Little Red and the Wolf

by Alison Paige

  Maizie didn’t even pause to think about it. She just turned and ran home.

  His body stretched and contoured, pulling muscle and meat, reforming bones. The shift was painful as hell, but it let him know he was alive. Gray lay for several seconds staring up through the green needles of the pine tree. Above was the ink black of the night sky, the moon barely a slit of yellow, the stars few enough to count.

  Old needles, brown and decaying, cushioned beneath him. He breathed deep, taking the cool air into his lungs, washing away her scent. Jeezus, he could still taste her, sweet and salty. The smell of her pussy so maddening his cock had gone from wolf to man without losing the rock-hard erection for a second.

  Maizie. What was it about her that made him lose all control? Hell, he couldn’t remember the last time a woman made him so damn hot the retractable wall between the seats in his limo constituted enough privacy for him to jack off. But never had this kind of crazed need transcended forms so even the beast in him craved her scent, her taste.

  He couldn’t believe what he’d thought about doing tonight, what he’d almost done. As wolf, some things became more complicated, almost impossible to understand, and other things crystallized with the sharpness of black and white. She was female to his male. He smelled her, the sweet musk of her sex. He tasted her. He wanted her. There was nothing else that mattered.

  Two more seconds and he would have had her on her knees, humping over her back, ramming his dick into her juicy pussy. Gray licked his lips, tasted the hint of her there. He wanted more. As a wolf his tongue was so long he could’ve fucked her with it. He almost had.

  He shook his head, tried to banish the thought and only then noticed his hand stroking the hard shaft of his cock. Fuck, he was losing his mind.

  Gray didn’t know how long he’d lain there, thirty minutes, an hour. Who knew? Thoughts of Maizie both relaxed and excited him but it was time to get back to reality. He pushed to his feet and strode toward the edge of the forest, his dick bouncing back and forth, practically pointing the way. This thing with Maizie was scaring the hell out of him and still his cock wanted what it wanted.

  He wasn’t a damn animal. He could control himself, choose when he’d give in to carnal demands and when he wouldn’t. Unfortunately if he didn’t give in soon, he risked doing something really stupid like screwing the first female who offered.

  “Mmmm, need help with that?” His sister-in-law, the precise something stupid he worried about. She lounged naked on the chaise patio chair, eyeing his bouncing dick. One leg stretched straight, she bent the other and let it fall to the side so he could see the wet glimmer of her sex.

  “Get dressed, Lynn.” He may not have known how long he’d lain under the trees thinking of Maizie. But he knew it’d been at least an hour since he’d called his sister-in-law back to the house from her private run.

  What the hell had she been doing out there so late on her own anyway? His human brain told him it wasn’t any of his business, but the alpha in him growled, wanting to know the goings-on of his pack members. He pushed the overbearing urge from his thoughts.

  Gray stomped up the stone steps onto the patio, his gaze glancing over her svelte body, he was a man after all and horny as hell. She looked damn good too, breasts high and firm, small waist and a gentle curve of womanly hips. She was a brunette, despite the sandy blonde hair curling over her shoulders. Her little pussy thatch didn’t lie.

  “Not till you tell me why you’re playing cat and mouse with a human when you’ve got this nice piece of ass waiting for you.” She grabbed his wrist as he passed, yanking his hand to her breast.

  She arched into his palm, her hard nipple poking between his fingers. The strong flowery fragrance of her perfume filled his nose so he could barely smell anything else. His fingers squeezed before he could stop himself, feeling the supple flesh mold to his hand. Her little nipple pinched between his fingers, the feel of it sending a quick jolt through his veins to his cock. Self-disgust rolled over him like cold lead and he pulled away.

  “You’re my wife’s sister. It’s never gonna happen. Accept it. And get dressed.”

  “Your dead wife, you mean. You’re pack, Gray. Not human. Their moral rules don’t apply to us.” She swiveled her hips around, moving her feet to the floor and stood. She stepped up beside him, pressing her naked body into his side so his arm nestled between her soft breasts, pressed down her belly and his fingers brushed the moist hair of her sex.

  “Before Donna turned you she told you what we were, what you’d become. You knew being her mate would make you our alpha. You knew what that meant, what it still means.”

  Gray let his head fall forward, hating how much he liked the feel of her feminine curves against him. It’d been too long. Too damn long. His fingers curled, fondling through her hairs without him realizing he’d made them. She pushed her hips forward, gave him free access.

  “I know what it means,” he said.

  The lips of her pussy were swollen, wet, like she’d just had sex. He knew she hadn’t. Lynn didn’t have a mate, hadn’t since he’d refused to allow her to turn the father of her children. For that reason alone he’d be responsible to see to her needs, being alpha only obligated him more. He pressed a finger between her outer lips, found her clit engorged.

  Lynn’s hand clamped around his forearm, held him to her, she pumped her hips. His finger was drenched in seconds, slipping in and out of her pussy so easy he added another, then another.

  Lynn threw her head back. “Yes. Oh God. Don’t stop. Please, Gray…just…don’t stop.”

  She slid her free arm under his, over his tight stomach to his stiff cock, her wild gyrations making it bounce all the more. Her hand clamped on, stroked the sensitive flesh. It felt good. Too good. Dammit.

  He grabbed her hand on his dick. Held it still. She’d make him come. To hell with pack code, pack obligations, he didn’t want that. He couldn’t let his late wife’s sister get him off. What little he did for Lynn was pity, guilt, not desire. The next time she found a suitable mate, human or otherwise, he wouldn’t stop her. So said his human-half, his wolf-half wasn’t so sure.

  “Fuck yes!” She pressed into him, and Gray pushed his fingers deep into her, held them there, feeling her soft wet walls squeeze and release with her orgasm. He waited for her hold on his arm to relax, then he pulled away.

  “Mmmm. Will you still do that after you’ve tasted your new little bitch?” She gripped her hand around his wet fingers, stroking them like she’d tried to stroke his cock, using her cream to lube the way. His dick twitched, a bead of come pearling at the tip.

  He clenched his jaw. Resolute. “No. Find a mate, Lynn. It’s time.”

  “I did. You wouldn’t let me have him.” She practically threw his hand away, her voice a wicked hiss.

  “He was married. He’s still married. You broke it off with him before the twins were born and he never left her.”

  “Shawn would’ve left her for me. He wouldn’t have had a choice if you had let me turn him.”

  “That’s how you wanted him? By taking away all other options? He was cheating on his wife, Lynn. He would’ve cheated on you.” Gray cupped her face. She tried to pull away but he snagged her around the waist. Their bellies pressed together, his dick finally softening against her.

  “I want you to be happy,” he said. “You and the kids deserve a good man. Someone your mom won’t worry about. As your brother-in-law it’s the most I can hope for. As your alpha it’s the least I can demand.”

  She snorted and pushed from his embrace. “Shelly and Ricky are twenty-nine. They know who their father is and they don’t need him. Mom wants her alpha to be part of a mating pair, like it should be. If it’s not going to be me and you, then I’ll find a man who’ll fight for me, and the pack. Mark my words, Gray, you’ll lose us all.”

  Chapter Four

  The quarry lake was bathwater warm. Maizie slipped deeper, enjoying the silky feel of the water hugging around her thigh
s, wetting the tight red curls between her legs.

  No. Wait. That wasn’t right. The quarry lake was never warm and her thighs looked absolutely fabulous. Ah. Dreaming. Satisfied, Maizie’s subconscious took control.

  Careful not to slip on the stones beneath the blue-green water, Maizie strolled deeper and deeper until she was only dry from her breasts up. The fine hairs at the back of her neck prickled. She stopped, scanned the high quarry wall on one side, the shoreline and forest beyond on the other.

  A cool wind swept across the lake, carrying the scents of the forest, and something else. There was a sweetness to the scent, but not of nature. It was definitely masculine, like men’s cologne only more earthy, more rich, but nothing she’d ever smelled from a bottle.

  Goose bumps blanketed her skin, and Maizie folded her arms over her naked breasts against the chill. Her puckered nipples tingled at the brush of her own skin, but she pushed the sensation from her thoughts. Someone was out there, hiding among the fallen trees and shadows. She could feel it in her bones.

  Maizie squinted, looking for the odd form or out-of-place color. It was nothing. There was no one in sight. She was just being paranoid. She turned back to enjoy her swim, ignoring her worry.

  She opened her arms so when she bent her knees, tiny waves lapped at her pebbled nipples. The air left her breasts wonderfully chilled. The dirty little thrill of skinny-dipping had her entire body humming with forbidden excitement.

  Invisible fingers thrummed down her back again. Dammit, someone was watching. She could feel their focused attention like hands groping her body. Maizie turned her chin to her shoulder, staring back into the forest. Nothing had changed, no sign of anyone, but he was there. She was sure of it this time.

  He’d watched her undress and wade into the water. He was watching her now, confident, cocky, knowing he wasn’t seen. “Probably have your dick in your hand right now, jackin’ off.”

  She gave her back to the kinky voyeur and dove into the water. Currents massaged her naked body as she swam, fluttering over her breasts, warming between her thighs. She came to the surface and swam to the other side where the shoreline was three feet of jagged rocks and then a five-story limestone wall.

  Maizie looked back to the other side where the forest edged the shore and her sundress and panties lay draped over a crooked log. He was still there—somewhere. Even at this distance she could feel him watching. A smile tugged the corner of her mouth.

  Why was she smiling? He could be anyone, a rapist, a psychopath, a tax collector. She should be scared, alarmed, or wondering about receipts. She wasn’t. In her dream Maizie was fearless, and horny. She was so turned on she could feel the hot juices creaming her pussy even under the water. She liked being watched…by him. Who knew?

  Him? Did she know who it was? Yes. She realized she did, but her subconscious wasn’t tellin’.

  Maizie dove back under the water, swimming as far as her lungs would allow. When she came up again she was close enough to touch bottom and walk up the gradual slope to the edge. The water grew shallower with each step and Maizie rocked her hips for a sexier slow reveal. With both hands she smoothed the water from her face, over her forehead and through her hair. If her secret admirer wanted a show? She’d give him one.

  She headed for the crooked log, but got a better idea when she noticed the huge slab of rock ten feet beyond, tilted on a gentle angle. It was wide and flat, a perfect stage.

  Water tickled down her back from her hair, over her ass, streaming between her legs. Maizie bit her lip on a smile, her muscles tight, breasts heavy, cool air breezing over her skin.

  There was no sexy way to climb onto the rock, but she managed with only a minimum amount of humiliating angles. She stretched out, lifting her long wet hair so it fanned out above her head as she lay down.

  A rustle of leaves, the snap of twigs, her voyeur was moving around for a better angle. Good. This time she did smile. Maizie closed her eyes, opened herself to the feel of his gaze, touching herself where his hands couldn’t reach.

  The rock was warm against her back, the sun fighting the chill of a breeze over beads of water on her chest and belly. She rubbed her hands over herself, spreading the water, helping the sun dry her body. Her skin tingled under her touch, her breasts aching for stimulation, nipples hard and erect.

  Her belly tightened with the feel of his gaze on her, her sex muscles pulsed, body going wet and ready. She rubbed her hand over her ribs, brushing up to cup a breast in her palm. Her back arched. She imagined it was his hand, his fingers pinching her tender nipple, twisting, teasing.

  Maizie smoothed her free hand down her belly, pretending they were his fingers slipping through the coarse red curls of her mons, caressing down to part the outer labia, teasing her swollen clit.

  She moaned at the touch, the thought, her sex opening, aching to be filled. Her two fingers slid between her inner lips, pushing into her sex so her palm pressed against her sensitive clit.

  Sensation hummed through her body, her sex muscles clenching, slicking, smoothing the rhythmic strokes. She held her breath, a soft build of pressure welling up from her center.

  She imagined him there, next to her, above her, his fingers moving in and out of her sex, his focused stare watching her respond to his touch. He’d grow hard at the sight of her pleasure, wanting her, but wanting to watch too. Ripples of liquid heat tingled over her skin as though she could feel his breath hovering above her, almost kissing her, but not. She bent her knees, spread her legs, wanting him there inside her.

  Maizie writhed against the hard rock, forgetting her audience, losing herself in the fast swirl of sensation building inside her. She bit her lip, concentrating on the delicious pressure, the release just a few seconds away. She lifted her hips, his fingers, her fingers, pumping her sex, driving her orgasm closer, faster. Almost there.

  Something moved beside the rock. Maizie wanted to look, but didn’t. She couldn’t lose this feeling, this coming bliss. She clenched her teeth. Just another second then she’d look. Her hand kept the rhythm, her sex so wet, her thighs felt the chill of a breeze.

  A swish of movement, the click, click, click of claws along the flat rock, her voyeur had come to her. Gray. He was there, next to her. She opened her eyes, just a slit, caught a flash of silver fur and then it was gone.

  Maizie tipped her head back, so close to release she held her breath. A hand squeezed above her knee. Not a paw, a hand, Gray’s hand—distracting her just enough to knock her orgasm back a level, rebuilding it, making it more intense, more undeniable.

  A second hand pressed against her other leg, both squeezing, massaging, up her thighs. She didn’t stop masturbating. He was watching, just like she’d imagined. Her chest squeezed, need humming beneath her skin.

  Warm lips pressed a kiss to her inner thigh, her hand brushing against the beard stubble on his cheek. A heated tingle rushed through her body from the spot, leaving a heated imprint of his lips in her mind. Gray’s firm tongue traced the flesh where her leg met her sex, her thighs trembled with the feel of it, then he bit her there. Just a nibble but it made her jump and sent a sharp jolt of pleasure ricocheting through her body.

  She gasped, head back, eyes closed. “Yes.”

  She raised her hips from the rock and felt Gray’s silky hair brush her thigh as he leaned down and flicked his tongue over her anus.

  Maizie sucked a breath, the sensation tripling the intensity in her pussy. Then he did it again, this time pushing at the opening.

  “Yes.”

  His tongue pressed again, firm enough to spread the tight muscles but soft and moist enough that it didn’t hurt. Her breath caught in her chest, muscles snapping tight, coiling, sensation building…building, and then just like that her release swelled over her restraint and every nerve ending in her body trembled in its wake.

  Gray stayed there toying with the virginal opening while her fingers pumped her sex, her palm stroking her clit. Her body clenched around her, milking
her for more.

  She was drenched, creamed from thigh to thigh, and she was coming. Really coming. She held her breath. Yes. Gray. Yes.

  “What’s that knocking?” Gray said in that the sexy radio voice from between her thighs.

  “Anyone home? Hello?” The voice wasn’t as sexy anymore and sounded farther away.

  Maizie opened her eyes. Scanned the room. Her room. In Granny’s cottage. She looked down, her spaghetti-strap nightgown was pushed below her breasts, both her hands were in her panties, knees wide, sheets a tangled mess around her feet.

  “Shoot.” She dropped her head back into her pillow. The world’s most mind-blowing orgasm was gone. “Today already sucks and I haven’t even gotten out of bed yet.”

  “Hello? Last chance. Anyone home?”

  Maizie jackknifed in bed. That was a man’s voice. Coming from inside the house. She kicked her feet free of the sheets and scrambled toward her bedroom door, straightening her nightgown, grabbing her robe.

  Pounding down the stairs, she shoved her arms through the sleeves. Who was it? Some squatter who’d found Granny’s cleverly hidden key, a vacuum salesman, a born-again something-or-other? Whatever.

  Whoa, Nelly, did they pick the wrong house to break-and-enter. Well, enter. Hell hath no fury like a sexually frustrated woman. The first time she’d spent the night at the cottage in months and she caught someone taking advantage of Granny’s down-home trust. They had it coming.

  The front door was open. Maizie raced down the last few steps and grabbed the corner wall to help swing herself into the kitchen. She reached across the counter and snagged one of the big cleaver-style knives from the woodblock holder and headed back toward the living room.

  “Hey. What the hell do you think you’re doing?” She rested the cleaver against her shoulder, her weight on one hip.

  Yeah, she wouldn’t kill him. Didn’t have it in her. But he didn’t know that.

  The man—tall, probably six-one, six-two—spun to face her from just past the threshold to the all-season room. He was older, around forty-five with thick black hair graying at the temples. He was kind of stocky, but very debonair with his coal-black suit, powder-blue shirt and matching tie.