She found a pile of clean rags and blew her nose. Stag moved around the small kitchen area, dipping a small pot into the big kettle of water and putting it on the stove to begin heating before unwrapping a square of waxed paper filled with shredded bark. The fact that he was stark naked didn’t bother him at all. Sherry appreciated the view. His strong back and round firm ass moved in a smooth symphony of muscle that made her want to pet him. She wondered, though, if his dangly bits weren’t worried about being so close to a hot stove. A tired giggle pushed at the back of her throat.
In a few minutes he came back to her. “Come lie down,” he urged her, nudging her toward the bed. “The tea will take a while to steep. I’ll put some snow in a rag for your head.”
He pulled off her shoes and got her settled in bed before leaving for a minute. He came back soon with a version of a cold compress and laid it on her forehead.
“Sherry, what should we have for supper tonight?”
She peered up at him from under the rag full of snow. “What are the choices?”
“Stew or steak. The stew is already made. It just needs to be thawed and heated up.”
“Stew sounds good.”
“Alright. I’ll bring that in from the ice box.”
Sherry felt his hand adjust the compress on her forehead and then brush over her cheek. For the first two months in this crazy world she had been afraid of Stag, repelled by the idea that he “claimed” her as if she were a piece of luggage in the airport, but with fewer feelings than the average suitcase. But even then she’d been physically attracted to him. In her dreams, sleeping and waking, she had imagined making love to him. She’d felt compelled to confess those dreams when she met a priest. Now she wasn’t repelled by him. Even his wolf had been cute. Kind of.
Chapter Six
She must have dozed. Stag was standing by the bed, still naked, with a faintly steaming cup in his hand. The scent of stew filling the room was mouth watering.
“Here’s the tea,” he said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. With one strong arm he raised her easily to a sitting position. The soggy compress slid off her head and plopped into his lap. His small jerk when the cold hit his private parts didn’t cause the cup to slosh. It was another sign of Stag protecting her, even from hot liquid.
She took the tea and forced it down as quickly as she could. “Ugh,” she shuddered, handing the cup back to him. “That tastes awful!”
“I know. There’s no honey here to sweeten it. I’ll get you s—” He paused. “Would you like me to get you some water?”
That leap of faith was looking slightly less scary. He was trying. “Yes, thank you.”
She accepted the water he brought and sipped it. “You know what my problem is, Stag? I think too much. I over-process every little thing until I’m not sure if I’m coming or going.”
“Is that bad?” he asked cautiously.
“Yes.”
He perched on the edge of the bed again. “Why?”
“Because I hide behind it.” The truth hurt, but once started it was easier to continue. “First I decide one thing. Then I think a little more and decide the opposite. Then I go back again. Like the other night? I decided I wanted to kiss you, but then I got scared. The more I thought about it, the more scared I was.” When he made a sudden move, she added, “Not scared of you, Stag. Not really. But that’s what made me tell you to give me more time.” She swallowed another sip of water. “I’m a coward.”
He touched her hair. “No, Sherry. You’re not a coward. You’ve had a hard time these last months. The plane crashed, and you were hurt, and your husband died.”
She felt like an evil person when she whispered, “I’m glad he died.”
“What?” said Stag blankly.
“What if he started hitting me again?”
She could see that Stag was making a strong effort to keep his face neutral. “Then you would have left him again.”
“Maybe. I should have left him the very first time he hit me. I should have left him the very first time he grabbed my arm and shook me. But I thought about it and made excuses for him. He had a bad day at the studio or his CD had fallen out of the top One Hundred. I over-processed it and talked myself into staying. I didn’t let myself leave until he punched me so hard he broke my collarbone.”
Stag growled.
“I guess what I’m trying to say is: I’m sorry I’ve been so … so dither-y.”
“Dither-y?” Stag blinked with adorable confusion.
“Yes, first I’m coming on to you, then I’m pushing you away.” She reached up to put the empty cup on the top of the chest of drawers. “I’m done with that. I won’t lie; I’m a little nervous about this, so be gentle, okay?”
His mystified expression froze when she put her hands on his warm bare shoulders and dragged them down his pecs and lower. She hesitated at his belly button, all too aware that his nakedness didn’t hide his body’s reaction to her touch. But she didn’t touch his growing penis. She didn’t dare. Her boldness trembled on the verge of collapsing as it was.
“Stag?” she asked nervously. “Is this okay? Do you mind if I touch you?”
She watched his adam’s apple bob when he swallowed hard. “Are you accepting me as your mate?”
Now she was the one to swallow hard. “What if I’m not?”
Stag reached for her wrists and gently lifted her hands away from him. “I want my mate, not just a lover.”
It was time for a leap of faith, wearing her big girl panties. She looked into his beautiful eyes. “Stag, the real answer to your question is Yes.” The word came out in a whisper, so she spoke more firmly. “Yes, I’ll be your mate. Be patient with me. I didn’t do a very good job being a wife the first time around, but I’ll try harder with you.”
“You were a good wife, better than that man deserved.” Stag released her wrists to reach a long brown hand to cup her cheek. “I’ll be the best mate I can be. I’ll protect you and take care of you always. I will love you whatever comes, and put you first in everything I can.”
That was nice. “And let me have a little freedom, right?”
“Right,” he agreed. “I’m not the only one of us who will need to be patient. I promise to try to not be a male chauvinist pig, but habits are hard to break.”
She suppressed a spurt of surprise that he even knew what a male chauvinist pig was. Of course, he –and all the other wolves— defined ‘male chauvinist pig’. “Kiss me, Stag,” she whispered.
His hands settled on her shoulders. “I thought you’d never ask,” he said fervently. “I promised Taye I wouldn’t touch you until you invited me to.”
That made her snort out a chuckle. She’d never imagined Taye Wolfe as a chaperone before. It made her like him a little better. “Consider yourself invited, baby.”
Stag kissed her lips once gently. And again. Sherry wanted more. She opened her mouth under his and licked at his closed lips.
“Open your mouth, Stag,” she whispered.
“Okay. I just don’t want to go too far and scare you again.”
“You can go as far as you like now. You can go all the way. You better go all the way. I like you being gentle, but you don’t have to be so gentle, okay?”
His hands were tentative when they went to the buttons on her flannel shirt. His fingers stilled when they brushed the cool skin of her throat. “I better put more wood on the fire,” he whispered. “I don’t want you to be cold when I take your clothes off.”
Cold? She was feeling hot right now. Her doubts about the wisdom of this faded. She wanted Stag. She’d wanted him for a long time now. She wanted hot, sweaty sex with him, but she also wanted him. His love and his protection and his companionship. She wanted the things she’d thought she would have with LeRoi. LeRoi had failed her, but Stag wouldn’t. She was sure that Stag didn’t lie or say things just to make her accept him.
Sherry watched Stag walk over to the fireplace with a little more care than usual, prob
ably because of his bobbing erection. Was it painful for him to be so hard? The sight of his penis, wide and long and so stiff, made her body melt with desire. She hurried to unbutton her shirt and remove it. She lifted the long sleeved undershirt over her head with a smile, remembering she had put it on this morning as extra protection against Stag if he got frisky. Her fingers hesitated for a moment on her bra hooks, but her nipples were chafing against the silk, aching for the touch of his mouth. She tossed the bra away and looked up to find his eyes fastened on her breasts.
“You look hungry,” she murmured. “See something you’d like to nibble on?”
He must have forgotten to walk carefully. In a blink, he was kneeling beside the bed, one arm around her waist. “Yeah, I see something that I’d like to take a bite of.” He stilled. “Are you hungry? The stew’s probably ready now.”
Food? When she had this fine piece of male right here? “Not now. But if you need a snack, here I am.”
When she cupped one breast for him, he bent to her. His mouth grazed her tightly furled nipple. “Your nipples are all crinkled. Are you cold? My nipples crinkle up like that when I’m cold.”
She giggled. “No, I’m hot. Hot for you. You haven’t done this before, have you?”
“No.” He petted her hair back from her face. “But I’ve dreamt of it. You tell me what you like and what you don’t like. And if I go too fast like last time tell me, okay? I don’t want you to be scared.”
“Okay.” She hoped she wouldn’t feel that niggling fear of potential violence. “Why don’t we get started by kissing? I like that. And I liked when you were touching my breasts that night in the pantry.”
For a man who hadn’t done much kissing he sure picked it up quick. Sherry loved how his tongue went from hesitant to ravenous in less than sixty seconds. He kept one arm around her waist, but his free hand lifted to pet her. First he caressed her cheek and throat, then he smoothed his way to her collarbone, and finally he cupped her breast. He found her nipple and gave it a tiny pinch between his forefinger and thumb.
“How’s this?” he murmured against her cheek. “Do you like this?”
Sherry remembered the night she had told LeRoi that she liked it when he pinched her nipples. Instead of trying to please her, he had pinched so tightly and twisted her nipple so viciously that she had cried. That was the first episode of sexual violence he’d visited on her. His so-called apology was just another slap at her; he’d said that the way she told him what to do emasculated him. Stag’s fingers were light on her breast. Too light. It took courage for her to say,
“Just a little harder?”
He pulled away to look down at her breasts. Sherry felt humbled by the look of awe on his face. She was glad they were making love during the day when the sun was still out so she could see his face. She could have told him that her breasts were on the small side, but he didn’t look as if he would care. His fingers gave her nipple a little pull. “Like this?”
A zing of arousal shot to her groin. She caught her breath. “Yeah, that’s great.” She braced her hands on his shoulders for balance. “I love that.”
Stag took his arm from her waist so he could pinch both nipples at the same time. Then he replaced one hand with his mouth and the heat of his tongue rolling her nipple against the roof of his mouth set her on fire. They had been fooling around for only three minutes and already she was dying for him to be inside her. She tried to fall back on the bed, but Stag kept her upright.
“Stag.”
She pulled lightly on his braid to get his attention. When he raised his head to look at her his eyes were glazed for a moment, but they focused quickly on her.
“Are you okay?” he asked anxiously. “Am I hurting you?”
“No, but I want to lay down now.” Her eye caught on the gleaming tip of his penis. “But first …”
She bent to lick at the bead of moisture glistening on the head of his penis.
“No!” he half-shouted.
Sherry jerked her head up, half cringing. “What? What did I do wrong?”
“Nothing,” he panted. His hand gently caressed her cheek. “But you can’t do that. You have to come first, but if you do that again, it won’t happen.”
She blinked. “But this is your first time. It should be all about you. I want it to be perfect for you.”
“How can it be anything else?” he said simply, looking at her naked torso. “This is about us, not just me and not just you. But I want to pleasure you before I come, and I want to be inside you when I come.” Sherry could swear he was being sincere. “Lie down, Sherry.”
Sherry let herself fall back, tugging at the drawstring of her pants. “Help me take these off, Stag.”
He jerked at the waistband as if he would rip them off, but then his hands gentled and he drew them slowly down her legs. For a second Sherry cringed, knowing her legs weren’t as perfect as they had been before the plane crash had broken them. But Stag had been her nurse. He’d seen them before. As soon as he had pulled her pants off and tossed them aside he knelt on the bed beside her and petted her mound through her plain cotton panties. She wished she was wearing the silk panties that matched her bra instead of the bulky 2064 version of underwear, but she hadn’t been wearing them when he kidnapped her and they hadn’t been packed. Not that it mattered. These were coming off any minute. The crotch was soaked. She gaped at Stag leaning close to the V at the top of her thighs and inhaling deeply.
“You smell wonderful. Sweet and spicy and tart.”
“Tart?” she squeaked, trembling with a fresh rush of desire.
“Like a juicy green apple sprinkled with salt.”
LeRoi had never said anything like that to her. “Um. Thank you?”
“Can I taste?”
She lifted her head to get a better look at him. “Taste? You mean oral sex?”
He must have seen her hesitation. “I read about it in a book. I want to try it. Do you mind?”
“Well, I guess not.”
But he didn’t get started right away. First he slid the panties down her legs and crawled to the end of the bed so he was kneeling between her feet. The way he opened her legs wide with one hand on each of her ankles made her feel a strange mix of vulnerability and anticipation. Was a woman ever more vulnerable than when in this position? But she didn’t feel frightened. His eyes were fixed on her most private place with fascinated greed. She was pretty sure it was the look she’d worn the first time she’d gone through the jewelry exhibit at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. No one had ever looked at any part of her with that expression. It made her feel marvelously sure of herself.
“Beautiful,” he breathed.
Really? Sherry hadn’t ever considered that part of her body beautiful, but she wasn’t going to argue with the man. She wiggled her hips in a hint that he should be doing something other than staring at her. Gently, he folded her legs so her heels were on the mattress, her knees wide apart. She closed her eyes as he bent to her, shivering with anticipation when she felt his breath on her wet, hot flesh. She squeaked when his thumbs spread her open; the air was cold. But his tongue was hot. He probed delicately at her opening before licking up to her clit. No one had ever touched his tongue there. LeRoi hadn’t done that, and she’d never gone that far with her boyfriends.
He gave her more. Low growls vibrated against her while he licked and sucked. Sherry hadn’t realized how erotic gentle nips on her clitoris could be, especially when he slid a finger inside her at the same time.
“Oh,” she moaned. “That’s nice, Stag.”
Sherry enjoyed what his hand and his mouth were doing to her. His finger glided in and out of her, in a rhythm that matched his suction on her clit. It wasn’t quite enough. She lifted her hips to help him find that one perfect spot. A fireball was building, but it hovered just out of reach. She strained toward it.
“Harder,” she gasped. “Stag, harder!”
He lifted his head to gaze at her wordlessly for a momen
t, and she forcefully pushed the memory of LeRoi’s anger at her demands away. Stag wasn’t like that.
“Don’t stop!” she cried. “Please! I’m so close!”
He didn’t go back to sucking on her, but the gentle rhythm of his finger changed. He thrust into her harder and faster, and his free hand played with her clit, tickling her into unbearable tension that finally exploded into boneless bliss.
Wow, had she actually screamed? Her legs flopped weakly until Stag removed his finger and caught her knees in his hands. She panted, staring at him in amazement. For a beginner, he was a fantastic lover. Day-yam, he was a better lover than LeRoi, who —lord knew— had had plenty of practice. Stag’s cheeks were flushed, a proud smile on his face.
“You liked that,” he said. “You came. Is that how it always is?”
Sherry’s brain was mush. “I don’t know. How was it?”
“Beautiful,” he said immediately. “I liked doing that to you. I was watching your face every minute. Your expressions!” His smile gentled. “I want to do that to you again. I loved hearing you pant and moan. And the way you pushed yourself at me … It made me feel good.”
Sherry lifted her head from the pillow. “If that made you feel good, this next part is going to blow your mind.” She reached her arms for him. “Come here.”
He was wonderfully naked and aroused. He let go of her knees and crawled up her body until the tip of his engorged penis hovered at her entrance. She was so wet the slightest pressure would send him deep. Stag touched one hand gently to her cheek.
Sherry's Wolf Page 9