You want your gift?
Come get it.
xxx
Still with no clue as to what she might be up to, I shot off the bed and into the bathroom.
***
A ground-breaking six minutes later, I trampled back down the stairs, hair dripping a river down the grooves either side of my spine and gluing my WOOF! T-shirt to my back. The rest of the pack hadn't arrived yet, which was good. It meant I had less scrutiny to undergo—because everyone else seemed to quit whatever they were doing and glance my way, the second I stepped into the kitchen.
“I’m heading out,” I said, as Mum’s gaze swept the full length of me.
“To Shelley’s,” Kyle said, and as my attention darted to him, he lifted his palms and shrugged. “Hey, I’ve seen that look in your eye before. You only get it when you’re …”
I’d no idea what my face expressed, probably something along the lines of Shut the fuck up or die! Or maybe it was the dig Brook gave his ribs that stemmed his spewing. Either way, it worked.
“Thank God for that,” Gabe said. “Some things I just don’t wanna know.”
Mum cleared her throat. “You’ll be back for the barbeque later?” Somehow she made the question sound more like an order.
I nodded, hoping I told the truth. Without knowing what Shelley had planned, how the hell could I even know myself?
Only one way to find out.
Before anyone else could say anything on the matter—mostly Jem, who’d kept deceptively quiet despite the smirk tilting her lips—I spun away, grabbed my truck keys, and bolted for the door.
***
Good thing about the pack company owning a property: I could always get into them whenever I needed. The foyer was cool as I strode through there to the door of the stairwell, and the few flights up were an easy enough climb. Busting through the final door took me onto the third floor landing, from which four other doors led off. I ignored three of them and headed straight to one of the two on the left.
A brass D3 hung on the wood below the peephole. A place that’s a step up from 2D in a backward sort of way. Really, Shelley couldn’t have made the clue any easier—or maybe that was her intention. Maybe she’d wanted to ensure I found my way.
In truth, I’d half expected to pull up and find Shelley in the car park, dolled up and ready to head out somewhere for the morning, but she wasn’t even so much as in the window of her flat when I arrived. I half wondered if she was even waiting for me at all.
Knowing I’d never find out if I didn’t shift my hide, I lifted a hand and rapped my knuckles against the wood of the door.
It took all of three seconds for the soft pad of steps and the abrupt click of the catch to drift through from the other side. The door swung inward, and, barely filling the gap, Shelley stood staring up at me, wearing a white terry-towling bathrobe, with mischief lighting up her green, almond shaped eyes. “Hey,” she said.
When she didn’t step back and wave me in, I braced a hand against the doorframe and leaned in some. On a good day, my six-seven frame towered over her pocket-sized one; she seemed even smaller peering up at me then. “Hey yourself.”
Gaze flicking to my shirt, her lips twitched. They looked glossy, like she’d stuck some of the crap on them she liked to use. Her hair twitched a little, too. Couple of weeks back, she’d dipped the ends with a bright raspberry over her latest dark chocolate dyed elfin style. No matter what Shelley did to her hair, she always resembled something that should have wings and flutter about the garden, or a pond, or something. “So …” She reached out a finger until she tapped its tip against my chest, where she left it hovering right over the Woof!.
My eyebrows did some weird jig—she tended to have stupid effects on me. “So?”
“How’s your birthday going?”
I huffed out a laugh, glancing away for a half second before looking back. “Just the same as any other birthday.”
The finger against my chest scraped downward, and my gaze dropped, following its route as it skimmed over my stomach, the muscles contracting there beneath my T, until it settled against the waistband of my jeans. “Ready for your birthday to get better?” she asked, and before I could answer, she hooked the same finger through one of my belt loops and pulled me inside.
Of course I didn’t argue. Didn’t protest. I was smart enough to know when a good thing was on its way. I just followed her in, kicking the door shut at my rear.
In the middle of the living room, she pushed onto her toes, and, taking the hint, I stooped down to meet her for a kiss, tugging on her lower lip with my teeth before releasing her.
“You want your present?” she whispered, her button nose brushing mine as she pulled back.
It took a whole heap of effort not to drag my fingers into her hair to haul her in again, or to yank off that damn bathrobe, but I’d learned early on that nothing could be rushed when it came to Shelley, so I just nodded instead.
“I’ll go get it for you,” she said and, dropping back down to her heels, she padded off toward the bedroom. At the doorway, she shot me a glance over her shoulder that had my hips itching to storm after her, but her, "Wait right there," held me in place, as she disappeared inside.
Blowing out a long, measured breath, I tucked my hands into my jeans pockets, my knuckles nudging the presumptive swelling happening in my pants, and scanned the room that'd once belonged to Mum. The soft furnishing of the living space had been left behind from her time there. Even the running machine along the one wall had been hers. She'd used the place back when Dad deemed her in need of somewhere safe to live because of a threat against the pack. Even once Mum moved back home, the flat hadn't been rented out. Mostly because Mum'd never given the keys back, but held onto them just in case. That just in case happened to be Shelley and Gabe, when circumstance had them needing a new place to live. It'd only meant to be temporary, but Shelley and Gabe seemed settled and had made no move to leave, and nobody in the pack had asked them to—though, Gabe becoming a pack member might've had something to do with that, too.
Catching sugary wafts of sweetness, I crossed the room to the kitchen doorframe, leaning against it as I peered in. Oak doors shuttered the cabinets, and on the countertop sat a large white box with its lid not quite connected, from where I suspected the scents drifted out. Stretching onto my tiptoes, I peeked over the rim of the box through the sliver of space, and spotted the edges of white fondant icing.
I smiled like a moron. "You made me a cake, Shel?"
"Technically, I bought you a cake, but we can pretend otherwise," she said from the bedroom. "But that's not your gift."
I turned, and I could've sworn my mouth opened in slow motion as I drew my hands from my pockets. My eyebrows probably would've creaked, if they had sound effects to accompany their upward rise.
Leaning into her bedroom doorframe and glancing up at me through lowered lashes, Shelley had donned some lacy getup—a Basque, all laced up along the front with a satiny thread, which her naturally plump breasts pretty much danced atop of. Beneath that, tiny, tiny knickers barely covered her groin V. Everything in a warm raspberry—including the suspender straps, hanging downward and clipped to stockings of chocolate brown that shimmered with the slightest move of her legs.
The entire getup, from her hair to toes, matched, making her look fucking edible.
"Damn, Shelley," I muttered—about all I could manage. The room seemed too hot all of a sudden.
Smiling, she did some kind of sensual twirl of her body that had my pulse banging, and disappeared behind the door.
So I followed. 'Cause what the hell else could I do?
When I reached the door, Shelley already had one knee up on her futon bed, her palms flat against the mattress, and rear waving in the air like a taunt as she lifted the other. As her body started to twist away, I darted forward and gripped her hips.
“Don’t move.” Hooking my hands a little higher, I propped her onto her knees and slid her back to the edg
e of the bed. “Just … don’t fucking move.”
“Did I say you could touch me, yet?” she asked without turning.
Who the hell cares? bounced inside my head. Because I was ready. More than fucking ready. Ready for what I wanted.
For a half beat, my fingers cinched tighter around her waist, but I gave a quiet growl and released my hold on her. Stepping back from the bed a foot, I stared down at her from there.
The lace at the front of her crotch had been small. The string at the back was almost nonexistent. I swallowed the saliva gathering in my throat and forced my gaze back up, to where Shelley peered at me over her shoulder, a slight smile on her lips.
“Had your fill?” she asked.
My eyes automatically skimmed along her narrow back again. “Not even close.”
I grabbed the hem of my shirt and yanked it over my head, reaching for the laces of my trainers before the shirt had even hit the floor. Not once did I take my attention off my target. Not fucking once. Stamping down on the heels eventually got my shoes off, and I kicked them aside.
Too impatient to deal with my jeans, I shoved a knee next to Shelley’s and sank my chest to her back. The fabric of her corset scratched my nipples as I braced a hand next to hers and skimmed the other around to her stomach to haul her back against me, and my lips found the fleshy warmth of her shoulder.
Teeth scraping the surface, I worked my way inward, smiling at the slight hastening of Shelley’s breaths, until my nose burrowed into the soft strands of hair feathering around her ears. “Whose birthday is it again?”
She shivered against my mouth. “If you give me a chance, I’ll make it yours.”
My lips curved. “Oh, it’s definitely mine.”
Shoving away, I dropped my knees to the carpet at the foot of the bed—bringing my eyes level with exactly what I wanted.
A tremor rippled along Shelley’s thighs when I leaned in. Wrapping a hand around each leg, I slid them apart a little, moving closer still.
Before my nose even nudged where the raspberry lace disappeared out of sight, the scent of female arousal blasted me in the face. I groaned, pressing my cheek to her hide as I drank in a head full, my eyes closing as the effects washed straight through to my dick.
Lids fluttering open again, I brushed a hand up her thigh, over stocking and skin, not stopping until my thumb met her underwear, and the first hum of a growl brewed—as much at the quiet whimper from Shelley as at the dampness there. Leaving my thumb where it was, I kissed just to the side, my lips parting for a taste of flesh before brushing across the downy softness. I kissed her again, my tongue peeking out for another sample before retreating.
A shiver had Shelley twitching, her breath catching like a tune of anticipation to my ears, and I pressed my lips there again, my mouth and tongue working up a sensual massage of warmth. First across one side of her butt, then across to the other, circling the spot pumping out her scent, but never touching. That would come. Just had to have patience.
Sweeping too close got me an erotic invitation to the face, and my lips curled back, my teeth itching to sink into the flesh there, to sink into any part of her flesh, but I could only allow play biting. No more than that. The second Shelley gasped and pushed back against me, I reined it in.
The mating instinct in me, where Shelley was concerned, had been too intense from the very first time we made love. To begin, it had scared the shit out of me—the wanting to bite, the need to make her mine whether she fucking wanted it or not. I’d learned to control it without having to clamp my mouth shut every damn time—and to ignore whatever the hell it might truly mean.
Bringing my other hand up, I cupped the tops of both of her thighs, my thumbs brushing a little higher, parting her. Nudging my face lower, I folded my lips over the thin cloth of fabric covering her wetness.
At Shelley’s low groan, my growl finally rumbled out, and I spread my hands over her rear, my fingers gripping the strings that hooked over her hips.
“Don’t you da—”
Yanking my hands apart tore the straps of her knickers. I didn’t even bother flicking them aside before I grabbed the curve of her arse and lifted her higher. Mouth as wide as it'd go, I closed my lips over as much of her as I could reach, and her body jerked as her gasp shot out.
Fingers massaging where they held, I let myself explore. My tongue swept upward, from front to back. Flicking over the tiny nub of pleasure that had Shelley whimpering again. Through the folds of silky flesh, where I had to hold her still to stop her pushing back and chasing my tongue. All the way back to where her wetness trickled from her like a drip-feed of pure beauty straight to my taste buds.
Tightening the seal of my lips, I dipped in my tongue and sucked. Sweetness flooded the back of my throat, my growl that bubbled through there vibrating the pooled liquid, and my dick all but begged me to take her the fuck already.
Eyes flickering closed, I loosened a hand from her rear and dropped it to the waist of my jeans. Flipped the studs free. One after another. Rammed the waistband down as low as it’d go without having to move. Slipping a hand inside, I wrapped my fingers around my length through my boxers. Gripped hard. Trying to stem the urges it screamed at me. Trying to calm it.
There’d be no calming him, though, not while I gulped down doses of Shelley—he wouldn’t be happy until he rammed into her depths. Thrust as far as she’d accept him. Taken her fucking pleasure as his own. He’d never be happy until he got what he wanted.
Just like me.
Snatching down the hem of my shorts, I sprang him free, and he damned nearly climbed out of there himself first chance he got. Hell, he’d have probably roared to the rooftops about his liberation and demanded I feed him fucking now, given half the chance. Instead, all he got from me was ignorance, as I blanked his throbbing plea for attention, the tingles shooting his length every time he brushed the cotton duvet overhanging the bed. He could wait until I was damned well ready.
Shelley’s sighs heightened as I focused back onto my suckling. I nudged her thighs farther apart with my forearms, forcing my way through until I could wrap my arms the entire span of her thighs, front to back, my fingers reaching to spread her even farther. The entire move knocked her balance, left me bearing her weight. Left her ankles clamping wherever they could.
I didn’t care. Not when a probe of my tongue spilled a new pool to my throat. Had her moaning out my name, which warmed through to my core every damn time. Had every muscle in her rear clenching beneath my fingertips, sending slivers of excitement piercing their way through my veins.
I glided my tongue back to her nub, worked the sensitive spot against my lower teeth and lips.
“Oh, God.” Shelley moaned, long and low, making my dick pound out its impatience harder than ever.
Her butt and thighs tightened. Fingers stretched over her rear and raked into my hair. Fisting there. Dragging my head forward, as she trembled against my face.
“Don’t stop,” she whispered, the words broken, barely more than panted breaths. “God, Ethan, don’t stop.” Her body made small undulations against me—as much of a backward thrust as she could force through the binding of my arms.
I slid my upper lip down, retracting my tongue, and sucked the bud into my mouth. Her body jerked, bumping me as I scooted far enough back to catch the juices.
When I shifted forward again, her fingers caught within my hair, yanking the strands taut.
It didn’t stop me. I couldn’t stop. Just sucked and sucked like I couldn’t get enough. Like an animal finding nourishment on the pinnacle of starvation—spurred on by Shelley’s gasps.
Her breath hitched. As did her cries. Her moans. Her whispered pleas. The tiny backward twitches of her butt.
Uncaring of the dampness leaking onto my cheeks, my chin, the slow drip to my chest, I sucked harder. Not even caring that I couldn’t fucking breathe. Not while half of Shelley’s pleas held my name. Not so long as she served me the best fucking nectar on the plane
t.
When her entire body stilled, her cries diminished as she seemed to hold her breath, and the muscles of her thighs knotted beneath my forearms, I knew her to be close. To be so close, all it would take was the right pressure, the right positioning, that even just the right scrape of my teeth would finish her.
The skin stretched so taut over my dick, it hurt. Good hurt—but in a way I wouldn’t be able to hold onto forever before I’d have to relieve the pressure.
Parting my lips wider, I licked. Tasted. Teased. Drank. Before slamming my lips back down, growling with satisfaction at the beginnings of Shelley’s deep moan hitting my ears.
Sucking even harder had that moan heightening and set a wave of vibrations running beneath the surface of Shelley’s flesh, until every locked muscle in her body seemed to uncoil. To writhe.
Her cries escalated into begging gasps as her orgasm hit my face. Gasps for more. Gasps to stop.
Each time she pleaded for more, she pushed back against me. Each time she beseeched me to stop, she bucked away.
I held her tight throughout it all. She could finish when I damned well said so. Not a second before. Not before I’d had my fill. Not before the very part of me that craved her taste had been satiated. Never before I was ready.
Closing my mouth down on the whole of her, I drank, relishing in the throb of her core pounding against my tongue.
My eyes closed as I swallowed. My chest rumbled. Fingers clutching at Shelley, my own body thrust forth again, more eager than fucking ever to sink into her depths.
As Shelley’s panted breaths slowed, only hitching with intermittent shudders of her body and pauses to let out a tiny whimper, I withdrew my lips, my nose.
Resting my forehead against her soft flesh, I gulped in breaths until my chest heaved, and relaxing my hold of her, I unhooked my arms, letting my hands slip down until they rested around her stockinged thighs.
I remained there for seconds, like, even in the aftermath, I couldn’t bring myself to let go of her scent. Couldn’t bring myself to step away. To risk losing it.
“I think I’m dead,” Shelley said, the words half whispered, half groaned.
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