Accidental Lover (Wolven Moon Book 3)

by Dany Rae Miller

  I pull away. “Are your nipples as sensitive as mine?” I ask.

  “Not quite,” he says, chuckling. “Yours are extra responsive.” He cups my breasts and dips his head to circle a nipple with his tongue to prove his point.

  I lean in to it for just a minute. “Stop.” I arch away. “It’s my turn to do you.”

  “Ooooh.” He waggles his eyebrows and gives me a lusty grin. “Do me, peaches.”

  I make him put his hands on my hips. Then, with my palms and fingertips, I caress his shoulders, arms and pecs. God, there’s not an inch on him that isn’t as hard as steel. Using my thumbs, I rub against his nipples, copying what he does to mine and watch his reaction. He sucks in his breath a little, bites his lower lip.

  I kiss his throat, his shoulders and pecs before lightly nipping at his nipples.

  “Mmmmm,” he says, squirming slightly.

  Compared to me, his response is miniscule. I want to find out what drives him wild. I bite lightly on his earlobe. That produces a soft moan and increases pelvis movement. Nibbling and licking his jaw and throat has him breathing a little harder. Rubbing my breasts against his chest elicits a longer, deeper groan and solid thrusts from his hips.

  Rocking my pelvis forward against his length, though, is what makes him growl, his eyes change to pools of molten dark chocolate. There’s his wolf, right under the surface. Hands on my hips, he presses me closer and circles his pelvis to intensify the grind of skin on skin.

  “Can I touch you?” I ask.

  His eyes hooded, he pants. “Anywhere you want, sweetness. My body is all yours.”

  Caressing each ridge of his abs, I take my sweet time sliding my hands in a zig-zag pattern, going ever lower. The deep creases from his hips to his thighs are, I’ve discovered, one of the sexiest things on a man. I run my index fingers down them. Dipping my fingers lower, I just graze the hardness there. He hisses in a breath and thrusts himself toward my hands.

  “Mmmmm, Cherie, you’re killing me.” He kisses me hard.

  I pull away and scoot my hips back a little to make room. I wrap my hand around his thick erection. Pupils dilated, his eyes darken and his upper lip curls. When I pump with my hand, he gets even harder.

  Victor must like it a lot given the primal groan rumbling in his chest. “That feels so good.” He wraps his hand over mine to show me how he wants me to touch him. Tighter and faster, we splash the water.

  “Can I put my mouth here?” I ask, fairly certain about the answer.

  “Oh, hell. I’d love that.”

  I move off his lap. He rises to sit on the corner ledge of the tub. Cupping my hands, I fill them with water to rinse away the suds from his abs and pelvis. My tongue follows were my hands were — licking his pecs, graze his nipple with my teeth and continue kissing the ridges of his abs, nipping lightly at the crease of his hip and slowly going lower.

  “Oh, fuck, sweetness.”

  His jutting shaft twitches and he lifts it thrusting it toward me. I watch the anticipation build in his eyes, listen to his excited breathing. I feel like a goddess. Who knew this kind of carnal control over a male body would be so satisfying?

  Running my finger around the hood of him, I trace the veins down one side of the hard length and back up the other. The skin is stretched over what can only be described as solid stone, but the surface itself is as soft as the finest brushed suede. His arousal jumps the more I caress it.

  “Touch me harder, honey,” he growls.

  Watching his face, I wrap a hand around him and pump like he showed me. His mouth opens and closes, he licks his lips, moaning low and hard.

  “God yes, that’s perfect. Taste me, mi ninfa. Taste me at the same time you love me with your hand.”

  I do, tentatively tonguing the glistening moisture escaping the slit at his tip. That the salty taste is pleasant surprises me. He growls softly and closes his eyes. Lapping my tongue across the hood, down the length of him, around him and back up, I take him in my mouth.

  “Aw, yeah, Cherie. Like that, just like that.” A feral groan rumbles through his chest and throat. His hands tangle in my hair bunched on top of my head and his pelvis tilts up even more, as though he wants to go deeper in my mouth.

  I open wider to try, but he’s so big. I swallow while he’s in my mouth.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he whispers.

  Swallowing must be good.

  Breathing shallow, he watches what I’m doing to him. “There’s nothing hotter than seeing your beautiful lips around me.” He loves it and I relish his response. My carnal goddess gains even more confidence.

  Angling my head to get it in line with my neck, I take his hard length as deep as I can. When he hits the back of my throat, I gag. I back off a little, laving down the sides of him.

  “Careful, mi ninfa,” he groans. “That felt good, but you don’t have to do it if it’s uncomfortable. Just use your hand more.”

  He moves my fingers around the base of his cock. “Right here.” His fingers around mine, he shows me how hard to wrap. “Just like that.”

  Curious about the rest of the male anatomy, I reach for his balls with my free hand. Surprisingly soft and unique in the sack, I stroke and gently massage them. He seems to like that, too.

  Taking him back in my mouth, I suck harder, faster, work my fingers at his base at the same time.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Aw, peaches, don’t stop. That’s perfect. So, fucking perfect.” His hands tighten in my hair. “Maravilloso.” He softly repeats.

  As he gets closer to climax, his breathing comes in pants mixed with groans mixed with my name whispered through clenched teeth. Amazingly, he thickens and hardens even more. Then, his body tenses.

  “Cheriiiiiieee,” he howls loud and long. I taste the first spurt of his salty orgasm before he pulls my head back, releasing himself from my mouth.

  “Mi ninfa,” he grunts. As his expression contorts in pleasure, I keep pumping my hand. He shoots currents and currents of his milk into the swirling tub water.

  His spasms lessening and his length softening, he stills my hand on him. Chest heaving as he breathes hard, he rests his head back against the marble tiled wall.

  “Fuck, that was amazing.” He pants. “You’ve never done that before?”

  I shake my head. “That was my first time. Did I do okay?”

  He chuckles breathlessly. “Much, much better than okay, sweetness. You just gave me the best head of my life.”

  “Really?” I smile up at him, pleased with myself.

  Gazing at me, he chuckles. “Damn little over achiever.” He pulls me up to stand between his legs. Holding the sides of my head in both hands, his thumbs caress my jaw and cheeks. “Thank you, sweet Cherie.” He kisses me tenderly. “You continue to rock my world.”

  Wet and out of the warm water, my skin goosebumps and I shiver.

  “Let’s get you dried off.” He lifts the towel from the rod and wraps it around me. Picking me up, he steps out of the tub to set me down and rub my body dry.

  I squirm when he rubs between my legs. “More already? I believe I’ve created a monster.” He smiles.

  “More.” I smile. Unfortunately, my stomach picks that moment to growl.

  Victor laughs. “Alright, alright, little belly. I hear you. You’re next.” Kneeling, he presses the towel between my legs harder — teasing me. “Afraid your lovely pussy will have to wait, Cherie.”

  “No,” I say. “We haven’t had actual sex yet.”

  “Actual sex?” He smiles. “Honey, oral sex is actual sex.”

  “Not according to President Clinton.” I smirk.

  He shakes his head at me, grinning.

  My stomach rumbles extremely loud. Victor laves kisses on my stomach. “Priorities, dream girl.” He then wraps me in the towel and tucks it in at my chest.

  I bristle at the rough feel of the towel. “This towel is like sand paper.”

  Victor narrows his eyes. “Did you just dis Avalon towels?”

/>   “Uh, huh,” I say. “The Stanley’s towels feel like spun silk. Depending on what wage you start me at, I just might divulge their process along with the brand of softener they use.”

  He grins. “Industry trade secrets and champion blow jobs all rolled up in one gorgeous little package. How did I ever get so lucky?”

  Putting my hands on both sides of his face, I force him look at me. “You cannot pay me for sex, Victor. Promise me? That’s like prostitution.”

  “It is prostitution. I promise that your salary will have nothing to do with our personal relationship much less your oral talent.”

  I search his eyes, wanting to believe him.

  “Honest, Cherie. I wouldn’t do that. I don’t have to do that. Your experience speaks for itself.” He kisses me lightly. “Now go get dressed. I’ve got an amazing dinner planned.”

  “At the most magical restaurant in the world.” I mock his wide open arm movements from earlier.

  He playfully spanks my rear and gently pushes me to the door. “Wear something on the dressy side,” he calls after me, chuckling.

  Fifteen minutes later, wearing a lacy turquoise skirt that comes to mid-thigh and a white cotton sweater set, I stand in front of the Telluride free gondola. The one that goes miles and miles up the mountain. The one that’s suspended high in the air on a tiny cable. The one he wants me to get on.

  “No, Victor, I can’t.” I back up shaking my head.

  The idea of dangling high in the air makes my throat seize up in on massive gag. Just looking at the contraption makes my stomach roll. God, I’m going to puke.

  chapter thirteen

  CHERIE’S SO AFRAID that she’s physically shaking. Rubbing her shoulders, I try to calm her.

  “Are you afraid of heights or enclosed spaces?”

  “Heights.” She backs up more, looking at the gondola station like it’s a wild animal about to devour her.

  Well, fuck. Operation Romance is dead, literally before it gets off the ground. Now what? Convince her.

  This is a trust building moment right here, Vic. Use it.

  “Look at me.” I force her attention off the scary gondola cabins sliding into the station and to my eyes. “This equipment is state-of-the-art, highly maintained and completely safe.”

  “Not true. Nine people had to be rescued last summer when it broke down,” she says.

  Damn knowledgable overachiever.

  “It is true. Yes the equipment stalled, but no one got hurt. No one has ever gotten hurt here. No cabin has ever crashed or fallen.”

  Wide as saucers, her eyes dart back to the lift.

  “Uh, uh, Cherie. Eyes on me.” Thumb and finger gripping her chin, I force her to face me.

  “Victor,” she whispers, pleading with me.

  I point up the mountain. “Up there is a world-renown restaurant. A number of people travel to Telluride just to dine there. This gondola is the only way to get there. You need to see it for yourself, experience it so that you can talk about it to guests. You’re a hospitality professional. This is your job. Riding the gondola is a job requirement.”

  Her gorgeous eyes, getting glassy with tears, dart between mine. A family with kids walk around us and into the station. I start to say something about the kids not being afraid, but stop, fairly certain that shaming people with phobias isn’t valid therapy.

  Wiping away an escaped tear with my fingertips, I walk her to a bench. I sit with her, drape the blanket I brought across her lap. Back, shoulders, arms — I rub and hold her, attempt to calm her trembles.

  I need her to say yes a few times right here, build up my girl’s confidence and her trust in me. “This is a big part of all ski resorts. Lifts are a must do for anyone who wants to work in the mountains. Deep down you know that, don’t you?”

  Eyes squeezed shut, she nods. “Yes.”

  “Open your eyes. Look at me, Cherie.”

  She does. I continue to rub her upper body.

  “What’s the number one factor to earn a five-star designation?”

  “Guest services.” She answers right away.

  “Precisely. And what do guests of destination resorts appreciate above anything else?”

  “A knowledgable, helpful staff.” She knows her stuff.

  “For The Avalon to keep our five, employees absolutely have to know what they’re talking about — about Telluride, about every single activity here, every restaurant, where the best shopping is, nightlife, all of it. No exceptions, right?”

  Knowing I’m right, she sighs loudly. “Yes.”

  “That includes up there.” I point up the mountain. “In winter, this is the only way to get to the Mountain Village and the Mountain Lodge, both of which you’ll have to visit from time to time. You’ve got to be able to ride this gondola to do your job.”

  She watches another family walk around us and go into the station.

  “You knew that the gondola is part of orientation, didn’t you?”

  Her eyes get huge. She shakes her head no. Fuck. That wasn’t a yes question. It only scared her, again. I massage the back of her neck, try another tact.

  “Sweetness, I know you love standing on mountain tops. Looking out at the incredible vistas. That’s why you went hiking.” I kiss her forehead, shove Jesse out of my thoughts as soon as he rears his punk head.

  She nods another little yes for me. “I do, I like it a lot. But I’d rather use solid ground to get up to them. This is different.”

  “It’s not really. It’s like being in a car. Just as you drive a car to hiking trailheads, this lift transports you to trails and ski runs.”

  She points at the next cabin sliding down into the station. “That is not a car.”

  “It is so. What do they call these in Europe?”

  She narrows her eyes at me.

  “Oh my god, you don’t know the answer to that?” I tease her.

  “Of course I do. They’re cable cars.” She says in an angry tone. The anger replaces the trembling, though. That’s good.

  “So, you admit that they are cars. The only difference being that this one has wheels on top.”

  “Wheels dangling on a wire that’s hanging in mid air!” She wraps her arms around herself.

  Rubbing her back and shoulders some more, I take one of her hands to force her arms open. I can’t allow closed body language.

  “Aw, my girl. You’re smarter than that. You know it’s more than a wire. It’s a strong, thick cable with another thick, strong cable for safety.”

  Let’s try to get another yes from those pink lips. Tipping her chin up so she has to look at me, I smile. “And it’s cloudy, not even a moon right now. You won’t be able to see the ground from up there if you tried. That should totally negate the looking down issue of your phobia.”

  There’s a touch of courage in her eyes now, she nods. “Maybe.”

  “Maybe, yes?” I ask again, kissing her nose.

  C’mon, sweetness, say yes.

  “Yes,” she says.

  “Do a spell. Call the element of air to keep us up.”

  “It’s not that simple, Victor.”

  “Yes, it is. Do it.”

  With an exasperated sigh, she closes her eyes. I watch her pink lips mumble a chant.

  Done, she opens her eyes and looks at me with more confidence.

  “You can conquer this fear, Cherie. I know you can. I’d love to watch you do it. Right here, right now.” I shrug. “Or you can wait until orientation and go up with ten other people crammed into one cabin.”

  “You’re mean.” She pouts.

  I laugh. “Going with me will be easier. You can sit on my lap all the way. If we fall, I’ll be the one to take the impact.”

  With a playful slap at my shoulder, she grimaces. “Don’t say that.”

  As another couple walks past us to the station, I lean in to kiss her long and deep. Looking around to make sure no one is watching, I covertly cup her breast.

  “If you go now with me, I c
an distract you. We can make out all the way up,” I whisper. “You like making out with me, don’t you, peaches?”

  She rolls her eyes, but bites her lip provocatively. I press my thumb to her nipple, arousing myself with the little breath she sucks in at my touch. I nuzzle her throat, rolling the hard pebble gently between my fingers.

  “Answer me, mi ninfa. Do you like making out with me?”

  “You know I do,” she whispers, squirming delightfully under my hands.

  I grin and raise a teasing eyebrow. “How much fun would it be to see how many times I can make you come before we get to the restaurant?”

  Laughing out loud this time, she shakes her head no. “If I get in that thing with you, you are not allowed to make it sway or rock in any way shape or form.”

  “Hmmm. Can I give you an orgasm with no swaying or rocking?” Thinking of her wild bucking whenever I touch her sensitive nipples or soft pussy, I know it’s impossible.

  “Okay.” I promise. “No swaying or rocking. Just lot’s of kissing.” From the look on her face, I get that she’s ready to try.

  Sliding my hand from her breast to caress her back, I kiss her softly one more time. I drape the blanket back over my shoulder and stand to hold out my hand for her. “Let’s do it.”

  She squeezes her eyes shut and sighs very loudly. When she opens her eyes, those brilliant blue irises have a brave determination in them that squeezes my chest with pride. I could fall in love that look. I could fall in love with her.

  “Face your fears 101.” She takes my hand.

  Good girl.

  Not wanting to give her another chance to chicken out, I guide her to the station and help her step into the next gondola quickly. The door slides shut, sealing us in. She consciously breathes — in through her nose, out through her mouth. I pull her close to my side.

  He mouth moves with a little Wiccan chant. That’s it, peaches, use everything you’ve got.

  She cries out at the jolt and little drop the cabin takes when leaving the platform.

  “It’s okay. That’s perfectly normal.”

  My girl plasters herself to me, nails dig into my thigh to the point of pain. I take that hand tightly in mine. Eyes narrowed, she’s trying to see out into the darkness and panting with fear.