by Anne Marsh
I turn my head and get a face-full of tangled brown hair. I don’t sleep with anyone. Sleeping means letting my guard down, and I already know nothing good comes of that. Apparently, however, I made an exception last night because here I am.
Rain mutters something into my bicep. It makes no sense, so I ignore it.
Instead, I shove a small gray velvet pillow off my head, ease up, and survey. Rain’s bedroom is full of clothes—so many clothes that you have to wonder what’s actually inside her closet. For a woman who wears scrubs to work, she owns a whole lot of stuff to wear. Of course, she owns even more pillows. Little pillows, big pillows. Pillows with sequins, with tassels, and yes, with more pom-poms. There’s one enormous furry rectangle that looks like a Mongolian lamb crossbred with an elephant. When I piss Rain off, I need to bring her pillows rather than roses because the woman clearly has an addiction. There’s also a crap-ton of birds singing a wake up song but Rain sleeps on, oblivious. I think she wasn’t kidding about the baby business wearing her out.
My phone buzzes. I fish it off the floor and scan the screen. The club has been monitoring a rogue pack of wolves building some jolly-ho-ho utopia called Rose Bayou deep in the bayou. Lots of Spanish moss, attitude, and picturesque but gone-to-shit cabins. The wolves there have the mad carpentry skills to fix the architecture, but their naming skills suck. Their inability to play by any rules also manages to make me look like a choirboy. Jace is apparently planning on riding out there today and explaining which supernatural rules are non-negotiable since they risk exposing the weres to the humans. I’m big, I’m mean, and I rock with my fists, so Jace has requested the pleasure of my company for his crack-of-dawn fieldtrip.
I carefully disentangle Rain from my arm. Her tit’s popping out of her tank top. I lift the covers and peek underneath—sure enough, she must have woken up enough to find her clothes. Should have fucked her harder. I stroke a finger over the creamy top of her boob. I’ve left pink marks on her skin. I should kick my own ass, but I also love that I’ve marked her. Take that, Dickface Ex. I snap a picture to whack off to later. I won’t share it, but I like the idea of having some piece of her with me.
I’m still standing there, trying to figure that out, when Rain opens her eyes. She gives me a sleepy smile that fades when she spots my jeans in my hands.
“Club business,” I tell her. I’m not sure she’s actually gonna ask, but I don’t want her thinking I’m trying to pull a fuck and chuck. I also don’t like that I’m worrying about shit like that because it means…
Fuck if I know what it means except that I totally want to do her again. As she can see because my dick’s hard, and since she’s eye level with it and I’m still pants-less, I couldn’t hide it even if I wanted to.
Rain makes a face. “Motorcycle clubs have worse timing than babies.”
She rises up on her knees and shuffles toward me. The sheet tangles around her ankles and her tank top rides up, exposing the cutest curve of a tummy. She’s skipped the shorts and is just wearing a pair of string bikini panties covered with little polka dots. Rain has ridiculously feminine downtime clothes. She says that since she has to be practical and in-charge at work, she deserves to have fun with the stuff her clients can’t see. I just think she deserves whatever she wants.
It’s definitely time to go.
I shove my legs into my jeans, yank them up, and button. And then I give into temptation and a hook a finger in the little string holding the side of her panties together. When I tug, she tumbles into me, her arms sliding up around my neck.
“I don’t want you to go.” She sounds a little surprised. “Do you really have to?”
I’m sure the whole work thing sounds like an excuse. It’s certainly one I’ve used before, so I offer her my phone. I’m not supposed to share club business, but there’s nothing too specific in Jace’s text message and I don’t want her to think I’m lying. “Check me.”
She takes the phone from me and slides it into my back pocket. Her fingers pat my ass lightly. “Tell me you’re telling me the truth and I’ll believe you.”
“Just like that?” I mean, let’s be honest. My track record with this woman involves lies of omission at best and outright felonies at worst. I’m no angel and we both know it.
She tilts her head back so she can look into my eyes. “Promise me you’ll never lie to me again.”
“I’ll never lie to you again.”
I wait a beat. Lightning might strike or maybe God’s gonna stroke out laughing. Nothing.
“Have a good day at work, honey.”
“You don’t want proof?”
People tend to disbelieve the words that come out of my mouth and I don’t blame them. I like to play, a good laugh’s always welcome, and then there’s my lack of a filter. If I think it, I say it—especially if it’s gonna stir shit up.
“I trust you.” Her eyes shine as she smiles at me. Fuck. I’ve done nothing to earn her trust—just the opposite—so I’m not sure what to do next. “But no more lies, okay? Including lies of omission. No keeping secrets.”
Right. As if I’m gonna bust out the furry truth and tell her about being a shapeshifter. Not a chance. And even though I know that’s a choice I’m making, I also think it’s justified.
“Go back to bed,” I say gruffly. She’s already told me that she doesn’t have to be at work until later this morning unless there’s a baby emergency. She’s not kidding when she compares babies to club business.
“Are you coming back?”
I lean in and rest my forehead against hers. This way I don’t have to see all those emotions in her eyes. I’m not sure that this—us—is as fake as she claimed it was. And while I pushed for something more real, this might be a little too real.
“You want me to?”
She nods. I feel the movement rather than see it.
“Then I’ll be here tonight.”
“Okay.” She breathes the word and then we’re kissing.
She kisses even better than she fucks, and that’s saying something. Or maybe it’s just that it’s Rain. Whatever. But her kisses are totally amazing and it totally sucks to break it off, but Jace is waiting and I’ve pushed him as far as I can.
“Sleep,” I growl, tucking her back into bed.
Her eyes are already drifting shut before I step back. I kinda hate myself because I want to wake her up and make her feel me right, but I don’t. I fucking tiptoe out and down the stairs. She needs to sleep; I need to go. Usually, this works well for me.
When I go out, her ex is in his BMW, watching. I’m a little jealous that she chose that idiot, even if she’s since kicked him to the curb. Maybe it’s the expensive suit that he’s wearing? I sniff the air and catch a whiff of cologne. Beneath that is the staler scent of sweat and alcohol. He smells like he’s been on a bender, possibly for days. Maybe years. Still, since he’s all suited up, he must be on his way into the office. He should have kept on going.
I make it to my wheels and into the driver’s seat before he pops up. He makes more noise than a herd of moose but I pretend as if I can’t hear him coming. Come into my parlor said the spider to the fly.
He doesn’t bother beating around the bush. “Are you with Rain?”
I’m honestly not sure how he thinks the answer could be anything but yes. It’s five in the morning and my ride’s been parked outside her house for the better part of the night. Does he think I’m the twenty-four-hour plumber?
I fold my arms over my chest so that I’m not tempted to punch him. Rain and I should probably discuss what her hard limits are on violence. “Fuck, yeah. I’m her boyfriend.”
He screws up his face. I think he’s supposed to look intimidating but he’s fucking with the wrong wolf. “Impossible.”
“Obviously that’s not true.” I nod toward the house. “Think about it. I’m sure a smart guy like you can figure out what we spent the night doing.”
His face turns an unattractive puce. Keelie Sue may have a po
int about the value of using my words rather than my fists. Dickhead may stroke out without my ever touching him.
“I’m her boyfriend,” he whisper-yells.
I give him my most evil smile—the one that says I’m remembering Rain naked and wet beneath me, hollering my name as I drive her to the top of Mount O. Dick’s face gets darker and he sputters something, so I do my best to add some fuel to his fire. After all, it’s what Rain’s asked me to do and I do want to be the very best boyfriend I can be. Fake boyfriend. Whatever. Plus, I really do have to get going.
“I’m the man of the house, her fuck toy, and a very pretty face.” I uncross my arms and gesture toward said face. “She’s extremely much taken, if you get me.”
Dick flaps his arms, making his suit jacket bunch up. Wait for it. Three, two, one… he takes a swing at me through the open window. Halle-fucking-lujah. His punch is weak and he telegraphs his moves. I weave to the side and he gets nothing but air.
I punch him back. Don’t even have to get out of my truck to make it happen.
Dave goes flying. Kind of reminds me of those backward loop spin thingies male skaters do. Anyhow, Dick wins first and the gold medal. He pinwheels and achieves a significant amount of air before sideswiping a rose bush and planting hard on Rain’s driveway. Which is not only gravel but has a drainage problem. It rained during the night and there are puddles. Dick’s gonna have to change before heading into work unless he wants to field a whole lot of questions.
And while I’d like to stick around and pummel the shit out of him, I’m in a hurry. I’ve got more important stuff to do, but Christ I wish I had time to work him over and make him pay for everything he’s done to Rain.
“You’re an idiot,” I tell him. “You made the world’s biggest fucking mistake and you’re not gonna get a do-over on it. Doesn’t matter how much you think you like Rain or how awesome it would be to get back together with her. You’re over, you feel me?”
He whines something. I make out the words lawyer and assault. As if I care. Doesn’t say much, either, that he’s more worried about his pretty face than Rain.
“I’m on a tight timeline here,” I tell him. “So you can tell me now that you get it and you’re never, ever gonna come near my girl again—or I’ll get out of this truck and pummel the shit out of you. I’ll make it fast, but I promise you this—you’re gonna be in a world of hurt.”
I’m kinda sorry when he picks himself up and hightails it to his ride. Hitting him once wasn’t enough.
I should’ve done more.
I should’ve done more.
Rain deserves better than either of us, and that’s the truth right there.
Rain and I spend the next two weeks on rinse and repeat. I show up, look pretty, piss her ex off (although I’m pretty certain he gets the message because he hasn’t come around after our little come-to-Jesus moment in Rain’s driveway), and kiss the girl. We have hot, dirty sex. She falls asleep and I watch over her or ride off if I’ve got club business to take care of. Thursday night we’re in bed, which is my new favorite place. I’ve had sex a million different ways but this bedroom business is new for me. It’s comfortable and not just because Rain owns a really awesome mattress and we make it bounce and shake. I’d never admit it but it’s kinda like our place, where it’s just the two of us even if the world fucking insists on knocking on the door.
Take now for instance.
We’ve just finished round three and I’m trying to convince Rain that a fourth round would be even better. Since I’m straddling her, my knees pinning her hips to the bed, I’ve got the upper hand so to speak.
“Practice makes perfect, sweetheart.” I nuzzle the spot behind her left ear that makes her wriggle. She’s super sensitive there, so I take full advantage, kissing and teasing her with my mouth.
“I don’t think you need any more practice,” she groans. Now she’s wriggling away from me, which isn’t so great.
I ease back so I can see her face. I need to understand what she’s really trying to say. “So no more sex?”
I don’t like that. Is she trying to put some distance between us? Is she done torturing Dick? I have three things to offer—my pretty face, my fists, and my own dick. If she doesn’t want or need these things, I’ll have to go.
Unfortunately, she picks this moment to clam up. Usually, I can count on Rain to fill any and every silence with words. It’s not that she babbles or chatters, but she has a lot to say and I like to listen to her.
“Rain?” I stroke my fingers over her cheek as I swing off her.
She makes a face, her cheeks pinkening. Okay. So she’s embarrassed and not mad? I can work with that.
“I’m sore.” She sort of stares at the ceiling as she spits it out.
I take a moment to process. It’s true we’ve had a lot of sex. I mean a lot. Rain’s a beautiful woman and my dick absolutely appreciates her—at least three times a day. And while I haven’t convinced her to try anal yet, she’s been up for just about every other position. Plus, I’m not only way more man than Dick, I’m also a whole lot larger. So maybe I do get why she’d be feeling sore. I’m just not sure what to do about it other than go away.
Or oral.
I could go down on her for hours. All she’d have to do is lie there and come. That has to work for both of us. I stroke my fingers over her pussy, getting ready to dive in and love her.
She giggles and jerks away. That’s another thing I’ve learned about Rain. She’s super ticklish in the strangest of spots.
When I swing between her legs, however, she bolts upright, or tries to. Since I’m pretty much in the way of her escape, all she succeeds in doing is flopping down on the bed. “Oh my God. What are you doing?”
I’m pretty sure she knows. I’m a big fan of oral sex and I’ve loved every inch of her these last few weeks.
“Checking things out,” I tell her.
She squeaks and slaps a hand over her pussy. Kind of like shutting the gate after the horse has long since bolted, but whatever.
“Absolutely not.” She sounds prim as fuck for a woman who spends the better part of the day staring at girl bits. Eh. I’m not worried about her mouth, even though I’ve kissed the hell out of her there too.
I press a kiss against the back of her hand. “Little pig, little pig, let me in.”
“Oh my god. Are you the big, bad wolf in this scenario?” She collapses in a fit of giggles. I can’t help but notice that her fingers are still firmly laced over her pussy.
“You bet.” I nip lightly at the closest fingertip. “Don’t make me huff and puff because I wanna see.”
She tries to wriggle away, but I’m still way bigger. I gently pin her hips in place with one hand. My wolf kinda wants to wrestle, but I’m not sure how she’d feel about the game so I resist.
“Did I wear you out? I’m sorry.” I ease my tongue between her fingers and lick sensitive skin.
“What are you doing?” Her voice comes out as a squeak.
“Apologizing.” I look up and wink. “And now I’m gonna kiss it better.”
“No, Fang.” She’s laughing, but she’s also shaking her head. I stop while I try to figure out this new mood. “My butt’s sore too and you are definitely not kissing that better.”
“Be happy to.” I grin at her. “But now you have to tell me why your ass is sore.”
She mock-glares at me. “I tense up when I come.”
Ah-ha. Got it. I’ve killed her with sex. I’m never gonna hear the end of this from my pack.
I give her pussy one more, quick lick and then I roll off her and grab my phone.
“What are you doing?” Rain peers over at me suspiciously. It makes me smile, the way she trusts me with all the big things but then obsesses over the small ones. I think about how my not-a-relationship with Keelie Sue went down. How I tried to make her be mine and how it all went wrong because I was an ass. Thank fuck. If I hadn’t screwed that up, I’d be pack alpha and I wouldn’t be here wi
th Rain.
I really want her to trust me all the way, so I hold up my phone so she can see my search. “I’m looking up what I do for a sore pussy.”
Her face flames. “You can’t do that.”
“I promise to wipe my browser history.” Not least because it’s none of my brothers’ business what I do with Rain. Google promises me that Epsom salts and a warm bath are a good start on our pussy problem. I bring up Target.com and add fifty pounds of salt to my cart.
“Give me that.” She grabs for my phone and we play-wrestle. It’s fucking awesome and I’m even willing to let her think she’s winning. We roll around, demolishing her bed.
Rain’s straddling my back, her arms reaching over my head for the phone I’m holding away from her, when her pager goes off. I asked her once why she was still using a pager when the modern world had moved on to smartphones and she told me it was because of privacy concerns. Hospitals suffer data breaches all the time, plus no patient wants her biz exposed to the internet. It made sense, so I stopped giving her shit. Right now, though, I kind of want to toss that vibrating motherfucker into the can.
Rain groans, rolls off me, and snatches the pager up. Some women keep vibrators and lube in their bedside, but Rain has The Pager. It goes wherever she goes, so I always have to share her that little bit.
“Baby?” I’m happy for it, even though I sound grumpy. I know how much she loves ushering a new person into the world. She’s the world’s best welcome wagon.
“Yeah.” She nods, lips pursed as she reads whatever’s on the pager. After she explained HIPAA and a dozen other acronyms to me, I’ve made it a point to never, ever look at The Pager. Some things have to stay private.