense, and everyone else seemed to be following when I couldn’t even grasp the basic concepts.

  “What class are you taking?” I ask, mostly to be polite but also because I like to live vicariously through him.

  “Intro to Marketing,” he says. “I’m also taking a statistics class and one on business law, but I’m working on Marketing right now. We have a paper due at the end of the week.”

  I can’t help but notice how he glances up at my mate when he lists off all his classes. Is he hoping she’s impressed by him? What I wouldn’t give to be able to read minds right about now…

  “What’s the paper on?” Eve asks, pulling out of my arms to sit across from him. I knew it. She’s going to get bored of me. I should’ve known she’s too smart for me. She pulls a second chair out and pats it, her eyes drawing me in. I sigh and join her, leaning back as casually as I can.

  “The changing world of social media marketing,” he says, as if that means anything. “Specifically the use of guerilla marketing and influencers to launch a new brand without traditional advertising.”

  Eve nods along, and I’m surprised to find her eyes sparkling with interest. My hands clench into fists under the table. A moment later, though, her hand finds mine, and she pries it open to lace our fingers together. I relax the tiniest bit. Even if Thompson is smarter than me, he’s not the one she chose.

  She could still choose him, a tiny voice in my head says. I can’t actually rule out Eve taking on more mates. It happens all the time.

  Still, I can’t help but shrink in my chair as she listens to Thompson’s animated explanation of his marketing paper. She always liked him when we were kids.

  After a while, though, she says goodbye. We go back up to my apartment, and the moment the door is closed, I release her hand and pace into the living room before collapsing on the couch. I throw my arm over my face to hide my expression for her. It’s been a whirlwind these past twenty-four hours, but I do have a shift at the club in about two hours. I don’t know how I’ll manage my job when Eve is here all alone, probably thinking about genius Thompson.

  “What’s wrong with you?” she demands. I grunt in response. It would be inappropriate for me to tell her exactly what I’m thinking about right now. She doesn’t need to feel bad for me. When her thighs straddle mine, though, I startle and remove my arm. “Anderson,” she says, her voice wrapping around my name like silk. I look into her green eyes. Is that concern in her eyes?

  The words spill out of me before I can stop them. “I know Thompson is smarter than me,” I say in a huff. It shouldn’t matter, really. In the ways that matter to a wolf pack, I’m objectively better than him. Stronger, more agile, a better hunter, and well-liked. He never grew out of his awkward phase, but the way he and Eve could talk is really bothering me for some reason. “I get it if you’re more interested in him. He’
s better.” There. My inadequacies are all laid bare for her to see.

  Eve frowns, a hand resting on my face gently before she can help herself. “Is that what you think?”

  I swallow, then nod once. Who cares if she sees my vulnerability? She’s my mate.

  She presses her lips to my forehead. “I don’t know why it matters,” she whispers. “At least if there aren’t any feelings involved.” I’m about to argue with her that it does matter, but she brushes her thumb over my bottom lip, effectively silencing me. “But I will say that, whether I’m interested in Thompson or not, it doesn’t change the fact that you are my mate. That will never change.”

  She watches me, her emerald eyes burning me up inside. I swallow, then nod again. Even if she claims to not have feelings for me, there’s something protective and caring in the way she looks at me. Could that turn into something? I slam the door on that thought before it can go any further.

  “How about I come with you to work?” she says. “I could use a dance.”

  I should argue with her. I could get in trouble for bringing her with, but my boss doesn’t have to know she’s with me. She’s sexy enough to get in anywhere in town. And that would keep her from getting bored and picking up Thompson while I can’t do anything about it.

  Chapter Eleven

  Eve

  The club where Anderson works is packed, especially considering it’s a week night. There are probably thirty people in line before they even open, girls in tiny outfits and absurd heels shivering in the cool spring night.

  The club is within walking distance from the pack’s building, and he’s clearly too terrified of my motorcycle to handle the ride there tonight. After he enters the side door, I join the line, adjusting my clothes and wrapping my arms around myself. Are people staring at me? Will I be asked to leave since I’m with the bouncer? As soon as he opens the front door and the neon signs flicker to life, though, he gestures and lets me in through the violet velvet rope. I catch one girl glaring at me as I skip the line.