Andrew’s only reply was a small laugh as he pulled my hands back, sans notebook.
I sat still, trying for deep breaths, while he worked down my neck and shoulders. He lifted my tank top and I tugged it off over my head so he could easily move along my back. There was nothing romantic about the sensation. Only agonizing. Even when the sharpest pain subsided I was left with aches and tension that wouldn’t quit.
He eventually guided me back, facedown, in bed with the pillow pushed to the headboard. Resting on his knees against me, he once more worked all the way down my neck to the small of my back. Finally starting to feel improvement.
“Think of something else,” Andrew said after he’d reminded me to breathe again. “Think of … your favorite book.”
“I have too many favorites.”
“Think of watching foxes dash around this place with felt mice in their jaws, or chasing feathers on strings.”
That made me smile. I couldn’t exactly ask Traigh and Isla to change for my amusement, but maybe they would for some reason while we were still around? Not sure how long or how much “around” we would be.
“Better?” Andrew bent forward to kiss my upturned ear and, for the dozenth time started over on my neck with his fingers.
I must have still been smiling. “Hardly a box of chocolates but it’s okay.”
“One step at a time. Have any lotion with you?”
“No lotion.”
“Why the tone, darling?” Hands pausing on my shoulders.
“You’re a maniac. My knees were fine.”
He chuckled and went back to rubbing. “I know.”
A slow sigh, every muscle softer. “I should get up. Others will be wanting the bathroom.” I’d just heard the door opening and someone going back downstairs. Now was the moment. Yet I didn’t move.
“Starting to feel good now?” Andrew asked after another few minutes.
“Maybe.”
“You can tell me, Cassiopeia. I’ll keep your secrets.”
“Andrew?” I shifted, trying to see him over my shoulder. “Can you tell me something? What’s up with you and nicknames?”
“What’s up with you and note-taking? Deep breath. Swimming. That’s what you need. When was the last time you went swimming?”
“Oh… For real? Like more than a hotel pool? Years. I used to always make time to swim. I’m out of shape now.”
“You’re out of sorts, I know that. Feeling ready to face the pack yet?”
“Not exactly…” Slow exhale. “I’ll go shower, though. Thank you.”
“For my razor blade hands?”
“Sorry. I guess they’re not that bad.” I eased away while he was still pressing his thumbs down my spine.
It took a long time to actually be sitting up again and inverting my tank top to pull back on. Everything had slowed down. I felt dazed. Not exactly confused about which side of the tank was front and back. Only taking a lot longer than it should have to get right.
Andrew kissed the point of my shoulder, which startled me for some reason. I shivered and pulled the top on.
“Time for a nap yet?” I rubbed my eyes again.
Andrew stroked down my neck and back. “You’ve improved. How about another tonight?”
“I can’t sleep with you again tonight. There would be unrest amongst the family. But I don’t even know where we’ll be sleeping so let’s not dwell on it.”
“We don’t have to sleep together for a massage, darling.”
“Oh…” I rolled my neck slowly around. “Good point.”
He stroked back my hair and kissed my shoulder again. “It wasn’t much, really. We were back home. At the territory, you know? I had you over. Like the morning we had quiche.”
I shifted on the bed to look at him, about to ask what he was talking about when I realized it was his dream.
Andrew was still on his knees at my hip so he was leaning over me, face in my hair. He moved when I did to kiss my ear. “So you were all there but, through dinner, you asked the others to leave, one by one. Then there were the two of us at the table alone. I said you didn’t have to do that. You said, ‘I wanted to.’ So I was thinking about that when I brought you dessert.” He kissed my shoulder again and left his face there, speaking against my skin. “I’d meant to have something spectacular. Can’t remember what. Perhaps a big trifle with loads of layers, homemade sponge, ten kinds of fruit, mountains of cream? Well, I couldn’t seem to find what I was after. When I got back to you all I had was a jar of caramel sauce. And you said, ‘Do you want to put it on, or should I?’ So—”
I was laughing. “You didn’t really dream this.”
“So…” He repeated very slowly, and licked along the top of my shoulder to speak against my neck. “Of course, whoever wore it wouldn’t get to eat it. So you can guess what I said. Here’s the part where you’re going to want to make notes, darling.”
“Andrew, really. I know you’re making this up.”
His lips brushed my skin on the way to my ear. His hands stroked up my bare arms to my shoulders, where he again rubbed. “I don’t recall the interval, or which one of us dressed you. Funny how dreams are like that, isn’t it? Bits and pieces? The taste was clear enough, and how you looked … how you smelled.” He shivered.
Lips against my ear again—sometimes tongue as well. “Here’s an interesting note for you: the sort of practical information that gets your blood pumping. You know how nipples are all ribbed and textured when stiff?” As he spoke, he slipped his hands around to my breasts, massaging both nipples with his thumbs. “Licking is never enough to get caramel sauce out of all those crevasses. You need to get your whole mouth around there and suck it off. Just as well. It’s more succulent that way—tasting you both at once. Skin candy.”
He cupped my breasts and kissed my jaw, leaning into my back. “You’re not taking notes, Belle. Want me to slow down?” He pressed in even closer, so I felt every outline down his abs and thighs. “Another underestimated treat is the old caramel lipstick. You could see how much fun I was having, naturally, so you begged me to try some on next. Well, I’m such a glutton. I couldn’t be moved. Then you were begging for it, desperate. What could I do? What would you have done?” He paused, nibbling my neck.
“You’ll have to tell me,” I murmured, shivery and amused at the same time. “What did we do?”
“You wore me down. I had to say all right, but just one spot. I’d never let you waste the stuff all over me. Not even in a dream. So you said it was fine; one spot. All sweet and blonde and sky-eyed, you know? Just how you are before you blast whole wolf packs out of your way with a wave of your hand. One spot.” Voice dropping to the softest croon in my ear. “Then you jammed the mouth of the caramel jar over my dick—a tight fit, mind, overflowing everywhere—and pushed as far as it would go. I’ve never had such intensely mixed feelings as I did watching you eat that caramel right in front of me. Speaking of gluttons. Moon, it was cruel.”
He let out a long breath against my skin. “Not that you would do such a thing in real life. Only a dream, after all. Still … you licked and licked, even went for the old sucking technique and wouldn’t stop—never offered to share, never hesitated. A shocking performance, really. Left me shaking until I could hardly get my breath. In spasms, even. But I couldn’t stop giving you more while you ate. How do you like that? Well … like I said…” Another sigh through my hair. “Just a dream. I know you would never really treat anyone like that, Belle. Least of all me.”
I was biting my lip to keep from laughing. Still couldn’t stop grinning when I pulled away, twisting to look up at him. “I suppose we had a missed shower opportunity a couple days ago. Do you want to join me?”
“Not sure what that has to do with anything…”
“Do you or not?”
“Well…” He rubbed the back of his own neck. “I mean … if you insist, darling. If it would ruin your day if I didn’t escort you—”
“It would ru
in my day.”
“Then … if it means that much to you…”
Chapter 4
I tried but never could ascertain if he’d really had a dream even remotely similar, or if this was just Andrew being Andrew. On the few steps it took to reach the bathroom he asked if we should visit the supermarket first, making me suspect even more that the latter situation was correct.
He was easier to take seriously when he stopped talking. After making sure we had towels, he turned to me brushing my hair at the mirror and removed my tank, pajama bottoms, and underwear with long, slow touches and kisses.
I felt a hint of trepidation even as I tingled against his caresses. The only time I’d had sex with Andrew had come with certain emotional ups and downs. I didn’t want to make a big deal of that. At the same time, it was tough not to think about—even after caramel imagery.
The bathtub/shower was one with those electric shower boxes so common in the UK. I’m not sure why they tend to be so dreadful, lacking water pressure or impossible to adjust to the right temperature, but I’d never had a really good shower in Great Britain aside from Gabriel’s hotel. People paid hundreds of pounds for a single night at The Abyssinian. Maybe that was what it took for a decent shower here.
Anyway, it broke the mood and my wondering about Andrew when he struggled to get the thing on a good setting and was drenched in icy water. He’d first turned the shower head to face the tile wall but it simply slipped back and nailed him.
“Why would you laugh at that?” he snapped at me.
“I’m not laughing, Andrew. It’s just, the showers here—”
“It’s not funny when—bloody hell!” He jumped back. Steam billowed from the impossibly abrupt temperature change. It now looked about right for tossing in dry pasta and adding salt.
Needless to say, I was slow to actually join him in there. Andrew had to adjust the thing into submission before I followed and hugged him.
“Thank you, shower hero.”
“The bugger better not get any more ideas.”
“It feels perfect now.” I moved into the spray, trying to kiss him.
“You’re still laughing.”
“Not at you. I’ve had a horrible time with that sort of shower. Glad to know it’s not me.”
“There’s one way to cheer up. Schadenfreude.” He did kiss me then, face in the spray for a moment.
“Not usually my style.”
“Still nowhere near as vicious as you were in my dream.”
“You didn’t really dream that.”
He shrugged. “If I insisted I did you wouldn’t believe me. Whereas if I didn’t, I wouldn’t tell you.” Leaning in to nuzzle my neck. “You’ll just have to wonder forever and ever.” He kissed my throat and back to my lips.
With the shower sorted out, and still early enough that we probably weren’t inhibiting anyone else, it was fun to be there with him. Andrew was the one who had to point out I felt more relaxed. Not just from the laughing. I felt looser, more at ease, able to focus on his kisses in a way I couldn’t have an hour before.
“Thank you,” I murmured, this time really meaning it, as we caressed with lips and fingers in the warm water.
“What for?” His penis pressed between my legs, derailing my train of thought.
“For building morale. I love you, Andrew. I’m glad we’ve had a chance to talk.”
“Then don’t forget: another massage tonight. No matter who you’re getting a ‘chance to talk to’ next.”
I laughed. “I didn’t mean metaphorically.”
He pushed me gradually back against the cold tile while I shivered. When I pulled away from him, though, it wasn’t because of that. It was remembering his “dream.”
I broke his kiss, twisted from his hands, and slid down his body to my knees on the hard bathtub floor in the warm water. Andrew stood with his head and back in the spray while I took him in my mouth. I would never think of caramel the same way again.
No lingering. I felt rushed being in there, yet hadn’t missed his, “Least of all me,” comment. It was intoxicating to touch him like this, make him shiver and gasp with pleasure, after he’d done so much for me this morning.
Soon standing again to meet his kisses, I found Andrew far more forceful. The first time he’d ever rushed when touching me. His urgency left me lightheaded, grateful, yet I didn’t even understand why at first.
He held me, pushed me back into the wall, mouths together. I wasn’t worried about his conflicted feelings anymore. That was part of what felt so good. I wasn’t Sarah, could never take her place—nor did either of us want me to. Yet, for every time he’d ever flirted and turned away, Andrew had always come back. Bit by bit, wanting to trust me with the fragments of his heart as much as I wanted him to feel that safety.
This whole night and morning—able to sleep together just cuddling, talk of pack problems and past lovers, intimacy of a massage and entertainment of a fantasy—were manifestations of trust. Who did these things with each other, these past ten hours together, if they didn’t trust?
“Thank you,” I told him for the third time, chest aching with the truth of it, wanting him to know how much I valued what he offered me, how much I understood.
Considering I didn’t clarify the gratitude, my timing could have been better. He buried himself in his first thrust, presumably taking my thanks for sexual gratification. As if I had to beg for someone to look my way around this pack—that thought also bringing a smile to my lips. Oh well. He was perfect, his body fitting with mine on many levels, even after the emotional ones.
Again, we didn’t linger. It seemed a blink before I felt him reaching orgasm as he thrust and mashed me into the wall. Scarcely enough time, enough contact, but just nudging me to follow with a kaleidoscope of sensations. Most powerful in the moment: his semen flowing into me while the water flowed over us, both binding us together.
I clung to him. Even when the high subsided and I eased a foot back to the tub, Andrew still supporting some of my weight, it was a slow comedown. He leaned into me against the wall, face in my neck, while I held on. It was a moment of decompression before the loss of his erection made him slide out and I missed him.
I kissed him, held his face, wanting him again, a second rush. Far more than that wanting him to know what I’d meant, yet not finding any extra words. Andrew returned my kisses, gentle now. No pulling away, only quiet, still close as we washed and got out.
Later, I stood with my arms around his chest as we both faced the mirror. I leaned my head on his shoulder, eyes shut. Andrew was going to shave but he stood still with me for some time, a hand over one of mine. He rubbed my knuckles with his thumb, slow and soothing: holding a security blanket.
We stood until it returned to me that we were ten people sharing one bathroom. Then I kissed between his damp, naked shoulder blades.
“You okay?”
He nodded, asking me in turn, “Feel any better?”
“So much better.” I kissed him again.
We partly dressed and returned to the room where I could finish and dry my hair. They don’t seem to have power outlets in bathrooms in the UK. At least my unwitting hostess had a hairdryer, though.
We were very nearly ready to face the world, myself brushing my hair, pocket mirror propped on the window sill, Andrew sitting on the bed to pull on socks, when we heard another crash. This one small and downstairs. Someone was talking. A clattering, a thump, a yap, then little feet pounding up the stairs.
“Sounds like—” Andrew started as I turned in time to see a beautiful red fox dash into the room and spring upon the bed.
Andrew leapt aside, almost falling off.
The fox, with a sleek, shining coat, lean body, huge ears, and white-tipped tail, had a mouthful of rainbow feathers which he had clearly just torn off the end of a cat toy.
He shoved his face at Andrew, then bounced across the bed for me by the wall. All the time his mighty tail, as long as his whole body, lashed i
n wild, excited wags, his ears pinned back, and little squeaking sounds came from his throat.
“Oh…” I said uncertainly, smiling at him. I longed to pet him but resisted reaching out. It seemed presumptuous. Not to mention possibly being misinterpreted as trying to steal his prize. “Very well done. That’s a fine catch.”
In his excitement, he spun in circles, squeaking all the time with little, yipping, panting noises, then went tearing off, claws scrabbling as he dashed around the doorway and out of sight.
Andrew stared after him, then looked at me. “There you go…”
“Goddess—” I was beaming. Talk about feeling better. “That was the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”
Andrew sighed.
Chapter 5
I was, in fact, feeling so good it was a comedown to get everyone grouped together in the small living room for the meeting we needed before we set out. I wouldn’t say I was used to Gabriel’s depression, but at least it was just how he was. Kage and Jason still being off, though, was troubling. Then there was Zar, who I desperately wanted to spend time with but who had volunteered to spend the night in the caravan without a backward glance yesterday. Possibly worse than any emotional issues in our pack, someone was missing.
Isaac had been the one playing with his friend. Isla was washing up in the kitchen and singing along to the radio. After his exercise, Traigh had gone off to change and dress for work or school or whatever he did—a mix of both. Jed, however, was nowhere to be seen.
“Wouldn’t come in,” Kage said, rubbing his apparently sore neck. Someone else who needed a massage. “Tried to kick the prat out but he offered to bite me—so a normal day for vulture-face.”
“What happened?” I asked.
“Just told you. I said go. He snapped.”
“No, I mean why’s he upset?”
“Hunt Moon, that’s a question. How far back you want to go?”
“Kage, give him a break. Something must have happened if he doesn’t want to come inside.”
Finally, Zar, who leaned against the front window frame, spoke up. “I don’t think anything happened. He just doesn’t want to change. He’s been in skin every day ever since he left Ambleside with Kage.”
Moonlight Magic: A Reverse Harem Shifter Romance (The Witch and the Wolf Pack Book 9) Page 3