“Is..this where…I’ll be staying?” she asked, trying not to gulp as she worked moisture in her suddenly dry throat. Her heart pounded with anticipation. His musky pheromones clung to her nose, making her drunk with desire before he’d made a single move.
“Oui. You should take off those wet clothes, chère.”
The door closed quietly, and her keen ears detected the lock engaged. She turned around and saw him standing with his back against the door, arms crossed over his chest.
She cleared her throat. “Do you have something for me to change into? I’m afraid I didn’t have time to pack. I barely got my jacket.” She was aware she was babbling as he straightened from the door and removed his own leather jacket to drape over an arm chair in the corner.
He advanced across the room, taking his time stalking her. Without a pause in his stride, he lifted the bottom of his shirt and pulled it up his torso and over his head, dropping it to the floor in a move that made her breathless when she saw what he’d been hiding beneath. Tawny skin sprinkled with whorls of dark hair; a thin strip of hair disappearing under his faded and torn blue jeans; lines of muscles cut by years of physical labor—logging trees and chopping wood.
Alyssia looked around for an avenue of escape, sure she’d stepped into a lucid dream. She had those on occasion when she was sleeping fitfully in her own room. “Wh—what are you doing?”
Killian stopped in front of her. “I thought it was obvious. Didn’ you know?” He raised his hands and snagged her zipper, pulling it down her chest until he hit bottom, then pushed the jacket off her shoulders with a sensual grace that she’d never possessed or experienced in her life.
She swallowed the lump in her throat, striving for clarity when she was drunk off his erotic scent so near. “No. What? I forgot what we were talking about.”
He smiled, lifting one corner of his mouth higher to reveal a charming dimple in one cheek. A fucking dimple. Her knees wobbled. She’d never been this close to such a gorgeous man in her life. And he’d taken off his shirt—and her jacket!
Killian clucked his tongue. “You gonna catch a cold if I don’ get you outta these. Take off your pants first. Here, I’ll help. They stuck to you like a second skin, chère.”
He grabbed the button hold her pants up. Well, truthfully, her soft stomach and big butt wouldn’t allow them to fall off anyway. She’d had some crazy idea that if she wore tighter jeans, she wouldn’t be able to eat as much and might lose weight, or maybe just not get any bigger. He yanked on the button, snatching her close while holding her gaze with his glittering black eyes.
The breath caught in her throat when he pulled the zipper down. Her heart thundered when she felt his hands go to her waistband and slowly pushed them with difficulty down her hips. A blush heated her cheeks. She grabbed her jeans and gave a shimmy, trying to get the damp jeans off.
Killian sighed and pushed her backward. She squeaked as she fell and hit the mattress. He pulled off her boots and socks, sending them flying with a loud thud. The jeans he grabbed by the ankles and yanked. She yelped and dug her hands into the bedcovers to hold on, afraid he’d snatch her right off the bed. They came free and he threw them to the hardwood floor with a sodden thunk.
“Oh. Thanks. It’s always so hard to get wet jeans off. I’d love to get a shower and warm up, put on something dry,” she said, attempting to sit up.
Killian crawled onto the bed right over the top of her and pushed her back down. She looked up at him with a mixture of anxiety and confusion.
“Just a few more things,” he said, hauling her saturated shirt up.
She grabbed his hands, trying to put a stop to him. She’d never let anyone see her completely naked before. Even with the dim glow from the bedside lamp, there was way too much light in the room for her comfort. “That’s enough. I think I can handle the rest if you’ll just find me an old t-shirt or something.”
He grinned wolfishly, sending a shudder through her as he hung his head above hers. “You can’t stay in this on the bed, you’ll soak the covers, and then how will we sleep?”
Alyssia gulped. “We? Sleep together here?”
“Mmmm. You’re right. We won’ be doin’ much of that.”
Chapter 2
Killian dipped his head close enough to bite Alyssia, and he looked like he wanted to eat her alive. She wasn’t sure she should be thrilled with that, but deep within her insides quivered in a way no good girl ought to in the presence of a bad boy. Or maybe that was the effect they all had on good girls. She’d practiced a façade of good behavior, but it was difficult when her morals wanted to blow up in the presence of her sexy enemy.
Holy shit.
Her libido sputtered to life. He didn’t seem like an enemy.
His lips were a hairsbreadth from her own, and she had to either close her lids or look at him cross-eyed to maintain his gaze. She opted for slanting her eyes almost shut.
“You’re my consort for the week. Why you think your père didn’ want you coming with me? You gettin’ second thoughts, chère? Cause we can stop this right now, but you won’t get no peace for Christmas, I guarantee,” he said huskily.
She tried to scoot up the bed, but he followed her, sinking down lower. “Oh. Ah…maybe I should call my father and let him know I’m okay. He’ll be worried.” She was afraid to breathe. One deep breath and her breasts would be touching his chest. She wanted to faint with his nearness. Him hovering over her had her damp skin practically steaming from the heat of his body.
“After. I’ll be sure to give him a call for you,” he said in a growly, husky kind of voice that rubbed her nerves like a rough caress.
He gripped her shirt and wrenched it up her torso, exposing every inch of soft flesh she possessed. She squealed and futilely fought him to no avail. Her wrists snarled in the folds of fabric over her head, essentially binding her hands. Now she was breathing hard, making her breasts jiggle in her bra and slip out the top as if they were going to knock her in the chin. It was sometimes hell being a larger woman. She hoped he didn’t notice.
He did, if the way he licked his lips were any indication. Surely that was act, right? Did he actually want her, or was this just a sick revenge? And did she even care if she got to enjoy him too?
“Hey—” she began, writhing on the bed, but his mouth blocked further argument. She barely noticed when he pulled the shirt free from her wrists.
He speared her mouth with his tongue, sawing his lips over hers in a sensual assault that left her breathless and stunned into immobility. She forgot all about fighting as he kissed her. His tongue was rough, sandpapery as it slid against hers and encouraged engagement. She sucked him with something akin to desperation, forgetting to breathe as he filled her mouth.
Tearing his mouth violently away, he scored her round jaw with his teeth, sending shivers down her neck. She gasped, flexing her fingers, wondering if this was a good time to try and cover herself, but when he reached around to the space beneath her earlobe and sucked it into his mouth to nip the tender flesh, a thunderbolt of pleasure seared her insides.
He suckled a moment then traced the shell of her ear with his lips. “I know you’re wet.” He dragged the hand holding her wrists hostage back down her arm to cup one breast.
“Of course I’m wet,” she argued. Her panties and bra were a bit damp.
He sniggered in her ear, breathing hotly against her. Goosebumps prickled her skin. “Naw, chère. Wet for me. You want this wolf cock inside your coyote snatch.” He flicked her nipple with his thumb, making her jerk against him.
“You’re full of yourself.” She bit her lip, knowing she should put up some kind of resistance, but wanting this too much.
“You gon’ be full soon, petite.”
“Holy shit. I didn’t realize what an arrogant—” She lost her train of thought when his plundering hand skipped her stomach and went straight for the front of her panties. His long, rough fingers found her clit and pinched it. She couldn’t clos
e her legs or move. Hell, she didn’t want to escape. The son of a bitch was right. She did want his cock. She wanted it bad. All of it. Screw prudence. She was ready to satisfy her beast for once.
He bit her neck, making her wince, but she’d forgive the hurt for the magic he triggered in her love button. Her clit swelled, throbbing like an extra heartbeat, and he plunged down to tickle the edges of her hole. Slowly, he withdrew and brought his fingers up to show her the evidence. “Told you I made you wet.”
He sounded satisfied when he said it—husky and gratified that he’d provoked her.
She flushed with embarrassment as he sat up on his knees and backed off the bed to stand at the footboard. He divested himself of his torn jeans and boxer-briefs and stood naked. His cock semi-hard and impressive in the trimmed thatch of black hair framing his erection. She’d heard tell that the wolves possessed a special gland at the base of their shaft, but his hand was covering the area. And then he was crawling back onto the bed on his knees and tugging her panties off to fling across the room. He lifted her knees and settled onto his elbows with his warm breath fanning her pussy.
“I thought I’d have a taste to see how different coyote is from wolf,” he said in a hoarse voice that made things quiver inside her. He arched a thick, black brow. “You shaved for me?”
She cleared her throat. “Uh. No. For me.”
Hot hands, calloused and deft parted her plump lips. “All the better to eat you,” he murmured.
The first swipe of his sandpapery tongue across her slit had her hips bouncing off the mattress. His firm hands cupped her ass like a bowl, bringing her up to his mouth to feast on her juices. She wanted to melt into the bed, caught between desire and mortification. He suckled her clit, drawing that throbbing to a head, sending spirals of pleasure to thread through her nerves and brain to wipe out anything but the bliss. The coil of muscles tightened. She moaned, reaching for his head to trap him there, clenching her thighs on each side of his head, not caring if she smothered him or not as long as he kept doing what he was doing.
The pleasure wound tighter and tighter. He slowed his movements, withdrawing altogether and earning a gasp of frustration from her. He nipped her thigh, making her wince in pain. Looking at her with sensually dark eyes, he wagged his finger, and wiped off his mouth with the back of his hand. As he pushed his hips between her thighs, he gripped her legs, raising them to his chest and stretching her muscles from the ankle clear through her ass.
“Why’d you stop,” she gritted out.
“Trust me, this is better,” he said.
She doubted it, until he guided the thick head of his cock to her opening and pushed forward, stretching her pussy more than it had ever been stretched before. He rubbed her clit with his thumb, inching forward in slow increments until she wanted to scream at him to stop taking his time and get it over with. She was panting and shaking with the need to come.
He seemed to realize her distress and revel in causing her more anguish, taking his time to enter her. Even as he moved slowly, she could feel him hardening further inside her, swelling as he penetrated her insides. She realized he had to because he hadn’t been fully erect. Now that he was, she wasn’t sure she could take much more.
“Ow,” she said, clenching down.
“You gon’ have to relax, chère. Just a little more.”
“No. I’m full. All the way.”
He leaned forward, his face a hard mask. “Just a little more,” he ground out, breathless and ragged.
She was hyperventilating. Only the constant rubbing of her clit kept her from pain. The stretch intensified, and then the moment he warned of hit—the small glands at the base of his cock popped inside, bulging against her g-spot and trapping him within. He jerked his hips, pumping against her with little movement, but she didn’t seem to need it. That strange bulge touched things it should not have.
Alyssia cried out, bucking her legs against his chest. He growled and dropped her feet, dropping his hands on either side of her to support his weight as he thrust within her pussy and forged a hot, hard rhythm. The bulge knotted her core, bumping along her inner muscles and ringing moans from her throat. She hardly recognized the sounds coming out of her. She grabbed his shoulders, arching her hips towards him, taking the thick inches of his cock. Bursts of fluid shot from him, easing his way. She didn’t have time to think about the consequences—only knew it felt like heaven and she wanted more of it—craved it like air and water and the full moon.
He pumped furiously, grinding on her swollen clit until her clenching muscles and cries wrenched them into orgasm. He surged within her and the pleasure burst, wringing every ounce of energy from her in a tornado of bliss.
Killian dropped on top of her, but his member remained hard and swollen inside her. Her erratic breathing quieted, and she expected him to roll off of her, but he didn’t move his face from the crook of her neck.
She squirmed, trying to get free and realized she was trapped. She couldn’t get his cock out of her.
“Just be still,” he murmured raggedly.
“I need to get up.”
“We’re knotted. You keep moving and I’m afraid I’m gonna fuck you again, chère.”
Killian gritted his teeth, willing his body to calm down. His inner wolf howled at possessing the female and wanted another go at her. He’d been caught up in the moment and hadn’t used protection, but he’d wanted to thoroughly mark the woman just to get under Cyril Chauveau’s skin when she went back home. Now the possibility of getting a pup on her was a prospect he hadn’t considered.
She squirmed her hips, eliciting a groan from him, rousing his beast and engorging his cock with blood flow. He’d juiced himself once—might as well seal the deal as thoroughly as possible if he was going to fuck up.
“Fuck it,” he snarled and got up onto his hands and knees. His member swelled and hardened. Unlike human males and changelings, he was born a red wolf and possessed the glands of his beast at the base of his shaft. The only way to unknot from the female would be to drain every last drop of come from his body—into her.
She moaned and arched her back. She was soft in all the right places, and he enjoyed her plump nether lips and pliable hips so different from the lean women he often fucked—whose pubic bones often gnawed into his groin. The difference in body types was more pleasurable than he’d imagined. He buried his face in her cleavage, nipping at her large breasts as he stroked her tight pussy with difficulty. She clenched on his distended member, drawing guttural groans from deep within his chest.
He sucked a nipple into his mouth, gratified to hear her animalistic pants and to feel the scratching of her nails dragging over his arms and shoulders. The beast unfurled along his spine, senses heightening as the nerves intensified. The buildup came, pressing on his lower belly. He pumped harder, driving as deep as he could go, into folly and insanity as he ground her clit and emptied his seed deep in her belly again.
She cried out, arching, shuddering with his climax and her own. He dropped on top of her, rolling and taking her with him so he didn’t crush her. She was warm and soft, pliable and mellow. He liked that. He liked that she didn’t tear at him and fight—only resisted just enough to make it interesting.
He pulled free with a popping sound, flaccid and spent at last. She lay beside him, curled into his chest and nearly asleep.
“Why don’ you go in the bathroom there. Get cleaned up. I got some shirts in there you can put on. I’ll call your père for you.”
Alyssia sat up and looked at him with dark blonde tendrils clinging to her round cheeks. She wasn’t a beauty queen, but he found her girl-next-door looks charming and relaxing. His sister was gorgeous and a pain in the ass like every other beautiful, high maintenance woman he’d ever had the misfortune to encounter. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was tired of contending with that type. He just wanted to be comfortable.
“You have the number?” she asked, furrowing her fine eyebrows.
“Oui. Bathroom is that way,” he said, pointing to the door set in the middle of the wall to his right.
She scuttled out of the bed, holding her hand over her tits and ass as she retreated, as if her hands could cover that much ample flesh. He chuckled to himself, admiring the view and the enticing jiggle of her ass. The urge to follow and gnaw on her bottom assailed him, but he restrained himself for the moment. He waited until he heard the water faucet turn on before he dialed Cyril’s number.
Unsurprisingly, it took two calls before old Cyril answered his call. Irritation emanated in his voice. “What are you calling me for at this time of night? I already gave you my answer.”
Killian chuckled. “Just wanted to let you know we’ll be keeping the peace through the holidays after all. Your daughter made sure of that. She got some good brains in that head of hers.”
A lengthy pause while Cyril snorted on the other end. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Killian yawned in feigned boredom, but he enjoyed aggravating the piss out of Cyril. The old bastard deserved to be punished—he wondered how the old goat had spawned such a mild mannered daughter. Maybe she took after her mother. She certainly didn’t get her looks from him. “Alyssia. She traded herself for a truce. I made sure to put my mark all over her. Inside and out, mon ami.”
“I ain’t your friend, and you’re a fucking liar, Killian!” Cyril launched a series of curses away from the phone but directed at someone in the room with him. “Etienne, check Alyssia’s room.”
“You wastin’ your time.” He laughed and rubbed his belly, sitting up on the edge of the bed as he imagined the water running over Alyssia’s smooth skin. “She’s in my shower right now. You won’t find her there.” He walked to the bathroom and opened the door, unleashing a roomful of steam. He held up the phone on speaker. “I think I’ll join her. Alyssia, say hi to your père.”
Alphas for the Holidays Page 193