I’m lost.
Drowning in her scent and heady taste.
Needing to feel more of her, as much as possible, I cup her neck with both hands and stroke my fingers over her petal-soft skin. She whimpers, thrusting her tongue deep into my mouth, exploring, tasting, silently begging for more.
The wolf part of me howls with gripping need.
In one swift move, I coil my arm around her back and lay her down, all the while feasting on her luscious lips. I want to wedge myself between her legs, grind against her until my erection throbs with the promise of release. Make her come from the friction I know she so desperately wants. But she’s got a fucking evening dress on, and it’s tight, so unless I strip her down—right here on the porch, my God, wouldn’t that be a sight—I can’t get between her legs. Bracing my weight on the bench, I settle over the top of her.
As she moans into another kiss, my dick jumps, aching to plunge into her wetness. I’m right there. Ready to tear through her dress.
Desperate to taste more of her, I urge her neck upward with two fingers and pepper kisses down her neck. She’s breathing hard, her chest rising and falling in irregular waves. And when I reach the plump curve of her breasts, I groan heavily. Tortured. Pained.
More.
She grips the back of my head and lowers me toward her breasts, giving the permission I crave. She’s right there, teetering on the edge of insanity with me.
“Hunter…”
My name on her lips is like a shot of adrenaline. Raw currents of electricity spark through me, unleashing the passion that’s coursing through my veins.
“Fuck yeah.” My heart pounds against my ribs. “Say my name again—the right one this time.”
She’s writhing beneath me, panting, chest heaving. “Hunter.”
As I jerk down the top of the dress, her breasts bounce free. Full and lush, they’re peaked with two of the daintiest pink nipples I’ve ever seen. She arches back, shoving her breasts into my mouth as a growl erupts from the back of my throat. I knead her double-Ds in my hands, twirl my tongue along her pebbled flesh as the hunger inside me rises to a violent crest.
If I don’t touch more of her, I’ll burst.
“Arch up.” I kneel at the base of the bench and jerk at her hips, nearly tearing the fabric. “I want to see that beautiful pussy again.”
She gives a tiny sigh of approval as she obeys, planting her feet and lifting up.
Fevered, I wrench her dress from the floor and over her thighs, revealing the curve of her milky-white legs. Although I can’t see her sex, I know she’s going to be warm and wet, and waiting for my touch.
And she’s laid out for my taking.
Ghosting my fingers up her legs, I trace a line around her dainty ankles, move up to the arc of her calves, over the mound of her knees, and between her thighs. And when my fingers brush over her silken folds, a groan peels from my lips.
As a teasing smile pulls at the corners of her mouth, she slides a hand between her breasts, down the ruby-red gown bunching on her stomach, and between her legs. Sweeping a finger through her slit, she brings it up to her mouth but doesn’t lick the moisture coating it. She’s so close, right there, her finger nearly pressed against her lips, taunting me.
Air punches out of my lungs. My heart hitches. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the erotic scene playing out in front of me if my pants were on fire. Her tongue darts out, tantalizingly slow, as she licks her lips and eyes the tip of her finger.
Time. Fucking. Stops.
I don’t know this Snow, but my dick thinks he’s in love with her.
“I wonder,” she says, her voice like a velvet caress on my ears, “if this tastes better secondhand, too.”
Oh. My. Fucking. God.
She grins, holding her finger out to me. “Why don’t you tell me?”
In a flash of movement, everything blurs. I’m sucking on her finger, and relishing the sweet taste of her cream. I’m on top of her, grinding my erection against her hips. Jerking her finger from my mouth, and kissing her hard. I’m ravaged. Hungry and delirious. I dive into her wetness, teasing her clit and thrusting my finger inside her. And then I add another one. She lets out breathless gasps, and moans of pleasure that fuel my need.
“Hunter, you’re going to make me…” She suckles on my lower lip as I drive inside her, thrusting as I would if my dick were stretching her walls instead of my fingers. “Don’t stop—oh God…”
I kiss her deeper, harder, working her sex. And when she comes apart, her core clutching around my fingers in tiny little pulses, she screams my name into the night.
The pleasure lighting her face—the pleasure I put there—the scent of her arousal, the sound of my name on her sexy mouth…it’s all I need. It’s everything.
As I pull back and jerk on the button of my jeans, unleashing my throbbing cock, she rakes her fingers over the grooves of my abs.
“Hurry.” She’s panting, her lips heavy-lidded with desire. “Please, Hunter.”
I strip out of my shirt and pants completely, chucking them somewhere behind me. She does the same, shimmying and jerking out of her dress before throwing it over her head.
I have to get inside her.
Scooping her into my arms, she giggles into a squeal. But when I sit on the bench and straddle her legs over my lap, one knee on either side, she quiets, her gaze turning hungry.
There’s no need for protection—she can’t get pregnant unless she’s in heat, which judging by her scent, she’s not, and diseases don’t pass between werewolves—so I grip my shaft and slowly guide it into her velvety wetness.
“Fuck,” I hiss, drawing out every letter as she moves over the top of me. I fill my hands with her tits, squeeze her nipples between my fingers, and then flick my tongue out over their perfect peaks. “You feel amazing.”
Grinning mischievously, she rocks her hips, lifting and lowering that luscious ass over my groin. Every time our hips meet, I’m speared with lust. My mind is blank, my body on fire, and with each hitch of her breath, each bounce of her breasts and clench of her core, she’s scorching me through.
As sensations gather at the base of my spine, rising and tensing, I press her down over me, her breasts pressed against my chest, our sweat-slickened bodies sliding against one another in perfect time. Kneading her rear in my hands, I speed the tempo, wanting more, needing more, the climax closing in—so close.
“Snow,” I say on a groan, and scrape my hands up her back. Tangling my fingers in her hair, I drag her gaze to mine. The climax erupts from the deepest part of me, and as I fill her with my seed, slamming her hips against mine, delicious warmth flows through me.
Mine.
I’m leveled with the insane desire to claim her as my own and possess her body and soul. But that’s ridiculous. Just because I’ve sexed her twice in the last few hours doesn’t mean I want her to be mine. And she’s trying to get into another dude’s pants.
Clearly my dick doesn’t listen to reason.
“That was exactly what I needed.” She stamps an open-mouthed kiss on my neck. “Consider that lesson learned.”
Right. It was a lesson. Nothing more. Damn if it didn’t feel like it, though.
As I’m about to ask what her next move might be, headlights stream across the porch, blinding us.
“Is that—” she starts, covering her breasts. “Did she send someone for me?”
Disappointment sours my stomach as Diesel’s ’68 Camaro roars through the driveway, kicking up a cloud of dirt behind his fat tires. A Harley follows the Camaro’s path, swerving in a last attempt to pass the classic car. And behind that, the raspy yell of a Porsche motor rattles through the trees.
They’re here.
“It’s my brothers.” Not by blood, but pack. We watch out for each other, and I’d die for any one of them, and I know they’d do the same for me without hesitation. Blood or not, that’s what matters in the end. Making sure Snow is covered, I help her dismount and then sh
ove my legs into my pants. “And they’re early. For the first time in their lives.”
Figures it’d be tonight.
Snow and I were only getting started.
She blows out a shaky breath as she dresses in a rush, covering all of those luscious curves with her gown. “Are they going to be here all night?”
“Snow,” I say, still catching my breath, “if you’re worried about continuing your lessons, you don’t have to be. You’re not going to have a problem becoming a seductress.”
“I’m glad you think so,” she says, standing behind me.
As Diesel, Cash, J.D., and Rocky clamber out of the classic hotrod, she stares, her mouth falling open. Harley dismounts and removes his helmet as Goliath emerges from the Porsche looking irritated for losing the race to the lodge.
“But I still want to learn the other two rules,” she says, dancing her fingers up and down my back. “I want you to show me.”
“I’m happy to oblige.”
It’s not like I’ll be able to think about anything else.
“What you did to me in the closet—and again just now—I’ve never felt that way before,” she goes on. “I don’t know how you did that to me, but I felt…sexy for the first time in, well, ever.”
“You are sexy, Snow. More than you know.”
More than I knew, actually.
“No. With everyone else, including Malcolm, I’m shy and uptight and definitely not like this. You brought it out in me,” she whispers as Diesel opens up the trunk and starts flinging luggage into the dirt. “This is why it has to be you. You’re the only one who can bring me out of my shell. Will you show me how I can be that way with him?”
Talk about a dick deflator.
“Why do you want this guy so bad, Snow?”
She nibbles on her lower lip. “When we were younger, you would always say that you belonged out there in the world, conquering the steepest mountains, and skiing down the craziest slopes, and now, through your business, you bring that sense of adventure to others. Your love has grown into something amazing. Well, I have a feeling deep down inside me, too.” She clenches a fist and holds it against her stomach. “I think Malcolm’s the one. I think this feeling inside me might grow into a kind of love I’ve never felt before. Everything seems to have lined up perfectly. And now my best friend is here to show me how to put my best foot forward so I don’t screw this up.”
I swipe my hands on my jeans as her words ring through my ears. First and foremost, Snow is my friend. I want what’s best for her. If she thinks she might love this guy, I have to do whatever it takes to make her happy.
“Sure thing,” I say. “I’ll teach you everything you need to seduce him, and more.”
And then send you to his bed.
This has been the plan from the moment she charged into my lodge. Not sure why I’m having such a problem with it now. Merely thinking about her with someone else—someone who will be pleasuring her and making her moan—gives me the skin-crawling feeling that someone walked over my grave.
“What’s the second rule?” she asks, watching the guys greet each other with knockout blows in the driveway.
Fuck if I know.
Don’t return home after years away and clit-blaze your friend?
That certainly seems like a good one to me.
“You’ve got to slow your roll.” Real slow. Up and down. From the tip to the base of my shaft and back again. Suppressing a shudder, I force thoughts of our interlude from my mind. “This isn’t going to be a one-time thing. You’ll have to entice Malcolm slowly, little by little. Before you can move on to rule number two, you have to go back to the estate.” With a hollow pang in my gut, I check the time. “You’ll have to practice the first rule on him.”
“Got it.” She ghosts her hands down the front of her gown. “Do I look all right?”
“Yes.” Gorgeous enough to make me want to drop to my knees and howl at the moon. “But it’s more than looks. Remember that you’re the fishing lure—everything about you must create the illusion that you’re his fantasy come to life.”
“Temptation personified. Check.”
“Don’t throw yourself at him. You can touch him on the shoulder or thigh or hand, but you have to walk away as if it doesn’t mean a thing.”
“Touch and run. I can do that.”
My head throbs as a picture of Snow and Malcolm together flashes through my head. It doesn’t add up. Doesn’t sit right. Malcolm isn’t good enough for Snow, not by a long shot. But she wants him. I have to remember that.
“Talk or eat seductively to draw attention to your lips,” I say, shaking my head to dislodge the image of the two of them together.
“O…kay.” She speaks the word slowly, as if she’s working out how to make the seduction game go off without a hitch. “Anything else?”
“Enhance your scent.” Smell is our most powerful sense—one that can arouse us to the point of madness. “Fluff your hair when he’s near—you know, that way women do that drives men crazy—or stand in a window, letting the breeze bring your aroma to him.”
“I can do that.”
She pushes a strand of raven-black hair over her shoulder as if on cue, and something shifts in my ribs. I rub my chest to soothe the ache growing there, but it doesn’t help. Must be indigestion.
“That it?”
She’s already got the no-panties thing down. And she looks like a million bucks with her curve-hugging gown.
“You’re ready.”
“Good.” She smiles victoriously. “I should get going. By the time I make it back it’ll be close to midnight. He’ll be expecting me. And you will be busy entertaining your friends, anyway.”
As she strides down the stairs, I go elbows down over the railing. “Hey, Snow.”
She turns, but so do the guys. Rocky has Cash in a headlock. J.D., Harley, and Diesel are checking out the rides while Goliath sits on the Camaro’s hood, his feet kicked up on the bumper.
“Yeah?” she says, her tone laced with sweetness.
“When you’re finished, come back.” They won’t get far—I know it. Malcolm won’t push himself on her, and she won’t be comfortable enough with the situation to stay long. But if I can get another chance to study her curves with my tongue, taste her pussy, and thrust into her heat, I’m going to take it and run. “We can pick up where we left off.”
She doesn’t say a single word as she turns around and races into the forest. The guys, on the other hand, don’t waste a single second before bolting onto the porch, hollering and laughing and giving me hell.
Talk about a stellar homecoming.
Chapter Five
Snow
As I follow the path from Hunter’s lodge back to the estate, I keep my eyes on the ground. Winding around towering trees, I duck below branches and clamber over fallen logs. The air is electric with moisture and the promise of rain. I can’t see the clouds through the canopy of green overhead, but if I don’t hurry, I’ll be caught in a downpour. I hike up my gown, speed up my pace, and let my mind wander.
When I’m with Hunter, it’s as if I’m possessed. Drunk or drugged, maybe. I can’t explain it. I’ve never said any of those things before. Not even close. I’m not a girl who gets pleasured while hiding out in the kitchen or screwed on the porch of my former friend’s cabin.
I don’t know what has gotten into me. Other than Hunter’s gargantuan cock, of course.
Why didn’t our relationship zigzag into the “friends with benefits” zone when he was here before? Did I always feel this way about him deep down?
I’m not sure, but when I’m in his arms and his mouth is covering mine, something awakens inside me. I want to feel that way when I’m having sex with “the one.” Eventually. I want to be swept away, my body ravished, my mind blissfully blank.
Only, I didn’t expect to have that kind of reaction to him.
It was supposed to happen with Malcolm. But that would’ve been too easy, wouldn’t it?
The perfect guy on paper is never the perfect guy in person. I’m the victim of life’s cruelest joke.
Hunter has always been hot. But up close and personal? He’s scorch-the-clothes-off-my-body hot. I suppose I should’ve expected it. He’s a player who breaks hearts. He’s got seduction down to an art form. That’s his favorite study. And he’s got some kind of allure that draws women in, too. I can’t deny it.
No matter how lost I am in the moment, that’s where things end between us. Whatever happens, it’s physical only. Although my heart pounds and seems to call his name when we’re in the middle of the best sex I’ve ever had, he’s not the one for me. He hasn’t changed. He’s not monogamous, and that’s what I need. After he gets what he wants from the women in his arms—whatever that is at the time—he turns them away.
Exactly how many women have been tangled in his sheets?
I’ve never given the details much thought before. But now that his lips have touched mine, his tongue has licked my nipples, and his fingers have swept between my legs…I can’t think about anything else. He tasted delicious, like warm chocolate and temptation I’ve never known. His touch was greedy, but I wanted him to take more. Everything. I almost forgot that he wasn’t really into me. He was simply demonstrating what it could be like with someone I truly wanted—someone like Malcolm Taylor, maybe.
But Hunter was so unbelievably good. Mouthwatering, body-quivering, core-pulsing, smack-my-lips-together yummy.
It goes against reason, but guess I wasn’t expecting that. I’d closed my mind to the possibility that Hunter would be that powerful, that…consuming.
As I weave through the immaculate gardens and up the raised terrace, my chest goes tight. Nerves rattle through me like pinballs, and it’s hard to catch my breath.
Snow's Seduction (A Snow White Werewolf Tale) Page 4