by Kate Hill
Nodding, the tall, skinny man left the house. Maggie closed the door behind him and glanced at Samuel. “Green silk?”
“You like green, don’t you?”
“Very much.”
“Good. You can make yourself a new dress.”
“But silk? It’s so expensive, and where would a servant wear silk?”
“You’re more than a servant, Maggie. You know that. If you don’t want the material, I can—”
“No.” Maggie smiled. “I’d like it very much. I’ve never worn silk before.”
He stroked her face and traced her lips with his fingertips. “I can scarcely wait to see you in it.”
Samuel tugged her into his arms so swiftly she gasped. The surprised sound was stifled by his kiss. Cupping the back of her neck, he held her close while his other hand caressed her back and hip.
Maggie closed her eyes and tightened her arms around Samuel’s neck. Leaning against him, she allowed him to support her almost completely as their tongues stroked one another.
Samuel jerked away suddenly and again Maggie started, her heart pounding. “What’s wrong?”
She followed his gaze out the window to where Clay sat in his wagon, staring at the couple. A sick feeling wound its way through Maggie’s stomach. The young man curled his lip before turning away and slapping the reins against his horse’s back.
“Peeping little bastard,” Samuel snarled, striding toward the door.
“Samuel.” Maggie grasped his arm, frightened by the look in his eyes. “Forget about him.”
“Who does he think he is, watching in windows? You know how his people love to spread rumors—”
“Samuel, he doesn’t matter. Please.”
His gaze turned to Maggie. Some of the wildness faded. He forced a slight smile and kissed her brow. “You’re right. Everything is irritating me this morning. I think I’ll go chop some wood for awhile. Maybe it will help me expel some of this damnable energy.”
Maggie nodded and kissed his cheek. “That’s a good idea.”
As he left the kitchen, she drew a deep breath. It was only just beginning. The nearer the full moon, the wilder Samuel became. It would be different this time. So different. She and Samuel had never been lovers before. In the past, when he threw his temper fits or went wild, she would carry on her work, making herself as invisible as possible and by hiding in her room as often as she could. Would she be able to do the same now? Probably not. As the full moon approached, Samuel would often disappear at night. When he returned, he carried the heavy scent of brothel perfume. Sometimes she washed blood out of his shirts. One morning when she’d accidentally seen him after he’d finished his bath, there had been raw scratches on his back.
Samuel was a gentle lover, but the wolf seemed to infect his carnal appetite as well. Would that savage sexuality now be turned to her? Inside she trembled, but to her dismay, it wasn’t simply from fear. Something about sex with the wolf thrilled her. Would he possess her? Would he be very rough? Perhaps he’d fling her to her knees, wrap an arm around her waist, and take her from behind, wolf-like.
Maggie’s breathing had quickened and her pussy was wet with passion. Shaking her head, she concentrated on her work, but always her thoughts returned to savage, animal sex with the man-wolf.
* * * * *
Maggie stoked the fire in the parlor and glanced at the clock on the mantel. It was nearing midday. The meal she’d prepared was just about ready to serve, so she hoped Samuel would return from wood chopping soon.
Placing aside the fire iron, she straightened her apron on the way to the kitchen. She was about to stir the stew when Samuel stepped in through the back door. Her stomach fluttered and her pulse raced just looking at him. Several locks of his long, dark hair had loosened from the ribbon binding it at his nape and clung to his perspiring face and neck. His white shirt was untied, exposing a good portion of his throat and chest.
Glancing at her with a smile, he stomped slush from his knee-high black boots and removed his waistcoat, tossing it aside. The shirt beneath was transparent with sweat, revealing every curve of muscle and the dark mat of hair covering his chest. “The food smells excellent.”
“It’ll be on the table straight away. Change out of those wet clothes before you become ill.”
“Maggie, I haven’t been ill since the curse. It’s as if I’m immune now that the demon’s in me.”
“Then that’s one good thing about it.”
An amused expression shone in his eyes as he pulled off the boots and left them by the door.
“I’ll bring some water to your room,” she said, glancing at him as he left the kitchen. Her temperature rose at the sight of his wet shirt clinging to his broad shoulders and powerful back.
Moments later, she stepped into his room. He stood by the window, gazing out with a far-off expression but turned to her almost immediately. Placing the pitcher of water by the washbowl and cloth on his nightstand, she stared as he slipped off the shirt and used the garment to wipe his face and chest.
“Looks like you got plenty of work done,” she said.
Nodding, he approached and poured the water into the basin. Maggie’s mouth went dry as she stared at his gorgeous torso. Heat emanated from his body. Resisting the urge to squirm with desire, she reached for the washcloth and dipped it in the water.
She noticed a quickening of his breath as she ran the wet cloth over his chest and down his ribs. Maggie’s clit throbbed as she washed his arms and the small of his back. Her nipples tightened as she wet the cloth again and swept it across his broad shoulders. Unable to resist, she pressed soft kisses down his spine, sinking almost to her knees. She moved to his front and ran her tongue from his navel to his breastbone. He was such a handsome, irresistible man.
“Raise your arms,” she whispered.
He stretched the long, rock-hard appendages overhead, the motion tightening his sleek muscles even more. Maggie soaked the towel and ran it under each of his arms. Rivulets of water trickled down his sides. Tossing the towel into the basin, she ran her hands over his chest and ribs. Her pulse raced and she panted with desire. The washing had cooled his flesh a bit, but it warmed beneath her hands and lips as she covered his chest and flat belly with kisses. His stomach clenched when she lapped it with the flat of her tongue while using her hands to caress his inner thighs. She cupped his bulging crotch. His cock and balls were far too big for her hand. She kneaded and squeezed as much as she could hold.
“God, Maggie.” His voice was practically a growl as he flung her on the bed and began unfastening her apron and dress. She relished his enthusiasm and the rising power of the wolf. His fingers, usually so deft, fumbled with the buttons and ties. He cursed under his breath.
“Let me help you,” she murmured.
He pushed her hands aside. With a swift tug, he ripped the dress down her body. Buttons flew across the wooden floor.
Maggie’s eyes widened and she drew a sharp breath. “My dress.”
“I’m sorry,” he breathed against her lips before crushing them with his. She closed her eyes and yanked the ribbon from his hair. The kiss was demanding yet tender. His tongue stroked and thrust against hers. His mouth didn’t leave hers as he grasped the front of her shift and tore it in two.
“Samuel, what are you doing?” she gasped.
He sat up, continuing to rip the shift down the entire length of her body. When she tried standing, he pinned her to the bed, licking and kissing the hollow of her shoulder. Maggie’s pulse raced. It was the wolf inside him, thrusting forward to appease his lust. It frightened her but she loved it. It felt so good to be claimed, plundered, and desired by him.
Samuel cupped one of her breasts and rolled the nipple between his thumb and forefinger, teasing it to a hard peak. Passionate quivers coursed through her from head to toe when he slid down the length of her body and took her nipple in his mouth. He sucked it and teased it with his tongue while dipping a hand between her legs and sliding two
fingers deep into her wet pussy. Using the tip of one moist finger, he circled and stroked her clit as he continued laving her nipple. Within moments Maggie convulsed, trembling and moaning in orgasm.
As she quivered, he covered her body with his and entered her with a long, swift thrust. Grasping her hands and pinning them above her head, he stroked into her fast and hard while rimming her lips with his tongue. Maggie panted and thrashed beneath him, her body aflame. Her nipples, so hard and tight, rubbed against his hair-roughened chest. Wrapping her legs around him, she thrust her hips in time with his.
“Ahh, Samuel,” she panted, her tongue meeting his. He gently nipped her lower lip then laved her neck with the flat of his tongue. Maggie’s moans turned to high-pitched cries of passion as she neared her peak again.
Kissing her deeply, he thrust faster. Exquisite sensations flooded Maggie’s body. Just before she shattered, he released her hands. She clung to him hard with arms and legs. Her fingers gripped his hot, damp back. Her heels drove into his steely calves.
“Oh, Samuel,” she whispered, gazing at him through half-open eyes as she caught her breath.
With a wolfish grin, he pulled out almost to the tip of his cock then slid in slowly.
“You taste so good, Maggie. You feel so good.”
She clung tighter to his neck. “I wish we could stay like this forever.”
“I love you,” he said against her lips before kissing her. His cock shifted in and out of her hot, aching pussy. It seemed he was in the perfect mood to satisfy her desire over and over again.
His thrusts were slow and steady. Even as her climax built, he refused to speed his movements. Maggie felt hot enough to burst as she gasped and wriggled beneath him. She clung to his neck and tugged on his rock-hard shoulders. He growled and continued those frustratingly slow and oh-so-delicious thrusts.
“Please, Samuel,” she gasped, closing her eyes and wrapping her arms around his neck. Rather than drag him closer, she only succeeded in raising herself off the bed. “Faster, please. Faster.”
Laughter rumbled in his chest, but he obliged. Her pulse pounded as her entire body exploded in wave after wave of orgasm. With a savage cry, he rammed into her with a long, hard thrust and came, surging into her wet, throbbing pussy.
Chapter Nine
One Week Later
Maggie glanced at the clock she polished without really seeing it. Her worried thoughts focused on Samuel. With less than two weeks until the full moon, he seemed more out of control than ever. Last night she’d leapt awake to find him thrashing in the bed beside her. Growling, he tore apart sheets and splintered the nightstand. Maggie’s first thought was to flee. Instead she’d shouted his name until he awoke. His gaze had fixed on her. Rage turned to sorrow, though the wildness never faded completely. Grasping her arm, he’d dragged her to her room and told her to lock the door.
She’d heard him pacing until dawn when he left for the stable. He never returned for the breakfast she cooked. Horse tracks led from the barn across the snowy field and disappeared into the horizon.
When Samuel had returned about an hour ago, both he and the horse were drenched in sweat. He’s scarcely spoken to her as he rubbed the animal down, so she’d returned to the house.
Fear greater than any she’d ever known filled her heart. Not fear of remaining with Samuel. She’d endured his curse alongside him for too long for it to drive her off. Her fear was that, when the time came, she would not bring herself to touch the beast. In order for her to reach him, Samuel would need to muster the greatest self-control imaginable. Still in the form of a man, he already seemed to be losing to the wolf’s savageness.
She placed the polished clock back on the mantel. For a moment she stared at the brick hiding the silver cuffs. She removed it and grasped them, running her fingertips over their smoothness. The workmanship was perfect. Paul’s finest. Strange that touching these tools of restraint, she felt an almost erotic thrill. Knowing that they harnessed the wolf’s power, held him as he panted, strained, and raged in the throes of his violent hunger, excited her.
“Thinking of the beast?”
Maggie jumped, her pulse racing, as Samuel’s arm encircled her waist while his other hand covered hers around the cuffs. He’d moved so silently—like a predator—that she hadn’t heard him enter the house.
“Yes,” she said.
“What were you thinking?”
“I wondered how these cuffs held him.”
“Oh.” Samuel spun her so she faced him. The rich brown beard covered his jaw and his eyebrows seemed to extend a bit longer off toward his temples, giving him a look of demonic beauty. He leaned closer, his finely shaped nostrils flaring a bit as he sniffed her neck and cheek. The tip of his tongue traced the shape of her ear before he spoke into it in a gruff whisper, “Curious how it feels to be restrained, are you?”
Maggie thought her heart might explode both from terror and arousal. Good sense told her to push him away, try to force him back to reality and far from the wolf’s desires. A woman of good sense wouldn’t have chosen to remain, the only servant, in the house of a cursed man, no matter how bewitching he was.
“Well, Maggie?” This time his husky words were whispered inches from her lips.
“Yes. I’d like to know.”
He smiled, his teeth gleaming white in contrast to his dark beard. Tearing the cuffs from her hand, he tossed her over his shoulder and walked up the steps.
Maggie dangled down his back, already panting from desire and apprehension. She slipped her hands down his breeches and grasped his bare bottom, feeling the hard muscles tighten even more with every step he took. How she wanted him.
In his room, he dumped her on the bed and tore off his clothes. Maggie did the same, grateful he wasn’t bent on destroying another dress and shift. She didn’t have many clothes as it was.
Kicking off her shoes and stockings, she faced him, naked. He stood at the foot of the bed, gazing at her, his jaw clenched and his eyes more piercing than ever. Just looking at his well-muscled, nude body had her insides quivering. He held the silver cuffs in one hand while lashing them into his opposite palm.
Maggie waited, her lips parted as she drew sips of air. He sprang on her so suddenly she cried out. A knee resting on either side of her, he straddled her body. She inhaled deeply, loving the scent of his thick, erect cock just brushing her lips. The smooth head felt so wonderful she couldn’t resist a lick.
He growled as he wound the heavy chain through the design in the wooden headboard and snapped the silver cuffs on her wrists. As he did this, she sucked and licked his cock. Her tongue swirled over the head and traced the underside. Samuel braced his hands on the headboard and closed his eyes, panting and thrusting his cock deeper into her mouth. She continued laving and sucking. When it brushed the back of her throat, she prayed she wouldn’t choke, but he didn’t push any further. Slowly, he pulled out and covered her body with his.
He licked her lips and kissed her, his tongue stroking hers.
“Do you like being bound?” He dropped kisses from her jaw to her navel.
“Ye…yes,” she gasped as he licked under both breasts then took a nipple between his lips and sucked hard, as she’d done to his cock. The sensation was incredible. Perhaps it was knowing she was tied, but every lick, kiss, and touch seemed more thrilling and her body felt more sensitive than ever before.
Cupping a breast in each hand, he kneaded them, squeezing and rolling the nipples, as he licked his way down her belly.
“Oh, Samuel,” she gasped as he nipped her hip—not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to send a thrill of pleasure/pain coursing through her.
Suddenly his mouth covered her clit, his lips tugging upon the plump, aroused flesh. Using the very tip of his tongue he ran it up and down one side then the other, repeating the motions until her breath came in frantic sobs and she strained against the silver bonds.
“Please, Samuel,” she moaned when he stopped just before
she shattered in climax. “Please, don’t make me wait.”
“Wait for what?” he snarled.
“You know what.”
“Tell me.”
“That feeling…”
“Tell me what feeling,” he demanded, pressing kisses to her inner thighs. His beard scraped her soft, smooth flesh in the most erotic manner. He acted so animalistic, almost brutal, yet he never crossed the line of causing her pain. Samuel was still there. The man who loved her lurked beneath the wolf, holding him back, keeping him human. “Tell me in great detail, Maggie.”
“I want to feel your tongue on me in that throbbing, aching place between my legs.”
“More.”
“I want…Oh, God,” she cried as he lapped her clit with several fast, delectable strokes then stopped. “I want to feel your lips on the same place. Pulling, kissing.”
She uttered a high-pitched mewl of desire as he obliged.
“Talk to me, Maggie. Tell me everything you want. I want to hear you while you climb toward perfection. I want to hear you at the moment of explosion.”
Maggie’s pulse raced. Her breasts heaved with each marvelously tortured breath. What he asked was impossible. How could she talk and feel such wonderful things at the same time?
“Tell me,” he roared, running a long finger down the length of her clit for emphasis.
“I want your tongue inside my entrance. Licking the outer lips… Sliding inside… Thrusting. Oh. Ohh, Samuel. Yes. Yes…” She gasped, her eyes tightly closed and her voice trembling as he pushed her writhing body towards a shattering climax. Still, she needed more. Just a little more. “I want you to lick between my legs. That little nub of flesh that’s so sensitive. Push the flat of your tongue on it… Oh. Just like that… Don’t move your tongue, but stick your fingers inside me, too.”
Maggie thought she might faint from excitement. He’d done such things to her before, but never tied up, never by her instruction. She was feeling exactly what she wanted to feel, exactly where she wanted to feel it. Nothing could be this good.