by E A Price
“Harold,” she cooed.
He looked up to see her peering down at him with shuttered eyes and flushed cheeks. This woman was his – his mate, his wife. One day, the mother of his pups. How the hell did he get so lucky?
His beast pushed forward, and he let out a soft snarl, one that she answered as her eyes swam with amber.
Mine.
He nudged her thighs open and pressed his mouth to her sex. Christine let out a strangled moan as his tongue delved inside her slick channel. Her fingers clamped painfully on his hair, but he didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was bringing her pleasure. Well, bringing himself pleasure too. He wasn’t a selfless person. He wanted this; he wanted to taste her, to make her come with his mouth. It was as much for him as it was for her.
Harold swirled his tongue inside her, teasing her inner flesh. He pushed his tongue in and out, mimicking how he would take her with his manhood. Christine wobbled, and he clamped his hands on her hips to steady her, to keep her upright, lest her trembling legs gave way. Nothing would interrupt this; nothing would stop him from taking his fill of his wife. Her honey was too exquisite, too moreish. Her sweetness danced on his tongue, her muscles throbbed as he caressed them, ripping a shudder from his own body.
His hardness pushed against his pants, becoming painfully hard. He needed her and soon, but not before she reached her completion. With a wrench, he pulled his mouth away from her sex. She squeaked in objection before moaning in happiness as he sucked her clit into his mouth, nibbling on the tiny bundle of nerves, teasing them between his teeth, before swirling his soothing tongue around. Before she could object, he returned to lapping at her honey. He alternated between the two, moving almost frantically as he worked her towards release. He could feel it coming. Could feel it in the way her inner muscles pulsated around him, clutching at him, trying to find purchase. He could sense it by the way her body heated, almost boiling to the touch, and the way her fingernails pressed into his head. He’d probably have a few bruises after this, but who cared? The only thing that mattered was this moment, was the two of them. Who cared what happened after this?
“Harold,” she breathed. “I can’t…”
Christine’s hips bucked and thrashed as the orgasm tore through her body. She moaned in a spectacularly enchanting way, and her body gave up completely. She sank into his waiting arms, and he pressed kisses to her shoulder, her ear, her hair, any part of her he could. Then he laid her down on the floor, freed his hardness and drove himself inside her. He barely had to move before the violent clutching of her sex dragged his own release from him.
She smiled as he filled her and wrapped her arms and legs around him, embracing him. Christine stroked his hair as he nestled into her beautiful body, relief, and happiness blooming inside him along with a few other emotions he couldn’t identify. Was it always like this for mated couples? A part of him doubted it considering the mated couples he knew. But that didn’t matter. All that mattered was the wonderful woman in his arms. Life had never been this good.
Chapter Seven
“What on earth do you think you are playing at?” snarled a hushed voice.
Even though it was hushed, the tone and vehemence in the words were enough to wake Christine.
She rubbed her bleary eyes, staring round the unfamiliar room. Right – she was in the honeymoon suite. Right – she was married. Right – she just had sex with her husband!
She slapped her hand over her mouth to stop herself from either giggling or gasping. Honestly, she hadn’t thought she would be able to go through with it, but she had – twice. It had been good, too. Better than good; better than she expected. It was nothing against Harold, but she had thought it would be cold and mechanical.
Before Harold, she had two boyfriends, including Roark, and had been in love with both of them before she had sex with them. She had just thought that due to the awkward nature of their relationship, a sexual encounter with Harold couldn’t possibly be passionate. She was wrong. The closed off wolf had hidden depths.
“My wife is asleep in the next room!” snapped the voice.
Harold.
She turned over, looking at his empty side of the bed. As if he could be there. If it had been Roark, undoubtedly he’d still be asleep. The man slept like a bear. But it wouldn’t be Roark, not now, not ever again.
After their encounter on the floor, they had finally made it to bed and had sex again before she finally succumbed to an exhausted sleep.
She could hear Harold’s muffled voice, getting louder and softer. In the darkness, she groped for one of the hotel’s complimentary robes and wrapped it around her, softly padding through the suite to find him. He was also in a hotel robe, and pacing up and down; his phone pressed to his ear and a scowl on his face.
“Harold?”
He stopped and stared at her. A wrinkle of irritation quickly smoothed away.
“If you wish to speak to me again, call my assistant to set something up. Don’t call me directly.” He ended the call and gave Christine a wary look.
“Everything okay?” she yawned as she stumbled through the suite.
“Of course.”
Christine collapsed into one of the chairs and rubbed her forehead. All the excitement, worry, and booze of the previous day had resulted in a nice tension headache.
“What time is it?”
“Five am.”
He stood still, watching her carefully.
“Who was that?”
The scowl returned. “A pack mate. My phone rang repeatedly. I didn’t want it to disturb you. Though, clearly, it has.” His eyes darkened in annoyance.
“Not your fault. Hey, can you pass me my purse? It’s on top of my big suitcase.”
He did so and sat in front of her on the coffee table, watching her closely. She rooted around until she found some aspirin.
“Are you feeling okay?” he asked, with a disturbing alertness that shouldn’t be present at that ridiculous hour of the day.
“It’s just a little headache.”
“Can I get you anything?” he offered.
“Could you grab me some water? I saw some glasses in the bathroom.”
He made a face. “I will get you a bottle from the minibar.”
“You don’t have to do that. I saw the price list earlier – twelve dollars for imported water? From the bathroom will be fine.”
“Nonsense.” He strode over to the minibar and purposefully grabbed one, unscrewing the lid and thrusting it into her hand before she could argue further.
“Thanks, but I don’t expect you to waste money on me. I can’t even imagine how much your family paid for this wedding.”
Another reason to make her father angry. He was old fashioned; he had wanted to be the one to pay for his little girl’s wedding. Though, he could hardly hold the fact that he couldn’t afford it against Harold.
“The hotel is owned by the pack.”
Christine spluttered water over him. “What?!” He dripped with twelve dollar imported water. “Oh, sorry.”
He raised an eyebrow at her and used the sleeve of his robe to dry his face. “Our pack owns the hotel.”
“No way? Really? Wow!”
“We purchased it three years ago. It’s our intention to build another from scratch.”
“Jeez.”
Until recently her pack had always been pretty well-to-do, but this and the other holdings she already knew about was way out of their league.
“It’s still early, you should go back to bed,” he said, a tad bossily.
“What about you?”
“I’m usually an early riser…”
His eyes drifted to the laptop already open on the table.
“Mmmm, well I probably won’t get back to sleep now that I’m up. Maybe I’ll just grab some OJ and watch TV. I won’t disturb you, will I?”
Harold pursed his lips. “No. But, I think you should go back to bed.”
Christine waved her hand. “Nah,
I’m fine. A couple of hours vegging in front of the TV is just what I need. I kind of haven’t stopped moving for like a week, and yesterday was pretty frantic, I barely stopped all day…” Plus… last night.
Harold grunted in agreement, watching her unemotionally. Kind of hard to believe he was the same guy who just mere hours ago had dragged her to the floor to have his wicked way with her.
She tried to search him for a hint of the passion he had shown, but he was back to the cool male she had met less than, wow, less than a day ago. Jeez, she met, married and had sex with this guy twice in less than a day and now he was looking at her as dispassionately as if he was buying a pretzel from her.
“I’m going to shower and then catch up on my e-mails. I will order you the orange juice. Would you like anything else?”
“Oh, you don’t have to go to any trouble…”
His brow dipped in disapproval. “Calling room service is hardly trouble. I’ll order you a fruit plate; I’m sure you must be hungry.”
“Ah…”
He was already up and barking into the phone before she could argue. She tried to shoo him into the bathroom, but he waited for her juice and fruit to arrive. He chastised the waiter for taking too long and set out an enormous amount of fruit in front of her, and waited until she had eaten a few bites before taking himself away.
At least she could rest easy that she wouldn’t go hungry with her new husband. She picked at the array of exotic fruits and flipped through the channels until she found old episodes of The Addams Family.
Huh. Harold left his cell phone on the coffee table. Maybe the shower was one of the few places he could bear to part with it. It was certainly in his pocket throughout the ceremony and the reception.
Christine yawned again. Maybe she shouldn’t have insisted on staying up. She wasn’t sure why she did. Maybe she was being a little stubborn. Letting Harold be too bossy with her from the get go would end badly for both of them. He seemed like the kind of guy who insisted on getting his own way, and while she was fairly easy going, she wasn’t going to allow him to roll over her completely. Or maybe she was a little peeved at how little everything seemed to affect him. She was verging on exhausted at everything that had happened over the past few weeks – losing her boyfriend, quitting her job, packing up her life, marrying a total stranger… While Harold looked and acted like it was nothing out of the ordinary for him, as run of the mill as attending a board meeting. She made a lot of sacrifices for this mating, it worried her about how few he had made.
His phone chirruped and without thinking she looked at the screen as a message popped up.
It was from someone called Sabrina, and it said, ‘Sorry, darling. I’ll call you on Monday. Enjoy the rest of your wedding weekend.’ This was followed by a laughing emoji.
Sabrina… Christine wracked her brains, trying to remember if she had met a Sabrina at the wedding. Maybe. She wasn’t sure, and she hadn’t been introduced to everyone. His pack was damn well huge.
Was that who he was talking to when she woke up? A female called Sabrina. He hadn’t sounded happy, and yet he seemed to be able to make ample time for his pack mates on their actual wedding day. Why would this Sabrina call or text him so early in the morning? If it was a real pack problem, she was sure Harold would rush off to deal with it. Which made her think that the call had been a personal matter. Personal… with someone called Sabrina.
She could easily be an ex-girlfriend. Hadn’t Roark called her on her wedding day? She could hardly be miffed if Harold also had a clingy ex with boundary issues.
But Roark hadn’t been calling her ‘darling’ on the phone. No, he went with the b-word. Her relationship with him was definitely over.
It was probably nothing. She was probably overreacting. Even if he had a relationship with this Sabrina person, it had to be over now. He wouldn’t risk this whole arrangement. But then, the terms of their arrangement only precluded her from having an affair. He couldn’t physically hurt or threaten her. They didn’t specifically say he couldn’t indulge. Maybe that was deliberate. What if he was going to have affairs? What if this woman Sabrina was his girlfriend and they were just going to continue as if he had never gotten married?
She suddenly felt very helpless and alone.
*
Harold spent longer in the shower than he probably should have. It took a while to calm his wolf and his libido.
He’d known that he would need to ignite some lustful feelings for his new wife in order to consummate the marriage. He had never imagined it would be quite so hard to control them.
A weary and tousled Christine was no less attractive than the sleek bride, and a cold shower had been necessary to douse his raging hard on. Damn. He was behaving like a teenager. He hadn’t even been this way when he was a teenager.
When he finally made it to the bedroom, it was to find Christine in bed, sleeping soundly. Her case was open and a few items strewn on the floor, and she was clothed in a pair of yellow pajamas. He tidied her clothes and pulled the covers around her.
She looked so small, so sweet in sleep. Hard to believe she was actually married to him. He had an urge to stroke her cheek. His fingers twitched, and he curled them into a ball. Fanciful nonsense.
He should check his emails; catch up on work. He grabbed his laptop and settled on the bed next to his wife, being careful not to make too much noise. She needed her rest, no doubt yesterday had been stressful.
Damn Sabrina for calling him and waking Christine. What on earth was she thinking? He would guess she was drunk. He didn’t give her the chance to explain, and as for the ridiculous text message, he deleted it. He could not have her calling him at all – never mind at 5 am the morning after his wedding. She rarely called him even when they were seeing each other; now she was just doing it out of spite. Stubborn, selfish creature.
Maybe she had thought he would mate her eventually. Or perhaps she did not like being dumped. Her reasons did not matter. But Sabrina was still a member of his pack. Undoubtedly, he would see her now and again, as would Christine. The last thing he wanted was for Sabrina to lash out at Christine.
He would speak to his father, have him talk to Sabrina and warn her to stay away. While his father was virtually checked out on his alpha duties, Harold was sure he would be spurred into action over this, and warn Sabrina away. The last thing his father wanted was the whole deal with Christine’s family to go sideways because of one spiteful she-wolf.
He glanced down at Christine’s small, huddled form. The last thing he wanted was for his wife to be needlessly hurt. She needed to be protected. His fingers itched to stroke her cheek again.
Harold shook his head. What on earth was happening to him?
*
Christine awoke hours later, gratefully headache free. She was surprised to find her husband beside her.
Not running off to be with Sabrina then she thought spitefully. Ugh, it was too early for that kind of thought.
“Hey,” she mumbled, dragging herself into a sitting position.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, closing his laptop.
“Fine,” she muttered rubbing her eyes.
He arched an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. Truthfully, she still felt exhausted. Harold looked as fresh as a daisy.
“Can I order you anything?” he offered.
“What time is it? Shouldn’t we be getting to the wedding breakfast?”
It wasn’t something she particularly wanted and could do without, but his mother had already planned it – it was scheduled, and Christine had to keep to her wedding schedule whether she liked it or not. Honestly, she was kind of nervous about facing everyone, about being on display in front of his pack and her parents. They’d all know that she and Harold… well, that they had slept together. She wasn’t sure she could look her dad in the eye. She’d avoided him like the plague for a week after she lost her virginity, fearing that he would somehow know and that he would look at her differently.
/> “A few minutes after noon,” replied Harold.
“What?!”
Christine leaped out of bed so fast she wobbled. Harold leaped even faster to grasp her arms and steady her.
“We missed the breakfast your mother organized,” she grumbled.
Harold was unmoved. “So what?”
“So… so, they were expecting us – she went to the trouble of organizing it…” She was grasping at a reason, though honestly, she was a little relieved.
Harold gave her an impatient look. “The wedding was supposed to be about us; we can do as we choose.”
“Your mother will be disappointed.”
“She will have to get over it,” Harold told her severely. “You were tired and needed rest, that was more important than an unnecessary breakfast.” He ran his hands down her arms and clasped her hands. “Now, can I order you anything?”
Christine regarded him a little warily, wondering what he had made of the text that Sabrina sent him. She tried to imagine him with a girlfriend, tried to imagine him flirting, but she came up blank. Roark had always been flirty with other women. It had upset her no end, even if he told her she was being stupid.
“I wouldn’t mind some pancakes… wait, after noon. Bull hockey! My family!”
She removed her hands from his and stumbled to her suitcase, pulling out some clothes. She hesitated for a moment, considering running to the bathroom and decided against it. He had already seen her naked – it was no big deal to him, and he was her husband, he was going to see her naked hundreds of times from now on…
Christine stripped out of her pajamas and pulled a pair of jeans and a yellow sweater on. As she dragged her unruly hair into a ponytail, she turned to find Harold staring at her openmouthed. Okay, it might have been a big deal to him, and maybe the lust in his eyes might have been kind of flattering and welcome. Men didn’t usually look at her like that. Cute girls like her didn’t tend to incite violent passions, but the amber in his eyes reminded her of the Harold who brought her so much pleasure. A slow flush started spreading through her body before she remembered why she was in a rush.
“My family is going home this afternoon – they’ll be leaving in like half an hour. I need to go say goodbye to them.”