Sexy Beast II

by Kate Douglas, Noelle Mack

  Graeme snorted. “It doesn’t work that way. Werewolves are born, not made. Lycanthropy’s not some kind of infectious disease, no matter what popular culture says. Either you have the potential to Change or you don’t. No two ways about it.”

  She sat up and folded her arms around her bent legs, pulling them against her chest. “You’re saying my parents were werewolves.” She couldn’t wrap her mind around the concept. When she’d started on this trip, she’d hoped to learn something of her family history, but this was too bizarre to take in all at once. Werewolves!?

  “At least one of them,” he agreed. “With your last name, probably your father.”

  Reeling from his revelations, Deanna shook her head. “I wouldn’t know. He died when I was really young. I don’t remember him or my mother.” As an orphan, she’d been too old for easy placement, yet too young to recall her early childhood. “That’s why I’m going to Hillsboro, to find out what I can about them.” And why she’d ended up a ward of the state.

  A sudden gust of cold air blew through the dark clearing, rattling branches and whipping her hair across her face, raising goose bumps all over her body. It brought with it the smell of green and rain and other things she hadn’t been aware of before—small animals hiding in the brush. Prey.

  Deanna shivered, feeling lost in a strange world.

  “Why don’t we continue this indoors where it’s warmer?”

  She welcomed his suggestion, snatching up her sleep shirt to cover her body from his hot-eyed stares. Maybe surrounded by reminders of the real world, his statements would be revealed for the fantastic babbling her mind insisted they ought to be. Werewolves didn’t really exist! Not in this day and age.

  Deanna rounded the cabin, knowing she ought to be afraid of being alone with him—someone who might actually turn into a large predator. He walked behind her, close by her side, as though herding her. She looked over her shoulder and saw him scanning the shadowy forest. Or maybe protecting her?

  It was a potent reminder of what he’d done for her. How could she fear him when he’d risked his life to save hers? Werewolf or not, he had a streak of honor that ran soul-deep. But that didn’t mean she could believe him.

  Once inside, Graeme closed the door behind him and leaned against it, looking entirely normal, albeit completely naked and aroused. Nothing about him even hinted at anything unusual.

  He didn’t turn on the lights and she was just as happy to leave them off, not ready to face him under their glare.

  “You can’t ignore the signs.”

  She turned away to pace, her agitation needing an outlet. Lycan means werewolf? Wasn’t that a leap? She’d never felt less wolfish in her life!

  “And Luger? Does it mean werewolf, too?” Deanna challenged, spinning on her heel to face him.

  Still leaning on the door, his arms hanging easily, Graeme nodded. “It’s a corruption of loup-garou.”

  His answer took her aback, the quiet confidence underlying the reply shaking the wall of denial she was trying to build. Wrapping her arms around herself, she clutched at the soft cotton of her shirt. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because you deserve to know.” He inhaled sharply, then let his breath out slowly, as though bracing himself. “Because if we continue having sex, you’ll Change.”

  His words hit her with unexpected force; her lungs actually seized in response. Could she have been considering continuing to have Graeme as a lover? An avowed werewolf?

  An involuntary shudder of desire swept her body. No matter what her mind thought, her libido had its priorities set.

  Pacing in front of the fireplace, Deanna forced herself to give his statement serious consideration. What if he truly was a werewolf? What if she was?

  Was the chemistry between them as simple and powerful as that? And what of it? Couldn’t the same be said of any sexual attraction?

  Don’t go blaming it on biology.

  What if she broke things off and he was right? If she left for Hillsboro without ever exploring this, she’d always wonder. Even if she found family, they might not be able to answer her questions. They’d probably think her crazy for contemplating such an absurd possibility.

  It was madness to entertain it.

  Yet the wolf had had Graeme’s eyes. And Graeme had appeared where the wolf had crouched—between her thighs. There was no way he could’ve moved that huge animal so quickly without her noticing, not when its paws had been set on her thighs just an instant earlier. Not when its fangs had been pressed against her sensitized pussy.

  Her womb clenched at the memory, pure heat flooding her body. Stopping before the bench, she forced herself to focus on ends of the firewood stacked under it, to hold the random pattern in her mind and drive back the need clawing her belly.

  Once she had herself under control, she looked over her shoulder at Graeme, who was now sprawled on the settee, quite unconcerned by his nudity, his heels propped on the coffee table. His big body reduced the sofa into a single-seater, his broad shoulders nearly spanning its length, his bulging forearms resting easily on its armrests. A generous pelt covered his chest, as speckled with gray as the hair on his head. It thinned into a vee that rippled down his belly and thickened around his hardening cock.

  The sight sent a pang of hunger slashing through her, drawing her nipples into aching buds. Desire fought the bonds she’d set on it, her avid libido howling for another chance to have him pounding into her, riding her to rapturous oblivion.

  “You really turn into a wolf?”

  Not saying anything, Graeme pushed himself to his feet, his expression conveying only patience. Then suddenly a rampant gray wolf with an equally rampant cock stood in his place, holding his erect pose for a heartbeat before dropping to all fours.

  The transformation was completely silent and almost anticlimactic. There’d been no crack of thunder, no lightshow, no painful-looking, grotesque contortion from man to animal.

  She stared at Graeme in his new shape. Clearly, he believed actions spoke louder than words. Her heart in her throat, she approached him cautiously. Now that her mind wasn’t fogged with lust, a gibbering voice wondered if she was insane.

  He remained in wolf form, his dark tail wagging slowly, allowing her to look her fill. He was enormous—twice as large as normal wolves, his shoulder coming up to her waist. His head was easily chest height—which was brought home to her when he rubbed his narrow muzzle against her hard-tipped breasts. His blue eyes closed on a wolfish sigh, a warm gust of breath that brushed across her taut belly.

  Swallowing with difficulty, Deanna touched him, her fingers sinking into his rough grizzled pelt. “Oh, my God.” He was real. Not a hallucination brought on by some unsuspected perversion. The knowledge was strangely reassuring; she hadn’t wanted to think she hankered for bestiality.

  This was Graeme, not some savage animal. Which made it safe. Not that sex with a werewolf was safe, but at least she wasn’t seeing things.

  But he also thought she was a werewolf.

  Which now seemed entirely possible.

  She stilled, her mind racing through the logic of it and finding no holes in his reasoning. Why would he lie? By his own logic, if she wanted to avoid the Change, she should stop now. Tell him to leave her alone. That wasn’t an argument of a man who just wanted to get laid; it was guaranteed to send any right-thinking woman fleeing.

  A wet lick up her leg recalled Deanna to her predicament. Graeme had his nose under her sleep shirt and was sniffing her crotch, his agile tongue lapping the cream seeping down her thigh. His wagging tail made his approval of her condition clear in no uncertain terms.

  “Graeme!” Protesting, she sprang away from the temptation he presented.

  He lowered his head, his dark ears flattened in a sheepish gesture; yet, as he retired to the sofa, his tongue snaked out surreptitiously to lick his muzzle.

  She turned her back on him. But still his werewolf scent called to her, promising wild sex and passio
n and freedom. Beguiling her with the unknown and the fantastic. Inviting her to abandon her resistance and give in to his seduction.

  Needing to know her own mind, she struggled against the sense of rightness that urged her to simply accept matters as they stood.

  Was it loss of control when it was her choice?

  Deanna breathed Graeme’s male scent in, filling her lungs with its lure. Continuing to be his lover could answer some of the questions he’d raised as to her heritage, but was it really curiosity about her background that drew her or this unusual attraction? What if it was weakness, wanting only to rely on his strength? In his embrace, she’d felt…safe.

  And why wouldn’t she?

  He’d risked his life to save her. If the tree had given way sooner, while he’d been working to free her, he could have been dragged along when the car slid.

  Time and again, he’d helped her. From offering to drive her around to bringing her to Miss Ginnie to carrying her bags, he’d lent a hand, but never really took over.

  She blushed. Except during sex—and that, she’d invited.

  Yet he’d never once hinted that she couldn’t manage without him. He’d just offered his assistance.

  Deanna gripped her sleep shirt, digging her fingers into the thin fabric. If she were back in Boston, she wouldn’t have any qualms about pursuing a relationship with him. Were her doubts merely born of insecurity? She couldn’t deny she wanted his big body, but she also enjoyed his company even when they weren’t having sex.

  Giving in to her fears would mean giving up all that.

  If she turned away now, she could return to her nice, normal world, and maybe pretend she’d never met a werewolf. Perhaps even convince herself it had all been a hallucination. But if she did, she also might never know the truth about herself or her parents.

  And if she Changed?

  Ignoring the queasiness in her stomach, Deanna gave a mental shrug. She’d face that if and when it happened. Risks were what life was about. Remaining the same—not growing, not learning—was a kind of death, wasn’t it? She seemed to recall something in her college courses about equilibrium and the heat death of the universe. She banished the stray thought from her head; now wasn’t the time for digressions.

  But she had to smile at her rationalization. The bottom line was she still wanted Graeme—wanted all of him—and didn’t want to deny herself. Or maybe she just couldn’t stand to lose such prime male flesh solely because of her own cowardice.

  If she could have him, for however long she’d be in town, then the risk was worth it.

  After all, it wasn’t as if she was abandoning her plan to go to Hillsboro. She still intended to leave, once she had her possessions. This werewolf thing didn’t answer most of her questions about her parents. They weren’t even sure she was a werewolf; they only had his speculations.

  When Deanna turned back to Graeme, he was once again a man lounging on the settee; he must have Changed while she’d been debating her options. Despite that, his cock was just as crimson and ready for action.

  Just the sight of his arousal had cream trickling down her thighs. Yes, this was what she wanted. Regardless of the insatiable craving in her belly, the bone-deep hunger she felt for this intimacy, this was her choice.

  Straddling his lap, she kissed him, a tentative brush of lips over somewhat salty lips that spread wildfire through her body. Salty from her juices. The realization only made her desire burn hotter.

  Under her hands, his shoulders were tense; he was clearly restraining himself, leaving her to make up her mind without any pressure. Waiting for her decision.

  She chose a foil pack from the box beside him and tore it open with deliberate care. Holding her breath, she placed the condom on the broad head of his cock. She slowly unrolled the thin latex over his thick shaft, feeling the resilient flesh jerk beneath her fingertips and giving herself time to absorb the significance of her actions.

  Yes, this was right.

  Deanna pulled her sleep shirt off, suddenly impatient with the soft fabric clinging to her skin. It would just get in the way; neither of them was going to sleep anytime soon.

  He cupped her breasts, his thumbs finding the tight buds of her nipples. “You’re sure about this?”

  “Ummm, very sure.” She closed her eyes briefly, savoring the sweet delight darting from her breasts to her core. The fleeting darkness only heightened her other senses, bringing to the forefront of her attention the scent of sex and virile male, the rough calluses on his palms, and the heat of him between her thighs. Her womb clenched, demanding satisfaction, now that she’d made her decision.

  Rising to her knees, Deanna caught Graeme’s cock and aimed it at her pussy. She eased her weight down, little by little taking him into her body, impaling herself on his hard shaft. The slow progress left her breathless, a singing tension that was centered in her core. It grew louder as she slid lower, until it roared in her ears, drowning out her gasps of excitement. Good God, he was so big!

  He helped her along, raising his hips off the sofa and thrusting up—but gently, without the force she knew his powerful body was capable of. “Damn, you’re so tight.” A few hours of intense lovemaking hadn’t been enough to limber her muscles.

  Gradually, her channel stretched until he was tucked deep inside her, nestled against her very core with only the thin condom between them. For a fleeting moment, she wished there was nothing separating them, nothing to dull the sensation of his hard ridges scraping against the delicate inner membranes of her channel.

  But only for a moment.

  Then Graeme started moving and all thought fled, save the need for MORE!

  Pleasure danced over her nerves in a cascade of sweetness, rippling through her body in wave after blissful wave to finally tingle in her curling toes.

  He rolled his hips, swirling his cock inside her in a marvel of incredible control, stoking the need in her belly to blistering heat.

  Overwhelmed by the product of such gentle movement, Deanna choked on an indrawn breath, her hands locking behind his neck as her body clenched around him. Her back arched involuntarily, pressing her heavy breasts into his palms.

  Then he did it again.

  “Ooooooh!”

  She rose on her knees, moving quicker, riding him harder. Her hunger built up rapidly and he let it, doing nothing to restrain her ascent. In fact, he urged her on, fondling her with possessive hands that fanned the flames of her desire.

  Needing more, Deanna bent forward and took what she wanted. Spearing her fingers through his short hair, she claimed his mouth in a thorough kiss of conquest.

  Her choice.

  Graeme reciprocated equally, matching her thrust for thrust, his cock and tongue delving deep into her. His wild scent strengthened, surrounding her until she couldn’t breathe without filling her lungs with his musk. Couldn’t move without feeling his thickness stretching her pussy.

  The wet slap of flesh on flesh mingled with gasps and grunts, low moans and lower growls. Rising in a crescendo of absolute need. A fever of desire burning her up.

  It couldn’t last.

  Rapture blew through her like a dizzying whirlwind. It erupted in a glorious burst of scarlet, scattering her senses in all directions. The fire in her veins consumed her, leaving her to drift on the currents of bliss.

  Sighing with repletion, Deanna collapsed on Graeme, her strength draining out of her with the last of her orgasm until she was a boneless heap of extremely sated female.

  And through it all, the couch hadn’t creaked. Thank God. She sent a prayer of gratitude heavenward for solidly built furniture as she settled deeper into sensual lassitude.

  But her lover apparently wasn’t done yet.

  Still hard, he pulled his cock out in a smooth move that had her still-fluttering pussy quivering with wistful interest. He gathered her in his arms and laid her with her back on the rug, arranging her limbs around her.

  Too euphoric to do anything more than wonder vag
uely at his intentions, she lay there, waiting for him to enlighten her.

  With a growl of satisfaction, Graeme knelt over her and gave her belly a nip that pierced the haze of sexual contentment enfolding her.

  Just that easily, he rekindled the carnal hunger he’d tamed, prodding it to renewed enthusiasm.

  Surprised by his action, Deanna hissed in a breath, her eyes popping wide.

  Clearly determined to awaken a response from her, he caressed her all over, following up with lavish kisses and licks, interspersed with sudden nips that had her shuddering with need.

  “Graeme!” Despite the memories of their afternoon lovemaking, she still couldn’t believe he was ready to keep going.

  Yet he was.

  He built up the flames in her blood, teasing her with intimate touches that weren’t enough. Chased away by his attentions, the languor blanketing her senses fled her body.

  Deanna writhed as need flailed her. Sweet heavens, she didn’t know how she could want him so much so soon after that dazzling orgasm.

  Spike after sharp spike of delight shot up her spine, stirring her libido to greater desire. She arched her back, raising her breasts to Graeme’s lips, wanting them on her throbbing nipples.

  Moist heat engulfed one mound as he gave her what she wanted. The suction blasted her nerves with pleasure, like splashing gasoline on a raging bonfire. She begged for more with what little breath she had, her throat tight from her exertions, her voice breaking on a surge of excitement. The fever in her core spun out, spearing her loins with wicked hunger.

  Then hard hands rolled her over onto her belly, raised her until she was on all fours.

  Graeme mounted her from behind, worked his thick cock into her welcoming body with short, brutal thrusts that drove the breath from her lungs, little digs that forced her swollen channel to stretch and open for him.

  Braced on her hands and knees, Deanna moaned, needing to voice her desperation. He felt huge from that angle! She could feel every inch of him filling her sheath through the thin condom, that thick head rasping over her tender membranes.