by Jianne Carlo
“I guess I’m taking you home after all.” He straightened, stuck the key into the ignition, and switched on the engines.
No way. Not a single thing he’d said made sense, but she didn’t care. Not one whit. For once, just once, she wanted it all. Mike Dorland inside her. Giving her her first real orgasm. “I have a birth-control implant.”
He moved so fast everything blurred. “Don’t jerk me around, Melanie. I’m on a hair trigger right now.”
Melanie blinked him into focus. Her throat had gone dry, and she forced words out. “Not. Jerking. You. Around.”
His lips pulled back from his teeth, and his canines glistened. “Fuck. I can smell you creaming.”
She couldn’t get any hotter without igniting. A thin sheen of perspiration tickled the skin above her lip. His white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel tightened. “Key’s under the mat. Go in. Need a few moments. Scared to touch you.”
Melanie’s knees had turned to mush. Her hands shook so hard she dropped the key three times before managing to open the door. And then she stood in the dark cabin like a zombie, just stood there unseeing, listening, trying to suck oxygen into her lungs, and praying the nerves connecting her frazzled brain cells would start working again.
She smelled him before hearing his footsteps. Inhaled that musky, spicy, orgasmic aftershave, and near melted when his hands came down on her shoulders. A gentle squeeze. “Bed. Get naked.”
Melanie froze. Naked. What if she turned him off? She shouldn’t have had all those gas station coffees. The door clicked shut. She twisted around and licked her suddenly dry lips. For he was totally naked. Nude. Aroused. Huge. Stallion huge.
Mike Dorland stood in front of her, his cock thick, engorged, heavy balls hanging close to the base.
“Naked.”
The growled command made her flinch. She jerked her gaze away from his fascinating penis and met his predatory stare.
“Can’t. Undress. You.”
Then he stomped across the room, and she saw the wide, oversize bed rammed into the far corner. He lay down on his back in the middle of the mattress and fisted his organ. The drawn curtains above the bed let in a crack of light that sat like a golden halo on the glistening ruby purpled head. Not circumcised. Onyx pubic curls. Massive.
“Naked. Now.”
Naked. Her purse fell to the floor with a loud thud; then the heavy coat slipped from her hold. She fumbled with the back ties of her apron, kicked off her sensible shoes, and shrugged out of the uniform. Fingers crossed, she looked down. Thank the Lord. Her best bra and panties. Heart leaping to escape her throat, legs wobbly, she half ran, half shuffled to the bed, lifted the covers, and slipped under.
“Uh-uh. You. On top.”
Her courage crumbled. Tears welled, and one rolled down her cheek.
All at once, his weight shifted, he tore the sheet away, and hauled her on top of him. He licked the tear. “Sorry. Scared you. Made you cry.”
He was hard and hot and rigid. His erection twitched between their bodies. One palm cupped her bottom, and he nuzzled her neck. “Mine. Melanie. Mine.”
She loved that his voice had gone guttural and scratchy. The way he said her name, all possessive and fierce, took the edge off her fear. She unfisted her hands and touched him, letting her fingers rest near his dark, budded nipple. It was kind of flat and wide with a few coarse hairs dotting the brown circle. This close his aroma had changed to the screaming-orgasms muskiness of last night. She wanted to suck on that flat nipple and graze the budded peak with her teeth, but settled for rubbing her finger on the tip.
He shuddered. His massive body clenched, and his embrace tightened. He squeezed her ass cheek and nipped her neck. His tongue felt wonderful, rough, wet, and hotter than hell could ever be. The burn between her legs returned with a painful vengeance.
She helped when he undid her bra and eased the straps off her shoulders. Then his fingers slipped under her waistband, and he eased the panties down over her rear. His hand grazed the folds of her sex, and she hissed at the sweet friction. He bit her earlobe, tickled the whorl, and she never realized the panties were history until he caressed her pussy lips, the rough callus on his thumb so delectable when he grazed her clit that she moaned, “More.”
“Yes,” he agreed, the word as abrasive and dense as the air in the cabin, heavy with the pungent perfume of their sex essence. He petted her; his talented fingers traced every crevice over and over, and he soon had her writhing and pleading for his possession. She opened her thighs and couldn’t choke back a moan when her folds slipped around his cock’s head.
He rooted for her mouth, his lips claimed hers, and he eased her legs farther apart, nudging his cock to her core. She dug her nails into his shoulders, and their tongues tangled—a slick, dueling dance that had her heart hammering. He lifted her higher, and she tensed at the feel of his penis probing her entrance.
“Mine.” Melanie didn’t realize his intention until too late. He drove into her, one hard, punishing stroke that would surely rend her in two. She hadn’t expected it to hurt so much and yelped, the sound muffled by their fused mouths.
He went drop-dead still, drew back, cradled her face, and stared at her; the bright halo framing his silver eyes glowed. “Hurt you. Love you. Didn’t want to hurt you.”
Love her? He couldn’t mean it. Every pore, every follicle, every bone in her body turned into mush, and the tension in her pussy, the unbearable stinging and the full-to-bursting pressure lessened. She sighed in relief. “Better now.”
But it wasn’t. She needed more. More filling. Melanie rubbed on him, and his cock slipped out a little. She shook her head. “No. Don’t go. Not now.”
“Not going.” He moved slowly, filling the ache in a tortuous, drawn-out pushing until she swore she could feel him in her throat. “Sweet. So sweet. Mine.”
He found her mouth again, the agonizing slowness of him entering and leaving her pussy mimicked by his stroking tongue. It drove her wild. She tangled her fingers in his hair, and she let her legs flanking his hips fall open, giving him complete access. She squirmed and wriggled and ground down, trying to get him to move faster, but he grunted and held her to his rhythm.
He tasted like manna from heaven, all smoky and wild and cinnamon sharp. Sweat slicked their skin and created a delicious friction when he moved over her nipples. The throbbing peaks went supersensitive, and the hair on his chest felt like crackling static. Her muscles clamped around the fat length of him, and the exquisite clenching bedazzled her senses. Her nostrils filled with his testosterone. His growled one-word orders had her flesh sweltering. His calloused palms and thumbs gripped her rear and thighs in a tempo that had her pulse spiking.
“Up.” He eased her into a frog-legged sitting position.
His hand cradled her breast; he rose on one elbow and took her nipple with his mouth. A hard suckle with teeth, tongue, and vacuum suction. Her vaginal walls went into a furious series of contractions—short, sharp ecstasy to the point of pain. She surrendered, savoring the myriad bounty of incredible sensations. All rational function fractured as the orgasm tornadoed through her, the whirlwind spinning her senses into oblivion.
He grasped her hips and pounded into her, the rapid piston action sending her over the edge again. Her pussy milked him. His cock surged, growing thicker and harder with each luscious vaginal clutching. He reached between them and grazed her clit.
“Mine.” His teeth clamped a spot between her shoulder and neck, and she climaxed again and again and again. She had gone limp long before he stopped moving, dimly aware of his roar when he jetted into her. Smiled when he hauled her tight against the rapid rise and fall of his sweaty torso.
It took forever for her to regain control of her rasped breathing. Her ponytail had long since disintegrated, and her hair fell all over the two of them in a wild tangle of curls. His chest no longer heaved, and he combed her back with his fingers, drawing soft circles in larger and smaller increments. If this was
cuddling, she wanted to hold on to the feeling for eternity.
“You should’ve told me.” His voice startled her.
“What?” She didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to ruin the moment, didn’t want any intrusion on this perfection.
“That it was your first time. I hurt you.”
“Only for a few seconds. After that it was heaven.” Before she thought the better of it, Melanie blurted, “I thought you hated me. All the White family. Is this some kind of twisted revenge?”
He went still, cupped her chin, and made her meet his stare. “You can’t seriously think that.”
“I don’t know what to think.” She hated that her voice wavered, but refused to avert her gaze. “My father killed yours.”
“You’re my mate.”
She hooded her eyes and studied the way his chest hair twirled around his flat nipple, noticing the slight dent in the middle, while her mind raced in a thousand and one different directions.
She was his mate? When had he known this? Why had he only now done something about it? Did it matter?
Mrs. Dorland hated the White family.
“I thought you said you were a half-breed.”
“I am. My birth mother was a wolf, not a white wolf like your family. That doesn’t mean I don’t have the same mate-recognition as your kind.”
Could it be true? “I don’t understand. I thought the wolf part was passed on through the male.”
“I don’t have a whole lot of answers. That’s part of the reason Drake and I came back, to try and piece together what happened.” He chucked her chin. “That and the fact that I needed to see you, touch you, smell you every moment of the day. That you’re all I have been able to think about for five long months.”
Something sweet and achy, something very much like hope, took seed in her chest, but it stuck in her craw and she couldn’t speak.
“Stay with me today.”
There it was. Reality thundering on the door. “I can’t. I need to be there when my mother gets home from the casino.”
“What time’s that?”
“Nine. She worked the graveyard shift last night. Then I have work at the clinic this evening.”
“It’s almost nine already.”
“No—it can’t be.” She pushed off him, distracted for a few seconds by the ripple of ridged pectoral muscles beneath her palms. Then a panic wave formed a huge obstruction in her throat. She had to get out of there. “We’ve been here for three hours? We did that for three hours?”
Her cheeks caught fire at the lazy smile he wore.
“Not quite, we’ve been cuddling for about forty-five minutes.”
Melanie wanted to pinch herself. With his inky hair tousled, the smoldering heat radiating from those flinty eyes, and that wicked grin making her belly go all fluttery, it felt like a fantasy. One she didn’t want to be jerked out of, not yet, anyway.
“Oh.” His cock flexed inside of her, and she couldn’t help glancing at their joined bodies. Wow.
He sat up, cradling her back with one hand, and gave her a quick kiss. “I’m here for the duration, Melanie Frances White. And I intend to counter every objection you can muster. I play to win, and I always stack the odds in my favor.”
That made her crotchety for some odd reason. “Whatever. The fact is that I have responsibilities and I need to get home. Pronto.”
“Too bad. I was looking forward to our first shower together.” He grinned at her, a cocky I’m-an-alpha smirk she yearned to reply to in kind. “But I guarantee you that that’s going to involve a whole lotta hot water and at least two hours. You shower in here. I’ll shower outside. We’ll grab a quick bite somewhere, and then I’ll drop you home.”
Before she could utter a protest, he disengaged, scooped her into his arms, and strode through a doorway she hadn’t noticed before. “I’m guessing you like your showers steamy?”
He slid open the stall door and turned on the water.
She flinched when his erection nudged at her thighs, glanced down at the ruby crown poking between her legs, and then back to him.
He shrugged. “What can I say? You turn me on. Steamy?”
“Steamy,” she agreed when his stare didn’t waver.
“Steamy, it is.” He set her down on the tiles before the open stall and fiddled with the knobs, then tested the water. “Steamy, as ordered.”
Melanie knew she blushed from head to toe when she worked up the nerve to walk into the shower under his piercing scrutiny. She quickly closed the door and watched until he disappeared before grabbing the soap.
She made quick work of showering and drying off, deliberately didn’t look at her reflection in the mirror, and wrapped the big towel around her body. Her knees buckled, and she leaned against the door. Glanced at the roof and prayed for a miracle. Prayed that she hadn’t just made the biggest mistake of her life.
Chapter Five
Melanie needed space.
The bitter taint of fear had smothered her unique scent, and he knew the second she’d regretted making love to him. Mike headed outside to the shower by the lake. The ice in the wind didn’t cool the heat waves still radiating from his body.
Virgin.
He hadn’t expected that. Not after all these years. Not after she admitted to having a birth-control implant.
His dick hardened, and Mike glanced down and halted in midlope. Two streaks of blood stained his greedy cock. Only the shit-eating grin claiming his mouth prevented a long, victorious howl.
His. All his.
He backtracked, grabbed a clean cloth from the tool shed, carefully wiped the evidence of her purity from his aching boner, and growled when he spread the rag. The evidence of their first mating imprinted in his memory cells like a brain tattoo.
Mate.
He crushed the fabric, debated for a half breath, surrendered to his alpha, and buried his nose in the cloth. For long moments he savored her unique Melanie musk. After hanging the rectangular piece of fabric on a hook, he sprinted to the shower and turned the spray on full blast. Five minutes under the frosty water didn’t faze his hopeful erection one iota.
The stiff breeze dried his flesh before he retrieved his clothes and boots from the pickup’s bed. What was she thinking? He couldn’t believe she hadn’t known about the tribe rejecting him and Drake. How? Her father had been an elder. It didn’t make sense. Wait a minute, he’d been an elder in his old tribe. Did being an elder transfer?
Buttoning his shirt, he wandered back to the cabin. The door stood half-open, and he glimpsed Melanie, fully dressed, coat belted, purse in hand, standing to the right of the kitchen table. Hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, lips pursed like a Sunday school teacher, stubborn chin jutting, and eyes narrowed, she looked ready for battle. Time to throw her off-kilter again.
“Drake called. I need to go back into town—”
She cut his out-and-out lie off. “That’s fine. The bus stop’s not far from here—”
“I’ll drop you there. It’s on the way out.” Mike forced back a snarl. She could only push him so far.
She shuffled a couple of steps and avoided meeting his gaze. “Thank you.”
Recognizing that he needed to choose his battles in order to win the war, Mike decided not to argue the point then. No matter what she said or did, he’d escort her home, one way or another. Wanting to muss her silly with one slamming orgasm after another until she wore that half-dazed, sexy bee-stung smile of earlier, he set his hand to the small of her back and told his dick to take a hike. “I hear Susie’s on the community college track team.”
Melanie stumbled, and he slowed his pace to let her get steady. She shot him a wary look, brows raised, eyes wider than a startled doe’s. “How—Yes, she is.”
“And Gray’s the starting quarterback for the Mackinac Warriors. Saw that he took a general business major in college.” Mike opened the passenger door, scooped Melanie up, and settled her in the seat. Her breathing hitched, and musky arousal, no
t the former acridity of her fright-tinged anger, flooded his nostrils. Small win.
Ducking her chin, she fiddled with the cloth belt of her coat before addressing her reply to the dashboard. “He is and he did. Gray won a football scholarship and then got drafted to the Arena Football League. I didn’t even know what that was.”
“You’re kidding? You didn’t know there was an indoor football league?”
She pursed her lips. “I barely knew there was a National Football League.”
“And, Susie, is she hoping to get a mature student scholarship to a four year college?”
“Yes, and no one deserves to go more than her. She’d already be finished with her associate degree if, well, if Gramps and Papa hadn’t died and left us in a financial mess. I hated that she had to quit and work for so long. But things are back on track now.”
Pride laced her soft pronouncement. She relaxed a tad, and a small smile played at her reddened and swollen mouth.
“Have you had a chance to visit Lizzie in Ann Arbor?” Mike refrained from kissing the stuffing out of her only by grabbing the door handle.
“No.” She’d gone into a turtle’s head retreat again. “I’m surprised you even remember my sister Lizzie. She was at college when we were in high school.”
“She’d doing an MBA, right?”
“Yeah. The company she works for is sponsoring her. I know she’s burning the candle at both ends. The last thing she needs is for us to visit.”
He shut her in, stalked to the driver’s side, wrenched the door open, hopped into the oversize bucket seat, and started the truck. “Which stop do you want—the one on Route 7, or the one on Taquah Line?”
“Route 7’s closest. That’s perfect.”
Wasn’t she going to ask him a single question? Acknowledge what had happened?
“The bus stop’s just around the next corner.” Melanie picked at the fuzz on her well-worn brown coat.
Mike geared down and slowed right in front of the wooden-roofed bus stall.
“No need to get out.” She unsnapped her seat belt.