by Renee George
“I know.” He raised an eyebrow. “Pathetic, huh?” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Seriously though—where’s my clothes?”
“That seems to be the million-dollar question.” First she’d woken with no clothes, now Sol. Not twenty feet from her. Had they…?
No. They couldn’t have.
But the wobbling in her legs and the quivering of her thighs told her maybe they had. “Do you remember anything about last night?”
He rubbed his forehead and pushed his hair back from his face. Romy went weak in the knees. Sol smirked. “I don’t remember much after walking into your house yesterday.”
When had Sol been to her house? A glimpse of memory flashed in her mind.
Lucien, the pot, the overwhelming heat… Romy flushed. “We kissed.”
Sol rose from the ground gracefully, as if defying gravity. He turned briefly and brushed some twigs from his ass—and wow, what an ass. “I’d say from my state of undress, more than kissing happened.”
“Oh, so now you’re Sherlock Holmes?”
“It doesn’t take a detective, darling.”
“In your dreams.”
Sol shrugged. “It may be the only place I remember. Shame, really. I bet you’re a fantastic lover.”
Romy grimaced, eyes lowered. “I wouldn’t have sex with you if you were the last man on Earth.” Though chances were good she probably already had, so she wanted to kick herself the minute the words passed her lips.
Sol waved, affecting a feminine gesture. “Your loss, babycakes.” He looked around. “I think you’d better get out of here.”
Romy put her hands on her hips. “You get out of here.”
“I’m not the one torturing nature,” he said smugly.
She looked around her at the dying grass and the nearby trees, already losing their leaves. “It’s not my fault!” She stomped her feet, beating down the stiff blades of grass. “Puck take it all!” she said, exasperated.
Oh! Puck. Hadn’t Lucien said something about Puck yesterday? “Oh no. No, no, no.”
Something near concern touched Sol’s blue eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“I’ve been touched by Puck.”
“What does that even mean?”
Romy gave herself a mental shake and pulled her gaze from the dying flora surrounding her. “It means… It means…” She couldn’t stop her hands from shaking.
“Yeah, go on, doll. Don’t leave me in suspense.”
“It means we’re totally screwed.”
The night suddenly rushed back to Romy—endorphins, adrenaline and more sexual energy than a crowd of pixies in a piled orgy.
And what of Lucien, where the hell had he gone?
As far as Romy was concerned, the only reason to flee the scene of a crime was if you were guilty, and when she saw Lucien again, she planned to tattoo the word across his forehead.
Somehow, he was responsible for this mess. It had to be him. He was the newest part of the equation. Somehow, his presence in Fortunate had caused her to become sick with love. Or lust, as the case may be.
Sol walked toward Romy. Her skin soaked up the few feet of heat between them and she held up a hand. With her memories returned, she didn’t want to chance a repeat of the night’s performance.
In that moment, she fought down the part of her that would risk anything to have those feelings again.
Sol smiled.
“I don’t think you should come any closer.” Being touched by Puck was like an infection, spreading through contact. It rivaled heroin—addictive, dangerous and all-consuming. The pull wasn’t as strong as the night before, but she still found her attraction to Sol nearly irresistible.
His smile faded. Sol’s lips twisted into a wry expression. “Now you’re just being silly.” He stepped nearer.
Romy’s pulse quickened, her breaths coming fast and hard. She was on the verge of panic. She felt trapped. Did she want to bring Sol down the rabbit hole with her? Desperately, she said the one thing she thought could stop him from advancing farther.
“You can drop the act. I know what you are.”
He was a wolf pretending to be an elf. If Mathias found out…
He stopped, raised both brows and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Yes, I’m a fabulous florist. Everyone knows that. Unlike some people, plants actually thrive around me.”
Ouch. That hurt.
Romy couldn’t help but stare at his dangly bits; after all, they were, well…large and dangly. She swallowed hard, trying to force her desire deep down inside where it couldn’t hurt anyone, especially her. As a rule, dryads had no problems with nudity. Clothing was a human convention, albeit an adopted norm by most of the paranormal community. However, in this instance, she had a difficult time concentrating with Sol in his birthday suit.
The werewolf breathed in her sent deeply. No wonder he could smell her lust yesterday. He had a predator’s nose. He sniffed again. The audible sound seemed to dive into the middle of Romy and pluck a tightly wound chord. Warmth flooded her limbs, but it was nothing compared to the wet heat forming between her legs.
Suddenly, Sol transformed—not were-style, but visually his human-self became more masculine and alert. For once, he dropped his usual front altogether. “Damn, Romy.”
A quiver rippled in her stomach, and she nervously tugged at her shirt. She shuddered as lust and desire pulled her toward him. Her night with Lucien and Sol had filled a void she hadn’t known was there—or at least, hadn’t known they could remedy.
She had been alone for so long, even before she’d been kicked out of her forest. Her own mother had shunned her. That kind of loneliness is bottomless, but getting used to it had been manageable. Until last night.
Vertigo suddenly slammed into her and Romy dropped to her knees.
In an instant, Sol crossed the metaphorical line in the sand Romy had drawn. He went down to his own knees in front of her. “This is such a bad idea,” he said, drawing his finger across her cheek.
“Terrible,” she agreed, her hands skimming his bare chest.
He leaned in closely, his soft lips brushing against hers…
The spark of passion ignited into a bonfire.
She gripped Sol’s shoulders and pulled herself closer to him. His thick cock pushed against her stomach as the kiss grew intense with passion and heat. Any apprehension she had fizzled under her hammering pulse as his smooth hand slid beneath her tank top to cup her breast.
His other hand popped the button on her jeans, slipping between the rough fabric and her skin to her slick, swollen pussy.
“Hot damn, Romy. I want to touch you, smell you, taste you…” Pulling his hand from her pants, he brought his glistening fingers to his mouth and sucked them.
Romy drew a ragged breath as she watched. His eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head as he fed himself.
“Amazing. You taste of the wild lands.” He dipped his hand once again, fingers playing along her sex, flicking the tip of his middle finger against her clit as her hips rolled forward and she moved against the pressure. Again, he pulled his hand out, and she startled when he placed one finger to her lips and slipped it into her mouth. Taking his finger to the knuckle, Romy watched his eyes glitter with hunger and savage lust and she licked the sweet fluid from his finger.
With a growl, Sol pushed her back until she lay on the cool ground beneath him. He pulled her jeans down her hips until they rested at her ankles. Shouldering between her thighs, he dipped his head between her legs.
“Ah!” She cried out as his tongue slid between the folds of her pussy. His hand smoothed up her abdomen until it rested on her breast. He moved up the length of her body and pressed his lips to hers. His tongue briefly fought for occupation in her mouth, then he was back down between her legs to lick and suck the tender flesh. He hooked his other hand under her thigh, lifting her leg for a better angle, delving his tongue deeply into her pulsing heat.
She grasped his hair, squeezin
g her hands against the coolness of the soft mane while he worked gloriously between her legs. When she could bear no more, she pulled him up for another kiss. Sol’s chest rumbled on a growl, vibrating her entire body as he took two fingers and plunged them into her pussy while his teeth grazed her lower lip.
“Fuck, oh fuck,” she moaned into his mouth. She thrust her hips against his hand as he drew his fingers in and out. His free hand moving to steady his solid cock, he rubbed the thick head against her swollen clit.
He tortured her by making her wait. “Please,” she begged. “In me, please.” Romy wrapped a leg around his back, trying to force him inside, but Sol was stronger, much stronger, and he played with her to the point of near insanity.
“I’m going to come,” she whispered harshly, her breath ragged and labored.
“Good,” he said, his voice low and guttural. “I plan on making you come again and again.” With that promise between them, Sol moved down once more between her legs, kissing his way to the sensitive skin of her inner thigh.
He swept his tongue between her folds, feasting and feeding on her sex like a man who’d recently called off a long and painful hunger strike. Romy squirmed under the exquisite pressure, moaning her pleasure as he plunged his tongue inside her, fucking her with his mouth.
She arched and cried out his name as the mounting pressure exploded, turning her into a shuddering, quivering ball of ecstasy. He sucked hard on her clit, pressing his fingers an inch or so inside her channel to rub her sweet spot as a second wave of passion escalated.
Romy cried out again. Only when he finally eased his ministrations did the shaking subside.
Sol glanced up from between her legs. The thick fringe of dark eyelashes that framed his almost translucent blue eyes thrilled her. Pupils dilating, Sol murmured softly against her skin, “And again and again.”
Romy wasn’t sure how many “agains” she could survive, but she was more than willing to let him try to fulfill the dark promise.
“Sol…Sol,” she sighed as she arched to meet his smooth glide up her body.
His hand cupped the soft mound of her breast, pinching the nipple through her bra as he simultaneously bit down gently on her shoulder and pushed his thick cock into her pussy. He thrust his hips forward, hard, burying his length inside her. Withdrawing slowly, he thrust again. Slow then hard, over and over.
She arched to meet his every surge.
Her body tingled, her skin alight with raw nerves excited by lust. Sol quickened his thrusts, moving his hips back and forth, the head of his cock rubbing the sensitive area his fingers had found earlier.
His mouth met hers, wet, warm, his tongue sliding inside, dancing with hers in a tangled fury. He rolled until he was on his back and Romy straddled his hips. She rocked back and forth on his cock, squeezing her thighs against his sides as he shoved her tank up to tweak her nipples while the other thumbed her clit.
Warmth spread through her groin and abdomen as she rode his length, taking him as deeply as she could.
“Come for me, Romy. I want to feel you explode around me.”
The words put her over the edge, and she arched and cried out as the orgasm spread through her. Sol’s hips kept a steady pace until once again her body stopped quivering. She fell forward onto his chest. “Artemis take me!” she exclaimed. “You are something else.”
“Oh,” a small grin touched his lips, “I’m far from being finished.”
A sharp sensation stung her right calf. “Ow!” She swatted at the pain.
“Watch it, lady!” a small voice exclaimed.
Romy, mortified, looked toward the source of the sound.
A pixy!
“Son of a dorkus,” Romy swore.
With his free hand, he grabbed his crotch then flipped her off. “I’ve got your son of a dorkus right here.”
Sol helped Romy to her feet. His stiff cock hadn’t lost much of an edge in the presence of the pixy. Romy pulled down her tank and struggled into her jeans as the small creature flitted back and forth, dodging the werewolf’s sweeping hands.
“Why, you little pesky pixy!” Romy was more embarrassed than angry. How long had he been there? Had he been watching them?”
As if he’d read her mind, he said, “Oh don’t flatter yourself, large one.” He put his hand on his hips, his brow furrowed with rage. “If I want to see two animals rutting, I’ll go to the local farm and watch the pigs.”
Romy was now fully dressed, but poor naked Sol suffered the whims of the pixy, who kept stabbing at him with the tiny sword. “I’m going to squish you, bug. Keep it up.”
The pixy backed off when one of Sol’s swipes caught his leg and sent him tumbling in the air. “Get out of my woods!” He pointed his sword toward town. “You’re killing my home, my family!”
Romy blinked, her mind still pleasure-addled. “What are you talking about?”
“I have a wife and children.” The little guy rolled his eyes. “Many, many children.” He shook his head. “We rely on these woods for our survival and your presence is destroying it all.” His fury had changed to desperation.
Romy flushed. She’d spent too long in the woods. The pixy was right. She pulled herself from Sol’s grasp. “I’m sorry.” She ran as fast as her dryad legs would allow.
She heard Sol calling her name, but didn’t stop until she was back on her own dead, graying lawn and inside her house. She locked the door behind her, unable to face the world.
Even when Sol arrived on her porch, she pretended to be invisible, willing him to go away. Her humiliation went deep enough that her skin took on a tinge of green. The only real sign she was a dryad.
She tried to will back the color until, finally, when it became obvious it wouldn’t fade anytime soon, she slumped down the wall and cried.
Chapter Six
The spray of water grew cold and Sol’s mood soured further. He shut the water off and, though alone, he automatically reached for a towel before even stepping out of the stall.
Total self-defense. He’d spent his childhood protecting his life and his ass from the other males in his pack. His differences had made him an easy target. Although he’d been as strong and as fast as the other boys, they’d tended to gang up on him. The odds weren’t in his favor. He’d gradually adopted his more feminine affectations to prevent them from seeing him as a threat.
It worked, but it also resulted in different problems for him.
When he’d found out about Fortunate, a place where he could be who he was without judgment, Sol packed a single bag and left the compound in Nevada that his pack called home. His skills with gardening had developed from hanging out with his mother. She had a real green thumb and passed it on to Sol. When he’d moved to town and Mathias thought he was an elf, Sol didn’t bother to correct him. It was a chance. A real opportunity to start over from scratch.
He realized right away he’d made a mistake. He loved working at the flower shop. He loved his new life. He couldn’t be his true self, but at least nobody had been trying to kill him in Fortunate.
Now Romy, this strange and disastrously beautiful woman, had undone his disguise in the course of twenty-four hours. Damn it! He’d been so careful, even covering his scent with sandalwood and clary sage oil. Not even Lucien had guessed at his true nature.
And what of Lucien? The sprite had pulled some kind of magical hoodoo on them the night before. He had a vague recollection of piled-up sex with both Romy and the nix, but it seemed more dreamlike than reality. Of course, waking up naked in the woods gave him more than enough reason to think the flashes were real.
The front door rattled open. “Hello,” Lucien said, poking his head through the gap. “Sol, you home?”
Home. Sol huffed. The ratty trailer would never be home, but it was where he lived.
Lucien’s dark hair fell over his eyes when Sol left the bathroom and leveled him with a glare. “You okay?”
Sol huffed again. His attraction to Lucien had always been
intense, but never so insanely strong. His cock tented the towel wrapped around his hips. He wasn’t okay. Not by a long shot. “Come here,” he growled.
Lucien obeyed, covering the distance in three easy strides. He stood in front of Sol with a bare inch or two of space between them. He looked up and met the taller man’s gaze. “I’m here.”
Sol reached out and stroked his fingers up Lucien’s arm, smoothing his palm along the sprite’s neck. His fingers tangled in the thick tresses of Lucien’s hair. He pulled until the nix’s head tilted back, his bowed mouth parted with need.
He kissed Lucien swift and hard, punishing the sprite’s mouth with his own. He thrust his tongue between moist, parted lips. Their tongues commingled in a dark dance that promised heat and passion. Lucien wrapped his arms around Sol’s neck. He went up on his toes and took Sol’s tongue even deeper. Sol groaned into the nix’s mouth and could feel the noise finish in Lucien’s chest.
His cock jumped when the towel fell off his hips and Lucien pressed his stomach against the hard length.
“Shirt off,” he breathlessly commanded. He’d never taken a dominant lead with Lucien, but he was an alpha wolf, even if he’d spent his life suppressing that side of himself. In this moment, he needed to be in control. He needed to dominate Lucien. He needed to claim the man as his own.
Lucien stripped off his shirt and threw it across the small room. “Off.”
“Pants now.” Sol strode in a circle around him, trailing his fingertips over Lucien’s bare skin.
The nix kicked off his pants. His hard cock jutted from his naked body. “Off,” he said again.
Sol stopped his pacing and stood directly behind Lucien. “Bend over. Hands on the counter.”
Lucien obeyed completely and without hesitation. He looked over his shoulder at Sol, his green eyes glittering with eagerness. Lucien had always been a willing lover, but this impatient excitement was something new.
Sol leaned over his back, his cock sliding along the crack of Lucien’s ass cheeks. He loved the contrast in their colors—his golden and dark against the nix’s nearly white, almost see-through skin. He nipped down Lucien’s back, licking and nibbling with tongue and teeth, until he was on his knees with a mouthful of ass. He bit hard enough to break the skin.