by Skye Jones
“Oh, I think I do, Red.” He tugged on a strand of my hair. “I know what matters. You are brave, and you’re determined. You also are very intelligent.” His face went soft as he looked at me. “My scientist.”
“I wear jogging bottoms or jeans most days,” I blurted out my confession. “I rarely wear things like the nightie I had on the night we…” I blushed at the memory.
“My friends bought me it ages ago and I’d put it on that evening because my comfy pajamas were in the dryer.”
“Red.”
“Yes?”
“Shut up.” He put his other leg on the bed and climbed over me.
His mouth descended on mine and took it in a punishing kiss. The scent and taste of him hit me; so familiar, but so enticing and new at the same time.
We kissed for what seemed an age, lost in one another as we sipped and tasted. Drew gave a groan into my mouth and moved his lips down my jaw to pepper my neck and throat with kisses. He took my arms in his hands and held them above my head on the pillow.
I gasped as he lowered his head further and sucked my nipple into his mouth, gently grazing it with his teeth, once, twice, a third time. Each sharp touch sent a thrill racing down my body as if a thread attached my nipples to my clit.
“Love how responsive you are. So sensual.”
Was I? Under his masterful mouth and hands, then yes, but generally? I’d always thought myself not particularly sensual. I liked sex, a lot, but it wasn’t amazing. With Drew, it proved to be all out fantastic.
“Only for you,” I told him, uttering the truth.
His head came up and he regarded me with intense eyes. “I’m glad. You’re the only one to truly do it for me, too.”
I didn’t like to point out he’d only been with two women, so statistically it didn’t prove much of anything about my mad bedroom skills.
“I’ve always dreamed of this, the connection of mind, body, and soul with a true mate.” He nipped at my ear before resuming his downward exploration of my body by his mouth. “You’re my new addiction.” He placed a kiss right by my bellybutton.
Oh, I certainly hoped so, because I was damned sure he’d become mine.
With a happy groan, he settled between my legs and pushed my thighs further apart. “Never get sick of tasting you.” And then he dived in.
He licked me so expertly that within minutes I hovered on that delicious precipice, so near and yet still so far. When his mouth left me, I gave a whimper of frustration.
“Not yet, I want you to come on my cock.”
He flipped us so I straddled him and gave me a cocky grin. “Ride me, angel.”
Not needing to be asked twice, I grabbed hold of his hard cock and swiped my thumb over the liquid seeping out of the head. I spread it around his shaft and down and he gave a low moan. Unable to resist, I bent forward and took the tip of him in my mouth, tasting his nectar for myself.
“Gods, Red, you are killing me.” He thrust his hips up to meet my sucking. “I don’t know which is more heavenly, your beautiful mouth or your wet, tightness when we mate.”
His crude words shot a thrill through my core and I needed him there. Lips popping as I removed my mouth from him, I crawled forward until he sat at my entrance. I lifted myself up and sank down in one long and glorious move. His length filled me, and I sighed at the sensation of being so perfectly at one with Drew.
Large hands spanned my waist and helped me as I rose and then drove back down, over and over again.
“Touch yourself, Brooke. I want to see you pleasure yourself and come.”
I hesitated for a moment, something akin to embarrassment squirming inside me. One look at Drew’s heated gaze and all my shame fell away. He wanted me. Lusted after me. I didn’t need to hide, not here in this room with him. So I did. I lowered one hand and began to stroke myself the way I liked.
The duel sensations were too much and my climax began to build. Slowly but inexorably the pleasure ratcheted up and up. I panted and writhed on him, desperate to get to the place I chased. When it hit, I came hard. So hard that I cried out loudly with the force of it.
Drew bit out some word I didn’t know and thrust once more and then stilled as he spilled inside me.
As it ended, he moved again within me, languorous now and sated. The sensation against my over sensitized walls drove me insane. I squirmed against him and he pulled me down to him until we lay chest to chest, breathing as one.
Totally in sync and at ease, I’d never felt so close to anyone before in my life.
When Drew eventually rolled me from his warm body, I almost cried out at the loss. He headed to a door in the far wall, went through, and into what looked to be a small bathroom. A moment later, he came back with a warm, damp washcloth in hand. He proceeded to wipe me clean gently, and when he’d finished he placed three soft kisses on me. One on each inner thigh and one on my belly.
“My beautiful, Rua. You make me so happy that you chose to stay here with me. You won’t regret it, I promise. I’ll make sure you never want to leave.”
When he came back to the bed, he pulled me in close and wrapped me in his big arms, one heavy thigh draped over me as he’d done before in my little cabin.
“We need to go and fetch Sandy,” I murmured into his neck.
“Later my sweet. Let us rest for now. She’s playing with Louis’s dogs and will be fine until we go get her.”
Maybe I could stay here in his warm arms a little while longer. Truth be told there was nowhere I’d rather be.
Epilogue
Drew didn’t kill the rogue, Glynn. In the end, his lieutenant, Louis, did. I found myself making good friends with Louis, the scarred and scary looking pack protector. Once I got to know the guy, I realized he owned a soft heart and intelligent mind. Drew approved of the friendship because he liked to know I was safe whenever he couldn’t be by my side.
The day Louis killed the rogue reminded me these males may be kind and caring when it came to me, but they had a fierce side. When the males from the village went to the cave and Louis found a doll belonging to his missing sister, Drew gave him the kill. Glynn’s mutilated body was paraded through the village as a warning to all not to turn rogue. I missed that show, claiming a headache.
Drew let me sit it out. With his pack, he would be the big, bad wolf, but once behind closed doors with me, he turned into a pussy cat. Well, all except for our time between the sheets. During sex, he was as dominating and masterful as during our first encounter. But he also discovered he loved me to be on top. After our first time making love in his home, when he’d asked me to ride him, the position became a favorite of his. He’d watch my breasts bob, and his eyes would change from slate blue to ice blue as his feral side came out to play. In fact, I enjoyed showing him the many different ways we humans liked to make love.
I went home to visit my parents and took Drew with me. Of course, I couldn’t tell Mum and Dad they had a werewolf in the family now. So I told them he lived and worked in an eco-village. Due to our bond, I’d now age much more slowly. We’d cross the bridge of explaining that one away when it became an issue. I didn’t want worries of the future to spoil our here and now.
The eco-commune bit wasn’t all made up. The pack’s home consisted of a cluster of eco-friendly houses, all hand-built. They used wood and other materials for heat and solar panels and wind turbines placed on a hill behind the village clearing to provide what meager electricity they needed.
They’d developed an odd attitude toward technology. They loved mobile phones and laptops but didn’t watch television. They claimed us humans liked to make them look bad in our films and books. They listened to modern music, but still cooked on old-fashioned stoves or over open fires during the warmer months.
Their land held signs to warn trespassers away and a high fence surrounded the village. Most people avoided it anyway, thinking it nothing more than an eco-commune. Often, the pack would change form and run as wolves for hours within their private
boundary. Sandy loved those days. She’d got herself a pack to run with now.
And as for me, I fit in quickly and over time, my bond with others in the pack grew. Louis became a close friend, the brother I’d never had. I wanted to find him a mate, for him to have what Drew and I did, but the pack females ignored him for the most part.
Bigger than Drew, he carried a jagged scar. It started at his mouth, ran down his jaw and became livid when it reached his neck. His eyes seemed cold, a striking green like emeralds but without the warmth, until he smiled, and then his face lit up. Really, he was a big softie—unless you threatened the pack.
My bond with Jake, Drew’s brother, would always be powerful, due to the part he played in my rescue. Handsome as Drew, but with a lighter air about him, Jake told me he thanked the gods his brother had found a mate to help him shoulder the responsibility of being alpha one day.
A number of the pack females became fast friends. In fact, from the very beginning, I felt a strong connection to all the village residents. Something Drew insisted came down to my empathine nature. They fascinated and intrigued me, and I spent time studying them, helping their medicine woman try to figure out their lack of ability to birth many females.
They also wanted to talk to me, find out about my family, my life. The medicine woman said I might not be the only empathine out there. The ‘condition’ was believed to be hereditary. So maybe my relatives, close or distant, also carried the gene needed to make an empathine and were able to bond with the pack members. I let them start to research my family tree and was shocked to see how many relatives I had that I’d never met. Distant cousins all over the UK popped up the more digging we did. The medicine woman became excited about the prospect of more empathines for her pack. I think she secretly wanted a nice male empathine for herself.
As for Drew and me? Well, after a few months, I finally accepted that I loved him. I’d fallen for him in the same way I would any man. It was an extra layer of feeling, on top of the lust and attraction and the odd connection we shared. When I told Drew, he’d looked deeply into my eyes and said it back. Said he’d felt it from the start but kept it within, didn’t want to scare me off as he knew it wasn’t the way of my people to declare these things so soon.
My days were happily filled with research, working with the pack females, and sometimes helping Louis in his vast garden, which soon became a favorite new hobby of mine. But the nights were the best. For, come the night, Drew would arrive at the laboratory I’d set up and claim me all over again. Yes, the nights were the best time of all.
A word from the author
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I am a writer and avid reader from the United Kingdom who writes about that moment when love and lust meet head on. I write across genres, but paranormal romance is my favorite.
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Here you go. The sneak peak of Wolf in the Woods I promised. This is the story of Louis and Izzy. I hope you enjoy the preview.
Please note: The final story may have changes when published.
Wolf in the Woods.
By Skye Jones.
Prologue
The wolf stopped dead in his tracks. The woods where he roamed were normally quiet and devoid of people. That scent. He lifted his head and sniffed the air. Empathine.
No, it couldn’t be. They were rare, and their pack already had one. The odds of another being found were astonishingly low. Yet, his nose did not lie.
The female’s scent brushed by him again, carried on the low breeze. He edged nearer to the clearing where three tents were set up. The raucous sounds of young humans having fun drifted on the night air.
“Drink, drink, drink!” a man shouted.
The wolf snorted. Idiots. They came out here, to one of the last great European wildernesses, to do what? Drink and play stupid games.
“Don’t drink it all.” A female voice this time. Not her, though. Not the one with the delicious scent. A young black woman walked into the clearing.
“Don’t be such a nag, Cindy,” a man shouted.
“Of course.” She shrugged. “Why listen to me? I’m only going to be a doctor. Don’t come to me when you’re throwing up tomorrow, Dave.”
Dave snorted and turned toward the tents before shouting, “Your turn next, Iz.”
“I’ll drink you under the table, old man.” A blonde exited the farthest tent.
Her. She was the one who’d brought the wolf here. That voice. Her scent. They called to the wolf…and to the male within. Look at her. Long blonde hair, pale skin, and curves to make his mouth water, made for a potent beauty. The wolf sniffed again. Healthy, too. Ripe. Ready for the taking. She threw off pheromones like a furnace. A growl ripped out of his throat, low and angry. Did she want one of the idiot males in her group?
How long would they be here? One night? Two? Should he go alert the others? He thought not. They’d want this one. By rights, his best friend Jake got first call. As the alpha’s second son, Jake needed a mate. His brother Drew had found his own female. The empathine, Brooke.
Now Louis had found this one. This beautiful, sexual female. He wanted her. The feeling so new, so unexpected it slayed him. Of course, there were plenty of pack females, but Louis didn’t desire them. Their disdain for him—because of his scar and his role as pack enforcer—didn’t enamor them to him. It had been years since he’d felt real lust. Now, though, his wolf had to hold itself utterly under control so he didn’t tear down the hill and rip every single man to shreds before claiming the blonde as his. He wanted to take her under the bright light of the full moon. No. His wolf needed to stay calm. He should watch. Watch and wait as the humans played their stupid games.
Gods, her scent. He made his mind up. He would not tell the pack. Not yet. It went against his nature. Always loyal to his friends and pack, he’d found something to supersede his loyalty. Desire. For the first time in his long life, Louis didn’t want to put others first. He’d compromise. Stay and watch over her until he came to a decision.
The moon rose higher in the sky and the wolf settled down in the undergrowth, ready for a long night.
Chapter One
My head pounded when I tried to lift it from the pillow. Why, oh, why did I think I could drink Dave and Gregg under the table? Why did I care one way or the other what they thought of me? Then it hit me, as always. The sick feeling. I cared because they were best friends with Jason, aka The Bastard, and they’d tell him what a laugh I’d been this week. How I didn’t care one bit that he’d dumped me for a size eight brunette with huge, fake tits and even faker personality.
This camping trip, with my friends and Jason’s friends together, had been organized for months. Then Jason dropped his bombshell, and I’d faced a choice. Either come along and put on an Oscar-worthy performance of not giving a shit in the hopes it got back to him, or stay at home, tail between my legs. I’d chosen to come. Currently, my head regretted it. My stomach, too. As soon as I moved, it roiled in protest.
I got up and unzipped the tent, needing fresh air. Cindy slept on. Her mouth hung open and soft snores escaped. The tent nearest us held Gregg and Dave. The next one, Sue and Sam. The two S’s as we all called them. Another couple in our group. A wave of fresh pain hit me. The utter bastard.
I didn’t love him, thank God. My sadness came from once again being let down. My romantic history contained a tattered trail of broken promises and feckless bastards. Jason and I had been friends with benefits. Friends with very good benefits. He’d been hot. Handsome in a boy-band way all the girls loved. He wore cool clothes, hung out
at the hottest bars, and turned out to be good in the sack.
We’d met in the university bar on campus during the first week of our third year. How we’d managed not to lay eyes on one another before then, who knew? But the university was huge. Thousands of students passed through its hallowed halls each year.
We’d been together for a year and a bit. A fun-filled, hot and heavy year. Then, as life seemed to be looking up, when I’d graduated and finally landed a job, he dumped me for fake Roz.
Bile clawed at my throat, and it wasn’t only last night’s alcohol wanting to come back up. I needed to shake off my hangover—and my pity party. The best way would be a run. Exercise always helped me feel better. The only time I’d missed working out had been when I’d contracted the flu. Proper, dead in bed for two weeks, flu. Hideous. Other than having the flu, whenever I felt like crap, I pushed through it and ran. I wasn’t stupid, though. So I headed back into the tent and ate an energy bar, chased down with a pint of water.
After letting it settle for thirty minutes, and satisfied I didn’t feel about to puke, I changed into some shorts, a racerback tank with a built-in bust support, plus my heavy-duty sports bra underneath. Last, I pulled on running shoes.
“What are you doing?” Cindy opened one bleary eye.
“Going for a run.”
“You’re soft in the head, you are.” She snorted. “No one runs with a hangover…except for you.”
“Yeah, well, when you’re feeling dreadful this evening, and I’m raring to go again, I’ll not say told you so.” I gave her a pat on the shoulder.
Cindy grinned. That full-on gorgeous beam of hers, which lit up her whole face. In the low glow of the tent, her mahogany skin gleamed. She wore her hair cropped close to her head and could have been a supermodel if she wanted. Cindy didn’t want. Cindy wanted to be a doctor. So, while I’d finished my studies, hers stretched ahead for years yet.
Why someone as brainy and beautiful as she singled out someone as ordinary as me to be her friend, I didn’t understand. I was so grateful she had. I loved her like a sister.