by Jianne Carlo
Joe opened his eyes and feasted on the beauty of her sex. Tiny droplets of cream clung to the hair framing her plump labia, the rich charcoal curls a tantalizing contrast to the rosy-pink folds. Driven by a sadistic streak hitherto unknown to him, he parted the pleats of her sex and trailed lollipop licks up the right outer layer, his tongue lingering over each honeyed bead.
The more he tasted, the more he craved. He worshipped the tiny creases, licked the labia lovingly clean, tickled the velvet curls framing her sex, and blew a soft caress over her pulsing clit.
Her thighs closed hard and fast around his head. She flinched when he set his mouth to her reddened core and sucked and nipped the bud at the same time. Her hips arched off the bed. She twisted her hands into his hair, and a long, keening cry echoed around the room. Lost in the magnificence of her climax, he shouldered her legs apart and pinched and rubbed her clit while thrusting first one, then two fingers into her pussy.
She clamped him; her vaginal muscles fisted and resisted the shallow invasion of his digits. So hot, so narrow, so damned tight. Semen seeped from his cock. The skin on his scrotum burned. His balls pulled so high, so fast, dizzy waves of ecstasy erupted from his toes to his thighs and burst across his groin.
No longer able to contain his scorching desire, Joe scooted so their heads were level, rolled onto his back, and straddled her over his cock. In perfect unison, he thrust upward and she bore down. She was an inferno, an erupting volcano, her walls clenched around his dick, and he spewed his seed in a molten stream. His feet curved in a painful arch and every muscle in his body tensed under the force of the explosive contractions.
Her pussy walls continued to milk his cock until the spurts slowed and stopped. She kneaded his chest, her long nails adding a pain-pleasure to his ecstasy.
He grazed her clit and studied her face, smiling through his sated exhaustion. Eyes half-hooded, stray ebony strands plastered to her cheeks, one tooth biting her bottom lip, she shuddered through the aftershocks and finally clamped her hand over his thumb.
Drawing her down to him, he kissed her forehead, set her damp cheek to his chest, and tucked her head under his chin.
Contentment sank into his very pores.
This woman, this moment, this joining was perfection in his imperfect life. He’d never aimed for perfection, never expected the completion other wolves took as their right.
“Okay?”
“Better than okay. Way, way better than okay.”
He chuckled. “Me too.”
She yawned with a little squeak at the end.
“You’re exhausted. Sleep.” He rubbed small circles on the bridge of her shoulder. Gradually the tension in her muscles eased, and she sank lower onto him.
“Have to set”—she yawned again and peeped up at him—”the alarm.”
He bent to kiss the tip of her nose. “What time do you want to get up?”
“Run at seven.” She yawned again.
“It’s past two, Susie. You need to rest. How about an afternoon run instead? If your test’s at nine, I’ll get you up by seven thirty. Sound good?”
“’Kay. Should go back to my room.”
“Sleep. I’ll carry you back later.”
“Mhfmp…”
Seconds later Susie slipped into an exhausted, sprawling slumber on his chest. All the stiffness went out of her on a long, soft sigh. He savored her utter relaxation, for it meant she trusted him implicitly on some subconscious level.
For the second time in his entire life, he had lost total control. He’d come like a green teenager not seconds after sheathing his dick in her hot pussy.
Even worse, though he commanded his cock to go flaccid, even though he ordered his hands to cease their infernal tracing and stroking of her spine, her bottom, her shoulder, and even though he knew he should carry her back to the guest bedroom as promised, there was no way he could let her go.
He studied the sleeping woman in his arms, memorizing details and nuances, finding the reluctance to let her go becoming more pronounced as each second ticked by in an agonizingly slow waltz.
Lush, onyx lashes fanned shadows on the olive skin pulled taut by high cheekbones. Ten to one she had Native American blood in her. She made a fine warrior woman, one worthy of respect and admiration. Her nostrils flared ever so slightly, reminding him of a twitching bunny. She did this funny wiggle with her mouth, as if her lips had been tickled, and sighed. The warm breath skittered over the hairs on his chest, and his cock stirred.
He hadn’t had sex in three months.
Figured he’d be a horndog goat around any woman, far less this gorgeous bundle sprawled all over him. This strange aversion to releasing her from his embrace meant dick all. He was horny, that was it.
Any woman would do.
Long ago he’d ceased believing in the one mate, one lifetime creed espoused by the other male wolves he knew. After all, he was only part wolf, the other part being some Heinz fifty-seven mix he’d never been able to identify. He hadn’t a clue about his paternal lineage, had grown up in his grandmother’s cottage and, after she died, multiple foster homes. Joe’d only discovered the wolf in him when the beast refused to lay dormant the year he’d turned sixteen.
The moon sat above the horizon, clearly visible now that the trees were gone, and illuminated the room with a creamy glow. A few frogs discussed froggy matters in long, granular croaks. Owls hooted and cicadas warbled, adding their contributions to the night’s song. A mellow breeze teased the drapes framing the open windows.
She shifted.
Her cheek grazed his ribs. Her lips, still swollen and reddened from his passionate kisses, pursed. She lifted a shoulder, the gesture oddly familiar considering the length of time they’d spent together. Unable to resist, he kissed the cusp, sniffed her hair, and the recognizable lemony tang had him smiling. He’d branded her skin with his scent and her hair with his shampoo.
It was only when the moonlight danced a shimmery jig over the three foil packets on the bedside table that he realized the enormity of what he’d neglected to do.
Fuck. He hadn’t used a condom.
The metal circles on the bedside table leered at him. He never went bareback.
Joe made a practice of never lying to himself. In three months he turned thirty-one.
His first fuck had occurred on his sixteenth birthday, and that had been the last time he hadn’t used a rubber. Even with Flora, his one long-term relationship—and she had been on the pill—he’d always suited up. It had been a bone of contention between them.
Susie was just another woman. There was nothing special about her.
Crap. Who was he kidding?
From the second he’d spied her, some part of him had known but refused to acknowledge that Susie Elizabeth White was no throwaway. Nope, she was a keeper. And damned if the ancients hadn’t been fricking right about mates and mate-recognition. It happened in the snap of a finger, in the blink of an eye, in the first glimpse of a fat, pink nipple.
No more internal palavering.
He might have been a total skeptic about the wolf-mate shtick, but he’d just become a believer.
He’d found his mate.
Jesus.
And that subconscious recognition had fueled another intuitive primitive craving—the fierce urge to procreate. Total selfishness on his part and his gut told him Susie’d be liable to brain him when he confessed to not using a rubber.
Years ago he’d accepted his half-breed status. Sure, his unnatural strength, speed, and heightened senses gave him a significant edge over normal males. Even the ex-SEALs he worked with were in awe of his skills, but he couldn’t shift like a full wolf. So he’d always assumed only true wolves had mate instincts. No way could he rationalize his overwhelming possessiveness for this woman from the very first second their eyes met.
How to make this work? Tell her everything up front? Yeah. He grimaced as he imagined her reaction to the words, Babe, I’m a wolf. My eyes glow in the dar
k. I run fast enough to be a blur to most humans, and I can literally tear a man apart.
Scratch that approach. She’d take out a restraining order. Any sane person would. He could pursue only one strategy. Make her fall in love with him and then break the news.
The decision allowed him to nap off and on.
He woke often—the need to check on his mate, touch her, and smell her hair too overpowering to resist.
Joe stared out the window when the sun and moon traded places and the horizon brightened in a soft peachy-pink smudge of color. The wolf in him relished the tween times. The faint half-light of dawn before the day blossomed, the burgeoning shadows of dusk as the sun waned, the predator and hunter reflexes buried deep inside his psyche instinctively aware these were the moments his prey were most vulnerable.
He surrendered to an overpowering internal yearning and let his gaze roam over her features, committing each facet to memory. The black fringe of lashes flickered, her pinky moved, and warm toes curled into his calf. He fisted one hand and fought the insane urge to cuddle her on his lap and keep her naked and sated.
Dust particles skimmed a thick band of golden rays streaking across the room. The acrid aroma of seared wood and leaves tangled with the pungent smell of burned plastic. In the distance he spotted the charred remains of the once-proud line of birches and followed a singed branch’s fall to Terri’s razed lawn. One storm and the whole backyard would be a sodden mass.
A swallow swept a graceful, arcing ampersand around the three clotheslines he kept meaning to take down. Not a breeze blew, not a motion stirred the thick, still morning air. The promise of rain hung in the semivisible droplets painted here and there.
His stomach rumbled.
She wriggled. Her fingers skated to the tip of his nipple. Her elbows pressed into his ribs.
Susie blinked up at him, her big, dark eyes glazed and a tad unfocused as dreams and reality clashed for supremacy, the confusion mirrored in her shrinking pupils.
All at once she did a quick double take and bounded clean off him and the bed with an agility a grasshopper would’ve envied. For a millisecond she stood there, lids flickering, forehead crinkled, her gaze scanning the room. Joe stifled a mushrooming grin and waited for her to realize her state of undress.
When her nakedness registered, her eyes widened to an impossible size and she did the age-old one-hand-over-the-breast, the-other-to-her-sex cover-up. Her whole body blushed, pink fanning from hairline to instep.
These were the times he relished his wolf vision.
A scarlet smudge on her right thigh drew his attention. He frowned, glanced at his cock, and gritted his teeth when he spied two dried red streaks on the thickening crown.
She’d been a virgin?
Battling the deep-seated howl gathering in the back of his throat, he lurched off the bed when she spun around, and reached for her retreating form as she banged open the door and sprinted.
He roared, “Susie. Come back here.”
She ran like quicksilver; not even a hint of her citrus perfume lingered in the hallway. He dashed to the kitchen, hurdled an overturned kitchen chair, raced to the guest bedroom, and banged his fist on the closed door. “Open up. Susie? Did you hear me? Open up.”
He set his ear to the wood panel and heard a muffled curse. “I’m not going away. You’re going to have to face me at some point in time.”
“Give me a moment.” Her voice wavered on the last word.
Seconds elapsed. She held the door about three inches ajar, and he noticed she’d donned one of the extra-large T-shirts they’d purchased from Walmart. Her rosy cheeks and tousled, inky hair had his dick jerk-begging.
Folding her arms, she lifted her chin and said, one word hurrying over the other, “I acted like an idiot just now. For heaven’s sake, it was me who came to you last night. It’s not as if I didn’t know what was going to happen. And for the record, I don’t regret a minute of it.” She stabbed her toe at a knot in the wooden flooring. “I don’t know why I ran like that.”
She had a thing about apologizing. Joe suppressed a wide grin. Though he admitted a mistake the second he realized the error of his ways, those two words, I’m sorry, always garroted his vocal cords. He focused on the other phrase. “I’m glad you don’t regret our lovemaking. I certainly don’t.”
She snuck him one of those adorable beneath-the-lashes peeks. “I don’t suppose there’s any way you’d agree to pretend last night never happened?”
Damn it. He bit back the angry words fueling hot sparks on his tongue and opted for banality. “It’s just past seven thirty. Don’t you have to be at the college by nine?”
She stared at him, jaw sagging, sable brows pinched. “Seven thirty? Oh gosh. I’ll never make the bus.”
“I told you yesterday. I’ll drive you in. If we leave in the next twenty minutes, you’ll make it with five to spare. Get a move on.”
He did an about-face and stalked back to his bedroom. Hands balled into fists, erection bobbing like a lone Halloween apple, he slammed the door and leveled a furious glare at the innocent wood.
For the second day in a row, he turned the hot water to the max and stood under a jetting spray, hoping the pulsing stream would relax his taut neck and shoulders. For the second day in a row, the strategy failed.
Dressing with his usual Spartan efficiency, Joe donned khakis, a white shirt, navy boat shoes, and marched out of the room.
The kitchen stood empty.
He pulled a canister of chocolate fudge whey protein from his semblance of a pantry, added milk, and whizzed together two to-go shakes in his blender.
The door down the hallway creaked open. He traced her footsteps while scenting the flowery perfume they’d purchased last night. The normal cadence of her breathing hitched as she neared the kitchen. He couldn’t gauge her mood. The man-made fragrance smothered her natural aromas.
Joe spun around, braced his hip on the counter, and sighed in pure carnal pleasure.
How in heck could she make the cheap superstore suit seem like haute couture? She wore a short jacket and a slim skirt that did wonders for her long, muscled legs. The fabric was a startling shade of bright but dark blue, and the color brought out the porcelain quality of her olive skin. Joe grinned when his gaze dropped to the three-inch stilettos on her feet. The shoes had seemed ugly and clunky last night, but the sharp angle of the heel thrust her slim hips forward and gave a jaunty sway to her gait.
Talk about CFM shoes.
“Does this shout Walmart cheap?” She brushed the polyester-blend skirt.
“On anyone else it would. But on you it screams designer.”
“Really? You’re not just saying that?” She frowned.
“Really. You look fantastic. Don’t worry. You’ll get an extension for the test. The story of the fire is bound to have been on the morning news.”
“I’m not worried so much about the extension as I am how it’ll impact my timeline. I have everything planned to the minute for the next couple of years. I’m on an accelerated program for my master’s. Did course work online and so, I only have thirteen credits left to complete.”
“Why are you on an accelerated program?”
“I have a plan with a definite time goal, and I’m behind.” She checked the watch on her wrist and winced. “Hen’s feathers, it’s almost eight thirty.”
“Got everything?” Joe filed her answer for later exploration.
She carried both the denim purse and a folder they’d purchased the night before. “Yes.”
He snatched the truck’s keys from a fish-shaped hook, held out a tumbler to her, and, when she grasped the covered mug, picked up the other.
“What’s this?” She set down the folder to adjust the shoulder strap of her purse, and he realized how awkward it would be for her to manage the tumbler.
“Here, let me carry them both. Protein shakes. Chocolate. Breakfast to go.” Adjusting so he carried both the covered, sealed mugs and the keys in one ha
nd, he set his palm against the small of her back.
The knots at his nape eased at the contact.
Damn.
He needed to touch her, better yet to carry her in his arms. The craving magnified the ache in his gut. He worked his jaw and reined in the caveman hankering.
The window in the laundry room showcased an overcast sky and the burned-out shell of Terri’s bungalow. The seven-foot fence that had once hidden the property had been totally destroyed.
She halted. “It all really happened, didn’t it?”
The sadness in her voice scoured a hole in his chest. He squeezed her shoulder. “Remember what I told you last night. Lean on me. No questions. No obligations.”
“Joe.” She half turned to him.
“Not now, Susie. Let’s get you to the university. Tonight we’ll talk. Deal?” He lifted her chin, and their gazes met.
Her nostrils quivered, but she nodded. “Deal. It’s kind of irritating—you being so darned logical all the time.”
“I know.” He nudged her forward.
A cool front must have swept in overnight. The temperature had to be below sixty. Susie shivered, and he draped an arm over her shoulder.
He eyed the truck, the high reach to the cab, and flattened the wide smile before it captured his mouth. He hit the remote button and swung open the passenger door.
After jamming the mugs into the drink alcoves between the driver and passenger seats, he swept Susie off her feet and settled her into the leather. He cradled her face, slanted his lips over hers, and kissed her until she purred like a docile tabby.
“To answer your earlier question. No. There is no way I can or will ever forget last night. And we haven’t even begun to discuss why you didn’t let me know it was your first time. Did I hurt you?”
Susie White did everything at full blast, even blushing. Color suffused her face. She worried her lower lip and ducked her head. “Small pinch. I don’t want to talk about it, Joe.”
Deciding to let the topic go for now, he said, “Now’s not the right time, I agree. But we will discuss this, Susie.”
Her eyes widened, then narrowed, and her eyebrows slashed together.