by Renee Rose
“That’s right, baby. Let me make you feel good.”
She reaches down to help, rubbing her clit as I penetrate her with my tongue. “I want your cock, big man. I need it here.” She taps her pussy.
I groan.
Can I do this?
I have to.
She’s my female, and she needs me. Even the wolf understands.
I grab a condom from my dresser.
“Clothes off,” she commands. “I want to see all of you, Jackson King.”
I smile and peel my clothing off with purpose, standing in the light of the nearly full moon through the window. “I’ll let you give the orders, just this once, kitten.” I roll the condom on my length, grinning at her wide-eyed attention. “Because I fucked up earlier. But don’t forget who has the wooden spoon.”
Her face flushes, and the scent of her arousal fills the room, even stronger than before.
I grip the base of my cock and point it in her direction. “Like what you see?”
“No wonder it hurt,” she says, but she’s wearing a grin.
“Clothes off, kitten. That will be a rule. You should never be wearing more clothing than I am.”
I take the musical ring of her laugh as another win.
I’m going to take care of you, baby.
She shimmies out of her clothing and lies back. I see why I was fooled. There’s nothing innocent about her peach-tipped breasts, the curve of her hips, her neatly trimmed mons, and long, shapely legs. Even with a blush on her cheeks, she gives me come hither eyes. I don’t know how she made it this long without having sex, but my wolf is doing double backflips in celebration of being the first.
I want to groan. I want to sing. Worship at the altar of her body for the rest of my life.
I will keep it together this time. I owe her.
~.~
Kylie
Jackson kneels between my legs. His body is even more incredible than I imagined—cut from solid muscle. His chest is covered in dark curls, and his cock… sizable.
He nudges my entrance with the sheathed tip of his cock and I arch, pleasure spiraling out, inner thighs trembling with anticipation. He’s breathing harder than normal, but he goes slow, easing into me, even though he already plowed the path open.
There’s no pain this time, only satisfaction. He fills me, holds still for me to adjust. I lift my hips impatiently. Not fragile, buddy. I need this. I deserve it.
Jackson groans and climbs over me, leaning his weight on his fist beside my head.
He’s huge, looming over me.
Before I can control my reaction, I stiffen and lurch away from him, needing to see the exit.
Still buried inside me, he rolls our bodies so I end up on top. I suck in a breath, my muscles relaxing.
He shows me his open palms as if to prove he doesn’t have a weapon, then he shoves them under his butt. “You’re in control, kitten.”
I nibble my lip because he’s made it plain he likes to be the one in charge. And I love his dominance. I just can’t stand being crowded. Still, riding him feels good, and my hips start moving of their own accord, rocking over his huge, hard manhood. I tip my pelvis forward to grind my clit down over him, rubbing harder and faster.
His lips peel back from his teeth, and he squeezes his eyes shut, breath dragging in and out audibly.
A surge of power rockets through me, knowing I’m affecting him so much. It spurs me on. I slide up and down faster, my tits bouncing over his chest. I dig my nails into his shoulders, taking him deeper.
“Fuck, kitten. Fuck,” he roars. His face contorts. His hands fly free of his self-imposed position and grasp my hips. I’m grateful for him to take over because my muscles are shaking, straining for release.
He yanks me over his cock, up and down, and then he shouts, his hips lifting off the bed, carrying me with him, even as he holds me to angle deeper than I thought possible.
I cry out, too, muscles contracting around his enormous cock, milking it for all it’s worth in a pumping motion beyond my control.
Out of breath, trembling, I fall down over him, molding my body to his, nuzzling his neck.
He wraps his strong arms around me and holds me tight. This time, there’s no fear. Only platinum satisfaction.
“Kiss me, baby.”
I turn my head, and he captures my mouth, kissing me aggressively, letting me feel teeth and tongue, owning me.
Yes. That’s what I like. Jackson in control.
It brings back that sense of home. Belonging.
His cock swells inside me. Lordy. Is he really ready for round two already?
He groans. “You’d better get off me, kitten, or I’ll be throwing you on your back and fucking you into oblivion. And you’re probably already sore.”
I am. I ease off him, checking out his cock to see it’s still just as big. “Jackson?”
He reaches down to grip it and surges up, meeting my eyes. “The condom came off!”
I flush, like I’ve done something wrong. I’m not stupid. I’ve read Cosmo. I know it happens. I also know I’m now at risk of pregnancy.
Jackson takes charge, pressing my hips to the bed and delving his fingers inside. Holy embarrassing moment, batman. He retrieves the condom. “Shit. I’m sorry, baby.”
“It was probably my fault,” I mumble, attempting to roll away.
He catches my hip and rolls me back to face him. “Hey. I’m in this with you. Whatever happens. I wouldn’t be sorry if you had my pup.”
My heart pounds, but I snort. “Pup?”
“Kitten,” he amends quickly. “I’d love for you to give me a little kitten-girl.” He gives me a devastating smile.
I roll my eyes. At least he didn’t say, “I’ll pay for your abortion” or freak out. But yeah, this is all too much to absorb. I just had sex for the first time. Twice, because the first time was an aborted mission. Then a rubber gets lost in my hooch. And now I could be knocked up by none other than the guy I’ve been lusting after since I was a teen. Oh, and I may be on the run from the FBI.
If I could just grab a breather and more than a couple of hours of sleep, I’d probably be able to deal.
Chapter Eight
Kylie
I’ve never slept with a man in my life before now. I had no idea how incredibly wonderful it would be. The rightness of being nestled against a man’s body—not just any man’s, but Jackson King’s body—with his heavy arm draped over my waist. How safe and comfortable I’d feel.
I don’t want this impossible, short-lived romance to end. But reality calls. I’m wanted by the FBI for robbing my new lover’s company. So, yeah, hiding out at his house isn’t going to work for long.
The first rays of light illuminate the windows. Jackson’s cock twitches against my backside, sending a fresh kick of lust shooting through me.
I wonder if he’s into morning sex because I totally am. Yeah, I was a virgin until yesterday, but morning is my masturbation time.
I push my ass against his manhood, and his cock responds by lengthening, sliding between my thighs. Jackson’s large hand coasts up my side and palms my breast. He pumps his hips, fucking the gap between my legs and running his hard length along my slit.
“Mmm, kitten. Is this pussy wet for me again?” He rolls my nipple between his two fingers.
It would seem so.
He pinches my nipple, and I writhe in surprise at the pain.
I reach between my legs to pull his cock tight against my core. A slow undulation of my hips grinds my clit over it.
He groans and bites my ear. “You want me inside you, baby? You need me to fuck you awake this morning?”
“Yeah,” I rasp. I adjust my hips and angle his cock at my entrance.
“Fuck, baby, I don’t have a—.” He slides into me. I shudder with pleasure, my muscles clenching around his cock.
A condom. Oh yeah.
“Oops,” I say.
Jackson’s breath rate increases, and he holds my hip,
thrusting deep into my channel. I know I should stop him, tell him to get the condom, but it feels. So. Good.
“Pull out before you come,” I tell him.
He makes a pained sound. “I’ll stop now,” he says, but continues plowing into me with cruel, delicious force. His grip on my hip is bruise-worthy; his loins slap against my ass.
“Jackson—” I gasp.
He shoves me onto my belly and mounts me from behind, capturing my wrists above my head.
Thankfully, the claustrophobia doesn’t kick in. Maybe because the view in front of me isn’t blocked. I lift my ass to him, loving the new angle, wanting more, wanting everything. Every position, every variation, every rhythm.
An eerie, animalistic growl erupts from Jackson, and I twist to look over my shoulder.
And scream.
I scream at the top of my lungs, and I don’t stop screaming.
Because Jackson is a fucking vampire. Fangs have punched out, and his eyes are ice-blue. Ice-blue. Not green at all. And the sound he’s making isn’t human. He’s going to bite me and turn me into a vampire. I feel like I’ve tumbled straight into a horror movie.
Like the claustrophobia, my terror is a living thing. No thought, just pure adrenaline-fueled fear.
Thankfully, my scream surprises him, and he pulls back enough for me to scramble out from under him. I grab my clothes from the floor and run downstairs stark naked. Barefoot.
I fly out the back door, pulling my shirt over my head as I run. I thought it would exit into the garage, but I must’ve been confused—I’m out in the desert that leads straight to the foothills. I hear Jackson calling behind me, so I bolt straight up the foothills toward the mountain.
“Kylie!” Jackson shouts. He’s outside, and he sounds furious.
I realize now, they’d been trying to warn me off. He and Sam both said he couldn’t be with me. Why hadn’t I listened? I stop long enough to yank my jean skirt on and keep running. I’m not going to make it far without shoes. It’s all rock and cactus, and my feet are already bruised. I turn to look over my shoulder, but I don’t see Jackson following.
Thank God. Maybe he went back in to get dressed. Then an enormous shape bounds up the hill. A silver wolf. And it’s coming straight for me.
Oh Jesus. Jackson’s not a vampire. He’s a wolf.
I can’t decide if that’s better or worse. Do werewolves infect you with their bite and turn you into one, too? Or is that vampires? No, vampires drain your blood. So, yeah. Werewolves infect. I still feel like I’m stuck in that horror movie, only it’s becoming campier.
The wolf is upon me in no time, but it doesn’t pounce the way...Jesus. Was that Sam who attacked me outside the mansion? This one is definitely Jackson. I can tell by the ice-blue eyes. He nudges my hand with his nose.
“Get. The fuck. Away from me.”
He lowers to his haunches and whines. He’s enormous. Twice the size of a normal wolf with a thick, silver coat. A beautiful wolf, but definitely deadly.
I blink, and he’s a man, again, crouching beside me. Naked. “Hey. You’re safe. I’m not going to hurt you, kitten.”
“Don’t call me that!” My strangled voice sounds slightly hysterical. I’m generally someone who prides herself on keeping it together, but this situation has thrown me for a total loop.
I run up the hill. In my periphery, the wolf appears, trotting by my side, like he’s decided to become my pet. “Go home,” I command. If only he were a simple dog I could send running home.
Of course, he keeps trotting along beside me.
I glare at him. “So, you’re a werewolf? That’s your big secret? And what? You have to bite someone on the full moon? Something like that?”
Jackson—or rather, the wolf—whines again.
“What do you want with me?” I sob.
He licks my moving calf.
“No!” I shout. “Don’t touch me. Stop following me. Go. Home.” A rock twists under my foot, and I go down on my knee, hard. Pain shoots through my entire leg. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to ignore it.
When I open them, Jackson’s in human form again. Naked. He scoops me into his arms.
“No,” I protest. “Put me down.”
He walks stone-faced down the hill. “You’re hurt.”
“I’m not going back inside that house with you.” My stubborn side has risen up, immune to logic. If he’s a dangerous werewolf, waiting to turn me, he’s not going to care where I want to go.
But Jackson stops. His shoulders sag. “Okay, fine.” He starts running up the hill at incredible speed.
I clutch his shoulders. “Where are you taking me?” I gasp.
“I have a cabin up on the mountain.”
Great. He’s taking me somewhere even more remote so he can turn me. Except, I’m no longer afraid. Now that the initial horror has worn off, my brain is starting to get back online.
“Jackson, what happens when you bite someone?”
“A serum coats my teeth. It leaves my scent in your skin.”
“And turns me into a werewolf?”
“No.” He keeps moving at dizzying speed, his bare feet and long strides eating up the mountain. I can’t imagine how his feet don’t get torn up. “We don’t change people,” he says stiffly, and I realize, with a bubble of amusement, that I may have offended him.
“But I am in danger? What does the serum do?”
He stops running and closes his eyes in resignation. “When a wolf picks his mate, he marks her with his teeth. A mating serum coats his fangs and permanently leaves his scent on her, so other wolves know she’s been claimed.”
I gape at him. Illogically, a hot pulse starts up between my legs.
“Did...do you want to mark me?”
“I can’t,” he grits, once more ascending the mountain. “A human couldn’t withstand such a bite. Shifters heal quickly, but a human would lose blood, maybe even die. Shifters don’t mate with humans.”
A cloud seems to roll over us. “Ah. That’s why Sam said you couldn’t be with me.”
“Right.” He clenches his jaw so hard I swear it will shatter.
A small log cabin comes into view. He retrieves a key from the top of the doorframe and opens the door. Inside is a beautifully appointed mountain cabin, simple but comfortable. He carries me to the leather couch and arranges me on it, with my back against the armrest and legs elevated on the cushions. My ankle has doubled in size from the swelling, and my knee is cut and bruised as well.
“I’ll get some ice.” Jackson disappears around the corner. When he returns, he’s pulled on a pair of jeans and carries a dishcloth wrapped around a cold pack. He crouches by my feet and applies the pack.
“I’m sorry I freaked out on you.”
He gives an impatient shake of his head. “No, I’m glad you did. I would’ve bitten you.”
I stare at my throbbing ankle, unable to look at Jackson. “Well, I’m flattered, I guess.”
He lets out a harsh laugh that doesn’t sound amused at all. When he stands, he stabs his fingers through his hair like he did last night.
“Now, you understand. I’m dangerous to you, Kylie.”
I study him through narrowed eyes. “I’m not afraid of the big bad wolf.”
His eyes look haunted. “Learn to be. Listen, I need to get to the office. I have the feds to deal with.” He walks to an old-fashioned desk and pushes the lid up. Inside, the comforting lights of a wireless router flash. He pulls out a laptop and brings it to me. “You can work from here. Or I’ll go back and get the car and drive you down the mountain.”
“Here is fine,” I say quickly. For some reason, I’m not ready to go back to his mansion.
“There’s food in the cabinets. I’ll bring you things so you don’t have to get up.”
He leaves and returns with a loaf of bread and peanut butter and jelly, along with a can of oysters. “I wish I had a painkiller to offer you, but shifters don’t use them.”
Shifters. It’s s
till setting in, but now that it has, it makes him all the more fascinating and attractive. No wonder I’d had a teen crush on Jackson King. He is superhuman.
“I’m really sorry about freaking out. I’m embarrassed. I wish we could have a do-over, and I’ll be uber cool about it. Can we try?”
A reluctant smile tugs at Jackson’s lips. “How would it go?”
“I’d be like, oh, you’re a werewolf. That’s cool. Don’t forget the condom.”
A shadow descends over his face, perhaps at the reminder of the condom mishap. “I’m bad for you,” he says tightly. “This...can’t work.”
Something tightens in my solar plexus. I want to grab him and tell him I’m not afraid, but he snatches me first, stamps his lips over mine, twisting over my mouth with an intensity I find dizzying.
I sense the desperation in the kiss.
The goodbye.
“Don’t message me. I don’t want anyone to trace you through me. I’ll be back tonight. As soon as I can. Do you want me to send Sam up to check on you?”
I shake my head, swallowing down my disappointment. “No, I’m solid. I will keep working on the malware. Jackson?”
“Yeah?”
“Why haven’t they contacted me if my grandmother’s still alive?”
He frowns. “Maybe they’re hanging onto her in case they need more leverage on you?”
I shake my head. “No, they leaked my history to the press. This was definitely a frame.”
He touches my shoulder ,and I swear I feel his strength transferring into me, warming me. “I don’t know, but my gut says she’s alive, too.”
He kisses me again and shucks the jeans. His cock is still hard, mouth-wateringly impressive.
I watch this time as he transforms. There’s a shimmer in the air and then he drops to all fours, a huge, beautiful wolf. I dare to stretch a hand out to touch his fur, and he licks it then licks the wound on my knee clean. It tingles. I remember a doctor in Mexico recommending I get a dog to lick a cut on my hand to make it heal faster. My dad and I had laughed at Third World medicine, but, of course, I’d researched it later, and there is something to it. I wonder if a werewolf’s saliva is even better?