by Celia Kyle
Weres coming after his hide? No problem. Been there, done that and got the scars to prove it.
Spending the night in a room—hell, the bed, now that he thought about it—with a woman made for loving and fucking, and not doing either? Impossible.
He sure as shit hoped the were hadn’t frightened her too badly and that the gentle smile and curious glances she passed his way were in interest.
Michael checked his watch—and her ass—as he stepped off the elevator. It was already two in the morning, and she had an ass that about made him drool. And he wasn’t even part dog.
It didn’t take long to get to the room, slide the key into the slot and open it for her. Just as she passed by him into the suite, the door down the hall opened, and Raul poked his head out.
“Hey, bro.”
Michael waved at Raul, his brother by bond, not by blood. Damn, when he’d fought Carlos, he hadn’t realized winning meant he got to keep his life and gain the loser’s family. Didn’t matter, though; Raul was a good guy and much more level-headed than his brother had been. After he’d won the fight to the death with Carlos, Raul had followed him and his team through the jungle and had actually helped them recover their target from the lowlifes who were holding her captive. Of course, he hadn’t stuck around to see what Raul had done to the kidnappers to avenge the victim. Some things a guy never wanted to see. Ever.
Michael adopted an exhausted demeanor. He slumped his shoulders, lowered his eyelids to half-mast and relaxed the muscles in his face. Devious, but he wanted to keep Lyla to himself for a little while. In the morning, he’d get the other man’s help with his dog problem.
“Hey, Raul.”
“You look beat, man.”
Raul took a step out of his suite, and Michael eased closer to the sanctuary of his own. “Yeah, exhausted. Hey, I’ll catch you for coffee, yeah?”
“Yeah, get some sleep, bro.”
When Raul disappeared from sight, and he heard the other man’s door click shut, Michael relaxed. He’d explain everything over coffee from room service in the morning. Right now, he just wanted to get to know the woman in his room.
Michael stepped through the doorway and kicked the door closed, anxious to hunt down the mysterious Lyla. Evidence of her presence was found in the sitting area. She’d kicked her shoes off near the couch. Both of them were tiny scraps of strappy things, covered in dirt and scuff marks, and one of them was missing a heel. Werebastard.
Picking them up, he tossed them in a nearby trash can. He’d call the concierge in the morning and have him pick up a new pair for her. They wouldn’t be leaving until they figured out a plan, anyway. They’d have time to wait.
He continued searching for Lyla and found her skirt lying near the bedroom door, and he froze. What the fuck? She was stripping through the suite? Finding her shoes, he’d thought she just meant to get comfortable, but this was a different story.
Michael snatched the silken confection from the floor and ran the nearly air-light material through his fingers. He recalled the way it had floated around her, on her, as she walked, and felt his cock harden.
Down, boy. She’s probably just exhausted and doesn’t realize what she’s doing.
After all, he hadn’t been the one running for his life for God only knew how long.
When his fingers came to the split in the cloth, his heart froze and then restarted, beating a rapid beat in his chest. The unnatural slit in the material was exactly how close she’d come to being at the mercy of the heartless were. At that moment, he decided that there was no way she knew what she was doing, how she was provoking him.
After the night she’s had, she probably just wants to get clean and sleep.
Michael tossed the skirt in the bedroom garbage and added a new outfit to his list of things the concierge would buy.
Another few steps and he found her top, a ball of stretchy material that he couldn’t make heads or tails of. Garbage.
The sound of the shower reached his ears, and he relaxed a little inside. She was just tense, recovering from her scare, and he needed to give her space. Of course, his cock wouldn’t listen. Especially when he found her bra and panties outside the barely open bathroom door. He tossed them in the trash as well, resisting the urge to see if the open door was simply an oversight or an invitation.
Michael shouldn’t, couldn’t, entertain thoughts of doing anything with this woman. He balled his hands into fists and leaned against the wall just outside the bathroom door.
Water pelted the porcelain tub, echoing off the bathroom walls and taunting him. He imagined her nude now, creamy, lightly tanned skin and generous curves. She’d be standing beneath the spray of the shower, enjoying the near-searing heat as the events of the night washed away, carried by the water. At least, he hoped the water could soothe her.
Again his thoughts drifted to his first encounter with weres. He’d needed heavy doses of drugs to keep him calm. The Army hadn’t exactly trained him to deal with things not-quite-human. But Lyla, she seemed to only need a hot shower. Except…
She wouldn’t? Would she?
Michael’s protective instincts kicked in, yet again, and he didn’t hesitate when he entered the bathroom.
The door slid open on silent hinges, and he observed the room in one passing glance. Lyla was in the shower; the lightly frosted glass teased him with glimpses of her naked body. His cock surged, but he held his desire in check until he could confirm his suspicion.
He didn’t see anything amiss in the shower, but he tried not to look too closely, just in case he was wrong. He swung his attention to the counter and found … not what he expected. His shaving kit and toiletries lay exactly where he’d left them that afternoon. Not a single item appeared out of place. Huh.
Lyla’s smooth, seductive voice tore his attention from the counter and back to the shower. “I was wondering what you were waiting for. My panties by the door almost weren’t enough for you, were they? I’ll have to remember the engraved invitations next time.”
Michael swallowed hard and nearly choked on his tongue. He couldn’t see all of her as she stayed tucked behind the shower door, but what he could see … Damn. The light tan she carried seemed to be all over, and the curves looked just as promised. Lush. Seductive. Sexy as fuck.
Chapter Three
Sin in blue jeans. Damn.
Lyla knew what she was doing, just as she knew it was all part of her biology, and she couldn’t help herself. Riiight. She’d just keep telling herself that.
Okay, maybe half of her desire to have Michael fuck her senseless was due to the fact that it was “that time of year,” and the mating urge had kicked in full force. The other half related to the fact that Michael looked like a man who could ride her hard and put her away wet. Twice. Day-um.
Adrenaline still rode her hard, regardless of the fact that Carl’s attack had happened almost an hour ago. The wolf clamored for some sort of release, be it running or fucking the nearest male into a stupor. Lyla chose the latter, since she didn’t think hotel management allowed dogs in the Hilton.
Michael still hadn’t moved an inch. Well, actually, his eyes had moved plenty, and she glanced at the bulge in his jeans—so had his cock. Yes, this would do nicely to assuage her wolf’s hunger. The other half of her, the half she didn’t like to think about or acknowledge, wanted to curl into a ball and sleep. She pushed that part of her to the back of her mind. Lyla had a hard and ready man in front of her. Now, she just needed him to get into her.
Lyla arched her brow and took her time looking him over again. Michael’s pale brown hair shone in the low bathroom lighting while his eyes seemed to glow and burn into her. Yeah, he wanted her. No doubt about it.
“What’s wrong, sugar, am I not your flavor?” She winked to take away the potential for posturing, in case she wasn’t his flavor. That way, he could take her question as a joke … or not.
Her quiet question pulled him from his open-mouthed stupor, and he took a singl
e step forward. What was with this guy? Was she too fat to fuck or something? Hell, Carl had been randy enough. Then again, Carl wanted to mate her, and Lyla’s wolf and “that other thing” inside her revolted against that, obviously. Her knee still ached a little from her fall, but at least the skin had healed already, leaving her without a scar. Ah, the joys of being were.
Lyla leaned out the door, exposing a bit more flesh. A little thigh here, some breast there … here, hunky man …Come to momma.
Michael swallowed hard, and she followed the path of his Adam’s apple with her eyes. Yum. She was definitely licking there. Maybe even a nibble. But no biting or breaking skin, because that would just lead to a whole heap of trouble she didn’t want.
She opened her mouth to urge him on, but snapped it shut when he began tugging his shirt out of his jeans. Finally.
Each pull of the shirt revealed more and more of his skin, until finally, he whipped his polo shirt over his head in the blink of an eye and then started working on his jeans. While his fingers flew as he pulled and tugged on the snap, then the zipper of his pants, Lyla took her time looking over the rest of him.
Michael had a body most men would envy. With wide shoulders, sculpted pecs and chiseled abs, she couldn’t wait to get her hands, and mouth, on him. The simple sight of his lean, tanned body had her pussy growing moist and achy. His dark brown eyes met hers, and the corner of his mouth kicked up into a small smile. He darted his tongue out to lick his bottom lip, and she did the same.
Want and need warred within as she waited for him to finish undressing. He toed off his shoes and kicked them aside before he bent to remove his socks. Lyla eyed his ass in the mirror as he bent over, and her fingertips tingled. Her wolf wanted to sink its claws into his ass, pull him tight against her while they fucked and mark him as hers. She shook her head, pulling control back from the wolf. She didn’t want him forever, just for one night. Then … then she’d figure out how to avoid Jacob’s wrath for defying him. She’d probably go lone wolf, but maybe it would be better that way.
Michael straightened, and she whimpered at the loss of his full, curved ass. Just like some men, Lyla liked having a little meat to grab on to. Though she wasn’t sad at the loss for too long.
Michael smiled, one that reached his eyes and transformed his face to show her that, yeah, he really was interested. The long, thick cock that popped free of his jeans showed her that too. It seemed that her man-for-the-night went commando. Perfect.
His cock, about eight inches long, already had a bit of pre-cum leaking from the tip. He didn’t give her much time to stare, though. As he shucked his jeans, he’d closed the distance between them and shouldered his way into the shower, crowding her until her back collided with the cool tiled walls. His hot, hard cock pressed into her belly while he brought their bodies together from shoulder to ankle.
Mmm … feral.
His skin was hot, hotter than the steaming shower, but smooth. The curly hair on his arms and chest tickled, yet aroused her as he moved closer still. He crowded her, subdued her, almost as if he wanted to crawl inside her skin.
Michael closed the gap between their faces and rubbed his cheek against hers, whispering in her ear, “Is this what you wanted, Lyla?” He nipped her ear lobe, making her knees weak. “You wanted me; now, what are you going to do with me?”
Her pussy clenched and grew drenched with desire as she thought through all of her options. She turned her head and nibbled his neck, scraping her slightly distended canines against his skin. The new growth of hair on his neck and cheek abraded her skin, reminding her that she wasn’t with the smooth-talking, probably gay, Carl.
She brought her hands up and placed them on his shoulders, enjoying the shift of muscle beneath the taut skin. She raked her nails down his arms, and his cock twitched against her stomach. Yes. Her man liked a hint of pain, liked it a little rough. Good.
This time, she bit the juncture of his neck and shoulder, careful not to break the skin, but hard just the same. He jerked in her arms and drew in a hissing breath.
“I’m going to fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before. Got a problem with that?” She laved the tender spot and rejoiced at the bruise forming as she tended him. It wasn’t permanent, but he’d feel her for a few days at least.
Lyla spread tender kisses along his neck and jaw, slowly working her way back to his mouth. He hadn’t answered her, but she didn’t want to give him a chance to say anything but “yes.” Her wolf rode her hard, and for now, she needed to be in control.
She pressed a soft kiss to his lips, licking and sucking his lower lip with care. She’d shown she could be a bitch and bite what was hers. She wanted to show tenderness, too.
Michael was quick to respond and took their kiss to the next level. He invaded her mouth with his tongue, sweeping in and stroking her own tongue with gentle rubs. Soon, the kiss grew deeper, harder, more. She responded in kind, licking and tasting his mouth, absorbing his essence as she learned him.
He freed his arms from her hold and slid his palms up her sides, leaving goose bumps in their wake, until finally … finally his hands came to rest just below her breasts, cupping their weight, but … not. Not touching, not stroking, not gripping or caressing. Just … not.
Mouths locked, she couldn’t tell him what she wanted, craved, needed, desired. She sucked on his tongue, showing what could be if he just would. He moaned against her mouth, rubbing his cock against her lower belly, and suddenly her desire spiked, her wolf wailed. It wanted to be touched and stroked. Cherished.
She turned her head, angling for a deeper kiss as she wrapped her left leg around his, opening her pussy to him.
Michael brushed her nipples with his thumbs, causing her to moan and rock her hips in response. He pinched the hardened nubs between thumb and forefinger, and her clit throbbed and ached. So aroused she couldn’t figure out if it was water or her own cream sliding down her inner thighs. But she didn’t really care, either.
Lyla grasped his head in her hands, fisting his hair; she pulled his mouth from hers with a jerk. “Fuck me, lick me, suck me … do something.”
She rocked against his erection, begging for him. Panting now from need and arousal, Michael simply smiled. “Whatever you want, sugar.”
She growled and nipped his lower lip. Sucking the soft bit of flesh into her mouth, she laved away the sting before releasing him.
“Please,” she whispered against his lips. She’d never begged in her life, but for this, for how good it promised to be, she did.
“You sure this is what you want, Lyla? You’ve been through an ordeal…” Lord, why did He send her a guy with manners and a conscience?
Lyla kissed him, cutting off his “You don’t have to do this” speech. Hell, yeah, she did. Her wolf—and hell, even her other half—were rip-roaring and ready to go. When she broke the kiss, his protests seemed to have died. A new look of desire flared in his eyes, and she did an internal happy dance. Finally.
Michael peppered her neck and chest with kisses as he worked his way down her body. He paused at her breasts, circling the nipple with his tongue; her hips jerked in response, pussy aching to be filled. He suckled and nipped the hard nub, drawing it into his mouth before releasing it with a soft pop barely heard over the shower.
He moved to her other breast, giving it the same treatment. Lick, flick, suck, nip. Over and again he repeated the gentle torture. Her hips humped air, searching and not finding something to ease the growing ache between her legs.
Her pussy throbbed and pulsed in time with his suckling, as if a line of nerves connected her breast and clit. She whimpered when he sucked hard, practically engulfing her entire breast with his mouth, and she felt him chuckle against her flesh. “Michael, please.”
She needed to be stroked and caressed, not teased until she went wolf. The beast clamored for release and not just a climax. It wanted to bite, scratch and claim the man at her breasts, and Lyla struggled to maintain her human form. Sh
e didn’t want to claim anyone, sure as shit not a guy she’d just met.
Michael abandoned her breast and rained kisses down her torso, licking a path south. A passing fear held her immobile for a second. What if he was repulsed by her body? Then she remembered his straining erection and pushed thoughts of inadequacy aside. He’d obviously gotten hard, so he had to be interested. Sometimes, she really hated the insecurities the pack had pounded into her psyche. A lot.
When his warm breath fanned over her soaking pussy, all thoughts of her size, weight and hidden fur left her mind. All thoughts now focused on her clit and just when Michael would get around to finding it.
She didn’t have to wait long.
Warm, blunt fingertips stroked her outer labia, and Lyla widened her stance. She wanted him to have all the space and access to her pussy he could ever need. She closed her eyes and dropped her head against the tile at her back, simply allowing the pure pleasure of another touching her with desire wash through her body.
He was gentle at first, skimming the bare skin with the lightest of touches so that she only felt a hint of his callused fingers. Front and back he stroked, teasing her outer labia. She rocked her hips in time with his strokes, shifting them in counterpoint to his movements. Every time his fingers approached the top of her slit, she tried to lower her hips so he’d stroke her clit.
He chuckled and pulled away. “My pace, Lyla. Just let it happen, sugar.”
She growled low in her throat; the sound reverberated off the glass and tile walls. Before she could think better of it, she had his hair in her hand again, his head tipped back.
“Pick a different name,” she ground out through clenched teeth. “Sugar” came too easy to his lips, and it meant everyone was sugar in his book. Well, not in hers, damn it.
He smiled, damn him, with pearly white teeth and dancing eyes. When she loosened her grip, he kissed her wrist with soft lips. “All right, baby.” He laved the pulsing vein of her wrist. “How’s that?”