by Sierra Brave
She imagined him above her as she slid her hand between her legs, his strong arms rippling with muscles as he supported his weight with his palms flat against the mattress his thumb brushing against her shoulder. Her fingertips danced along her seam, rubbing gently. As she opened her folds, she could practically feel his lips crushing hers. She moaned, pushing her fingers inside as she pictured him entering her. She clicked on the toy in her other hand before lightly pressing it against the throbbing button crowning her entrance. The vibrations enhanced her arousal, and her warm nectar drenched the two digits inside her.
She stroked her insides, wishing Malcolm's cock was sliding into her wet pussy. Her groans and the buzzing of her pocket-rocket were all she could hear as she filled her mind with the scarce moments they’d shared and the few words exchanged between them. Her heart pounded and her temperature rose as she lingered on the edge, her fingers pressing against her sweet spot.
“Ah, ah, aghhh!” Her muscles tensed as she rode out her orgasm. She stared up at the ceiling, attempting to catch her breath, an emptiness gnawing at her gut. Her body had been sated but not her heart. I finally got the chance to talk to him again, and all I could do was stand there like an idiot with sweaty palms and a dry mouth.
Chapter Five
Malcolm looked through the glass of the refrigerated pie case at the old McGillacutty Dinner as he perused the offerings. He wasn’t about to show up to Mama Carol’s completely empty-handed. A bright yellow flyer attached to the outside of the dessert case with scotch tape caught his eye. He studied the image of the missing girl printed above the lettering spelling out her name, age, and where she’d last been seen along with a phone number and offer of a reward. She was nineteen, blond and had a nice smile, but since he didn’t recognize her and couldn’t be of help, he turned his attention back toward the pies.
After deciding on the chocolate chess, he paid and headed out. He held the box with his desert under his left arm as he wrapped the fingers of his free hand around the glass door’s handle. As soon as he pulled back enough to let in the slightest breeze, the sweet all-consuming aroma from earlier hit him like a ton of bricks. Almost immediately, his heart thumped so hard his chest ached. His mind blanked, his cock twitched and his senses nosedived down into some dark, primal place he hadn’t realized existed. He might have involuntarily shifted right then and there if he hadn’t nearly knocked right into the curvy, brunette beauty who’d spoken with him at the funeral.
Her dark eyes widened and her eyebrows lifted as she gasped and reached out, saving his dessert by a narrow margin. Her hand briefly brushed against his fingers as she steadied the box. Perspiration misted his forehead and the back of his neck as he regained control of his mental faculties.
“Sorry. Are you okay?” He managed to force the words up from his suddenly dry throat.
Shakily, she looked up at him through long, dark eyelashes and nodded. “Uh-huh.”
For what seemed like an eternity, the two of them stood staring at one another until an old lady with a tight, gray perm came up behind Malcolm and demanded, “Move it, sonny.”
He stepped out of the way, holding the door for the elder woman as she shuffled out holding hands with a short, old guy wearing a flapjack hat. Malcolm couldn’t help but smile. He’d always imagined there were couples who’d found each other and stayed in love for all their lives even though none of his relationships seemed to last longer than a month or two. In the last few years, he’d only dated humans which didn’t allow for complete openness or a deeper intimacy.
Malcolm watched as the man walked his lady over to a white Toyota Avalon and opened the passenger side door for her. As he glanced at the brunette, she tore her gaze away from the same couple and his line of vision synced with hers. For some reason, as if they’d somehow understood they’d been sharing the same thought, a warm blush covered her cheeks. Malcolm looked away as his face burned.
What did she say her name was again? A flutter in his stomach chased the words he wanted to say right out of his brain. As he watched her chest rapidly rise and fall, silence hung between them. Amazing curves. He imagined peeling her tight jeans down over her plump ass before yanking them down around her ankles.
“You get the pie, slowpoke?” Dash’s voice pulled him from his naughty thoughts.
“Huh?” Mal’s head jerked to the side and he placed his palm on the back of his neck, feeling as if he’d just been caught lifting someone’s wallet.
Dash pointed at the box. “Looks like you did so why’d you leave me in the car like a fool for so long?”
A dull ache of tension ran across Malcolm’s temples like a crack in the sidewalk. “Uh…umm.” His head was such a mess he couldn’t even make up an excuse. What’s going on with me? Is my body reacting to grief my head can’t seem to acknowledge?
His friend nodded at the woman to his right. “What’s up, Suki?”
She pursed her sexy, pale pink lips before her mouth turned up into a tiny smile. “Hey.”
“What’chu doin’ out this way?”
She played with a strand of her hair. “A girl’s gotta eat.”
Dash glanced at Malcolm and smirked. “All by your lonesome?” He shook his head and spoke before allowing her a chance to answer, “Nah…we can’t have that; can we, Mal?”
He shook his head. “Uh…no.”
“Come to my house. Mama’s cooking up a spread for the prodigal son here.” He pointed his thumb toward Mal.
She looked away as she rubbed her keychain between her thumb and forefinger. “Thank you, but I couldn’t impose.”
“Nonsense.” Dash grabbed his phone and before anyone realized what he was up to, he had Mama Carol on the line. “Mama, one more for dinner tonight.”
“No problem. I’m making plenty so you get your hindquarters over here before it’s time to say grace.” He’d used the speaker option, providing proof Suki was welcome.
“Yes, ma’am.” He tapped the screen to hang up. “You heard her. We better scoot.”
Suki touched her chest just below her neck as she glanced toward Malcolm. Her pupils dilated as he met her gaze. With shaky hands, she unzipped her purse before retrieving her phone. “I’ll just need to put the address into my GPS app.
Dash reached out and took the phone before imputing the information for her. There ya go, girl.” His own phone buzzed but he ignored it. “Now you’ve also got my number in case you get lost. See you in a few.” He snapped a picture and tapped the screen a few times. “Contact all set up on my side too.”
Malcolm waved farewell to Suki, still feeling a bit dazed as Dash pulled him toward the car. He tugged away as Dash reached into his pocket. “What’re you…”
“I’m not letting your pheromone-befuddled mind get behind the wheel and plunge me off the side of the mountain. I’m driving.”
Before he knew what was happening, Mal found himself sitting in the passenger side of his own damn vehicle holding a pie while Dash drove. He rolled down the window, breathing in the frosty air until his brain snapped out of its stupor. “What the fuck just happened?”
Dash put on the right turn signal. “I got you a date.”
“What’d you do that for?” He rubbed his temples.
“Are you stupid? I’ve never seen you look so dopey. I’d have sworn you were drunk if I didn’t know you never touch alcohol.”
“Yeah, I haven’t felt myself a few times today. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
Dash snickered. “Any of these spells you’ve been having happen when that woman wasn’t around?”
Malcolm allowed the question to roll around in his head for a moment. Come to think of it, the first incident had occurred right as I was shaking hands with Suki, but why? A coincidence—had to be.
“Well?” Dash’s tone demanded an answer to his previous question.
Mal turned his head to look out the window rather than let his buddy see his embarrassment. “I’ve been feeling weird all day. It’
s not like I go nuts just from seeing a pretty girl? What am I? Twelve?”
Dash raised an eyebrow, signifying his bullshit meter had registered a load. “Whatever you say, big man.”
Suki paused in front of her car, her keys jingling in her shaky hand as she caught her breath. What am I doing? Am I really going to go to the house of someone I don’t know just to have a meal with Malcolm? The brisk air around her slowly cooled down the heat that had bloomed along her skin simply from the incidental bodily contact she’d had with the man of her dreams. She unlocked the door and then slid behind the wheel. Of course, I am.
The drive to the Hammond’s modest, one-story home only took ten minutes, but it might as well have been an hour for all the second-guessing Suki had done as her addled mind conjured images of her making a jackass of herself. Even as she sat in the driveway in her parked car, she debated running off like a scalded cat.
Her pulse raced as she checked her face in the mirror. She pinched her cheeks and licked her lips as she groaned. If I’d known I’d have run into him, I wouldn’t have worn jeggings and a tee-shirt, and I’d have done something with my hair. She took a deep breath and then exhaled slowly. Okay, it’s now or never.
Suki walked up to the front door and knocked; the scent of pine needles from a tree growing a few feet from the porch hung in her nose. As she waited, her heart pounded and as she considered bolting back to her car, Dash answered. “Hey, glad you made it here alright.”
She managed a nervous smile while apprehensively gripping the strap of her purse. “Thanks again for the invite.”
“No problem.”
Dash introduced his mother and father before he showed her to her seat, right next to Malcolm. Suki recognized Mrs. Hammond’s first name. Doc Hansen had spoken fondly of her and mentioned all she’d done for Malcolm.
When Suki saw the cuts of lamb or maybe pork, she wasn’t sure which, displayed on a white serving dish, her stomach roiled, but she held her tongue. After Mrs. Hammond said grace, Malcolm used the tongs to place one of the chops on his plate, and she gasped. “You eat meat?”
Slightly taken aback, a mild blush tinted his cheeks. “Umm…yeah.”
Dash spoke up, “We’re wolf shifters, and Malcolm grew up with his feet under this table more often than not. I reckon he’s an honorary wolf.”
She nodded as her cheeks warmed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—“
“Lord, child. We’re not easily offended ‘round here. Enjoy the butternut squash and spring greens. We’ve got glazed carrots and rolls too.” Once Dash’s mother pointed out all the other delicious-looking dishes, Suki managed to block out the scent of the meat. “Now eat up.” Mrs. Hammond passed the carrots to her. After spooning a serving onto her plate, she passed the bowl to Malcolm.
“Thanks.” He swallowed hard as if a lump were growing in his throat. After putting a perfect portion size on his plate and then passing the bowl to Dash, he took several sips of water. Maybe he’s as parched as me.
Malcolm concentrated on filling his plate, doing his best to ignore, the sweet scent emanating from the pretty girl beside him even as his cock stiffened beneath his zipper to an uncomfortable degree. What is it about her? Sure, she’s good-looking, but I know lots of beautiful women, and my body never started acting like a horny fourteen-year-old around them at least not since I left puberty behind.
As the meal progressed, he refilled his water glass twice and did his best to keep his sweaty palms around the handles of his fork and knife. He’d nearly made it to dessert without looking like a fool when Dash started telling embarrassing stories from their childhood. He almost did a spit-take when his buddy began telling Suki about the time they’d had a literal pissing contest in the back yard.
He swallowed what was in his mouth as best he could before glancing her way and taking note of her lifted eyebrows and wide, rounded eyes. Shit. He coughed, clearing his throat as he kicked Dash under the table. “In my defense, we were only six.”
The glimmer in Suki’s eyes as the corners of her pink lips turned upward just before she covered her mouth and snickered. He admired her face as the sound of her laughter created a shockwave throughout Malcolm’s body, heating his skin and sending his heartbeat into overdrive.
“Who wants something sweet?” Mama Carol stood as she picked up the pie server.
Dash’s dad lifted his hand. “You know I do.”
The old woman eyed him before pointing at him with the utensil. “Just a tiny sliver for you. Your sugar’s been elevated.” He grimaced, waving her off as Mal and Dash sniggered while ribbing him about his pot-belly, receding hairline, and getting old in general.
Suki couldn’t help but notice how well the white, upper-class Mal fit right in with the working-class, dark-haired and brown-skinned family, the Hammonds accepting him as if he were a second son. She twisted her napkin in her hands, remembering some of the things the Doc had confessed to her. If Carol Hammond had an inkling, it’s no wonder she and her husband decided to practically raise a colt as one of their pups.
As Suki accepted a slice, Malcolm shook his head and patted his flat stomach. “No thanks.”
“Mal, when you said you were picking up dessert, I assumed you’d get something you liked. You’re not leaving me to gobble all this up on my own.” She put a dessert plate holding a triangle-shaped dessert in front of him.
“Yes, ma’am.” He picked up his fork as Dash smirked at him from the other side of the table.
Once everyone finished eating, Malcolm stood and began to clear the dishes. Dash reached across and took his plate. “I got this, bro. Wasn’t there something you wanted to show Suki on the front porch?”
He shot his buddy a sharp look of annoyance. Geez, it’s not like we’re still in high school. Does he think I need his help to talk to a girl? He turned his attention to Suki, his gaze locking on her pretty, dark-colored eyes before brushing down to her kissable lips. His heart rate soared and he could feel his horse trying to rise up involuntarily. “Yeah, some fresh air would be good.”
After they slipped on their coats, he offered her his arm, and when she hooked hers around the crook of his elbow, all the tiny hairs from his elbow to his wrist stood while his stomach turned a flip. He hoped she didn’t notice his budding hard-on.
The rickety floorboards squeaked and creaked as he and Suki stepped outside. Malcolm maneuvered past a couple of potted geraniums as he led her over to a wooden swing hanging from the porch’s overhead support beams. He brushed some dust off the faded white paint before sitting and patting the free spot beside him.
She tilted her head and pursed her lips. “I don’t know. You sure it will hold both of us?”
He grinned as he reached for her hand. “Only one way to find out.”
She looked off to the side and down to the ground as if considering her options. “Come on, Suki. This old gal has survived years of abuse from Dash and me. We were rambunctious kids. She’ll hold.”
Suki chuckled. “If it’s that old. I know it’ll throw my big, ol’ booty.”
“Will not, and there’s nothing wrong with that booty.” His face and ears heated up as he realized what had slipped from his mouth and he averted his gaze. Shit. When he gathered the courage to look her in the eye again, he noticed her rosy cheeks and dilated eyes before she turned around and gingerly sat down beside him.
As the swing’s bench seat accepted their combined weight, her tense posture relaxed. “Phew.”
He rested his arm along the top of the swing’s seat, his fingers lightly brushing against her shoulder. “I should repaint this old thing for Mama Carol while I’m still here.”
She lifted an eyebrow as she turned her head toward him. “Or maybe buy her a new one instead before the slats rot off this one.”
He tapped his fingers, against the wood. “Nah, this swing was my mama’s…I mean my real mama’s.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh, I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”
“Nothing to
be sorry about—she bought it when she was pregnant with me and had it hung on the veranda of the big, white house on the hill my dad had built for her. She wanted to be able to sit out in the sunshine and rock me to sleep or so the story goes.”
The corners of her mouth turned upward. “That’s so sweet.” He moved his hand subtly, curling his finger around her arm, the tips rubbing over her coat’s sleeve. “How’d it end up here?”
He frowned but quickly covered, not wanting to spoil the mood. There was no way he could tell her the real story—that his father blamed him for “killing” his mother when he was born and couldn’t stand the sight of the swing or at least that’s what Malcolm imagined had happened after Mama Carol told him the story to illustrate how much he’d been loved and wanted by his mother.
“I guess my dad didn’t want any sad reminders of what could have been and had the spanking new swing thrown out but Mama Carol rescued it from the burn pile on her first day back from maternity leave. She rocked me and Dash on it many times.” He pointed at a dream catcher wind chime hanging slightly to the right a couple of feet away. “One of my first memories was watching those faux feathers swinging in the wind as I fought sleep.”
A sorrowful expression crossed her face and he knew he’d already said too much about his unusual upbringing. As he contemplated a way to lighten the mood again, she found the answer without saying a word, reaching up to her shoulder and placing her hand over his. A squeezing sensation in his chest complimented the haze rolling over his rationality. So many mixed emotions vexed him since his return, especially the anger and regret he’d tried his best to lock away. Her tiny gesture and light touch sent all the pain scurrying. Warmth bloomed over his knuckles and radiated up his arm, gaining intensity and burning the hottest across his torso.
“You’re putting on a brave face, but how are you really holding up?”
Her words pricked at his brain as he breathed in her sumptuous fragrance. “Umm…honestly, if I try to think about my father being gone forever, I feel a bit numb.” As his own words hung in the air, an odd, sour sensation stirred in his stomach. Why the hell did I tell her that? He hated thinking about his dad. Imagining how things could have been if they’d reconciled seemed useless since he'd never admitted he’d always wanted the old buzzard’s love. He sure as hell didn’t want to talk about his contradictory emotions on the subject, but even still he could hear his stupid mouth dropping more of his secrets like a huge drain sending washed-away filth out of the shower. “Things were never good between us and during the entire funeral, I felt like a fraud.”