by Vonna Harper
A touch of cock against clit. Light and yet possessive sliding over her labia. Promise waiting at the entrance to her sex. Jangled and loose at the same time, she drew in as much air as her lungs could handle. In her mind’s eye, she saw her juices flow out and over his cock’s tip.
“Mine.” The word expanded to fill the room. “You’re mine.”
Too gone to respond, she tried to lift her left arm off the carpet. Failing despite the Herculean effort, she surrendered to a world of nothing and everything.
Familiar and unknown pressure again centered her attention on her opening. When he entered her, a chuckle escaped her, but she stopped it in midsound so she could concentrate on sensation. Had he been this thick before, this heated? The invasion continued, pulling her channel apart and seeming to fill her throat, heart, mind.
By turn, her pussy became weak and then strong, simple vessel accepting whatever happened to it followed by furious need. During those needful times, her sex clamped onto his, and she struggled to suck him deep into her. Sweat slickened her.
A chain of sharp, short masculine grunts made her wonder if he was trying to keep his vulnerability from her, but her body, which knew his so well, had found the truth. Each harsh thrust came from a man lost.
Feeding off him, she dove into release. Her world swirled, started to tip only to straighten and then careen in another direction. Giddy, she dug her heels into the carpet. This time when he powered into her, she was ready. They slammed together. Reality splintered and she imagined wild animals united by lust. Her nostrils filled with a musky scent.
“Damn you, Cat! Fucking damn you!”
16
Still kneeling, Matt extended his arms behind him and braced his body on them. Except for the feminine form curled on her side near his feet, the world lacked definition. Looking as spent as he felt, the woman planted an elbow on the carpet and half sat up. The way her gaze kept slipping off him made him wonder if she was drugged.
Who was she?
Bit by bit, his muscles quieted. Instead of the weary selfsatisfaction that marked his first minutes after a climax, he was becoming more and more alert. His sense of smell was keen, and he could hear the horses moving about in the nearby corral. A single blink put an end to the room’s hazy quality.
“Are you going to say anything?” she asked.
Cat’s voice. Yes, he knew that. “Like what?”
Her nostrils flared. “Like apologizing for not first making sure I was on board with what just happened.”
What the hell was she talking about? She’d wanted sex as much as he had. Hadn’t she?
His muscles flexed and charged, strengthening with every beat of his powerful heart. A small herd of wild mustangs called his acreage home, and although he cursed them for eating what the cattle needed, he’d never once entertained the idea of trying to get rid of them. How could he when watching the compact creatures run reminded him of the meaning of the word freedom? He’d watched stallions fight over mares in heat and had twice studied mating mustangs.
Yes. Mating. A stallion proclaiming dominance over a mare trapped by nature’s heat flowing through her.
Unexpected dizziness brought him back to his body. He had no idea how he’d gotten to his feet or why he’d chosen a widelegged stance. An insistent whisper from his cock sent his hand to cradle it.
“No way.” Cat stood and began backing away from him. “Absolutely no way you can get an erection so soon after . . .”
She was right, and yet the longer he held his cock, the heavier it became. His balls ached. When he was fully erect with precum dotting the tip, he tore his attention off himself. Cat had backpedaled so she now stood at the opposite side of the room. True to her name, she assumed a half crouch with her gaze locked on him and her arms lifted and hands fisted.
“Get dressed, Matt. Pull your boots back on and get out of here.”
Drying moisture painted the insides of her thighs, and her nipples were hard. Throwing her head back, she scraped her palms over her breasts. “Don’t read anything into this. I’m still riding the climax you backed me into.”
Much as he wanted to again insist she’d wanted sex as much as he had, he couldn’t find the words. Truth was, he didn’t trust himself to put a coherent sentence together. His muscles felt too big for his skin, his jaw powerful enough to crush bone. Half expecting to see paws instead of hands, he tore his attention from Cat and looked down. Both confused and reassured by the sight of fingers and palms, he stroked his erection. Fire licked at his groin and then banked down a little. He could stay on top of what he was feeling. Maybe.
“Did you hear me?” she demanded. “I want you out of here.”
Why? he asked with his eyes, because his throat had locked down.
Her long blink said she’d heard the silent question. “You’re freaking me—Hell, no you aren’t! I mean it, Matt. Either you walk out of here in the next thirty seconds or I’ll make you.”
How?
“If necessary, I’ll call the sheriff, tell your friend Bob Wilton that you’ve gone off the deep end.”
He wasn’t near any end; he simply was. Simply existed.
Surrendering to the powerful sensations arcing through him, he started toward her. With every step, he became more in awe of his thigh and calf muscles. They were capable of running endlessly, long loping miles broken by short, great bursts of speed. He saw himself launch his naked and rangy body at an unsuspecting prey, maybe a deer. Expertly sidestepping a terrified kick, he closed his fangs around—
Fangs?
Labored breathing pulled Matt back into Cat’s living room. She had one hand to her throat while the other hovered over her pubic area. Her meaningless words swirled around him. He needed to listen, to understand, to acknowledge her emotion.
But how could he when something was descending on him? Enveloped by what was both fierce and savage, he surrendered to the compulsion to look out her front window.
A wolf stood near Cat’s roses, looking in at him with bared fangs and knowing eyes.
From where she crouched with her back pressed against a wall and escape a million miles away, Cat tried to see what had captured Matt’s attention. His stance reminded her of the barn cat as it focused on a hapless mouse. The nameless and feral cat usually stayed out of her way and would run if it spotted her coming, but all bets were off when it was in hunting mode. Then nothing but killing mattered.
“What is it?” Did she really expect an answer. “What do you see?”
“Wolf.”
“No!” Afraid for her horses, she left the wall’s safety.
Careful to keep as much distance as possible from Matt, she inched toward the window. Her familiar front yard with its flowers and gravel circular driveway awaited her. The only lifeform she could see consisted of a spider intent on creating a web in the window’s upper-right corner.
“I don’t see anything,” she told the man who invaded her living room and, earlier, her body.
If her statement surprised him, he gave no indication. “He’s waiting for me.”
Chilled, she again looked out. Then, not knowing what in the hell was happening, she faced Matt full-on. He’d changed from the man who’d scratched her itches. The form might be familiar, but he was different inside, less human.
“What does he want from you?”
“My soul.”
Keeping her legs from collapsing took her full attention, and by the time she trusted herself to keep on standing, he’d started toward her. Despite her determination to face whatever he threw at her, she placed one leg and then the other behind her. He kept coming. On the brink of panicking, she realized he wasn’t interested in her after all. Instead, he was heading for the window. His cock remained swollen, yet he didn’t seem aware of its condition.
“Tell me what you see?” she asked when she was looking at his back.
“He’s real and yet he isn’t. His eyes . . .”
Matt, what’s happening? “Wha
t about them?”
“So black. Like midnight.”
How many shocks could her system take? she wondered as she realized he was talking about the massive predator she’d taken pictures of. Why couldn’t she see it now? “Ghost Wolf,” she whispered.
“He wants me.”
“No! He doesn’t. Matt, I don’t see anything. You’re imagining—Matt, look at me!”
Instead of doing as she commanded, he remained at the window with his hands pressed against the glass. She couldn’t wrap her mind around the full impact of his nudity. Neither could she make sense of what he’d just said.
Could she?
Matt needed her. He’d had a breakdown of some kind, a sudden and total disconnect from logic. He wasn’t crazy. No one lost their mind that quickly.
Praying she could bring him back, she swallowed down her fear and reached for him. Her first attempt failed for lack of courage on her part, but damn it, she was only going to touch his shoulder. How hard could that be? Feeling removed from what she was doing, she watched as her fingers made contact with his shoulder blade. Power pulsed through him and into her.
Alarmed, she fought the impulse to pull back her hand. He hadn’t responded to her nails on his flesh, which meant she needed to do more to get through to him.
Not breathing, she spread her fingers over the top of his shoulder. Another wave of hot strength and energy shocked her. Effortless and silent, he spun toward her. His eyes were like ice, frozen. Lost and frightened, she flattened her hands over her breasts.
“Mine.” His voice lacked animation. “You belong to me. Just as I belong to him.”
“No. Matt, you’re wrong. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I’ve never been more right.” Only his mouth moved.
She couldn’t talk him through whatever had happened to him after all, not today and not this way.
“This is my home,” she reminded both of them. “Only I have a right to be here, and right now I want you out of it.” She jerked her head at his discarded clothes.
“He’s waiting for me,” Matt said tonelessly. “He’s weary of being alone.”
He had to refer to Ghost Wolf. Snippets of things she should say occurred to her, but she rejected them because she sensed he wouldn’t listen anyway. Maybe he was incapable of processing anything.
Except what Ghost Wolf had told him.
“He doesn’t know you.” No way would she acknowledge the insanity of what she’d just said. “Certainly he hasn’t been talking to you.”
“Not with words, but that doesn’t matter.”
Before she could ask for an explanation, if she’d been going to, Matt pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead. His expression changed to something between exhaustion and impatience. Much as she longed to massage away his weariness, she didn’t dare touch him.
The two of them were standing naked in the middle of a simple living room with the sun pushing the temperature to the limits of comfort. For the first time since early childhood, she was comfortable nude.
No, not comfortable. Truth was, whether she wore anything or not didn’t matter right now.
“Matt, you have responsibilities back at your place; I know you do. What’s on your agenda today?”
His nostrils flared and he pulled back his lips to reveal strong, white teeth. Caught off balance, she looked down. His cock continued to dominate his presence.
“Fine.” Hating her small and wary tone, she tried for strength. “Maybe you don’t give a damn what you do today, but I don’t have the same luxury.” Still not taking her attention off him, she took the first step toward her clothes. “I have horses to feed and—”
Matt leaped. One instant he looked dead on his feet. The next he became an imposing blur. Instinct driving her, she dodged to the side. If it had been anyone else, she might have been able to escape his grasp. Turning with a predator’s grace, he snaked his arms around her and hauled her against his chest.
With her arms anchored against her sides, she could barely struggle. Still she fought the larger, stronger man as she’d never fought anything in her life. The instinct for survival didn’t drive her. Instead she vowed to do everything she could to get through to him.
“You don’t want to be doing this. Matt, you know you don’t!”
“Be quiet!”
Lifting her off her feet, he started to carry her over to the couch. She rammed her knee between his legs. He grunted but didn’t release her.
“Don’t do this! Don’t do this!”
No matter how wildly she tossed herself about, Matt easily hauled her to the couch. Making it appear effortless, he hoisted her higher and threw her backward onto the cushions.
Her brains rattling, she blinked repeatedly to get him to come back into focus. For a moment she saw something that wasn’t quite human, but that had to be shock, not reality.
Instead of holding her in place as she was afraid he’d do, Matt again folded his arms across his chest. She drew a crazy comparison between his stance and that of a playground bully after bloodying a smaller student’s nose.
“Fine.” She ground out the word. “You’re bigger and stronger. What have you proven?”
Much as she hoped for a reaction from him, his disconnected expression didn’t surprise her. Obviously he believed he was in control, she told herself. He could do what he wanted when he wanted.
“There’s a word for what you have in mind. A pretty ugly one. Do you want to say it or should I?”
Nothing, not even a blink.
“Go on! Get it the hell over with. You want a place to shove your pecker—go ahead and do it. But it’ll be the end of us, Matt. Think about that. Everything we had going destroyed because you’re horny, or whatever’s wrong with you.”
He slowly lowered his arms until they hung at his sides. Studying him, she both loved and hated him. Was afraid for him and wished she’d never met him.
“Watch me,” she said. If he asked where her calm and courage came from, she wouldn’t be able to say. “Pay attention because I need you to understand what it means.”
Even though his gaze held hers, she couldn’t be sure how much he was processing when she ran a forefinger between her labial lips. Determined not to let it shake, she held up her hand. “Do you get it? There’s just the tiniest bit of moisture there. I’m not ready for sex. I don’t want it this way.”
“Sex?”
The word sounded foreign, almost as if Matt had never said it before; either that or he didn’t understand the meaning.
“What’s going on inside you?” Don’t touch him. It’s too dangerous. “Can you tell me that?”
When he didn’t so much as open his mouth, she wondered if he’d lost the ability to speak. Accustomed to parents whose interaction with their child was minimal, she couldn’t wrap her mind around the connection between her and Matt.
A frightening and maybe deadly connection.
About to remind him of her warning about calling 911, she stopped. He’d only laugh, if he was capable of laughing, and give her another vivid example of his domination.
How long had he been staring down at her, seeing and yet not seeing? Thinking thoughts she couldn’t grasp.
“I need to get up,” she informed him as calmly as possible.
“I don’t like feeling like this.” Could he guess how close she’d come to admitting her helplessness?
“No.”
“No, what?” Hearing his voice turned her inside out.
“You’ll try to escape.”
Escape was what a prisoner or captive did. Another wave of fear slammed into her, and she couldn’t speak. Her world compressed, and everything became about survival. Later, if she was still alive, she’d get Matt the mental help he needed.
Determined to focus on more than just surviving what was left of the morning, she forced herself to ponder what help was available. Sparsely populated as this area was, he’d undoubtedly be taken to Portland. He’
d have to be locked up, of course, for his own protection as well as the public’s. Maybe he’d be given drugs. And therapy. Lots of therapy, during which a shrink would pull his deepest, darkest secrets out of him.
Movement ended the image of a shackled Matt lying on a couch. He was reaching for her, bending over her as he did. Once again his too-dark eyes sheltered his thoughts. His nostrils flared, and his teeth stood out.
“No!” She slapped his cheek with all her strength.
A howl rumbled out of Matt. Instead of attacking her as she fully expected, he stumbled back a step. His hand went to his cheek.
I didn’t mean . . . I only wanted . . . Matt, forgive me.
Spinning on his heels, he loped over to his clothes and boots, picked them up, and headed for the door.
It slammed behind him.
17
“No, no, I don’t need to talk to him,” Cat told Addie when she phoned Coyote Ranch the next morning. “He, ah, was in a hurry when he left yesterday. I just, ah, was wondering if everything was all right.”
“Right?” Addie dragged out the word. “He’s working overtime if that’s what you mean. Headed out to the east pasture around dawn. Cat, do you mind if I ask you something?”
I’m not up to answering anything. “All right.”
“Okay, did the two of you have an argument?”
“What makes you . . . I’m not sure what to call it.” She looked down at the cotton shirt and jeans she’d hurried into right after her shower because clothes provided a necessary shield.
“Sorry,” Addie said. “What happens between you and Matt is none of my business, except I couldn’t love him more if I’d given birth to him. He’s hurting—is that the right word?—and I hate seeing that. Is there anything I can do?”
About to tell Addie no, she reconsidered. Matt had come to live with Santo and Addie when he was a boy. In all likelihood, no one knew more about him than the woman who’d opened her home to him.
“Can I come over?” she asked. “You’re sure Matt won’t be back for a while?”