APPETITE

by Kathyrn, Lorraine

  "Let me give you the tour," Damien said, anxious to show Charlie what he hoped would soon be her new home.

  "Alright."

  "This is the 'formal' area," he explained, making airquotes around the word. "I never really use this room for much. Over here," he said, leading her to two doors to the right, "is my office and a bathroom." She poked her head in to both rooms, chuckling a bit at the messy state of his desk. "What?"

  "You obviously use your office a lot."

  "Yeah," he said, running his hand through his hair. "I do tend to work from here a lot. What?"

  "You may want to actually straighten it at some point, cowboy." She gave him a poke in the ribs with her free hand.

  "Ah. Well, you know what they say, a messy desk is a sign of genius."

  "Or obsessive hoarding," she teased.

  "Come on, let me show you my home." He led her through double doors on the opposite side of the sitting room. "This is where I actually live." A wide corridor led to a sunken great room with a large sectional sofa. A huge TV hung on the wall, and Charlie noted the X-Box and PS 3 with a smile. The far wall had a sliding patio door that led to a deck, complete with large gas grill and a smoker. A small, informal dining nook off to the left led to the huge kitchen, and Charlie noted the state-of-the-art appliances and slab granite countertops with open admiration, cooing and touching different kitchen gadgets and small appliances while Damien smiled. An archway off the main room opened to another short hallway, with another full bathroom and two bedrooms. Spiral stairs at the end of the hall led to the third floor.

  "Come on, let me show you the top floor," he said, giving her a smile that was almost boyish when she nodded. He followed her up the stairs, watching her hips sway and the way her ass flexed as she moved.

  The door at the top of the stairs opened to a large room lined with overstuffed bookcases. Another desk -- this one decidedly less cluttered -- sat off to the left, and a plush sofa and loveseat set sat in the middle. A fireplace on the far wall with a marble hearth looked well used. Double doors next to the fireplace opened into a to a huge bedroom, with an enormous platform bed of mahogany and complimentary chests and stands. It was tastefully appointed in russet and gold tones, with thick carpeting in a warm reddish brown. Damien pointed out doors leading to his closet and a short hallway that housed two small rooms and a bathroom. Floor to ceiling glass doors let out on to a large private deck. Charlie turned and saw the fireplace from the other room was two-sided, and connected both rooms.

  "Is this your bedroom?" she whispered. She knew they weren't poor, but she had no idea how well off Damien's family was.

  "Yes." He gave her hand a squeeze. "Why are you whispering?"

  "I have no idea."

  He laughed, pulling her along through a large door of the same gleaming mahogany as the room's furniture and into the most opulent bathroom she had ever seen. It was floor to ceiling slate on nearly every surface. A sunken tub that was so large it looked like a small pool sat against a wall of windows and looked out over the ranch. A separate shower with four showerheads sat in the far corner, and a double vanity ran along the wall opposite the windows. She looked at the wall of glass, a smirk on her face as she thought about peeing in front of all that glass.

  "It's polarized glass, dolcezza. No one can see in from the outside."

  "Am I that easy to read?"

  "Not at all."

  "Ah. I see." Of course, another girl must have asked. Probably the one they ran in to earlier. She grimaced at her naïveté and the pang of jealousy she felt.

  "What?"

  "Hmm?"

  "What do you see?"

  "Oh, no -- nothing. Just a figure of speech." She fingered a towel, avoiding his eyes.

  "Alright." He hesitated a moment, knowing it was something, just not sure what. He gave an internal shrug and started to lead her back to the staircase. "I believe I promised you dinner?"

  "You did," she said, suddenly aware of how very hungry she was.

  "Why don't you relax for a bit and I'll whip something up?"

  "You want some help?"

  "Not at all. I want to impress you with my prowess in the kitchen."

  "Do you now?" she said, looking up at him. They'd made their way back to the downstairs den.

  "Oh absolutely," he said, guiding her to sit on the sectional and handing her a remote control that looked like something from the international space station. He bent to kiss her cheek before whispering in her ear. "I'll let you decide what's for dessert." He nuzzled her neck a moment before heading to the kitchen.

  Charlie felt the flush of arousal from the innuendo even as she rolled her eyes a bit. She watched him walk, admiring the fit of his t-shirt and pants, trying to picture him without either. She shook her head and looked down at the remote in her hand. She figured there was no way she would be able to work it without an engineering degree, so she put it on the low coffee table in front of her and looked around the room. She saw a shelf with a bunch of pictures on it, and got up to go inspect them. She looked at a picture of Damien and Darian at a lake, both in nothing but swim trunks and smiles. The picture looked pretty recent, and she took it down, looking at it closely. Damien's body was like she pictured. Well structured, firm and healthy. He had a lot of dark hair on his chest, and she ran her fingers over the glass, wondering if it was soft or coarse.

  "What are you looking at?" he asked, coming to stand behind her. He made her jump and she hastily put the picture back on the shelf, knocking all the others over in her haste.

  "Shit! Sorry about that," she said. She quickly righted the pictures on the shelf.

  "It's alright," he said, laughing softly and caressing her back.

  "I was looking at the picture of you and your brother. It's nice. You both look so happy and relaxed."

  "That was a good day," he said, glancing up at the pictures before looking at her. He took her into his arms and put his forehead to hers. "Although I can think of at least one day so far that has been better." His desire for her showed plainly on his face, and he could smell her getting aroused in response.

  "Don't tell me dinner's done?" she said, clearing her throat and stepping back from his arms.

  "Not yet, no," he said, smiling at her and letting her go. "Should only be another 15 minutes or so."

  "Really?" He nodded. "Reheating?" He rewarded her with another barking laugh and she beamed.

  "Just the sauce. How did you know?"

  "I can smell it. No one can make pasta sauce -- real pasta sauce -- in under 20 minutes without having something already at least partially prepared."

  "Oh."

  "Plus, you're Italian, so no way you'd get your sauce from a jar." She gave him a wink at that, and he could no longer resist kissing her. He took her in his arms again and held her tightly to him while he proceeded to completely dominate her mouth and tongue until she felt dizzy and whimpered against him. "Jeeeezus, Damien," she gasped as he kissed down her neck.

  "Hmmm?" he pulled his head back to look at her, noting her increased breathing and flushed lips with a sense of accomplishment.

  "You make me feel drunk." She extricated herself from his arms once again and took a step back, embarrassed at her admission, but he grabbed her and pressed her flush against him again.

  "I'm not done," he growled at her, making her shiver and gasp. He kissed her, a little more roughly than before, moving his hands to her ass and lifting her to her toes. He could smell her arousal clearly and he pressed his crotch against her, letting her feel his hardness. She lifted her arms around his neck and pressed her breasts against him, matching the fervor of his kissing and moaning into his mouth. He was about to lose control, and could see himself throwing her on the floor and ripping her clothes off to fuck her when the oven buzzer in the kitchen sounded, and they jumped apart, almost guiltily.

  "Saved by the bell," she breathed, pressing her palm to her mouth and staring at him, her eyes wide.

  He looked back at her
, breathing heavy, hands clenched into fists at his side. "I need a moment," he ground out through his clenched jaw, turning to lean against the wall.

  "I'll take care of the oven," Charlie said quietly, eyes briefly traveling down to the bulge of his cock and making her escape, a goofy smile taking over her face. It gave her a thrill to think she got him that riled up. She turned the upper oven off and opened the door, grabbing a towel to remove the cookie sheet with the garlic toast on it. She hunted around a bit, fished a plate out of a cupboard and slid the bread on to it.

  She tucked the towel in her pocket as she poked around in the cupboards and found a colander, placing it in the sink and turning to check the boiling pasta. She found a fork and twirled some around before pulling it out and looking at it. She dropped the back in the water before turning off the burner and lifting the pot to the sink, carefully pouring the contents in to the waiting colander before putting the pot back on the cooktop.

  "You really do know your way around a kitchen," Damien said, leaning against the counter and watching her. He had taken off his shoes and had his legs crossed at the ankles, making him look even sexier to Charlie.

  "It's just what I do," Charlie said, with a quick smile and a shrug. She quickly rinsed the pasta and shook the colander before dumping the noodles back in the pot, swirling them in the pot to quickly dispel the moisture and even the temperature. "You want to take over again?"

  "No, no, by all means I will happily leave it to you." He smiled and moved towards a cupboard. "I'll set the table."

  She took the pot of sauce and dumped it in the pot with the pasta. She grabbed a set of tongs out of the utensil holder on the counter and used them to mix it. She looked at the sauce as it coated the noodles, and stuck her finger in to taste it, her brow furrowing.

  "Cowboy, if this is marinara sauce why am I smelling meat?" she called.

  "Meatballs, dolcezza, in the lower oven."

  "Ah, thanks." She pulled the pan with the meatballs out and placed it on the counter. She got a bowl out and used the tongs to transfer the meatballs to the bowl. She grabbed it and the plate with the garlic toast and took it over to the table.

  "Sit, Charlie, and I will dish up the pasta." He held a chair out for her.

  "I don't mind."

  "I insist," he said, grabbing her wrist and making her sit down. "Sit, have some wine, and I'll be right back." He poured some red wine in to a glass and handed it to her.

  "You trying to get me drunk, cowboy?"

  "Not at all, I assure you." He gave her a wink as he head back towards the kitchen. "What I want to do with you requires you to be sober," he shot over his shoulder. Charlie's eyes bugged out at that and she smiled to herself, sipping the wine.

  He came back in carrying bowls heaping with pasta, making Charlie laugh and shake her head at the portion size. They sat and ate slowly, talking and touching and exchanging little kisses throughout the meal, both wanting to keep the connection they felt open. They finished the bottle of wine and started on a second, their food forgotten as they got lost in getting to know each other. Charlie started to yawn in to her hand and Damien took that as his cue to wrap up the evening. They cleared the table together before he shuttled her to the den, telling her to relax as he cleaned up. She tried to resist but the emotional roller coaster of the last 24 hours and the wine were taking their toll. She sat on the couch and promptly fell asleep, her upper body draped over the arm.

  When Damien finished cleaning he came out and found her sound asleep. He gently scooped her up and carried her to his room, laying her on the bed softly. He got a t-shirt out of one of his drawers and proceeded to carefully undress her. He stopped once he had her completely nude and looked down at her. His wolf clamored to take her, he was so excited to have their mate naked in their bed he didn't want to wait, and Damien had to fight to not shift and claim Charlie right then. Instead, they both had to be satisfied with feasting their eyes on her, her full breasts, her softly rounded hips, the gentle swell of her pelvis, the dark brown hair between her toned legs. Her body was womanly, all softness and curves, and his mouth watered to think it would soon be his to enjoy. He mustered all his strength and eased his t-shirt on to her before shifting her to get her under the duvet, smiling as she promptly rolled on to her side. He stripped down and climbed in to bed next to her, spooning up to her back and putting his arm around her. He lay awake for a while, fighting back his arousal while savoring having her there.

  Charlie opened her eyes in the early hours of the morning, at first a bit disoriented at the sight of a broad male chest covered in dark hair. She shifted and felt Damien's hand flex on her hip. Her bare hip. She shifted a bit again, feeling herself naked under a loose fitting shirt. She closed her eyes, thinking over the previous night to try and remember how she ended up naked in what was obviously his shirt or if she should be embarrassed about anything, but the last thing she remembered was laying her head on the arm of the couch.

  She opened her eyes again, finally adjusting to the low gray light in the room. She looked again at Damien's chest, wanting to press her face to it, to bury her nose in the silky looking hair that covered it and just breathe. For hours. Her eyes traveled down to his hip, seeing the sheet lie flush against his skin, no tell-tale ridge to indicate he was wearing anything.

  He wouldn't, would he? she thought. She fleetingly considered lifting up the covers to see if he was, indeed, naked. Right. Because that's not creepy or pervy at all. She bit her cheek at the mental image of her leering at the big naked man -- if he was naked -- next to her. The thought he might be, that she might be that close to a vulnerably naked specimen of delightful maleness cooled her humor in an instant while starting the heat under her desire. I just won't think about it, she chastised herself. I'll think about...101 uses for burnt butter. 1 -- chewy chocolate cookies, 2 -- brownies, all kinds, 3- sauce base with garlic and shallots, 4 - licking it off his skin. Dammit. She bit her cheek again to stifle her laugh. She shifted slightly to tilt her head back, wanting to see his face, to see it at rest, and gave a start when her eyes met his.

  "What have you been thinking, my Charlotte?" he whispered, running his hand from her hip up her side, pushing the t-shirt up.

  "Penny for my thoughts?" she whispered back with an embarrassed smile. As if, she thought as she realized he must've been watching her for a while.

  "Oh no, I would never insult you like that." He pushed the shirt up until the hem was just below her collarbone, exposing her. He moved his hand and began to softly caress the underside of her left breast. "I'm sure your thoughts are far more valuable." He slid his hand up further and began teasing her nipple.

  "Damien," she began, but got no further as he chose that moment to scrape his fingernail on the tip of her left nipple. She gave a quiet moan and jerked her hips involuntarily, the sensations he was causing shooting straight to her sex.

  "Hmmm?" he teased, watching her. He could smell her very clearly, the scent of her cunt mixing with her lavender and chamomile scent. She shook her head, closing her eyes as he kept up his scraping. "Take the shirt off," he whispered, pulling his hand away from her breast to help her. Charlie sat up a bit and felt him pull the shirt off. She lay on her back and looked at him.

  He moved the covers down to her thighs and ran his eyes over her. Even in the muted light Charlie could see the admiration on his face. "You are so beautiful, my Charlotte," he said, his voice so low it was barely more than a breath. He slid his upper body over hers, parting her thighs with his right leg. He smoothed her hair back, spreading it on the pillow beneath her head. "Perfection."

  "Damien..." He looked at her and raised an eyebrow. "I haven't had...I mean, I haven't been...with anyone since...well, since...." Her eyes shone, and Damien could see the heat in her face.

  "Do you want to stop?" he asked, looking down at her and stroking her hair.

  "No," she whispered, running her hands up and down his back. "I'm just...a bit nervous, is all. I hope I haven't forg
otten how."

  "Impossible."

  "I could have." She looked up at him, a nervous grin on her face. "You never know. Just because it hasn't happened yet doesn't mean it won't ever happen. I could be the first. I'd be famous."

  "Famous?"

  "The first documented case of sexual amnesia."

  "What a plus," Damien said with a chuckle. "I promise you will remember soon enough. Now hush." He lowered his head and kissed her softly, slowly nibbling and licking at her lips, acquainting himself with them fully. He easily avoided her attempts to capture his tongue and mouth, and soon she was sighing and writhing beneath him.

  "Damien. Kiss me."

  "Isn't that what I'm doing now?"

  "You're torturing me."

  "Not at all, my Charlotte." He sucked the peaks of her upper lip into his mouth and rubbed the tip of his tongue on them.