Seduced by Silver

by Gwen Campbell

  This time, Keefe smelled Meadow’s fertility all too clearly. The quality and quantity of her sex hormones. He knew that, when she did decide to ovulate, it would come quickly and effortlessly to her, even the first time. He knew that he wouldn’t need two days of repeated mountings to impregnate her. Hell, a woman like Meadow would probably conceive as soon as he got hard. Keefe chuckled mentally at the thought and inhaled again. She smelled young and fresh, despite the lingering scent of his son’s semen. That was all but washed out of her now by the profuse flow of her juices. He opened his eyes and looked at her cunt—slick and pink and swollen. Her inner lips pouted outward like he knew they would be, parted in welcome. She’d never borne a child, but Keefe had known that too. She smelled…perfect and Keefe growled his approval.

  On her elbows, Meadow smiled at the Alpha’s compliment. Keefe smelled like power, looked like a horny fantasy come true. He was a man born to father cubs and she could smell the potency of his seed, their overwhelming numbers and vitality. Keefe’s groin, like the rest of him, fairly vibrated with health and strength. She reached out with her tongue and licked the drop of pre-come off the head of his penis, savoring the salty-sweet taste then licked at him again, taking small, delicate sips at the tip, wanting more.

  Keefe moaned, grabbed her shoulders and pulled her away firmly but gently. “You’re gonna make me come,” he panted and swallowed hard. “I’ve never been this close to losing control with a woman. Not even when I was a teenager.” Keefe shook his head ruefully. “I don’t know whether to be embarrassed or in awe.”

  “Go for awe,” Meadow suggested saucily. She trailed the tip of her finger up his cock and tweaked the crown teasingly. “Awe works for me.” She laughed delightedly when Keefe growled at her, flipped her onto her back and covered her body with his. She ran her fingers through his short, dark brown hair and lifted her mouth to him.

  She took his kiss like he’d taken hers, as if it were her right, her due, and he smiled when he felt Meadow’s strong, slender fingers on his arms, discovering their strength, shape and the texture of his skin. Those were things he took for granted, but she seemed enthralled by him. He felt worshipped—not because he was Alpha, not because of his position or his wealth, but because he was Keefe and she loved the feel of his body, loved the feel of his skin against hers, the weight and warmth of him pushing her into the mattress.

  She caressed his back like she’d caressed his arms. When she wrapped her fingers around the back of his neck and squeezed authoritatively, his hips rocked forward like they had a mind of their own. Her touch reminded him it had been far too many years since a woman had bitten his neck during lovemaking. Too many years since one had been confident enough to dare it, but Keefe felt he’d finally found one who would try.

  And he was actually thinking of letting her.

  Meadow growled just like Keefe had, and felt the rightness of it even before the sound was fully formed. She’d never made that sound before. She didn’t fully understood what it meant until she heard it with her own ears. It was a song of possession, seduction, a claiming of this man and his body as hers, warning all others away, warning him that she had every intention of letting him mount her. She’d expect no less.

  Keefe heard her siren call and obeyed. Levering himself up on his elbows, he dragged the sharp, pronounced points of his canines over Meadow’s throat, over the point where that vocalization had crystallized. He didn’t pierce her skin, just marked her with faint scratches, and her torso rolled up into his in response, welcoming the small pain and his determined claiming. Then he smoothed his scent glands between her breasts, down her arms and across her belly. Keefe spread Meadow’s legs. His movements quick and almost violent, he marked her inner thighs, belly and hips then flipped her over and rubbed his oily mark into the backs of her legs and her ass, rubbing his face over the firm globes again and again. He saturated her skin with his scent and pheromones and ownership. It wasn’t permanent and it wasn’t nearly enough to communicate all the ridiculous feelings growing inside him for this woman, but it would have to do. Later, maybe, there could be more. There might be more.

  He didn’t often mark a woman. A quick, sociable fuck was more his thing, and he hardly ever felt the need to demonstrate his ownership, usually because he just didn’t feel possessive about the women he took, even after pack runs when pheromones were running high, and single men and women sometimes mounted each other indiscriminately, scratching those itches to everyone’s mutual satisfaction until the last of the run’s lingering energy was drained.

  But Keefe’s need to mark Meadow was strong and he coated her soft skin in his pheromones until they sank into her and blended with her sweet scent, giving him a heady and unnerving taste of what she would smell like if he took her as his mate.

  Now where the hell had that thought come from? Keefe deliberately turned his mind away from the idea and concentrated instead on the beautiful woman squirming beneath him. He wrapped his hands around her lean hips and pulled. Without coyness or hesitation, Meadow rose up on her knees and hands, tossed her hair aggressively, looked over her shoulder at him and snarled.

  Keefe trembled like he never had before. This slip of a girl owned him with a glance and if he hadn’t already been kneeling, he would have collapsed on the floor. Meadow’s eyes were so clear, the green so vibrant and alluring that he wanted to spent the rest of his life like this with her naked and kneeling in front of him, her sex open and slick and wanting. Her needing him and nobody else, looking back at him with those eyes than shone with intelligence and confidence, desire and power. He braced himself and leaned forward, kissed the small of her back, loving the warm silk of her skin against his lips then cupped her swaying breasts in his hands.

  Meadow sighed wantonly and shook when Keefe touched her. His hands were so big, warm and rough and they fit her breasts perfectly. He squeezed gently, then not so gently, and she groaned with the pleasure of it. Long, thick fingers found her nipples as if they were born to it, and pinched them until they were hard and aching, then pinched again, harder and harder each time, sending a thrill of sensation straight to her groin with every release. It felt like electricity thrumming through her. Then he was petting and molding and squeezing her breasts like he couldn’t get enough of her, like he never wanted to let her go. With a final, low growl of possession and pleasure, Keefe bent to her and ran the flat of his tongue over her furshoat.

  Meadow cried out and bucked. She arched her back subtly, presenting her furshoat at the perfect angle for him. Keefe licked her again. His hands on her breasts, arousing her swelling flesh and holding her still at the same time, Keefe ran his tongue through the tiny patch of soft curls on Meadow’s back. That primitive throwback that he now knew was an authentic mark only the strongest females bore. This marker of the power in Meadow would have appeared only after she’d fully matured maybe six months ago, shortly after she’d grown into her final pack status. Keefe licked it again and stroked the underlying skin. Long, slow trailings of his tongue then swirls and flicks. He sucked the patch and the surrounding skin into his mouth and tongued her deliberately. Meadow writhed and cried out again. He smelled a fresh flood of her juices as he satisfied her arousal and kept at her. He pinched and molded her beautiful breasts, as he worshipped this tiny spot on Meadow’s body, licking and sucking until she was arching her back and growling sharp and loud—louder than any female growl he’d ever heard—and then she was coming.

  Keefe’s hips lurched with shock when his nose told him that the beautiful woman under him had reached orgasm just from his hands on her breasts and his mouth on her back. He shook his head, trying to clear it of the instinctive drive snaring it, but it didn’t do any good. Controlled by ancient urges, Keefe straightened violently and brought his teeth down on the back of Meadow’s neck, holding her captive and prone while her body shook with the first spasms of her release. His hand shot between her legs, found her pulsing clit and rubbed it savagely. He tasted Meadow’
s blood and liked it. He felt his saliva trickling into the shallow wounds. This marking was primitive and longer lasting than the simple smearing of his scent on her skin. Meadow Quinlan would smell like a part of him for days now, maybe a week. He savored the thought with primal delight and rubbed her throbbing clit violently until she screamed and punched her cunt into his hand.

  Only when she stopped screaming, only when the violent thrusting of her body slowed, did Keefe gentle his touch. He kept his teeth on her neck, wanting to hold onto the claiming just a moment longer but his jaw relaxed until he wasn’t piercing her anymore. He was just holding her and his fingers moved languidly, caressing instead of bruising then slipping closer so he could slide two fingers into her pussy. He shuddered at the hot, liquid squeezing and pushed into her slowly, savoring the evidence of Meadow’s arousal, sinking into her deep and gentle, over and over.

  Meadow dropped her head onto the bed and exhaled shakily. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d come so hard. Maybe she never had. She only knew she liked the way Keefe touched her, the possessive feel of his mouth on her neck. The way he held her lightly now—like either of them could turn away without harm or repercussion, but didn’t because they liked the intimacy too much. Killian used to bite her and hold her down during lovemaking, but that was before. It had been months since he’d even attempted it which was probably a good thing. She was sure she’d lash out instinctively and hurt him. Killian had never bitten her with any authority or real power. He’d done it because it was something they got off on, he more than she. This was different and Meadow was enthralled by the strength and presence of the man crouching behind her. Even more so when he eased her onto her back and laid his body over hers, held his weight on his elbows and began smoothing her hair away from her face.

  “You win this round, Meadow,” Keefe smiled down at her and took a wisp of her long hair between his lips and pulled it off her cheek. “Only an idiot would think about shaving off something as delicious,” he kissed her throat and dragged his teeth across her skin languidly, “as erotic as your furshoat.”

  “Hmm,” Meadow murmured contentedly, stroking his broad back. “Maybe you’re not the imbecile or the arrogant bastard I thought you were.”

  “Maybe,” Keefe purred, one dark brow rising in a cocky arch. “Or maybe you’re just playing nice because you want to come again.”

  Grinning, Meadow slid her hands lower and stroked Keefe’s firm, spectacular ass. “Maybe you’re playing nice because you want to make this bitch come again.”

  Nodding and chuckling, Keefe slid down Meadow’s body. He held her breasts then kissed and mouthed her nipples, drawing one inside and suckling it languidly. Meadow’s slender fingers were on his head, holding him to her. Her back arched lightly, pushing her nipple into his mouth, making him suckle her hard and deep then easing off when she felt like it. Keefe chuckled again and let her use his mouth to pleasure herself anyway she wanted. He’d never been with a woman who showed such confidence in bed, who took what she wanted from him. There was nothing submissive about Meadow and she didn’t ask, she demanded. He was empowered by the simple act of giving her exactly what she wanted.

  When her hips began to rock anxiously, he gave her what she wanted there too. Sliding further down Meadow’s soft, yielding body, Keefe sank his tongue into her navel, kissing it and sucking the surrounding skin into his mouth. He levered her legs apart, settled comfortably between her knees and began to lick her bright, swollen clit.

  Meadow’s back came off the bed then settled back down slowly. Keefe was the most thrilling lover she’d ever known. She didn’t know whether it was skill or intuition but he matched his assaults to her needs deliciously. She writhed and felt her nipples harden painfully when he stroked her clit, building her arousal steadily this time, not rushing but savoring her openly, smelling her, tasting her. Dropping his face between her spread legs, Keefe inhaled and when his dark eyes opened, he smiled up at her with unguarded delight. He slid his tongue into her sheath, flattened it and drew out her juices. His chin bumped her ass rhythmically. Holding onto the backs of her knees, he held them high and wide and licked her in long, controlled strokes from anus to clit, over and over, until she was writhing again and her pussy spasmed softly against his mouth. Settling over her clit he began flicking his tongue against it in a rhythm as steady as a heartbeat.

  For the second time, the tension grew inside Meadow as Keefe drove her to orgasm. She felt restless and hungry, but wouldn’t have moved if the bed had caught on fire. Her hands alternated between combing through Keefe’s short, dark hair, holding him to her and trying not to drill her fingernails into his scalp then grabbing and twisting the bed linens. Breathing hard now, the tension took hold of her and Meadow’s body tightened helplessly. She felt every flick and tug and movement of Keefe’s tongue over her clit, rasping against her savagely now. Her thighs began to tremble and he arched his neck, driving his mouth down on her with brutal intensity and then she was coming. Ecstasy grabbed and twisted her womb, her channel and throbbed through her. Her nipples drew up hard and tight. Still Keefe lashed his tongue against her and still she felt his eyes on her, watching ecstasy shape her mouth, furrow her brow. Two fingers slid against her, then he drilled them into her hard and fast, heightening her orgasm until she was pleading mindlessly. Her head flailed from side to side as pulse after exquisitely violent pulse of release throbbed through her. Her pussy squeezed down on his fingers then drew them in deeper.

  Even before the pulses faded, Keefe was working her clit again, gently now, slow and deliberate and long. With fingers and mouth he brought her to release a third time, then a fourth, then Meadow lost count. All she was aware of was ecstasy and the sweat trickling between her breasts, standing out on her forehead and thighs and the exquisite torture of Keefe’s mouth on her. She felt his fingers and soon she needed to feel all of him inside her. Panting hard, she pushed on the top of his head until he lifted it from her. She squeezed her legs together and sat up.

  Keefe obeyed when Meadow laid her hands on his shoulders and pushed him onto his back.

  Exposing his belly was foreign for Keefe, but he allowed Meadow to position him that way, trusting her. Any remaining doubts about their equality faded and he groaned softly when she leaned over him. Her sweat-moistened breasts skimmed his belly just before she rubbed her scent glands over his chest. Keefe lay back, more aroused than he’d ever felt in his adult life, as Meadow painted him with her essence. He felt it seep into his skin and change him. He trembled in her arms.

  Since his wife’s death, no one had dared mark him this way, even after Delphinia’s Mark—her DNA in his cells—had died a few years after her. Oh perhaps a sweet glancing across his cheek from the occasional strong female he came across in the course of business. But no one had claimed him. No woman had had the courage to claim him. Meadow staked her ownership on him like she had a right to him and he liked the power that shimmered around her as she smoothed her soft body over his.

  She marked his arms and he sank his fingers into Meadow’s pale, silky hair, holding it back so she could mark him without impediment. He could see the blissful look on her face as she did. Drawing those perfectly formed ridges on either side of her brows over his erect cock, she marked his belly, his loins, and made him moan and punch his hips upward. She marked his legs and then she rolled him onto his belly. Delighted with her playfulness, Keefe laughed when he felt her hands then her teeth on his ass. He moaned softly when she spread his legs, marked the skin between them then licked at the crevice of his ass and tongued the back of his balls.

  Keefe was still moaning when Meadow stretched over him, again dragging those firm, soft breasts of hers over his back and he felt her hair settle around his head, her breath on the back of his neck. Keefe turned over carefully, took hold of Meadow’s arms and held her still. He swallowed uneasily. “I’ve only ever let one woman bite me,” he admitted quietly and swallowed again. “Once.” His wife. A few weeks
after Killian’s birth. Even then, he’d had to ask her to do it in thanks for giving him a child.

  Meadow nodded slowly and silky tendrils of her hair drifted across his hands. “And you’re going to let me bite you too.” She spoke quietly yet there was such surety in her voice, such tenderness and patience and…and something Keefe was too frightened to label as love.

  He exhaled shakily and nodded. Meadow kissed his mouth gently like she owned him, yes, but also like she cared deeply for him and was going slow to give him a chance to process the power she was about to exercise over him. She gave him a moment to remember that she was worthy and that he could trust her.

  This time, when she urged him to roll onto his stomach, Keefe dipped his head forward, exposed the back of his neck and waited.

  Meadow sank the tips of her sharp little canines into him slowly, breaking his skin and making him howl with both pain and ecstasy. Her soft hands were on his shoulders, holding them. Her breasts branded his back. He clutched the edges of the pillow beneath his forehead. Instinct made him hold his head still, like all the others he’d held this way, the women that he’d mastered. Only Meadow wasn’t mastering him, she was claiming him like an equal. He felt the warmth of her saliva on his skin, knew it was mingling with his blood, like his had mingled with hers, temporarily altering his body chemistry and marking him as hers. Instinctive self-preservation held Keefe still. If this was an attack, his spine could be torn by the jaws holding him. But he abandoned his control to Meadow willingly and realized his hips were punching into the mattress, dragging his hard cock over the linens, like he wanted to be inside Meadow and fucking her until they both howled with the ecstasy of it.

  He felt her breath on his scalp, warm and fast, then the stabbing pain slid away as she pulled her teeth out of his skin. She kissed the four small puncture marks and, her hands never leaving his body, she rolled onto her back beside him, spread her legs, exposed her belly and waited.