by Lauren Esker
"I'm speechless," she managed, blinking back tears. "No one's ever given me a house before."
"It's only a rental. But if we like it, Aunt Esme said she might be willing to sell it to us. No bank financing necessary. First, though—Oof!"
Julie had flung her arms around his neck, and planted a kiss solidly on his mouth. It went on long after she'd meant to stop. She only surfaced for air when Ava cleared her throat.
"Not that I'm not enjoying spectating on this," Ava said. "Although I'm really not. But don't you want to see your new house?"
It was slowly beginning to sink in that this was real. They had a house. No more snatching private moments in their rooms or secluded corners of the farm. A house. Of their own.
Upon stepping across the threshold, Julie's tear-blurred gaze was met by the last thing she expected to see: a tangle of wire and old saw blades in the middle of the otherwise bare living room. It was standing upright and nearly as tall as she was.
"This is your housewarming present," Ava said proudly from behind her. "I call it The Lovers."
When Julie squinted at it, she could make out what might be two figures in the chaos, with saw-blade torsos and wire arms. "It's lovely," she said, with tact cultivated from lifelong exposure to Ava's artistic talents. "It's perfect. Thank you."
Vanessa appeared from the back of the house. She was wearing brand-new, hip-hugging jeans and a stark white blouse with a few smudges on it—her idea of casual clothes. Her hands were engulfed in gloves that went almost all the way up to the elbow. "There was a whole forest in the gutters, Ava, but they're finally—oh! Hi! You're here! What do you think?"
"I'm overwhelmed," Julie said honestly.
She wandered through the rest of the house. It was, for the most part, bare and clean—recently cleaned, in fact, judging by the pervasive smell of Windex and the vacuum marks on the rug. As she explored, small signs of habitation began to turn up: some bottles of cleaning supplies and rolls of paper towels in the kitchen, one of Aunt Charlotte's paintings on the wall, toilet paper and towels in the bathroom (the latter looking suspiciously like they might have been stolen from the Capshaw guest bathroom).
The biggest surprise of all was in the bedroom. Here, Julie discovered a queen-sized bed with her old quilt from her childhood bedroom on it. A suitcase sat beside it. This was familiar, too: it was the big red one she'd had since high school.
"Damon—"
"Me," Ava reported. "I packed for you after you left with Mom this morning. I even brought that book you were reading."
"Mom." Julie clapped a hand to her mouth. "She's going to think I ran off after all! I have to call her—"
"Don't be ridiculous," Ava scoffed. "Terry and I told Mom and Dad. We've all been trying to make sure it was a surprise for you."
"I think everyone in this family needs to have a stern lecture about keeping secrets." But she couldn't stay mad. Her smile broke out without her conscious control. "Guys, this is great. Just ... warn me next time, okay?"
"That would have spoiled the surprise," Vanessa said. She frowned in worry. "You're not really angry, are you?"
"Just surprised. I thought I was going home tonight. Now ..." Julie looked around. The bedroom was small, but cozy, with light yellow walls. The curtainless window was open, and a warm breeze blew in. Ava had even brought one of the old horse posters from their bedroom and hung it on the wall, where it looked somewhat lonely.
"... I am home," she finished, blinking rapidly.
Ava smiled at Vanessa and jerked her head toward the door. Vanessa nodded.
"So we'll call you guys tomorrow and see how you're settling in," Vanessa said.
"Thank you!" Julie called after them.
The door clicked shut behind them, leaving Julie and Damon in their new home.
"We have a house," Julie marveled. "You got me a house."
She had to explore every inch of it. There were a few items in the refrigerator already: a quart of milk and some fresh lettuce and eggs from the Capshaw farm. One of the cabinets contained paper plates and forks. Between them, Ava and Vanessa were nothing if not thorough.
"We're going to need to buy everything," Julie said. She leaned on the countertop and looked out the kitchen window into the backyard—their backyard. "Dishes and furniture and bookshelves and ... and everything else a house needs, I don't even know what. I lived in a dorm at college."
"I know the house isn't big enough to run a bed and breakfast here," Damon said. His arms closed around her from behind. "But I was thinking the lot is pretty big, so we could build something eventually. Or buy a bigger place. Or go somewhere else, I don't know. Whatever you want to do."
"And you," she pointed out, leaning back against his firm chest. "I'm not the only one who gets to make decisions about our future. Have you thought about what else you might want to do?"
"I don't know. Gray thinks Dad is never going to be a hundred percent again, which means someone has to run the farm if Mom and Dad decide to move away." The tone of his voice was tired.
"Damon, you have a huge family. In all those people, someone must want the farm. If not, you can sell it. Everything doesn't have to come down on your shoulders."
"I'm the alpha."
"Which means you need to learn to delegate, not do it all yourself. What makes you happy? What can you imagine yourself doing forever?"
"Making love to you," he said in a voice that dropped to a vibrating growl, shivering through his chest and into her body.
"I strongly approve of this as a short-term goal, but—mmph."
He'd turned her around so that he could capture her mouth with his. Julie closed her eyes, giving up her protests, and sank willingly into his kiss.
When he broke for air, she said, "We're not done with that topic. Just for the record."
"I know." He slid his arm under her knees, and Julie gasped as she was suddenly swept up in a bridal carry. "But right now, I think we have a shiny new bed that needs breaking in."
"Where did you even get a bed?" she asked, twining her arms around his neck.
"The frame is from my parents' place. It's a good, solid old frame that's been sitting around in one of the sheds forever. The mattress is new. The quilt ... I guess you recognized that."
As he spoke, he carried her from the kitchen, through the living room, and into the bedroom. She had to curl up her legs to pass through the doorways.
"Now," Damon said playfully, swinging her around. "We could start on the floor here—"
"You realize there are no curtains on the windows, right?" She clung to his neck, terrified of falling even as she realized that there was no way he'd let her drop. "People can see us!"
"You mean see us do this?"
He dipped in for a series of kisses, mouth open, sucking on her lips and pulling away each time before she could get a good purchase on his mouth with lips, teeth, or tongue. It was teasing and tantalizing and left her breathless with anticipation.
"Where did you learn to kiss like that?" she gasped.
"I'm a fast study."
He nipped at her lips, cheeks, chin, throat. All the while he held her off the floor, turning in slow circles. When she closed her eyes, it seemed she'd come unmoored from the Earth itself. She felt like she was flying.
She threw her head back and let him trace stripes down her neck with his tongue. She was dizzy. In his arms, she soared.
They hadn't even done anything yet, but she was already hot between the thighs, aching with want.
"Let's see," Damon said thoughtfully. Julie opened her eyes and watched the ceiling turn slow circles above her. It was like a dance, a gentle waltz around the bedroom. "Do you want to try it standing up? Maybe in the shower—"
"Damon, if you don't put me down somewhere and make love to me, I'm going to have to take care of things myself." To back up her threat, she unwrapped an arm from around his neck and put it between her jeans-clad thighs. Her hand pressed against her mound, not moving for the mom
ent. She felt moist even through the denim.
Damon grinned. "If that's your usual technique, then no wonder you were so blown away by sex in a hayloft."
"I assumed it was your manly presence that made the difference, but if that's how you want to remember it ..."
She began to stroke herself, fingers rippling over the little hump of her clit. She'd masturbated through panties before, but not through her pants.
"Excited yet?" she asked, her breath catching.
"Your face when you do that," he breathed. "It's intoxicating."
"We really are going to give the neighbors a show if you don't put me down."
He twirled her once more, making the blood rush to her head, then laid her out gently on the bed. Julie settled back to Earth with a little gasp. Her hand was still between her thighs. She spread her legs invitingly, but Damon caught her hand when she started to undo the button of her jeans.
"My turn," he said, his voice low and husky.
He didn't start with the jeans. It was a warm day and she'd shed her borrowed motorcycle jacket just inside the door, so she was only wearing a Primrose Farms T-shirt and a bra underneath. Her nipples stood up through the T-shirt fabric, and Damon brushed his palm across each of them, rubbing it to stiffness before he finally relented and pulled the T-shirt up.
Julie held her arms up and allowed him to strip it off her. Now she lay stretched out with her jeans-clad legs on either side of him, arms above her head. Damon's hot gaze took it all in, lingering on her bra-clad breasts.
For an instant she saw herself through his eyes, every imperfection and blemish a beauty mark on the lush paragon of female beauty she was to him. His love washed over her through the mate bond, wrapping her like a warm blanket.
Julie smiled and wriggled her hips, beaming love back at him.
Damon bowed down and bit lightly at her chest. He nibbled his way across the bra to swipe at each nipple in turn with his deft tongue.
She was wet and ready. Her hands wanted to dive between her legs, rubbing herself to the relief she craved. Instead she reached down as far as she was able, and cupped her palm over the taut bulge in his jeans. His cock was outlined against the denim, and she felt its heat as she rubbed and worked it. Her other hand dipped down to trace the denim-wrapped outline of his balls.
"Ah, Julie," Damon groaned. He reached under her and worked at the bra clasp for a moment—she arched her back to make it easier for him. The bra came loose, freeing her breasts. She reluctantly took her hands off him and put her arms up so he could pull the bra off. The breeze from the window brushed over her bare nipples.
Damon tossed the bra carelessly into a corner. Straddling her, he pulled his T-shirt over his head, baring the muscular contours of his chest. When he reached for his jeans, Julie sat up halfway and seized his hands in her own.
"Oh, no. If I don't, you don't."
"Mmmm," he agreed, and went down on all fours. He backed down the bed and put his face between her legs.
Julie arched back as he mouthed her through the jeans. He put a strong hand under her buttocks to lift her for a better angle. While he continued to mouth and nibble at her, his thumb rubbed over the moist dip between her legs, then slid up to explore her contours through the jeans. His mouth was hot. Each time he breathed, she felt its warmth.
She fisted her hands in the bedspread. She would not come just from this, she wouldn't ...
Waves of pleasure rolled through her body. Each time she felt herself approaching the edge, then brought herself back down with sheer concentration.
Hot, so hot—oh—good—
"Damon," she got out through clenched teeth.
But she didn't have to ask. Through the mate bond, he read and understood her need. His fingers undid her jeans with quick jerks, slid them down her hips, stripped them off along with her damp panties. She was left gasping, legs apart, wet and open.
Damon slid a hand up her thigh. Every sensation was magnified on her sensitive skin, fed back to her through his senses in a never-ending feedback loop.
When he bent to lick her, she jerked reflexively and, once again, fought herself back from a climax. Holding it down kept her on that white-hot edge, made it last and last and last.
Damon pushed a finger into her. It went without resistance; she was so open and wet that she silently begged for more. And he gave it to her—two fingers, then three.
His tongue swiped over her clit, and his fingers moved in her. By now, he'd sensed her desire to wait, and so, as she began to rise toward climax, his fingers and tongue both stilled. She rode the edge for a moment, then relaxed back down.
He rubbed his fingers along her inner walls, lapped at her clit with light, teasing strokes. She was so close. Each time the need rose in her, he paused just long enough to let her back off from the edge, until she felt the wave cresting and knew she couldn't hold back any longer.
Rapid-fire swipes of his tongue and a thrust of his fingers brought her crashing over the edge in an orgasm that obliterated all conscious thought.
She came down to find Damon shuddering with his own denied pleasure, whispering her name as he nibbled at her breasts. He was riding the edge himself, the echoes of her orgasm bringing him close. He still wore the jeans.
"Let's get these off you," she whispered, sitting up.
She undid the button for him, unzipped them and pushed them down. Damon straightened for a moment to kick off the jeans, his boxers following a moment later. His ankle had healed to fresh pink scars. He was long and naked and gorgeous, his skin light tan and peppered with dark hair, a photo negative of the white-frosted black coat he wore as a wolf.
Julie rolled them both over. Damon relaxed, going with the movement and letting her lead. Now she was on top and he lay on his back. His cock stood erect in a bed of dark curls.
Her first orgasm had reduced her need from impossible urgency to something hot and delicious curling along the back of her mind. She wrapped her fingers around his thick, hard shaft and wrapped her mouth over the end.
She'd never given a boy head before, but the feedback through the mate bond—not to mention Damon's throaty moans—let her know exactly how to flick her tongue, how deep to push his cock into her wet and wanting mouth. His taste was soft and salty and clean.
Julie pulled back and grinned at the slack pleasure on his face.
"Let's see how this works," she said, and settled herself carefully onto him. Inch by inch, his length slid into her until she'd taken him as deeply as she could. With her knees braced on the bed, she could control the exact angle and depth of his penetration.
Damon started to thrust upward with his hips. Julie planted her hand against his abdomen, stopping him.
"My turn," she murmured.
She moved her hips in small rolling thrusts. Up on her knees, she could see out the window, and a small smile curved her lips. She'd never imagined exhibitionism as something she'd be into, but now she thrilled anew at the idea of the neighbors looking through the window, seeing her bouncing breasts and ecstatic grin as she rode her lover.
Damon's breath came in harsh pants. Now it was his turn to struggle to keep himself back from the brink. Julie grinned fiercely and rode him harder, taking him deeper and faster on every stroke. Sweat glistened on her arms and on his chest. Their bodies were slick with it.
Damon was groaning now with each of her thrusts, and the knowledge hit her as she rose toward a shattering climax that she didn't have to be quiet anymore. This was their bedroom, their house. Everyone knew. They weren't in hiding, weren't sneaking around behind their families' backs anymore. Their love was out in the open for everyone to see.
And at that thought, climax found her, broke over her, and tore a staccato cry from her throat. She threw her head back, the flood of Damon's orgasm hitting her through the link and through their linked bodies. Thrust by thrust, they rode out the waves together. Finally, Julie's frantic, rhythmic movements slowed to a stop.
She lifted up
on her knees and let him slide out, then flopped down on the bed.
"Wow," Damon said.
"Mmmm."
"I guess there's no need to ease the new neighbors into it. May as well let them know right off the bat what they're getting themselves into." His voice was slow and sleepy.
"Well, if you wouldn't give me such fantastic sex, it wouldn't be an issue, Mister Part-of-the-Problem-not-the-Solution."
They lay in peaceful communion, the ebbing tide of desire washing away through the link. Finally Julie said, "I guess at some point we should figure out when we want to start thinking about little Persephone."
"Or her brother," Damon said. "Wow, I give you a house, and all of a sudden, kids."
Julie giggled. "I am still taking birth control. And I think probably it's not a good idea to throw our lives into upheaval quite so soon after we started getting things figured out. But, you know, there's still a failure rate. And one thing I remember Mom telling me when I first started taking them is that the pill isn't quite as effective for shifters as it is for humans. Our fast healing comes back to bite us in the butt."
Damon rolled onto his side and propped his chin on his fist. "Would it bother you?" he asked quietly. "If it happened by accident?"
"No," she said immediately. "I know I want kids with you eventually. I'm not going to freak out if one falls into our laps. But ..."
"It'd probably be good to wait a little while," Damon said.
She nodded.
"Something else we ought to think about, too." Damon touched her chin, tilting her head to look into her eyes. There was still, as always, a little thrill of contact, as if she could see directly into his wolf soul. It took her a minute to tune back in on what he was saying.
"... should probably be a wedding at some point. We're married in the eyes of the wolf-shifter world, but not the human world."
"Yeah," Julie said. "Sheep shifters do the wedding thing too. At least, I think it would go over much better with my parents if you make an honest woman out of me."