“I don’t know, Cale—”
“Did I mention that Ryan’s a billionaire?”
“Um … no.” Ryan, with the paint-splattered skin? “Doesn’t he paint houses?”
Caleb laughed. “He’s Ryan Raynard.”
Holy shit. I knew nothing about art, but even I’d heard of Ryan Raynard, the reclusive artist who had practically founded the modern impressionist movement.
“He owns Reynard Hall on the edge of the village. There’s a spa pool and a fully-stocked bar and a butler and some big comfy beds. Besides.” Caleb’s eyes twinkled mischievously. “It’s going to be hard to give you your reward for what you did to me the other day, with all these guys looking on.”
His other hand rested on my thigh, his fingers snaking closer, closer … he brushed a finger over the crotch of my jeans, and the ache sprung up inside me, as if he’d flicked a switch. I bit my lip to stop myself moaning out aloud. It would be much … nicer … to have a room all of my own. And if it’s only a few days until Caleb can sort things out with his father, then what’s the harm?
“All right,” I said, picking up my bag. “Take me to the fox’s mansion.”
Reynard Hall wasn’t just opulent, it was palatial. The gothic manor sprawled in all directions, as far as the eye could see. It had clearly been neglected for several years, as there were cracks along several walls, overgrown flower beds filled with weeds as high as the first floor balcony, and dirt and grime encrusting everything. But I could see work was being done to bring it back to its former splendour. There was scaffolding around the far end of the western wing, and some stone-mason’s tools lined up beside the front steps, with fresh paint along half the front wall. The hedges were freshly trimmed, and the garden beds around the steps were brimming with white and yellow flowers.
A beautiful blonde woman greeted us at the door, wearing a floaty maxi dress covered in baroque flowers. A paintbrush was tucked behind her ear. She introduced herself as Alex, Ryan’s fiancee.
“Welcome.” Alex embraced me. “Ryan’s filled me in on everything that’s happened. You’ll be perfectly safe here. This place is protected from all manner of supernatural creatures by some of Clara’s strongest charms.”
“That’s … that’s great.” As if werewolves weren’t enough, I was now hanging out with a billionaire vulpine in an enchanted manor. What was next, a vampire butler?
As if on cue, a willowy man with beady eyes and thick, demonic-looking eyebrows emerged from the shadows and held his arms out for my coat. “This way, ma’am,” he said.
I couldn’t help it. I burst out laughing.
Alex grinned, as if she knew exactly what I was thinking. “It takes a little getting used to,” she whispered, so the butler wouldn’t hear. “The first month I was living here, I was sure at any minute I’d stumble into some dark corner and find Simon’s sleeping figure peering out at me from an upright coffin.”
I grinned back at her. I think I’ll like this girl.
“I’ve had Simon prepare rooms for you in the guest wing.” Alex started up the grand staircase. “I’ll let you get settled. You look like you’ve had a pretty rough day. Ryan and I are going to have supper in the green drawing room in a couple of hours. Feel free to join us, but I thought you’d like some time to shower and freshen up.”
“You must be a mindreader,” I said, twisting a frizzy lock of hair in my finger. I wondered if psychics were another made-up phenomenon I was going to have to get used to being real.
“Close,” she grinned. “I’m a woman. I know these things. Good to have you here, Rosa.”
“Nice digs.” Caleb’s gravelly voice penetrated my thoughts. He stood in the doorway, staring around the room the vampire butler had “prepared” for me.
I couldn’t help but agree. Unlike other stately homes that were decorated with heavy antiques and stuffy drapes, this room was light and airy. I’d dumped my bag on a creamy Scandinavian-style recliner by the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the back garden and the forest. I was now sitting on the edge of the bed, running my fingers over the smooth sheets and soft, downy duvet. Weariness washed over me, and I lay back, letting the soft bed float around me while I stared up at the industrial-style chandelier above my head.
Are these four-hundred count sheets? I bet they are. In a house like this, of course they are. They feel like butter. I’ve never slept in a bed made of butter before.
I thought of the hard, lumpy bed back in the cabin. I should get some nice sheets, and a decent mattress. Hell, I’ve got three-hundred thousand pounds in the bank. I could buy four-hundred count sheets if I wanted to.
I was debating whether it would be appropriate to ask Alex where she shopped, when Caleb stepped inside the room, casting a looming shadow over the edge of the bed.
Reluctantly, I dragged my body up into a sitting position, and was rewarded with a view of shirtless Caleb, the dim light in the hall throwing a shadow across the dark stubble running along his chin. He surveyed my bed with a satisfied smirk
“Where’s your room?” I asked.
“Just down the hall, but I don’t intend to spend much time there.” In a moment, Caleb was on the bed beside me. Two strong arms wrapped around my torso, rolling me over so I faced away from him. Caleb’s teeth grazed my earlobe.
Yes. All weariness forgotten, my body sizzled with desire once again.
“I missed you last night,” Caleb whispered into my ear, as his hands explored my body, cupping my breasts, skimming my sides, squeezing my ass. His touch left trails of fire across my skin.
The words hummed against my brain. Why does knowing he missed me make me feel so good?
It was probably that damn Scottish accent. It made everything he said sound like sex.
“Oh, yes?” My voice came out low, almost like a growl. “Why don’t you show me just how much you missed me?”
In response, Caleb growled low in his throat. His hands tightened around my thighs, and he shunted me further onto the bed. I turned around to face him, but he used his arms to stop me.
“Stop trying to take charge, woman.” He stroked a finger along my chin. “Let me drive you crazy first.”
“If you insist.” I sank back into the bed-cloud, as Caleb continued to stroke and kiss my body, his fingers everywhere at once – running down my back, curling around my thighs. He undid the buttons between my breasts and slid my shirt over my shoulders. My skin tingled with heat as he placed his lips on the back of my neck, kissing a line down my shoulders and pulling down the strap of my bra with his teeth.
My breasts weren’t even naked yet, and already the ache inside me was desperate for him.
Caleb wrapped his arms under my body, and flipped me over, so I was on top. I leaned back, straddling him, my whole body aching with need. He was still wearing pants, so I reached down and tugged at his belt. Caleb grabbed me around the wrist, holding my arm away.
“Not yet, wench.”
“Then what?”
“Sit on my face.” He grinned. “I want to watch you enjoying this.”
My face flushed with heat. I’d never done that before. But if Caleb asked … I would obey. I wriggled forward, planting my thighs on either side of his head, so that he was between my legs. He reached up and tweaked one of my nipples, and I gave a little moan.
“Keep your eyes locked on mine,” he said, his mouth so close to me that every word sent a waft of wind across me, teasing the ache growing inside me. I nodded.
Caleb reached behind me and grabbed hold of my ass with both hands, holding me in place. His tongue connected with my clit, and oh, the sensation of it nearly sent me over the edge.
He started slow, moving with deliberate care, dragging his tongue across all of me. The torture of waiting while his eyes danced over mine drove me wild. I growled low in my throat, begging him for more.
While he worked me, his eyes drank in my reactions. Watching him as he watched me made the whole experience more intimate than anythin
g I’d ever experienced. I dug my fingers into his shoulders as the ache inside of me grew stronger, spreading out through my limbs, ready to take me over completely.
Caleb increased his speed, focusing all his attention on my clit, pounding it over and over with his tongue. My legs started to clench as I grew closer and closer. He took one hand from my ass and worked it between my legs, pushing a finger inside of me as his tongue licked and swirled.
My legs turned to jelly, and I collapsed as the orgasm claimed me. My legs convulsed, tightening around him, driving myself further against his face. He responded by sucking me into his mouth, sending another wave of pleasure through my body even before the first had abated. His eyes never left my face as the second orgasm tore through me. I lost sight of him as red welts appeared in my eyes, and the room swirled in a maelstrom of ecstasy.
I woke in a stupor of pleasure to find myself flat on my back against the sheets, Caleb leaning over me, now completely naked, his fingers trailing across my skin. My whole body tingled.
“So that was … good?” He lifted one eyebrow.
“That was … the most intense orgasm I’ve ever … I mean, wow.”
“I loved watching you,” he said, running his hands over my stomach.
“I loved watching you watch me. I loved everything about it. What do we do now? I don’t think I can even move.”
“I’ll take things from here.” Caleb rolled me over, so that once again I was facing away from him, his arms around me, with ample access to my body. His lips grazed my neck, and the arm under my shoulder bent at the elbow to play with my nipple, while his other hand fumbled for something in his discarded pants.
I heard the rustle of a foil package, and then Caleb had both hands on me, stroking my skin. His cock pressed against my ass crack, before working his way between my thighs and slowly, achingly, beautifully slowly, entered me.
I was so tight from the two orgasms that it took a few strokes for his whole length to be inside me. All the while, he continued to stroke my skin, his lips warm against the nape of my neck. A hand snaked down my body and pressed between my legs.
The ache inside me flared up again. My clit burned with all the attention it had received, but Caleb took it carefully, just brushing his fingers over the little bud, barely touching it at all. But the sensation coupled with his length sliding inside me grew the pleasure inside me once more.
This felt so different from the sex we had the other night. That was primal, animalian. This was intimate. It wasn’t really sex. It was more …
… making love.
Did I just think that? Did I just think the word love? Am I really starting to fall for this guy?
The thought didn’t fill me with dread, the way it usually did. Instead, it made a new warmth spread through my body. The ache rose higher, pressing against my skin. Caleb’s hand trailed over my stomach, while the other brushed me faster, working in time with his strokes.
“That’s it,” he whispered in my ear as the ache spread further. “Come again for me, you gorgeous woman.”
The ache burst forth, flooding my body with heat and light. My walls tightened around his shaft, and he started to thrust faster as he approached his own orgasm.
Caleb’s teeth sank into my shoulder, a sharp pain that only heightened the sensation of him hardening, shuddering inside me. His body tensed, then relaxed, collapsing against mine. One last, final thrust, and he too was spent.
I couldn’t move, didn’t want to move. His body against mine felt whole, complete, like we were two lost puzzle pieces that slotted together perfectly.
Finally, my limbs woke up enough that I thought I could move. I rolled over, so that I was facing Caleb. My hands cupped his cheeks. His stubble grazed my palms.
“That was pretty intense.”
“Yeah.” His heavy lidded eyes smiled back at me. “The intensist.”
I laughed. “That’s not a word.”
“You’d know better than me, Miss Writer.”
“Yes, I would. Hey, Caleb?”
“Mmmmhmm?”
“About this mate business … what exactly happens when a woman becomes your mate?”
His eyes bore into mine. “Why are you asking? Are you—”
“No, I’m not ready for that. But I have a right to know, don’t I?”
“Sure.” He trailed a finger over my shoulder blade. “Well, when I take a mate, I would place a bite on her to mark her as my own.”
“A bite? Does it hurt?”
“Yeah, but I’d be very gentle. Any woman who is strong enough to be the mate of a werewolf wouldn’t have a problem with the pain.”
“That’s … not very reassuring.”
“When I bite, my saliva mixes with her blood. Other wolves can smell that, even after the wound heals. They would always know that this woman belonged to me and my pack, that she was protected. The bite is a symbol of a pair, like a wedding ring in shifter society, but it’s also a form of protection. Any wolf who attacked a mate would bring the full fury of the pack down upon themselves. Is this scaring you?”
“Oh, no. Biting and wounds and werewolf wedding vows are perfectly normal, non-scary things. Is there anything else I should be aware of?”
He squeezed my arm. “No. I mean, there’s probably a bunch of stuff about pregnancy that’s a little odd, but you’d have to ask Anna about that. She’d know more than me. The only other thing I would say is that if you did become my mate, I would be the luckiest guy in the whole entire world.“
“Caleb?”
“Yes, Rosa.”
“I had an affair with the mayor.”
The words were out of my mouth before I knew it. Once they were out, I wished like hell I could take them back.
Caleb blinked. “Of your old town? So?”
I’d dreaded the words he might say, but his reaction did nothing to loosen the heavy stone that now pressed against my chest. This was exactly how I’d felt when I’d started seeing Nancy, like I was walking around with a boulder on my chest, weighing me down. The only thing that made it better was talking. And I didn’t want the boulder between Caleb and I any longer. So I talked.
“He was a white man.”
“So? I’m a white man.”
“That’s not a so. You can’t understand what it’s like for me.”
“I know what it’s like to be different, yeah. To feel like an outcast in your own family.” Caleb patted his chest.
“I guess, but it’s not really the same. You can blend in. When you walk down the street, people don’t stare at you like you’re an alien. When you’re good at your job, people don’t make comments about how you’re stealing work from true British citizens. When you go to buy toilet paper and are made to feel like your money isn’t as good as anyone else’s. It’s not the same,” I repeated.
“Okay.” Caleb kissed my nose. “It’s not the same. Keep going.”
“I was the other woman. He was married to a woman who was best friends with my boss at the accounting firm I worked for. His wife was white too, and my boss. In fact, pretty much everyone in the village was white. They could be rude sometimes; muttered comments behind me in line at the post office, overlooking me for projects at work even though I had the most experience, the usual kind of thing. Most racism is just that – thoughtless comments made by normal people. But it was my first job after university, and I wanted to make a success of it. I saved a lot of money – I didn’t exactly have friends to go out with – so I bought my little Tudor cottage and I was going to stay until I paid the mortgage down, then move on and keep it as a rental.”
“Sensible,” Caleb murmured.
“When it comes to money, yes. But that’s where my common sense ends, trust me. I got sucked in by Sam’s charisma. He was handsome in that old-fashioned, upper-class, Mr.-Darcy kind of way.”
“I wouldn’t know.” Caleb’s eyes glinted.
“He owned an estate and wore these snappy suits and was in line for a title and h
is eyes crinkled in the corners. He would come into the office and flirt with me, and it made me so happy. One day he asked me out, and things just spiralled out of control from there. He was easy to talk to. I told him everything about my life. He was such a great listener.
“When the affair started, I didn’t know Sam was married. I didn’t even know he was the mayor. Who really knows who their mayor is? One morning I was reading the paper and there he was on the front page at a ribbon-cutting ceremony for the new statue on the village green. His tall, blonde wife smiling beside him.”
Caleb looked appalled.
“I swear my heart fell into my shoes. I felt so betrayed. I hadn’t realised how much I’d opened myself up and let myself be vulnerable to him. And all this time, he was … he was …” I gulped, forcing back the tears that were threatening to spill over. “I confronted Sam with it that night. His whole composed façade broke down. He begged me to stay with him. He had tears in his eyes as he gave me all the usual sob stories – he was unhappy, his wife was a cold, heartless bitch, he loved me, and he was going to leave her for me as soon as he was re-elected. Like a fool, I believed him. That night, we went to a hotel together, and many nights afterwards.”
“I was so happy. Nothing could touch me, not even the stupid village and their increasingly racist interactions with me, fuelled by Brexit and all the political bullshit that’s been going on. My boss, Susan, was becoming an even bigger bitch, and she started palming Sam’s work off to other juniors, when she used to do it all herself. I should have been suspicious, but all I could think was that soon Sam would leave his wife and then we could escape together to his estate and I could tell Susan where to shove her job. But of course that never happened. It all fell apart.”
“The story came out.” Caleb squeezed my hand.
“Of course it did. They always do, don’t they? Susan told the wife her suspicions, and she went snooping, and found a dirty text I’d written Sam on his phone. She confronted Sam, and he stormed out, so she called another of her blonde friends at the local newspaper, and went public with the affair. They found an unflattering picture of me at a nightclub in London that a friend had tagged me in on Facebook from my university days, and that was the image they ran in the paper opposite Sam’s official mayoral photo and an portrait of his sobbing wife. A bunch of other papers picked it up. Why not, right? The upright English public servant led astray by the wanton black harlot? It fit perfectly with what everyone in the country already wanted to believe.”
Writing the Wolf: A wolf shifter paranormal romance (Wolves of Crookshollow Book 2) Page 13