“I know.” He left the horse unfettered and kicked open the cabin door. Inside was dark and dusty, and Oliver set her on her feet near the door. “I’ll be right back. Just wait for me here.”
The minute he disappeared again her nervous tension returned. The scratch of fabric on her skin was unbearable, but the neat buttons on the back of her dress were hard to reach and too delicate to manage in her current state. Four of them popped free of the dress before she managed to drag it over her head, and she left it in a heap on the floor with her undergarments as Oliver returned with his saddlebags.
He stared at her for a few tense seconds, his eyes taking in the thin silk slip she wore. Then he dropped the bags on a chair by the bed and pulled out a thin blanket. “Do you want a light?” he asked as he spread the blanket over the ancient, bare mattress.
Warm pleasure arched through her and she realized she was touching herself, stroking her fingers absently over her tight nipple. Her gaze caressed his strong shoulders and she tried to envision what lay under his shirt…
He asked you a question. “Uhm, lights. I don’t care.”
“I should build a fire or -- or something.” He watched her hands, and his own clenched into shaking fists. “You’ll get sick --” He turned away abruptly and knelt by the hearth to stack the old, dry logs beside it on the grate. “Lie down, Hazel.”
It was a command, strong and confident, and the strength in it sent a rush of heat through her, followed by the instinctive desire to obey. She slid onto the bed and curled on her side, inching the slip up her leg. “Hurry.”
It took a few minutes, but Oliver managed to get the fire going. He rose up in its light and drew his shirt over his head. The flickering fire cast shadows over the hard length of his torso, and he turned and kicked off his boots.
She forgot how to breathe. Nights spent dreaming hadn’t come close to the reality of watching the firelight dance over his skin as he walked toward the bed.
Her fingers fisted in her slip and she whimpered. “Too slow.”
“Shh.” He didn’t bother to remove his pants before climbing on the bed behind her, his chest warm against her back. He scraped his teeth over her bare shoulder and laid his hand on her leg. “It’ll be all right. You’ll see.”
She moaned when she felt the hard ridge of his cock against her ass. “Take your pants off. I want to feel you.”
“In a bit.” He thrust against her as his hand edged under her slip and up to the top of her thigh. “What makes you feel good?”
“I don’t know… the usual things?” She reached back and tried to find his belt with her fingers. “Everyone keeps telling me human men don’t count, so maybe I don’t know anything at all.”
Oliver caught her hand and drew it up over her head. He did the same with her other arm and pinned her wrists to the bed. “No such thing as ‘the usual,’ darling. Tell me how you want me to touch you before I fuck you.”
She couldn’t deny him, not when his voice took on the gruff tone of an order. A slight shift of her body put her on her back with her wrists still pinned above her head, but at least now she could see Oliver’s face.
He looked tense, uneasy. Hazel closed her eyes and moved her legs apart. “I -- touch me. With -- with your fingers.”
He moved slowly, taking what felt like forever to stroke his fingertips into the wet cleft between her thighs. “Like this?” He barely brushed her clit.
She whimpered and rocked her hips up into his touch. “More. God, what do you want? What do I need to do so you’ll fuck me?”
His hand stilled, and he made another soothing noise. “Stop being scared that I’ll stop. Trust me.”
It wasn’t until he spoke the words that she realized she was scared. The need that consumed her was unforgiving. If he turned away from her the lust would drive her mad.
She was at his mercy.
Hazel forced her eyes open and sought his gaze. “I’ve never had sex with another werewolf before.” Instinct prompted the confession, the instinct to remind him that she was unclaimed, and he rewarded her with a low growl as something intense and barely restrained burned in his eyes.
He thrust against her, the hard length of his cock nudging her thigh, and groaned. Before she could take another breath, his mouth landed on hers, rough and needy, and there was nothing to do but part her lips and give in to the erotic power of his kiss.
Oliver let go of her wrists and wove his hand into her hair. The touches that had been so easy and careful before returned and, this time, he pressed his thumb firmly against her clit for several heartbeats. Pleasure radiated out from the touch, driving her breath from her in a helpless cry.
Then he groaned again and thrust one finger inside her, and the world disappeared in a rush of heat. It was hardly the first time a man had touched her so intimately, but they had been men. Human men, trying so hard to get her off in hopes that she’d fuck them. And none had dragged her this close to oblivion with so little effort.
His mouth trailed down to her ear, and he drew the sensitive lobe between his teeth. “You’ll have to trust me, Hazel. Can you do that?”
She was so drunk on pleasure and anticipation that the truth slipped out before she could stop it. “I always have.”
He leaned up and tugged the strap of her slip off her shoulder, baring her breast. She held her breath as he bent his head and touched her nipple with his tongue. At the same time, he eased a second finger into her pussy.
The coiled heat inside her released so fast she couldn’t even scream. Her back bowed and her toes curled as climax crashed into her. She’d never come so fast before, never come so hard she couldn’t draw breath. Everything felt hot and tingly and she finally got enough air to whimper as her body shook with the force of her orgasm.
Oliver didn’t stop, just kept working his fingers in and out of her, the serrated edge of his teeth biting gently into her breast as his tongue flicked over her.
The first climax hadn’t faded when the second took her, and this time she did scream. She fisted one hand in his hair as the other clutched at the blanket above her head and tried to hang on through the waves of pleasure that wracked her body.
It was good. It was fucking fantastic. But the large fingers thrusting so skillfully into her were nothing more than temporary relief. Every time her pussy clenched around them it accentuated a deeper ache, one that no amount of pleasure could fool.
“Dammit.” He lifted his head, revealing eyes that had shifted from blue to gold. “Is it helping at all?”
She was past the point of lying, or even trying to be delicate. “Fuck me. Please fuck me. Not with your fingers -- with your cock.”
Oliver pulled away slowly, one hand already working at his belt. “You’re small,” he rasped. “Stop me if I hurt you.”
Their respective sizes had never seemed that important before, but the difference struck her as she rose to her knees and reached to help him with his belt. He had to be a foot taller than her, and her hands looked tiny next to his.
The thought of being surrounded by all that strength, of having his large body curled around hers, stirred instincts darker than mere lust. Her breathing hitched and she raised her gaze to his. “You won’t hurt me.”
It took him only seconds to shed his pants and push her back onto the bed. His cock matched the rest of him, big and solid, and Hazel ached as she waited for him to come to her. When he did, climbing over her and between her parted legs, the electric touch of his naked skin on hers made her tremble.
He braced himself on his outstretched arms and hesitated with the head of his cock prodding her pussy. “I mean it, Hazel. Tell me --”
She inched her hands under his, driven by that dangerous instinct to give up control to him, to trust him with the raging need inside her. “I’m so ready for you. I’m wet and aching and I need.”
He gripped her wrists with a groan. “This is --” The rest of his words were swallowed in a growl as he surged forward and drove
into her. And if she had been a little less desperate, a little less consumed in the grip of the mating heat, it might have hurt.
Instead it was perfect, riding the edge of discomfort but staying just on the side of pleasure. She moaned and forced her eyes open again, staring up into eyes that still looked more wolf than human. “Do I feel good?”
“Good.” The word seemed torn from him. He drew back and thrust home again.
It was growing harder to concentrate on his words. She slid her legs higher up his side and moaned deep in her throat when the movement eased him even deeper. Her eyes fluttered shut as she tried to draw breath.
Oliver licked her lips and chin. “I’ll make it worth the wait,” he promised in a low, hoarse whisper. “When I’m finished, you won’t be able to walk, but you’ll feel so damn good you won’t care.”
She could barely make sense of his words. She needed powerful thrusts that satisfied the wolf, that claimed and dominated. Maybe later she’d be grateful for the gentle consideration, but now she squirmed, trapped by the press of his hips and his grip on her wrists but desperate for more. “Harder. Take me harder.”
He drove into her again, obeying her pleading words with another harsh groan. “Hazel --”
“Yes!” She got her legs around his back and rocked up into the next perfect thrust, so deep and powerful it pushed her over the edge. Pleasure tore through her, driving her head back as she screamed and let go of everything she’d been holding inside.
It felt so good it almost hurt. The unbearable pressure that had built over months of self-denial exploded as her wolf embraced a mate. And not just any mate, but her mate, the one she’d chosen and stalked so patiently, the one who had belonged to her long before the human had realized how deep her feelings had grown.
With everything she’d ever wanted in her arms, Hazel gave in to bliss.
Oliver Russell was in hell.
He bit his lip hard enough to taste blood and rocked through another of Hazel’s orgasms, closing his fists around the blanket when her pussy gripped him in a hot, rippling caress. She went wild under him, and he cursed silently.
Don’t come. Just don’t fucking come. Hazel had been hurting, almost sick with fever, but the last thing either of them needed was for him to lose control and let the fever take him, too.
She panted his name as she came down, her voice hoarse from the screams she’d stopped trying to hold back. She was nearing the limits of her endurance, but he knew all too well that this was only the beginning. After a few hours of sleep and something to eat she’d be hot for him again, desperate for sex until she’d worn them both out.
“Shh.” He slowed and stopped, his cock still throbbing and hard. “You should rest for a while.”
Her dark eyes drifted open, filled with confusion and a hint of doubt. “What’s wrong?”
He brushed her hair off her forehead. “We can stop now. You’ll be okay if we do.”
“But you didn’t --” She swallowed, and she sounded self-conscious as hell. “Did I do something wrong? I-I told you, it’s only been humans…”
He still trembled with the effort it took not to keep pounding into her until his own release came, hot and blinding and perfect. “You didn’t do anything wrong. But we’re not -- I mean, this isn’t --”
“Good?” It sounded heartbroken. Hazel closed her eyes and lifted her hands to his shoulders. “Help me make it good for you.”
His heart twisted. “It’s good,” he rasped. “But you don’t want me, Hazel. Not like this.”
“I do.” She rocked up a little, a tentative gesture that tightened the muscles at the base of his spine and made his cock twitch. “I want this. I want you to feel like I do.”
Even that tiny movement undid him, and he bent his face to her neck as he began thrusting again, hard and fast. “Help me let go.” Make this be all right.
She shuddered beneath him and shifted one hand to curl in his hair as her body rose to meet his thrusts. “Will -- will it help if I come again? Because it won’t take much…”
He didn’t know what would help. His skin heated, and he felt his control slipping away again. He bit her with a growl and raised his head, knowing what she’d see in his eyes -- the wolf. The rutting animal. The beast even his own wife had always feared.
Her eyes had slipped from brown to amber. She growled and lifted her head just enough to bite his chin, turning what should have been a gesture of submission into a challenge. “That’s right,” she whispered, and her voice held a wild edge this time. “Fuck me.”
“I’ll fuck you.” The words sounded almost feral, even to his own ears. “Until you can’t take it anymore. Until you beg me to stop.”
Hazel dragged his mouth down to hers and bit his lower lip with a hoarse groan. She tightened around his cock as she ground up into his next thrust. “I’m going to come,” she whispered against his mouth. “So fucking hard, so fucking long.”
Oliver growled again and lifted one of her legs higher on his back. “Scream, Hazel. Tell me it’s good.”
“It’s perfect.” She bit his jaw, then his earlobe. “The only thing better would be me on my knees with you fucking me so deep I can’t remember anything but how your cock feels.”
The words, spoken with such enthusiasm, were the last thing he expected, and the final blow to his control. He threw back his head and managed one more thrust before the world went white and then dark, with quick, tight pulses of pleasure running down his spine. “Fuck, Hazel…” She just ground up into him one last time and came with a scream. Her pussy clenched around him and drew out his pleasure until they were both panting for breath.
He rolled as soon as he stilled, bringing her on top of him as he came to rest on his back. “Hazel.” It took him a moment to catch his breath. “Are you all right?”
She reached up with a shaking hand to push long strands of dark hair away from her face. “Yes.”
“Nothing hurts?” As soon as the words left him, he could have kicked himself.
Hazel just laughed, soft and languid, and kissed the center of his chest before turning to snuggle her cheek against it. “I’m not fragile, Oliver.”
He started to wrap his arms around her but let them fall back to the bed. “Now you really need to rest before we head out for my place.”
“Is that where we’re going?” Her voice sounded drowsy and unconcerned. Trusting. “I think I tore my dress even more taking it off. Can I wear the blanket?”
“We’ll wrap you up,” he assured her, finally sliding his hands across her back. “You’ll be warm. Safe.”
Her breathing had begun to even out. “I’m already safe,” she murmured. “With you.”
“Sleep, Hazel.” He needed to think, but he couldn’t, not with her naked body still pressed against him. “Sleep.”
Chapter Three
Hazel had been past Oliver’s house plenty of times, and had even been outside of it once or twice with Ginny. But in all of the time she’d longed for him, she’d never set so much as a toe inside.
It didn’t look like she expected. It looked like a place Oliver only stayed, not like where he lived. No knick knacks or mementos lined the shelves, and everything was spotlessly neat.
He ushered her inside and knelt by the hearth. “I’ll get a fire started, then I’ve got to check on my stock. Do you want to go back to sleep for a little while?”
She was more hungry than tired, and not just for food anymore. Which means if I want to stay sane long enough to eat, I need clothing. “Do you have something I can wear? Maybe just an old shirt or something?”
Instead of heading for the bedroom, he rose and stripped off his own shirt. “Here.”
Her gaze dropped to his chest. Warmth flooded her as she stared at his broad shoulders and the hard muscles of his arms that flexed as he held out the shirt. If she reached out she might touch him, and if she touched him she’d be begging him to fuck her before she could draw another breath.
Wh
ich was all rational and reasonable, and didn’t explain what made her release her hold on the blanket and let it slide to the floor at her feet. “Thank you.”
“On second thought…” His eyes darkened as he looked over at her. “If you can start the fire, I’ll head out to the barn.”
The fact that he wasn’t physically running didn’t help the urge to chase him. Hazel drew on the stubborn strength that had gotten her through the last few uncomfortable months and managed a short nod. “I can light the fire.”
“Good.” He turned and walked out the front door again, still bared to the waist.
When he was gone she let out the breath she’d been holding and picked up his discarded shirt. It smelled of him, which soothed the wolf as she pulled it over her head. The hem hung past her knees and the shoulders were impossibly wide, but at least she wasn’t naked anymore.
Of course, she wasn’t exactly in the mood to be playing with the fire, either. She built up her own fire every night during the winter, but it took four tries just to get a simple feeble flame to stay lit. Her mind kept skittering away from mundane details to linger on the curve of Oliver’s shoulder or his lean waist or the impressive girth of his cock, which had felt so damn good…
The piece of wood she’d been clutching slipped from her suddenly limp fingers and landed directly on top of her tiny fire, which promptly went out. Hazel swore and started over, struggling this time to fight the images that taunted her as the urge to mate grew inside her. You held out for months, she told herself sternly as she coaxed the fire back to life. Ten minutes won’t kill you.
But when he came back less than ten minutes later, the waiting had become almost unbearable. He took one look at her and cursed. “Is it rising again? The fever?”
Hazel closed her eyes and pressed her face against the side of the worn down couch she’d curled up against. “I tried to stop it.”
“You need to eat something.” Even as he spoke, he moved to the couch and knelt beside her. “Look at me, Hazel.”
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