Lacey shook her head, tendrils of hair catching on her eyelashes. With gentle, reverent fingers, Quinn freed the strands. But as his touch grazed her cheek, she gasped. Lips parting in invitation.
An invitation he couldn’t resist. The nerve endings of his fingers ached to touch her. Taste her. Consume her.
He tilted her chin and, her gorgeous whiskey-gold eyes met his. Hesitant. Hot. Hungry.
Quinn dipped his head, just a light friction of his lips against hers. He was a starving man. Shameless in his desire. Single-minded. And yet, he needed Lacey to be certain. She could go back to her the Country Club life her parents wanted for her. But Quinn’s devotion to her would become soul-sealed in his heart.
Despite his size, Lacey held all the power.
“Is this what you want?” he asked, craving her answer like his lungs craved oxygen.
The unbelievable warm aroma of arousal was his answer. Both of Quinn’s hands buried themselves in her silken locks while his palms cradled her face. “I need the words, Lacey,” he begged, his ragged breathing filling up the room.
How else could he explain the torment he felt? After a lifetime of loneliness, Lacey was his lifeline. A bright woman full of southern sass and sweetness.
Claiming her was wrong. His conscience burned with reproach. Quinn knew he had nothing to offer her. He’d never feel comfortable in the life her parents envisioned for her. He wasn’t sure his contract with the government allowed him to marry. He knew he couldn’t give her babies.
She had to agree to the terms. They had to be on equal footing when he made love to her for the first time. His soul demanded nothing less.
“Once I have you, I won’t want to let you go,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’ve got nothing but these cabins, a herd of mangy shifters in town, and one battered and beat up heart.” Quinn swallowed, feeling his eyes grow wet. He was as vulnerable as he’d ever been. “I’m just a mangy old war dog, but I vow to love you with all I have. All I ever will be.”
“Yes,” Lacey said, her voice trembling as she rose on her toes to pepper kisses across Quinn’s chest. Neck. Jaw.
Lips.
“A thousand times, yes.”
Chapter Eight
Lacey
With shaking hands, Lacey lit the candles in the bedroom. The acrid scent of ozone was soon overpowered by lemons, lavender, and wood smoke. The blend rose in the air and filled the shadows of the cool bedroom.
The feather bed rustled beneath her hips as she sat down and watched Quinn with hungry eyes. He claimed he was merely a mangy war-dog, but to her, he was so much more.
Handsome. Strong. Brave. Everything good and protective that a man should be.
Quinn towered over her, shadows casting against the wall making him seem even bigger. More powerful.
“Did you know you have a small mole? Right here?” Quinn asked, indicating a small spot behind her ear.
“Um. No,” Lacey said, watching his coffee-dark eyes grow sharp. Focused. Dangerous.
“I’ve wanted to kiss it since I saw it,” Quinn admitted. He turned her face and kissed her right behind the ear, right across the bundle of hyper-sensitive nerve endings. His tongue danced, and Lacey’s legs weakened in response.
“Has anyone ever kissed you here before?”
“Nooo,” Lacey said, trembling in his hands. She’d have remembered the racing sensations. The full-bodied response from neck to nipples to pussy. How did he know where to kiss?
“Good,” he said, his voice muffled as his lips barely raised from the silken line of her neck. “Then I claim it as mine.” Lick. Nibble. Bite. “All mine.”
“I knew you’d be a bitey lover,” Lacey teased, running her hands through his hair. Freedom raced through her veins, and she never wanted it to stop.
“Do you want a bitey lover?” Quinn asked, and Lacey heard the underlying insecurity in his question.
“Yes.” Lacey’s brain was barely functioning. Words were going to have to wait until later.
If there was a later.
Quinn opened his mouth a little wider. Biting just a bit harder. An orgasm rose within her, but she pushed it down. She wasn’t ready yet. She wanted it to build until they were both blind with lust.
“Oh, my word,” she whispered. “I’ll give you a month to stop that.”
“A month won’t be long enough,” Quinn said, a sudden vulnerability in his eyes. “I’m going to need at least a lifetime.”
Heat emanated from him, and she shivered in awareness as one knee touched the bed. Then the other.
“I feel so. Soft. Feminine next to you.” His growl of pleasure charmed her. Gave her the confidence to call up every ounce of sexiness she possessed and seduce him.
“You’re wearing too many clothes,” Quinn muttered. In a heartbeat, his jeans were on the floor. He knelt on the bed, a delicious specimen of manhood, cock jutting out, desperate for her attention.
Lacey’s smile was coy, as old and as wise as Eve. She was a siren, luring Quinn into her lair. She knew what her man wanted. Craved with every ounce of his body. And she planned on giving it to him.
Eventually.
“Lay down,” Lacey whispered, her voice suggestive. Sinful. Inviting.
Quinn obliged, and she smiled at the sight of this strong, powerful, dangerous man bending to her will. Her words. Her desires.
Using her tongue, Lacey traced the line of his thighs, savoring the succulent sensation of warm skin over steel-hard muscles. Quinn’s breath grew harsh. He lifted his hands and braced them on the headboard.
Fingers tightened to a white-knuckle need as he lay, panting, a willing slave to her desire.
She smiled when his nipples tightened. Warm little raspberries waiting for her eager tongue. Lacey leaned over him, letting her flannel covered breasts tease his skin.
“You. Naked.” His voice was guttural. Barely human. And she loved it.
“In a minute,” she promised, feeling a warm rush of awareness course through her body. Arousal pulsed within her. Pushed her with its own salacious need.
“Now.” His warm hands insisted, finding the hem. Pulling. Tugging. Mindless of the tearing of fabric or the wrenching of seams.
Lacey felt the fabric part, yielding to Quinn’s strength. Cool night air brushed against her skin, and she shivered in response.
“Your nipples are truly glorious.” Quinn’s eyes were laser-focused on her chest. He palmed her breast, and his steady pulse met the fluttering of her heartbeat. He scraped the nail of his thumb across one stiff peak, and Lacey’s body yielded to him.
This was how lovemaking was supposed to be.
Embarrassment tickled up Lacey’s spine, but she pushed it back with fierce determination. She was ripe. Aroused. Radiant with her need. So, she lifted her arms, letting the shreds of her shyness fall to the floor along with the remains of her shirt.
“Taste me,” she invited, breasts jutting out at a proud tilt.
She should have known better. Her Quinn wasn’t a taster.
Nipples. Areolas. The sensitive under-curve of each breast. He devoured her.
Lacey was pulled into the undertow of his lovemaking. Protected. Cherished. She let out a kitten-soft hiss and gripped his shoulders. “More.” Her spine bowed until she was sure it would break. “I need … harder.” She was panting now, near tears with her hunger.
Quinn, thank goodness, responded. “What you need is a good fucking.” His voice was guttural. Deep. Echoing in his chest in time with the beat of his heart.
“Yessss,” Lacey said, relieved one of them knew what to do.
Strong arms pulled her under him, rolling her until her curving hips and butt rose in the air like an invitation. His hand came down, hard, on her flannel covered ass and Lacey whimpered. “Oh, God, yes.”
“How attached are you to these pants?” he asked, but Lacey was floating on a sea of endorphins.
“Again,” she begged, wiggling her ass, encouraging his baser instincts.
Quinn growled, and the sound of ripping flannel filled the dim bedroom. Cool air caressed her bottom and Lacey couldn’t help her moan of response.
“You wet for me, Trouble?” Quinn asked, teasing the smooth lines of her clit with one work-roughened finger. “Oh, I think you need this, don’t you?”
“Please, Quinn. Don’t tease me.”
“Oh? Turnabout is fair play, right? Didn’t you like teasing me?”
“I was teasing us both,” she gasped as his finger went impossibly deeper. Stretching her. Preparing her for the width and breadth of his cock.
He slapped her bottom again, and a hot rush hit Lacey’s pussy. Making her need. Making her ache. “Just fuck me!” She reached her fingers down to her exposed clit, finding it with an expert’s grace. Played with its hood, teasing both of them.
She felt the heat of Quinn’s eyes on her. Lacey pulled into herself and found the strength to pause. To draw out her own sensations until it was effortless. Like dancing on water “Are you going to watch while I make myself cum for the first time?” Her voice was deep. Suggestive. Sinful.
Lacey smiled with triumph when Quinn took over. Pushed her hands out of the way. “Mine,” he gritted out.
Hands splayed over her head, stroking the smooth line of her exposed spine. She arched her back as he pushed slowly into her. Breasts bouncing into her chin, she relished the stretch as Quinn dove deep into her sheath.
Her first orgasm shook her, screaming, over the edge. The sound of his balls slapping against her ass was in time with her moans of sheer pleasure.
“I need,” Quinn gritted out.
Lacey balanced on one arm and reached behind her. Finding the smooth, muscular lines of his thighs. Feeling the muscles of his ass bunch on each thrust.
She surrendered to him as another orgasm rose within her. Threatening her sanity until she was simply at the mercy of the pounding strength of his cock.
She had long since been spent when finally, he bellowed out his release. Teeth digging in where shoulder met neck. He shuddered as he gave her everything he was.
Everything he had.
Everything he would ever have.
With one last shuddering wail, she took all he offered.
Quinn
He’d exhausted her. Quinn knew he would but wasn’t sure how seeing it play out was going to affect him. Love bitten, hair mussed, clothing torn like he’d been little more than the animal within him, Lacey lay sound asleep on the bed.
It was done. His Mastiff had well and truly imprinted on Lacey. His Mastiff had decided who he belonged to. Who his mate was. Not that he wanted to, but he wasn’t even sure if the process could be reversed.
Quinn stood to put a few more logs in the fire. His grin kicked up in the corner when he saw Lacey reach for him. Maybe, just maybe, things would work out.
“Meow.”
“Hey, Cat,” Quinn said. He knelt near the cat. “Lacey says you just have a resting bitch face.” He put out his hand for the cat to sniff it. “But whatever your problem is, we need to make friends.”
Zoe sniffed his hand, her whiskers twitching.
“Yeah, I know, I smell like a dog. Get used to it, girl.”
The little calico rubbed her cheek glands across his thumb and gave him a delicate, raspy lick.
Quinn nodded. They weren’t enemies. It was enough.
Lacey stirred. “Quinn?” she called out, her voice warm. Sated. Addictive.
“Right here,” Quinn said, patting Zoe on the head before padding over to the bed.
“This bed is kinda small for both of us,” Lacey teased when he slid beneath the white cotton sheets.
“The better to warm you up, my dear,” Quinn teased in an over-the-top falsetto.
“Hmmm,” Lacey said. She framed his face. “What big ears you have.”
Quinn nuzzled her neck until she giggled. “The better to hear your laughter with.”
Her lips parted, and Quinn couldn’t resist dipping down for another taste. He could get used to this “mate” thing.
Lacey threaded her fingers through Quinn’s thick hair, and he groaned with pleasure.
“You like that?” she teased quietly. Her grip relaxed and tightened and longing spread through Quinn’s body.
“Very much.” His voice was muffled as he found a stretch of her skin that he’d missed earlier. “You’re covered in love bites.” He hated that he was so rough with her and yet. And yet, he would do it all again. Every hour. Every day. For the rest of her life.
She smiled. “Do you hear me complaining, lover?”
Quinn grew serious. “I don’t know that I can be gentle.” His eyes closed, and he gripped his hands into tight fists. “I want to be, but I’m a big guy. A big dog. I’m clumsy and hard to be around and—”
“Shhh.” Lacey’s voice was sweetly husky. “You didn’t hurt me. I loved it.” She blushed. “I felt cherished. Protected.” She giggled a little. “Like a sumptuous sex kitten. Meow.” She raised her hands in a claw-like fashion.
He folded his huge body into the full-sized bed and tucked her the curve of her ass into his lap. “Be a good little kitty or I might just have you as a snack.”
Lacey’s shoulders shook with her giggles. “I’ll remember that.” She sighed, content. Her head rested in the crook of Quinn’s elbow. “So, what happens now, Quinn?”
“With us?” He didn’t pretend to be stupid.
She shook her head. “I have a life in Winston. A career. Family.”
“I can’t leave the mountain.” Already his heart was beginning to break. He knew the risk going in but still. He hadn’t counted on the side-splitting, soul-crushing pain.”
“Oh.”
He felt a small bit of dampness fall. Was she crying? It was unacceptable but what was he supposed to do?
“I’m not comfortable around a lot of people.” Quinn tried to explain, but he was afraid he was making it worse. “And the new shifters keep arriving. Some more broken than others, but all in need of the quiet only Maxwell Mountain can provide.”
Lacey nodded before turning in his arms. Petal soft lips pressed against the strong column of his neck. “Make love to me again,” she whispered. “We’ll think about tomorrow in the morning.”
Chapter Nine
Lacey
Lacey woke up alone, dawn cresting through the curtains in her bedroom. Cree’s words went through her head again. All vets pay with their life. Some all at once. Some by inches.
How much had Quinn paid? How much did he still have to pay? And when would the debt be cleared?
A crashing sound came from the kitchen, and Lacey smiled. Was Quinn making breakfast?
She looked around for her pajamas, but all she found were the torn shreds of her “llamas do it with drama” T-shirt. Naked, Lacey scrambled around until she found her polka dot flannel pants with the T-Shirt that said “my favorite spot is next to you.”
“Hey, something smells good,” Lacey said as she entered the main room. She stared, more than a little surprised at who was at the stove.
“Not that I don’t love the view, Cree, but why are you in my kitchen?” Lacey took in Zoe’s obvious devotion. “And what did you do to my cat?”
Cree grinned over one shoulder. “I wanted to check on you,” he said. “Make sure you were thawed off proper-like.” He wagged his eyebrows in an overly-suggestive way. “And cats love me. It’s my curse to bear.”
“Purrrr.”
Lacey glared at her cat. “Traitor,” she muttered, but Zoe didn’t even seem to notice her.
“Um, where is Quinn?” she asked, putting water on to boil for tea.
Cree shrugged. “One of the guys needed him.”
“Do they call on him a lot?” Indecision warred within Lacey. She knew Quinn was needed on the mountain, but he hadn’t asked her to stay.
“Yeah, we got a new guy in.” Cree rubbed his hand over his face. “I don’t know if you know a lot about the Shifter Special Forces,
but they’re pretty much glorified bullet catchers, you know? They sign that paper when they’re eighteen, and they’re sent to every shithole the government is involved in. And probably more that we’re not supposed to be in. They do intel in animal form, sometimes for years at a time.”
“I see.” Lacey stared at the brass pot as it began to boil. She hadn’t given the Shifter Special Forces much thought but what Cree said made a lot of sense. “They see a lot. Have to cope with a lot when they come home, don’t they?”
“Too much.”
“So, what’s your story,” Lacey invited as she assembled her morning tea.
Cree looked away, and Lacey knew they were at a precipice of their friendship. This quiet, taciturn man was a loner. Isolated. Pushing people away at every turn. She wanted to be his friend and yet, she wasn’t sure he would respond to a quiet overture.
“Just tell me, you big oaf,” Lacey said, starting with an insult. It went against all her southern manners, but instinct told her Cree wouldn’t respond to motherly kindness.
The corner of Cree’s mouth kicked up into a grin and the lines around his eyes crinkled. “Big oaf, huh?”
“Feel flattered. I called Quinn a poopy head when I first met him.”
Cree tilted his head back and laughed. “Oh, I’d have given cash money to see you insult Quinn Maxwell to his face.”
Lacey blushed. “Well, we seem to have worked past it.”
Cree looked away and flipped the last of the pancakes. “Let’s eat,” he said.
“Shouldn’t we wait for Quinn?”
“He was in the military long enough. He knows mess waits for no one.”
Lacey took her seat and sipped on the sweet, milky tea. “But you weren’t in the military, were you?”
Cree paused, broad shoulders so tense Lacey wondered if you could bounce a quarter off them. “No,” he finally said. “I came by my animal naturally.”
In the distance, Lacey heard two animals fighting. “Bears?” she asked. She went to stand up, but Cree grabbed her wrist to stop her.
Her Lonely Mastiff (A Shifter Special Forces Romance) Page 6