Shifters Forever Worlds Epic Collection

by Elle Thorne

  WickedWolf: Ready

  A banner popped up on her screen.

  Incoming Video Call from WickedWolf.

  Beneath the banner were two images, one was a green button with the word Accept the other was a red button with the word Decline.

  As if she’d decline.

  She glanced at the mirror to the side of the monitor, verified nothing was out of place, then clicked on the green button.

  A square window opened up on the screen, and in the middle, Rory’s face, looking directly into his cam, looking directly into her soul.

  His headset was Bluetooth as well, no microphone next to his face like the last headset he used. Once he’d seen her Bluetooth headset, and tired of dealing with wires, he’d gotten one for himself.

  She feasted on the sight of him. The easy smile that stretched across his face. A face that looked formidable in repose, became approachable when his lips curved upward.

  High cheekbones, full lips, a chiseled jawline. She drank the image of him in, lust driving her to squeeze her mouse. Next to the mouse, out of sight of the webcam’s probing eye, and therefore out of his sight, was her toy. It stayed close to her computer, always on the desk when she knew they’d be talking.

  Heat poured throughout her torso. Her heart fluttered. Was it her heart? Or her body?

  “Hey,” he said.

  Immediately she could see the desire was already full-blown for him, as it was for her. This wasn’t going to be one of those times where they spent hours talking about this and that while their anticipation and yearning built.

  No, no, it wasn’t.

  Not one bit.

  This was one of those times when her pheromones were already in a fury, matched by his.

  His nostrils flared, his eyes dilated, signaling his need. She didn’t need him to lower the cam’s view to see what else signaled his desire.

  But just the thought of that made a clenching happen between her legs.

  She glanced at the toy next to the mousepad, then back at the monitor.

  A tiny half-smile crooked one side of his lips upward.

  Busted.

  He’d seen her glance there, and he knew what she was looking at.

  Embarrassment and good kind of guilt, and even a touch of desire made a grin erupt on her face.

  “I’ve thought about you all day,” he groaned. His wolf and his want clearly at the surface, ready to burst through.

  Her breaths came in shallow waves, completely controlled by her need for him. “I know exactly what you mean.” The words pushed out of her lips with an exhale.

  “Are you wet?”

  Fuck. When he says that, it makes me more wet than I was before. It makes a jolt of sheer lust drive through me like Zeus’s lightning bolt.

  “Yes.” Her words just a whisper, but she knew he could hear it, and not simply because he had supernatural shifter hearing, but also because the microphone picked up the slightest of sounds and transmitted them directly to his ears.

  The same way it transmitted his every sound directly to her ears. She heard the low groan, and it was magnified in her head, then it started a domino effect, traveling through all of her. Her nipples stiffened against the fabric holding them in, pressing on the rough texture of the lace, making them harder.

  “Thought about you all day,” his words were foreplay, like the strongest aphrodisiac, simmering in her, bringing her to a low boil.

  “Thought about you too.” When didn’t she think of him? She always did. Everything she did, she thought, ‘WickedWolf would like this,’ or ‘I wish WickedWolf could see this.’

  It was as if they shared a life together.

  Except they didn’t.

  She didn’t dwell on that.

  She didn’t want to dwell on things she couldn’t change.

  “New bra?”

  A slow wicked smile snuck its way to her face.

  How did he know?

  “Are you psychic?”

  “Nah, your top’s a little sheer. I didn’t think you had white lace.”

  “I don’t—didn’t.” She’d ordered this one online, just for him.

  “Panties?” His tormented words gave away his anguish at the thought.

  “Matching,” she said, knowing she needn’t say more.

  He groaned, low under his breath, yet it was like sending a direct source of energy to her hungry body.

  Her cam was centered above her waist, and secure with that knowledge, driven by her need, her fingers were finding their way downward on their own.

  Chapter Nine

  On his computer monitor, on the window that was supersized as large as it could be because he wanted to see her as up close as possible. Rory had seen her glance to her right. He knew what she kept there, and he could tell from the golden gleam in her eyes and the dilation of her pupils what her body was going through.

  He could tell from her shallow breaths, barely making her chest rise, yet still pushing perky hard nipples against the white lace that contained them.

  He could tell how she wanted him. He wished he could smell how badly she needed him. He wanted to taste her need. He wanted to tongue her, feel her, finger her, and fuck her. All of the things he couldn’t do through a computer.

  Her hand was moving south. The idea that she couldn’t resist touching herself while they were talking made his dick twitched in his jeans.

  He glanced down at the outline the length of his cock was making against the pants.

  Her lids lowered in a look he’d come to know only too well. She was closing in on the target.

  There wasn’t a chance in hell he was missing whatever happened next.

  “Hey,” he said.

  She looked up at him.

  Valencia froze, waiting for him to say something. Wanting to lower her hand even more, wanting to feel the flesh she’d shaved earlier today, leaving it sensitive to the touch, even sensitive to the brush of fabric or the breeze the air conditioning vent pushed out, cooling and yet sensual at the same time.

  And still she waited, her eyes on him, the lust on his face like kerosene to her fires.

  “Don’t even think of touching that sweet pussy until you’ve adjusted your cam.”

  Oh God. Those words. His voice. That did it. A growing need pulsed inside of her.

  “Yours too.”

  “What’s that?” He got a wicked smile on his face.

  “Lower yours too,” she repeated, knowing he knew what she wanted. I want to see him as badly as he wants to see me.

  “What is it you want to see when I lower it.”

  So we’re going to do it this way?

  I know what he likes. A part of me likes it too.

  Oh, who am I kidding. I love it because it turns him on. Anything that turns WickedWolf on does the same to me but exponentially so. It makes everything we do richer when I see how much it turns him on.

  “I want to see your cock.” She spoke the words low and slow, letting her tongue settle on the word cock, making the word longer, more poignant.

  His chest rose and the small exhaled breath that slipped out rippled through her body as if they were connected. His eyes grew darker with desire, then his lids lowered slightly.

  He leaned forward, adjusting the cam so it took in his face, his torso, and his lap.

  The bulge in his pants, an imprint of his hardness drew her focus.

  “Fuckkkk. I heard that,” he exclaimed.

  She hadn’t even realized she’d gasped.

  “Your turn,” he tilted his head, waiting.

  Steeling herself, holding her breath because it still made her a bit self-conscious to be on cam, on display, all her faults, her over-curviness—all of that—she tipped the cam lower, watching the tiny image of herself in the corner of the square that held his image.

  She tipped until she’d lowered it enough that he could see what he wanted to see, but still able to see her face.

  It was important to both of them that they see t
he passion on each other’s faces.

  “How’s that,” she murmured.

  “Perfect. Now what were you going to do?”

  “What do you want me to do?” Two could play that game, and she liked hearing him talk dirty as much as he did her.

  “I want you to put your hand down your skirt, then slip it into your panties…”

  She did as he wanted, then just when she was going to take it a step further, when she’d closed her eyes…

  “Stop. Not inside.” His tone was commanding.

  Her eyes flew open. “Really? You’re going to make me wait?” She curled her fingers, letting them touch the tiny patch of a triangle she’d left just above her slit, but not within reach of her clit.

  “Mhmmmm.” He stretched the sound of agreement into one that sounded like he was enjoying a delicacy. “Now put your finger on your clit, and…” He paused.

  And she waited. Dying with every passing second.

  If he doesn’t tell me to do something quick, I’m doing it whether he likes it or not.

  Though deep down, she did enjoy their little games of control, give and take, tease and please.

  And she waited a second or two or an infinity longer.

  “Wolf!” She roared, her tigress as frustrated as Valencia.

  His smile grew to a grin. “Put your finger on your clit. Now rub slow.”

  She put two on. It’s not like he could see, what with her skirt and her lace panties in the way. She started to move her fingers.

  “Slow down,” he cautioned.

  “Fuck that,” she moaned the words out as her fingers rubbed the spot. Harder and faster than she knew he wanted her to. She kept her eyes glued on him, waiting for him to do something. “Unzip your pants,” she said with a gasp.

  “Take your skirt off, first.” He laid down an ultimatum.

  It happened quickly, like an out of control locomotive, the climax came barreling at her, unavoidable—then again why would she want to avoid it?

  Her body arched, then bucked as she fought to breathe normally but lost the battle. Her climax was ripped from her body and delivered directly into the foundation of pleasure.

  “God,” she released the word with the same fervor her body had freed her orgasm.

  She leaned back, pulled her hand from her skirt and half-reclined, half-slumped while she watched him.

  “You’re so damned wicked and disobedient.” His smile told her he was teasing. “Wait until the day we meet in person. I’m going to spank that ass.”

  That’ll never happen—the meeting, hence the spanking. But she didn’t tell him that. She was rather sure he didn’t intend to meet her in real life. And she damned sure knew she wouldn’t ever meet him. She couldn’t.

  She pushed the matter far from her mind—it was the last thing she needed to dwell on.

  Her body bucked a small spasm, a remnant of her peak. She sighed.

  “You’re not done,” Wolf announced.

  She knew she wasn’t. She knew neither of them were, but she needed a small respite. Just a tiny break to recuperate, to allow her body to back down from the heights it had just traveled to.

  “Undress for me. Just the skirt and top.”

  She rose to shaky legs, holding the chair for support as she stood, then peeled her skirt down and pulled the blouse over her head.

  Rory’s eyes took a tour of her body, relishing every curve, every part, studying her as if he were memorizing her.

  Fucking beautiful. Every curve. Every goddamned curve on her hourglass figure, was fucking beautiful. From the full hips that tapered to her waist to her full breast—creamy flesh tipped with pink nipples that peeked through the lace bra he’d never seen before. His eyes feasted on her like a starving man at a banquet.

  “I want you. Do you know how badly I want you?” Unable to contain his wolf or his cock much longer, he ground the words out through clenched jaws.

  Fuck, did he ever. Every bit of her. To taste her. To feel her. To see if her voice had the same timbre in person as it did over the Internet.

  “As I want you,” she whispered. Her fingers trailed over her skin, light caresses, he could tell, even across cyberspace. Her gaze was focused on him, as if she were there with him, undressing for him.

  Fingertips traced the line of her bra, teasing him, teasing herself, dipping into the fabric, touching the hard nipples within, making them more prevalent, then exiting, trailing downward, over the curve of her tummy, toward the lace and satin covered mound. A telltale damp spot bespoke of the orgasm she just had, as if she hadn’t announced it with her own voice.

  Her fingers grazed the waistband of her panties, playing peekaboo, hiding under the fabric, then coming back up to trace the hem again, then toward her hip, then to the elastic at her thighs. A dark patch told him she’d decided to leave a tiny bit of dark auburn hair for him to see. Just enough to tease him, hiding under the fabric.

  She slid the satin lower a notch, revealing more of her creamy flesh, closer and closer to the trimmed triangle, closer and closer to the core of her pleasure.

  He bit back a groan, but the hand on his lap was applying firm pressure, pushing down on his cock. He felt the give and cast a quick glance down. Sure enough, there was a damp spot on the front of his pants. He moved his hand over it, not ready to have her see it, not ready for this to end.

  She hooked her thumbs over her hips, pulled her panties down over the full thighs he’d like to lick and tease. The flimsy lace slid down her calves and dropped out of his sight. Her legs shifted as she raised them, clearly stepping out of the frilly panties.

  She reached behind her with one hand, unhooked the bra, then shimmied out of it without creating more torment for him, he noted thankfully.

  He was more than bursting with desire to stroke his cock, to watch her do the things she did that got her off while he watched. The things that in turn took him to a level of orgasm unlike any he’d ever experienced with any woman, in person or otherwise.

  Valencia watched his hand, clenching and unclenching into a fist, putting pressure on the cock hidden from sight by his pants, but still very evident, and—ohmigod—oh so very hard.

  Completely naked, so into this that it was more than any other experience she’d ever had with a man, she slipped into her chair, angling her body so he could see her parted legs, her sex completely bared to him, the wetness on full display so he could see the glistening he created in her.

  She inched her fingers closer to her mound, then dipped one in, then two. She moved them slowly and seductively, getting into the rhythm.

  His eyes were glued on her, moving from her fingers to her face, then back, then again.

  The expression on his face was mesmerizing, taking her to a new level of desire. She closed her eyes, tilted her head back, body arched.

  The headphones transmitted the sound of clothes rustling, a zipper’s teeth giving way to a tug, and then a low groan. She didn’t need to look to know his cock was out and his large hand held it.

  She didn’t need to know because the image of him doing what he was doing was burned into her memory. His hand was wrapped around his wide, tan colored cock, stroking it from the base to the perfect mushroom head, then down while his focus was hypnotized by her fingers.

  Yes, she definitely knew what was going on, though her eyes were closed. She and WickedWolf had done this before, many times. And each time was as amazing as the time before.

  Her fingers picked up speed, again, on their own accord, as if she had no control over them.

  “Get your toy,” he rasped.

  She opened her eyes and reached for her toy. It was not nearly as large as he was. She could only imagine the exquisite delight of having his large cock pressing into her, touching her body from the inside, how he’d reach every part of her. Everywhere.

  Rory watched her exhale in anticipation. It ratcheted his desire, pushing him closer to that vortex that awaited him when he came undone.

  �
�Show me what you’d do if that was my cock.”

  Valencia looked at the toy, then lifted her eyes, her bottom lip caught prisoner by even, white teeth. Her tongue darted out. He groaned when her pink tongue ran over her lips.

  When she touched the toy to her lips, his cock jerked and swelled more. Keeping eye contact with him, she opened her mouth and took it in slowly, her cheeks hollowing, her lips sealing just behind the head.

  “Aw fuck,” he released the words in an exhale. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuucck.” He was too close. She was going to take him there much quicker than he wanted.

  She took the toy deeper, gagging slightly, the sloppy wet sound made him even harder.

  “Stop,” he groaned. “I need a sec.”

  She paused, pulled the toy out of her mouth slowly, her lips still wrapped around it. She released it with a slight pop, making his cock jerk.

  She lowered her hands, spread her lips.

  Yeah, like that’s not going to fucking push me over the edge.

  She exposed the sensitive pink bud that held power over her orgasm. Hell, his too. She spread the wetness over her swollen clit, picking up a pace.

  “Do it.”

  She plunged the flesh-colored toy in deeply.

  “Hold it there.”

  “No.” Her rebellious response was tortured. “I can’t.”

  “You can.”

  “No. God. No. I need to.” The toy in full, she pushed her hips up, trying to take more of it in, trying to emulate what she wanted to do without actually doing it. Trying to comply with his commands, but partially failing.

  She stroked the toy in and out, quickly.

  Each time she plunged the toy in, the moisture made a sloppy, sloshing sound.

  “I love how wet you get. I can hear it.”

  Valencia would have screamed his name had she known it.

  “Fuck. Fuck. Fuckkkkk.” His words exploded into her ears.

  He was close. She could tell from the tone of his voice.

  Another orgasm, equally strong, equally out of control came heading her way, as unstoppable as a tornado. It grabbed her in its clutches—