Sexy Beast II

by Kate Douglas, Noelle Mack

  The full moon starting its descent to the west cast more than enough light for him to travel with some speed. In no mood to explore the forest, he loped through a bank of maidenhair ferns, heading for the creek that passed close to Deanna’s cabin. All that water would make it easier to track by smell. If Henckel’s mob of swaggerers had passed anywhere near it, he’d find their trail.

  Stronger odors and a soft gurgle announced the stream’s presence long before he saw its banks. Skirting the dense vegetation at the waterside, he paralleled the creek for a distance, scrambling down slick rocks when it descended in a series of cascades on its winding way toward the cabin. He ignored the dancing waters glittering in the moonlight, more interested in the scents carried by the night breeze.

  Nothing man-made was in the air. So far, he cautioned himself, wary of overconfidence. He sniffed again, just to confirm what his senses reported. It wouldn’t do for the locals to see him by accident.

  Closer to the cabin, Graeme checked his surroundings more carefully. In his wolf form and in favorable conditions, he could pick up scents from over a mile away and sounds several miles distant. With his Jeep parked downwind, he didn’t detect any vehicles. Yet.

  Then something else grabbed his attention by the scruff and shook it, demanding his complete and undivided focus. An irresistible scent that shot straight to his wolf brain, bypassing reason, reducing him to three hundred pounds of pure instinct.

  Enticed by the olfactory ambrosia, he sniffed the wind for its source.

  There! It was close. Strong and getting stronger. A low sob floated on the night air, coming from the same direction.

  Heedless of all else, he sprang forward to hunt down the scent.

  It called to him, a summons that couldn’t be denied. A siren song he felt in his bones, singing to him of hunger beyond imagining. Evoking a response that was instinctive, bred into countless generations of werewolves long before Man had built his first city.

  The pressure in Deanna’s chest lessened immediately, now that she was out of the cabin. But she still couldn’t stand still.

  Restless in the heat, she paced the clearing, the soft knit of her shirt irritating her nipples, which were slightly sore from Graeme’s lovemaking. She knew she ought to be worrying about her things and how much longer it would take before she could continue on to Hillsboro, but all she could think about was Graeme.

  She wanted him again. Despite their enthusiastic and energetic lovemaking just hours before, she wanted him again.

  Deanna turned back, trying to derail that line of thought. From picky celibate, she was becoming a sex maniac—albeit a picky sex maniac, Graeme being the only one to trigger this craving in her. None of the other men she’d met today had provoked anything stronger than appreciation for the male form. She’d never experienced anything like the carnal hunger that burned in her, that demanded the driving power of Graeme’s possession.

  Was it just because of that incredible rescue? Surely it couldn’t be more than that. As out of character as today’s actions were, surely they were understandable in light of her close brush with death.

  Shoving her uneasy thoughts out of her mind, she settled on the pallet to court sleep. Though the ground was hard, it was better than indoors. Certainly, it was no harder than the floor when she’d been under Graeme and meeting his thrusts, or the side of the cabin when he’d first taken her on the porch.

  Her nipples beaded at the memory, the stiff peaks rubbing against the thin cotton and aching from the gentle chafing. It was more stimulus than she could bear.

  Throwing off her sleep shirt impatiently, Deanna lay back down on the pallet, unmindful of her nudity in the darkness and determined to finally sleep. A cool puff of air dried the sweat from her breasts, making her nipples tingle. She rubbed them, trying to soothe them so she could rest. But the sensual friction only made need pool hot and heavy in her belly, her sheath’s emptiness another lingering irritation.

  She made a face at her body’s sensual hunger. Despite the lateness of the hour, Graeme was probably still at work; she couldn’t wait for him to come and feed this outrageous craving he’d awakened in her.

  Realizing she wouldn’t get any sleep until she eased the ache, Deanna rolled her palms over her breasts, sighing when they throbbed. Her womb clenched, restive with need.

  Why on earth was this happening now? She’d have thought all that sex with Graeme had sated her body. God, how could she want him again?

  Want him still.

  She finally allowed herself to remember what she’d been tiptoeing around all night.

  The memory of that first time surged to the forefront of her thoughts. He’d lifted her into his arms without any difficulty or obvious exertion, pinning her against the rough wall in a forceful show of strength that was as attractive as it was unsettling. He could so easily overpower her. Hanging in his arms, she’d felt…defenseless and out of control.

  When all her life she’d striven for independence.

  Yet she wanted him. How perverse was that?

  Heat seized her at the thought of just how much she’d craved his touch—and still wanted more. Her sheath gave a traitorous flutter, cream trickling between her thighs.

  Deanna cupped her swelling flesh, the sweet ache of Graeme’s possession fresh in her mind.

  He’d been so big, the blunt head of his cock velvety beneath her fingers and crimson with his desire. When he’d taken her, he’d been relentless, pushing into her clamoring body with an insistence that couldn’t be denied.

  Helpless to resist the call of desire, she thrust her fingers into her pussy, gasping as the sudden friction evoked Graeme’s power. Her hips rose involuntarily, driving her fingers deeper. “Oh, God!” How could she want him so much, crave his touch like this?

  A warm breeze blew over her, a gentle puff reminiscent of Graeme’s breath on her skin just before he took her nipples into his mouth. Groaning, she stroked her breasts with her free hand, her palm tingling at the memory of the feel of his short, wiry hair scraping over it. She plucked at her nipples, rolled the tight buds the way he had just hours ago. To have him do that again…

  Sweet delight spiraled through her, fueled by the contact and her fantasies. Spurred on the sparkles flooding her veins, she forgot where she was, dismissing everything except her recollection of the raw ecstasy of Graeme’s lovemaking.

  Need speared her as she stroked herself, the thorn of a dark rose blooming in her empty core. The slender columns of her fingers barely stretched her sheath, a paltry substitute for Graeme’s thick, hard cock. Pumping the depths of her weeping sex, she writhed on her thin pallet, carnal hunger driving her on.

  It wasn’t enough.

  Deanna sobbed wordlessly, straining for release. The tension in her core wound tighter, glittering pleasure hanging just a heartbeat out of reach.

  She wanted.

  Graeme!

  Drawing her fingers from her quivering sheath, she circled her clit, smearing hot cream over the erect nub. A spike of delight rewarded her, pushing her that miniscule step over the edge. Her orgasm washed over her in a gentle wave of sweetness, euphoric in its blissful power—and still she wanted more.

  Needed more.

  Heat answered her desire.

  An agile tongue laved her slick folds, gliding over tender membranes with lavish strokes. It swirled around her clit in teasing circles, flicked over the turgid flesh and rolled it with breathtaking subtlety.

  Groaning, Deanna raised her hips in encouragement, craving more of that sweet seduction. “Oh, Graeme…” For it couldn’t be anyone else but him; she recognized the sudden fillip he gave her clit, arousing in its unexpectedness. He’d used it to good effect earlier that day.

  He licked her swollen flesh over and over, fanning the flames of her desire to greater heights, drawing more cream from her sex.

  Lightning arced through her core, sparked by his swirling tongue. She sobbed for breath, shocked anew by the strength of her respo
nse to him. It had her arching off the pallet as her heels dug into the hard ground. The tension in her core coiled tighter, threatening to explode.

  Not yet. Not just yet. She wanted to make it last.

  Her legs spasmed, tensing as she fought back her orgasm. She wanted to savor the buildup while she could.

  Hard, rough pads pushed insistently on her inner thighs, pressing them apart. Sharp points prodded the thin skin, biting deeply enough to penetrate the dense fog of carnal delight blanketing Deanna’s senses.

  Something wasn’t right.

  Struggling against the sweetness lapping at her nerves, Deanna opened her eyes.

  A gray wolf watched her with Graeme’s piercing arctic blue stare, trapping her gaze as he licked her dripping sex, the curves of his fangs hard against her swollen flesh.

  She gasped, nerve-jangling shock holding her motionless. Flat on her back and totally naked, her legs splayed open before the wolf, she was painfully aware of her vulnerability to its long, jagged teeth.

  The impasse stretched on, neither of them moving.

  Then hot cream spurted between her thighs, unbidden and irrepressible, as involuntary as the shudder that streaked up her spine. Good God, surely she couldn’t be aroused!

  A low growl rumbled in that deep chest. The wolf pressed forward. Its tongue darted into her, flitting against sensitized membranes, lashing her sheath with delicate swipes.

  The intimate contact sent a shiver of pleasure washing over her, carnal need coiling tight in her belly. Oh, God! Each swipe reverberated through her, a fresh thrill that left goose bumps on her arms and made her nipples tingle with fierce delight.

  How could she be responding to its actions? Surely it was merely the stimulation? She couldn’t be so far gone as to find the danger exciting.

  And yet she was aroused.

  She couldn’t deny the raw pleasure sweeping through her body like a wildfire blazing out of control. Couldn’t ignore the rough tongue dancing over her tender folds. Couldn’t escape the thrum of treacherous delight growing in her fluttering core.

  How can this be happening?

  Knowing better than to startle a wild animal, Deanna could only surrender herself to the inevitable, caught between exquisite sensation and self-preservation. No wolves in these mountains? What a bizarre way to discover otherwise! But if she survived the experience, she wasn’t sure she’d correct the locals’ misconception. Who would believe her? Even with the toe-curling delight from the wolf’s lavish attention on her pussy, she had difficulty believing it herself.

  A sharp spike of pure rapture forced a harsh gasp from her, but the wolf ignored the sound, intent on licking her. Still, she pressed her fist to her lips to silence the desperate moans that threatened to spill forth. Pleasure wracked her body as fire burned in her core and sizzled, building on her earlier desire. A carnal fever ate away her restraint, edging her closer to abandon.

  What would happen when she lost it?

  Another hot wave of dark delight splashed through her, making Deanna’s legs twitch despite herself.

  The wolf gave a low growl, pressing down on her thighs and holding her wide open to its ravishment. Its tongue lashed out, licking her juices from its narrow muzzle. It stared up her body, gazing at her with a sentient light in its pale blue eyes as it lowered its head back to her pussy and resumed lapping cream from her throbbing flesh.

  A thundering outpour of molten lava scorched her senses.

  Oh please, oh please, oh please. Rapture loomed, her climax inevitable in face of the torrent of forbidden delight. Her teeth dug into the back of her hand as she fought not to scream.

  The wolf flickered, wavered like an image in a laser light show or a hologram switching angles. Heat seared her where its paws pressed on her thighs. Then Graeme lay between her legs, the intent look in his pale blue eyes identical to the wolf’s.

  The creature was gone!

  Deanna couldn’t think. Didn’t know what to think. Didn’t want to question her deliverance. The only thing that mattered was that Graeme was there. She grabbed his shoulders, her fingers barely making an impression on his hard muscles. The solidity beneath her hands assured her, more than anything else, that he was truly there.

  Holding her shocked gaze, he crawled up her body, his turgid cock making his intentions clear. Placing the blunt head at her wet folds, he pressed against her. But instead of taking her, he merely stroked his cock over her slick pussy.

  “What—Why—”

  “No protection,” he grunted, rocking against her, his hips pistoning with a sure steady rhythm, but never penetrating.

  Only the faintest voice of good sense kept her from insisting they take the risk. She was so far gone that she wanted him inside her, filling her exactly the way she craved.

  The scalding contact drove it out of her mind as he rolled over her clit.

  It was too much.

  Fire surged in her core, shot a tongue of flame up her spine. Still poised on the pinnacle of desire the wolf had built up, Deanna shattered. Clawing the blankets, she convulsed from the rawest of ecstasies, unable to prevent a scream of pleasure as she climaxed. A low howl of delight joined hers as Graeme took his release.

  Finally, she floated in pleasure, covered by hot, hard male, the restless tension that had driven her all night banished. Even the memory of the wolf’s ravishment didn’t have the power to alarm her.

  Graeme watched Deanna sleep with a gentle smile on her lips, the sweaty brown curl clinging to her cheek lending a misleading look of innocence to his lover. Despite her recent experiences, she looked more than fine. The livid bruise on her side was almost gone; only the faintest traces of yellow were left. Another benefit of all that sex—for a werewolf.

  Such a valiant woman with hidden depths. To open her eyes and see a wolf nuzzled against her sweet pussy and not go ape-shit, that took exceptional nerve. Just as it had taken nerve to fight her way out of her doomed car, instead of waiting for rescue. And to pull up her roots and relocate to another state, which was what she was doing, to judge from her Massachusetts license plates and fully loaded car.

  He could only hope he wasn’t wrong about her, that her nerve would withstand his disclosure…and that the knowledge wouldn’t scare her away.

  5

  Deanna shivered as cold wind chilled her bare breasts. She opened her eyes, blinking in confusion at the moonlit bushes that filled her gaze. Where was she? The thin pallet and hard ground under her slowly registered. Oh, right. The picnic area behind the cabin.

  She’d dreamt…

  A wolf with Graeme’s arctic blue eyes crouched between her thighs, its muzzle pressed against her pussy. Then it was Graeme lying between her legs, watching her with carnal intent.

  An arm tightened around her waist, hot and hard and infinitely familiar, pulling her against an equally familiar, well-muscled body.

  Graeme’s.

  Oh, God. It hadn’t been a dream.

  Despite the goose bumps rising on her arms, the sudden realization sent a spurt of hot cream trickling down her thigh. His hand wandered down, sliding between her thighs to probe her wet folds.

  She caught his wrist, preventing a deeper penetration. The bones beneath her fingers were large and strong—and altogether human. The crisp hairs on his arm were the furthest thing from the dense fur of a wolf. How could she even entertain the possibility that Graeme was anything but what he seemed?

  Deanna slipped out from under his arm to study his face.

  He returned her gaze, his arctic blue eyes steady and intent—the exact same look the wolf had given her as it licked her pussy. What other explanation could there be for its sudden disappearance?

  “You’re a werewolf?” Said aloud, it sounded crazy. Werewolves were myths; sure, they were popular in fiction and horror movies, but no one really believed they were real.

  “So are you.”

  Deanna stared at him. That sounded even crazier. “What?!”

  “You’
re a werewolf, too.” The expression on Graeme’s face was serious, lacking even the slightest tilt to his bushy brows.

  Her stomach churned as she tried to laugh. “I know Lycan supposedly means wolf, but that doesn’t mean…” She’d left Boston meaning to find out if she had any relatives, maybe discover something of her heritage, but she’d never have imagined anything like this. It was impossible!

  “No, it doesn’t. Lykos means wolf. Lycan comes from lykantropos—werewolf.” He took her hand and brought it to his face. “And you smell like one.”

  He sniffed her, his eyes closing as he seemed to savor her scent like some fine perfume. “My father always said you could tell, but I never believed him until I met you. All my female relations just smell like kin.” His cock stirred against his hip, thickening to semi-erection.

  Deanna snatched her hand free. “I’ve never turned into a wolf in my life.”

  He merely blinked at her, his blue eyes glinting silver. “That’s because a female’s first Change is triggered by prolonged—and intimate—exposure to male pheromones.” The way he said “change” made it sound significant, like it was written with a capital C.

  She inched away from him, stopping only when her bare bum touched rough grass. “You mean—” All that sex she’d had with Graeme could make her a werewolf?

  “Um-hmm. That’s why I’m sure you’re a werewolf. I’ve felt the start of it, the fever in you.” Unconcerned by his nudity and obvious arousal, he flexed his shoulders.

  Deanna stared at him across the meager pallet between them. She licked her lips, struck by the distracting picture he presented, with moonlight gleaming on his slabs of muscle. It was unfair how he could derail her train of thought with a simple motion like that. Taking a deep breath didn’t help much in dragging her mind back to business, not when the air smelled of sex and male, but she managed to force her mind back to the gist of his outrageous statement. “It’s biological? Don’t you have to bite me to make me a werewolf?”