Chapter Ten
“Damn it to hell,” Cliff snarled, pulling back.
Serafina came running up, chasing Dax and Roger. “Oh no,” she laughed. “Oh no.” She doubled over, laughing so hard she was shrieking.
“Think this is funny? I may not send your brothers away, but military school’s still an option for you,” Cliff said furiously to Serafina.
Taylor blushed. “Ahem,” she said.
“We wanted you to read us a story,” Roger said to Taylor. “Our mother used to read us bedtime stories. And give us hundred dollar bills,” he added hopefully. “Every night.”
Dax kicked him. “She did not do either of those things.”
“Did so!” Roger shouted, and he looked as if he were about to cry.
Knowing how much their parents had neglected them, Taylor felt an ache in her chest, and a surge of protectiveness. She quickly stepped between the two quarreling boys.
“Why are you so obsessed with hundred dollar bills?” Taylor asked Roger.
“Because I’ve never seen one before, and I want to know what they look like. Do you know how much chocolate I could buy with a hundred dollar bill?”
“I can only imagine.” She glanced at Cliff, who looked as if he were about to explode. Under other circumstances, she would have sat there and read to them all night. She’d read to them as much as they wanted tomorrow, she thought to herself. Right now, Cliff needed her. And the feeling was mutual – her palms were still damp and her pulse tripping, and she could still feel a ghost of the pressure of his body against hers.
“All right, here’s the deal. I will read you one bedtime story, and then you have to go straight to bed. And don’t get up until morning. Deal?”
“Does that mean we get to make a counter-offer?” Roger asked.
“Nope. I am the adult and you are the children. This is not a democracy,” Taylor informed him as they marched back towards the house.
“Grownups always say that,” Dax complained.
Cliff walked by her side, and a low, rumbling growl vibrated from his chest.
“Read fast,” he muttered to her as Serafina led her to the twins’ room. It was connected to Serafina’s, with wonderful twin beds built to look like a fort.
After she’d read the story, she headed back to Cliff’s bedroom.
He was pacing back and forth.
“Don’t make me wait like that again!” he snapped when she came in. Then he groaned. “Sorry. Sorry. Wolfus interruptus. I want you so badly it hurts.”
“It’s probably good for you not to get what you want all the time,” she said.
Cliff yanked his shirt over his head and threw it to the floor, eyes fixed on hers as he stalked towards her, hands going to his belt buckle.
“And Carol – that’s Chantelle’s mom – says you should never give it up on a first date…” Her voice was breathy.
Cliff yanked down his pants and kicked off his shoes, then reached out for her, totally naked now. His cock was thick and fully erect, jutting proudly from a tangle of dark, curly hair.
“Not that we’ve actually had a first d—”
He hooked her knee over his hip so her damp core was pressed against his throbbing cock, and he tumbled her back onto the bed.
She squirmed underneath him, and the intimate friction between their bodies was enough to make her moan. He stifled the sound with his mouth, lapping and nipping at her lips before playing his tongue against hers, flicking and teasing.
His hands were busy on the buttons of her blouse, rough and impatient, and it briefly crossed her mind that this whole werewolf deal was going to cost a fortune in clothes before the thought was snatched away along with the fistful of fabric. Her bra followed.
For a moment, Taylor crossed her arms over her body, self-conscious about the soft curves of her flesh, but Cliff drew her hands away, and he didn’t have to say a word. The appreciation in his eyes was like a possessive touch on her skin. She shuddered with desire and her nipples tightened into tiny pink-brown buds.
Cliff lowered his head to taste one of the tender tips, cupping the creamy mound of her breast in his palm to guide it to the wet heat of his mouth. Taylor gasped and let her eyes flutter closed as a shock of sensation bolted straight to her core. Her hands settled on his broad shoulders, fingers digging into the muscle, and lust roared through her, Cliff’s hot breath and the clever flicker of his tongue like soft flames on her skin.
He sucked on one nipple then the other, moving down to kiss the soft slope of her belly, skimming her pants and panties down her legs and kissing his way back up her thighs. The stubble on his jaw abraded the sensitive flesh, and she drew in a shuddery breath. He smoothed his big, strong hands down her thighs, drawing them apart, then used his thumbs to part the slippery, swollen lips of her sex. She clenched with anticipation and need, squirming beneath his touch, then her breath caught in her throat as he slowly licked her, drawing his tongue between her lips to tickle the throbbing bud of her clit.
Taylor arched off the bed, pressing against his mouth, a desperate moan of arousal escaping her as he flicked harder with his tongue. His hands on her hips pressed her back into the mattress, holding her in place so he could torture her with a rough, rhythmic motion of his tongue that had her gasping incoherent encouragement. With each stroke, the sweet, heavy sensation building between her thighs felt more unbearably wonderful.
With his face buried between her trembling thighs, Cliff probed with his fingers, seeking out her entrance so he could slide a firm digit into her slick, clenching channel. She moaned and gasped, head thrashing on the pillow as he slid the finger in and out in counterpoint to the rhythm of his tongue. And when she was quivering on the very edge of orgasm, he added a second finger, pushing deep then curling his fingers as he withdraw to graze her G-spot with his fingertips.
She came apart, grinding her pelvis against his face as he continued to lick and suck. The scrape of his stubble on her inner thighs and the wet thrust of his fingers in her clenching cunt combined with the bliss swirling through her core, and she called out hoarsely, helplessly.
As the spasms peaked, then ebbed into sweet little flutters, he moved up her body and brushed damp hair from her brow, leaning down to kiss her. His lips tasted of her pussy.
She was still breathless and shaky with passion as he guided the blunt head of his cock to her entrance and pushed inside inch by inch, working his hips in shallow, controlled thrusts. As he rolled his hips, he held her gaze with his, and when he was all the way inside her, he dropped his forehead against hers, resting there for a moment as he drew in slow, shuddering breaths.
He slid his hands behind her thighs and pushed deeper still, then withdrew before plunging back inside again, moaning when Taylor ran her fingernails down his sweat-damp spine. He picked up the pace as she urged him on, fucking her hard and thoroughly, groaning her name between frantic kisses and feverish moans. Their bodies moved together in a driving rhythm, breath mingling, his mouth on her breast, her tongue on his salty skin.
She could feel his cock getting harder inside her with every flex of his hips, and she rolled her pelvis to meet his movements, wanting him as far inside her as it was possible for him to be. She hooked one arm behind his neck, holding him close, and with her other hand she grasped at his buttocks, urging him to thrust further and harder.
Sweat sheened his golden skin, and his chest was slippery where it slid against her breasts. The sparse, dark curls abraded her nipples, and all at once she was coming again – a blinding flash of climax that had her gasping and swearing, thrashing and moaning as she clenched around his driving cock.
Her hoarse cries were the last sweet stimulus Cliff needed, and he shuddered and groaned as he found his release inside her.
They stayed locked together for a long time, breathing hard, giving little gasps of pleasure with each dwindling twitch and spasm, their sweat cooling on their skin. Spent.
Chapter Eleven
Cliff leaned back in his leather chair, glowering at the screen. He should be back in bed, wrapped up in Taylor’s arms. Kissing her. Biting her. Tasting her.
Instead, he’d snuck out that morning while Taylor slept, to meet up with Truman and go over what they’d found on ‘her illegal turning.
Which was nothing.
There were fourteen werewolf employees working at the Bronson factory. There were werewolves working at every business owned by the Bronsons, to protect the pack’s interests. They traveled off and on throughout the month so it wouldn’t be obvious that they were always gone on a full moon. They lived near the factory and regularly came back to visit the pack.
Truman had spent a long, exhausting night visiting each of them. He’d taken James with him and interviewed every one of them, with James compelling them to tell the truth. It had been easy; none of them had tried to resist, even Shelley, who had nothing to hide at this point. And every single one of them had truthfully said they had no idea how Taylor had been turned. They hadn’t bitten her. They didn’t know of anyone biting her.
When asked if they knew of any rogue werewolves in the area, one of them, Patrick, had shamefacedly admitted that he had a distant teenage cousin named Fergus he was hiding because the cousin had been kicked out of his pack in Montana. Patrick had reinforced his basement and locked the cousin in there on the full moon. He’d been doing it for a couple of months.
The rest of the time the cousin stayed at a campsite in the woods a few miles from Patrick’s house. The site was empty when Truman sent his men to check it. He’d gotten a picture of Fergus, and would show it to Taylor. He also had men stationed by the campsite now.
Even so, he couldn’t imagine how Fergus could have been the culprit – but he had to investigate every possibility. He also had to take Fergus into custody before he accidentally exposed himself, and turn him over to the Elders to decide his fate.
Patrick, of course, was in deep shit. He’d been recalled to the pack, and he’d be put on latrine-cleaning duty for the next year. He would also be taken to the town square at noon, a pack assembly would be called, and he’d be publicly shamed.
He’d have a very unpleasant time for at least the next few months. He’d been dating a girl who lived on pack lands, and she would almost certainly dump him.
The only reason he wasn’t in worse trouble was because Fergus hadn’t hurt anyone. As it was, three Elders had voted for him to be put down. Four had voted to give him one more chance, but they’d made it clear that if he ever helped another rogue, that would be the end of him.
Truman and James stood at the back of the room, stifling their yawns. They hadn’t slept all night. Of course, Cliff hadn’t either, but his reason had been much more pleasant.
He glanced at them. “You can go get some sleep,” he told them.
Truman left. James hesitated, waiting for him to leave before he asked Cliff, “So, did you remember to say something flattering and romantic to Taylor before you left your bed this morning?”
Cliff looked at him, puzzled. “I didn’t say anything at all to her. I just let her sleep.” He growled at James’ expression. “What now?”
James sighed with exaggerated patience. “You know nothing about wooing a human woman.”
“Yes, I think we’ve established that.”
“She’s in a strange place, and she just spent her first night with you. Perhaps a few words telling her where you were going and saying something flattering to her would have been in order. That’s all.” And James left.
Cliff groaned. Humans were so strange and complicated.
But Taylor was worth it. He knew that their mating was still on shaky ground, so he got up from his desk and headed back to his room to find her. Hopefully he could give her a very pleasant wakeup surprise.
* * * * *
Taylor woke up in an empty room, feeling vaguely disconcerted by Cliff’s absence. She sat up and looked around the room, searching for him.
The bathroom door gaped wide open, and he wasn’t in there. She glanced at the ornate grandfather clock. Eight a.m.
“I have no willpower,” she said to the empty pillow Cliff had rested on. “I said I wasn’t going to have sex with him, and then I sexed him. I didn’t last one day. Then again, who could really blame me? He’s more irresistible than Carol’s cookies.”
The pillow’s wrinkles seemed to indicate a frown of disapproval, so she punched it. “Keep your judgements to yourself,” she said to the inanimate object, and hopped out of bed to take a shower.
After she showered, she looked over her clothes, which Cliff’s servants had hung up for her in his massive walk-in closet.
She picked a clingy blue wraparound dress with lace trim. She didn’t wear it often, because it clung to everything – every bump, every roll, as well as every curve. Had Cliff really meant it when he’d said he enjoyed every inch of her? She’d soon find out.
Then she headed out the door to look for Cliff. She needed breakfast, and she needed to call Chantelle again. She wished she had her cell phone. Cliff still wouldn’t let her have it, which was really going to be an issue pretty soon.
He insisted that they needed to finish their investigation into how she’d been turned. Pack security always came first, and the Elders and many pack members were still wary of her.
She couldn’t argue, because Cliff had just delivered three more months’ worth of product to Chantelle, with a message handwritten by Taylor saying that she was visiting Cliff for the week and had convinced him to give Chantelle as much product as she needed.
However, she wasn’t going to go through her life as a prisoner, and she really hoped that this wouldn’t go on much longer.
As she headed down the hallway, an older woman with a frown on her face met her and stood in her path. She was blonde, and perfectly coiffed and made up. She looked to be in her fifties, but her forehead was unnaturally smooth. She wore jeans and a silky white scoop-neck T-shirt, and somehow made them look elegant. Maybe it was the haughty expression on her face.
Taylor thought the woman looked familiar, but she couldn’t quite place her.
“My name is Celia. I’ve come to familiarize you with life as a werewolf. Come with me,” the woman said abruptly.
Taylor felt a stab of hurt lance through her. “I thought Cliff was going to do that.” He’d mentioned something about training and meditation the night before. She couldn’t remember what exactly he’d said, though, because her brain had been turning to pudding from so many orgasms.
Celia looked down her nose at Taylor and made a snorting noise of disapproval. “Cliff is extremely busy preparing for the Alpha Trials. It’s honestly very selfish of you to impose on him at a time like this.”
Taylor felt her temper flare, but she followed the woman down the hallway, towards a side door that led outside.
“I’m not imposing – he was the one who told me that I’d need the…werewolf training. Whatever you’d call it. And I didn’t ask to be brought here.”
Celia glanced back and looked at her as if she were something she’d scrape off the bottom of her shoe. “You could always leave.”
“Are you a complete moron?” She glared at Celia. “No, I can’t leave. That’s been made very clear to me. So if you expect me to work with you, you’d better dial back on the ‘tude, lady. It’s early and I haven’t had my coffee.”
“Picking fights with pack members already,” Celia scoffed. “You’d make a very poor Alpha’s mate.”
“Actually, from what I’ve seen, anyone who doesn’t stand up for themselves around here gets trampled. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I haven’t eaten breakfast yet and I’m hungry. I’m going to go get something to eat and wait for Cliff to do the training.” She turned and started to walk away.
“So you want to interrupt him when he’s training for the fight of his life?” Celia called after her. She turned and started to walk away.
Taylor could have sworn that Cliff had said he wa
s going to be the one to train her. Hadn’t he? Maybe he’d just said she was going to be trained.
Damn orgasm-brain.
Celia was stalking off.
“Wait!” Taylor called after her.
Celia didn’t stop. Taylor followed her out the side door, across an expanse of lawn, and through several rows of hedges.
The morning air was cool, and the dewy grass soaked her sandals. In the distance she heard a wolf’s howl. Once she’d thought the sound was beautiful and mournful. Right now, it sounded ominous.
Celia slowly turned to face her, as if she were doing Taylor an enormous favor just looking in her direction.
Taylor bit back her temper. “Fine, I’ll do some training with you this morning. I’ll eat later.” Her stomach rumbled in protest, but if it meant that Cliff would have more time to train, then food could wait.
“Honestly, it’s a waste of time anyway. I don’t see why Cliff is bothering to train you when he knows there’s almost no chance that you’ll survive the turn.”
A jolt of alarm shot through Taylor. Celia had said it so casually, as if it were something that Taylor should have known. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Oh, Cliff didn’t tell you?” Celia’s lips curled upward into a cruel smile. “Only about ten percent of people who become werewolves through biting make it past their first shift.”
Chapter Twelve
Taylor felt a shockwave roll over her.
“That’s a lie,” she spat.
She didn’t know why she said it, though. She knew next to nothing about werewolves, after all, so maybe the woman was telling the truth.
In response, the woman threw her head back and laughed with malicious glee. “Oh, honey. Cliff didn’t tell you. The truth is, Cliff isn’t planning on being your mate at all. You’re just his latest toy, his latest plaything. He’s every bit as much of a whore as his brother Grant, but he’s a lot more manipulative about it. He gets a thrill out of it. At least Grant is open about the fact that he’s just a man-whore.”
The Billion-were Needs A Mate (The Alpha Billion-weres Book 1) Page 8