by Mathew Ortiz
The dim light of a table lamp illuminated the large entry, a sitting room of sorts but considerably bigger than any sitting room he had ever laid eyes on. This had been the grandmother’s private chambers, and grandma had sumptuous taste. A large fireplace was the focal point of the room and was flanked by two large chesterfield couches. A bank of windows let in the pallid moonlight. His mate’s scent was strong here. The musky aroma drove his blood to boiling, and Donovan’s cock plumped in his pajama bottoms. At the far end of the sitting room were two doors. One had to lead to a bedchamber. Inhaling deeply, his nose told him to veer left. Flicking back one of his dreads that had come loose from its tie, he approached the door and rested his palm on it. Oliver’s voice, muffled, made its way through the thick mahogany door.
Ollie? Testing their newfound connection, he waited.
Come in. I’m in the bedroom.
Oliver’s gentle mind found his. He shifted his vision back to human and turned the knob. He had followed Oliver’s scent to a closed door to the back right of the room, hungering for his mate. He paused briefly and opened the bed chamber’s door.
The door swung open and Donovan’s mouth fell open. Standing in the center of the room at the foot of a massive king sized bed stood his naked mate, skin golden from the beside lamp’s light. Oliver was talking in a low voice to somebody on his phone and held up his hand indicating he needed a moment. His cock swung as he moved, and Donovan’s ability to think coherently vanished. Oliver’s long blond hair was pulled back from his face and tied with a leather cord and he rubbed his belly absently. It took all his willpower not to pounce on Oliver. Then he gazed around the room.
He concluded his handsome mate was a complete slob. Clothes were scattered everywhere: on the floor, on the settee, and littering the area around the bed. Shoes lay thrown in corners, and if he wasn’t mistaken, there was a half-eaten cheeseburger on the desk by the window. Granted, he was no Hazel, but this a bit too much for him.
As he drew closer, his nose told him his mate was anxious, almost distraught, and his wolf howled deep within wanting to protect his mate. Walking the room, he inhaled deeply, scent memorizing it. It smelled so good until he strayed to a corner of the room.
A large duffle bag sat open, and he bent to sniff it. Recoiling sharply, Donovan swore his eyes were watering. That smell! Putrid and vile, it was wafting up from a pair of badly worn sneakers. Shaking his head to clear the stench, Donovan realized the bag was full of rugby gear.
Whew!
He actually retreated from the shoes. If he was going to sleep here tonight, those vile objects had to go. Sneezing once, Donovan retreated and found a spot on the bed, sitting down. Oliver turned and reached out to palm Donovan’s cheek. Instantly the connection flared through the brief physical contact. His mate was upset. Donovan immediately wanted to help but waited as Oliver finished his conversation.
“No, thanks for calling. I’ll keep you posted.” Oliver ended his call and tossed his phone on the bed. Rubbing his face with his hands, Oliver grimaced and sat down next to Donovan.
“I know I don’t know you that well yet, but your smell tells me you’re upset.” Donovan said as he scooted closer.
“No, you’re right on the money. I am upset. A piece of my past has come to visit me.”
“Who?”
“A detective named Michael Wirzbowski paid a visit to Hannah last week looking for me. I was out of town on a ghost hunt. He was asking about Rory,” Oliver wondered why the man was talking to Rush’s sister. If this Wirzbowski guy wanted to talk to Oliver, he should have come to the house.
Tensing, Donovan didn’t really want to talk about the man Oliver was in love with before they met. The idea of another man touching his mate infuriated him, but Oliver needed to speak.
“Talk to me, Ollie.”
Oliver sighed. “I don’t mean to hurt you, Donovan. I’ve already told you I was in love with Rory. He worked for me as the IT person for Restless Spirits. I--I—”
“Take a deep breath and start from the beginning. And don’t worry, I’m stronger than you think. I won’t break. We both have pasts. It’s my future with you that is most important to me.” Not totally truthful, but he hoped Oliver would open up and know Donovan was being supportive.
“You’re a bad liar, Rover. Remember, our bond lets me know how you’re feeling, and when I mention Rory’s name, you get angry. Not at me, but in general. It’s okay. I know how you feel about me.” He kissed Donovan’s jaw, and at his touch, Donovan relaxed. “Rory answered my ad in the Maquintock Bay Picayune. I needed a new IT guy. William had only been able to help me part time, and with his business flourishing, his time was at a premium. I remember sitting with Grace in the library when Rory came for the job interview. He was charming, intelligent, and interviewed like a pro. He was also very attractive. Now don’t pull the hangdog face.”
“Sorry.” The grumble sounded more like a growl.
“We hired him, and soon he became a valued member of the team. Rory was sharp, very clever, and a natural detective. He figured out that Grace and I were witches within a week of working with us, and it didn’t bother him at all.” Oliver grinned at the memories. “One night after a particularly harrowing job we were sitting side by side sharing a water, and he kissed me. I was so startled; I didn’t know what to say. So I kissed him back. That’s how we started. Over the next few months, we dated exclusively. I fell in love with him, and he loved me back. The one thing I never told him was that my witch’s sense never flared like it was supposed to when you meet the one.”
“Like with me?” He knew he was sounding a bit petulant.
“Like with you. With him it wasn’t even a flicker. With you it was a hurricane of emotions. Anyway, I was content with Rory. I was so in love with him it didn’t matter to me he wasn’t my bondmate. But Rory being Rory, he began poking around and one day asked my Aunt Reeka about witch/human couples. She explained the bondmate to him. I was so mad at her. He asked me what would happen if I found the one. I told him it wouldn’t matter. I loved him. I thought that was the end of the subject.” Sadness etched his mate’s beautiful features.
“A month later, he announced he was leaving. He said he was going for two reasons. One was that he wasn’t my bondmate, and he didn’t want to stand in the way of the man I was destined to be with. Second, a part of his past was catching up with him, and he didn’t want to endanger me or my family. I thought he was mad! I mean, I’m a witch! So is my family. Who would we be afraid of?” Oliver shuddered and wiped a tear from his cheek. “Despite my pleading, he left. He told me he loved me, but he left anyway.”
“To be strong enough to leave you, he must have loved you, Ollie.” It hurt to say the words, yet Donovan knew them to be true. It would be easy to love Oliver.
“I have to apologize for being so rude to you in the beginning. I steadfastly refused to acknowledge you as my bondmate. I was afraid to be hurt again.” Oliver sobbed softly and leaned into Donovan’s body.
“Why is that?” Donovan’s voice was low and gentle as he wrapped his arms around his mate.
“I loved my parents so much and lost them. Then I fell in love with Rory, really in love, and he left me. Everyone I love leaves me. I was and still am afraid you’ll leave me.” Miserable looking, Oliver bowed his head. “I’m tired of having my heart stomped on again and letting you get close to me meant making myself vulnerable to being hurt again.” Donovan’s finger lifted Oliver’s chin up, making him meet his gaze.
“I’m not going anywhere, and I could never hurt you on purpose. I may stumble at times, but you’re my mate. You’re the other half of my soul, and I won’t leave unless you send me away. Otherwise, I will be at your side forever.” He meant it. The idea of being separated from Oliver made his wolf howl in pain.
“What about your job?”
“We’ll figure it out. For now, just realize I’m yours, Oliver Blackthorne.” He punctuated his words with a soul-scorching kiss. His ni
mble fingers found the tie to Oliver’s hair and let his blond waves loose. His tongue delved into Oliver’s succulent mouth, and their kiss deepened. The man inflamed his senses.
Letting those pouty lips go, he murmured, “You know it’s hard to have a conversation with you when you’re naked.”
Oliver laughed. “I can tell by the tent pole you’ve got there.” He leaned in and brushed his lips against Donovan’s neck. Growling low, he got up and stood facing his mate. A flick of his fingers let the tie to his pants let loose, and they puddled around his ankles. Thick and hard, Donovan’s cock bobbed, the head shiny red and the foreskin tightly pulled back. Oliver’s hand came up on its own accord and wrapped around his bondmate’s hardness. Donovan groaned and gazed down as Oliver knelt and slipped his lips over the head. Inching slowly down his cock, Oliver swallowed him to the base. Flinging his head back, he snarled and tangled his fingers in the golden curls. Slowly, Oliver pulled off, licking the moist head as he let go. Donovan stepped back and waggled a finger at him.
“Ah, ah. You’ll make me come. I’m not ready yet.”
“You taste so good,” Oliver murmured as he pawed at his own rock hard cock.
“You’re playing with fire, and I can’t deny my wolf much longer. It howls, wanting to claim you,” he ground out as he fought back his rampant desire.
Oliver spun to the bed and crawled up on his hands and knees. He rested his head down on a pillow and pushed his ass up into the air. “Then make me yours, Wolfie. I don’t want to wait.”
“If we do this, there’s no going back,” Donovan replied thickly. He inched closer, and his hands shifted, dark claws replacing his nails. His canines dropped, and his body mass increased as he partially shifted. His vision went back to black and white, and he knelt on the bed and dropped his head low. Resting his face on Oliver’s upturned ass cheek, he scented the intoxicatingly intimate flesh of his mate.
“Please, Donovan,” came Oliver’s soft whimper of need, and he gave into his wolf. Flattening out his tongue, he sampled the musky flavor of his mate. Skin as smooth as satin, the essence of Oliver exploded over his tongue and he buried his face in between the upturned cheeks. Oliver cried out as Donovan’s firm tongue speared his opening, flicking, licking and sucking the tender flesh. Gripping Oliver’s buttocks, he spread the young witch wide and dove in tongue deep. Oliver quivered and cried out as Donovan’s tongue fucked his hole. Mewling, Oliver drove his ass onto his bondmate’s thick tongue. Chuckling as he pulled back, Donovan wiped his damp face clean and stood. Oliver reached back and spread his ass, inviting him in.
“Oh, no. Not yet.” Gripping Oliver’s hips, he flipped the witch onto his back. He lay there, so sensual and sumptuous sprawled out on the rumpled sheet, Donovan licked his lips in anticipation of mounting his mate. Just not quite yet. Lifting one of Oliver’s feet in one hand, he brought the arch to his mouth. His tongue laved the arch, and Oliver cried out. Taking the Oliver’s big toe into his mouth, he suckled it, rolling it with his tongue. His tongue found each toe, taking each in turn.
“Hecate, Donovan. You’re killing me!”
“Then you would die well loved. Lie still, witch.” He snickered as Oliver slapped the bed in frustration. Donovan released his foot and moved to the other, giving it the same attention. Moving from the foot, Donovan nipped and licked up the smooth, lightly tanned leg, closer to the turgid, twitching cock. Pressing his face into the ‘v’ of Oliver’s groin, he sucked in a noseful of his mates’ musk.
Delicious!
Donovan’s wolf half growled appreciatively, and he licked the seam of Oliver’s taint. Giving the smooth balls a swipe of his tongue, he moved up to the dripping slit and pointed his tongue, sampling the dewy nectar. Salty and sweet, he savored the precum. He sucked lightly on the head, letting it go with a loud pop. Oliver’s eyes were screwed shut, and he was panting, his body covered in a sheen of fresh sweat. Tonguing the divot of Oliver’s navel, his tongue traced a lazy trail up the quivering belly to a pink, pert nipple. Donovan latched on and sucked hard. Nursing the tight bud, he nibbled and suckled as Oliver screamed in pleasure, arching his back and bucking under him. He wasn’t going to be able to hold his wolf any longer. His witch would be mate-bonded to him this night. His and his alone!
Reaching Oliver’s neck, he kissed the hollow and brought his mouth to the pinked ear. His breath fanned the blond hair as he whispered.
“Are you ready?”
Chapter 9
“Are you freakin’ kidding me?” Oliver shouted, eyes wide.
Donovan smirked. His clawed hands took hold of Oliver and deftly flipped him onto his knees. Without being asked, Oliver gestured to the nightstand. Donovan grabbed the small bottle of lube he found waiting on top and snapped open the lid. He coated his cock liberally, flinching as he nearly came. Adding a dollop to his finger, he slid it up and into Oliver’s pucker, the ring of muscles opening with ease. Sawing in and out, he made sure the tight opening was well-lubed. Tossing the bottle to floor, he inched forward and brought the tip of his cock to the opening, smacking it on the pink flesh. He snarled, and the wolf took over. He inched forward, allowing the supple body of his man to accommodate his size, which was larger due to his partial shift.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck…shit you’re huge!” Oliver bleated as he panted.
Donovan was given the sensual view of his cock disappearing into his mate’s willing body. Inch by inch, Donovan drove in until he was nearly balls deep inside Oliver. The warm suction of Oliver’s tight channel massaged him, driving his pulse through the roof. He waited, allowing for his mate to adjust, then thrusting forward, he impaled his mate on the last few inches of his cock.
“Fuck…it burns…easy!” Oliver cried, and Donovan reached around and caressed Oliver’s slightly softened cock back to firmness. Oliver relaxed under him, and his channel loosened a smidge.
“I’m sorry. I’m wolfing out, and it makes my cock thicker.” He hated knowing he was causing Oliver pain. He was barely holding on himself, desperately wanting to fuck Oliver hard, but he waited, biting his lip bloody. “And longer.”
“Longer?” Oliver’s body heaved, his fair skin flushed and slick with sweat. Donovan gasped as Oliver clamped down. “You can move, Wolfie… Just be gentle, please.”
“I’ll try.” Pulling out slowly, he pushed back in with ease. Waiting, he heard Oliver moan, so he began thrusting slowly. Clawed hands gripped Oliver’s hips, the nails scoring skin, drawing blood. The scent of his mate’s blood drove Donovan to pure lust, and he snarled and intensified his thrusting. The wet sounds of their joining added to their moans and cries. Skin rippling, Donovan’s shift moved closer to full wereling. The scents of their bodies were inflaming his senses, and Donovan fucked into Oliver harder until the bed rattled with each thrust.
This was what he had been waiting for, to make Oliver his, to fuck his seed deep in his mate’s body and seal them with the claiming bite. The tempo of the slapping of flesh increased as seconds evolved to minutes, growing ever longer as Donovan rode Oliver, their bodies joining and merging.
“Don-Donovan, I’m coming. Hecate, you’re fucking it out of me!” Oliver screamed. Howling, Donovan slammed again, and his cock swelled as the first jet of cum was driven deep into the spasming channel.
“Mine!” Plastering his body to Oliver’s back, Donovan’s canines extended, and he sank them into the tender flesh of Oliver’s right shoulder, just shy of his neck. Screaming, Oliver bucked under him, and Donovan rammed in and out of his body. The coppery tang of Oliver’s blood flooded Donovan’s tongue, and the mate-bond snapped in place. Over and over Donovan fucked his seed into the quivering body beneath him, never removing his fangs from the sweet flesh.
Oliver whimpered as his climax faded. Sobbing, Oliver buried his head into the pillow. Donovan slid his teeth free of the succulent flesh and gave it a swipe of his tongue to staunch the bleeding. Kissing the spot, he eased his cock from his mate’s body. Donovan heard the sobbing and crawle
d off Oliver and tucked him into his side. Oliver’s face, wet with tears, made his heart ache. The mere notion of hurting his man was more painful than he could have imagined.
“I’m so sorry, Ollie. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I couldn’t stop myself.” Brushing away some of Oliver’s tears, he kissed him. “I had to bite you to seal our mating.”
“I--I—it’s okay. I’ve never felt anything like that. I’m not hurt. I’m crying because this is--this is incredible. I feel you with me more, deeper. It’s different than the other bonding. I--I’m overwhelmed! God, I feel like such a weenie, crying like this.” He buried his face into Donovan’s shoulder, and Donovan lay there, kissing and rocking the sobbing Oliver gently.
Oliver’s tears slowed as they lay there and finally subsided to an occasional sniffle. The shifter caressed his mate, murmuring nonsense to soothe him. A tangle of sweaty limbs, Donovan realized that leaving his mate to go home was not now, nor would it ever be, an option. The idea of not being able to see, touch, smell, taste, or hear his mate terrified him. Oliver shifted next to him.
“I can’t believe we met only a few weeks ago, and now are bonded. I barely know you.” Donovan heard the uncertainty in the young man’s voice.
“Well, not much to tell. I’m from my parent’s first litter. So is Dathan. He’s eldest, so he’s Alpha now. I have three younger siblings, Dylan, Drusilla and Daphne. They’re about ten years younger and quite a handful for my mother.”
“You call them litters?”
“Yes. Within the wolf shifter community, single births are very uncommon. Twins and triplets are the norm.” Donovan’s fingers found Oliver’s nipple and rolled the bud between them. “I love them like crazy, especially Daphne. The little girl is a pot stirrer. I love my life at Cold Creek, and I love my job as a deputy. I like knowing I can help people. Plus my lupine senses give me an edge when tracking criminals.”