by Avery Gale
“I’m sorry… I feel like I’m unloading a lot of baggage on your doorstep. You probably wish you’d never brought me home with you. Someone tried to shoot you, for heaven’s sake. I’ll bet that’s never happened before. A couple of hours with me, and you’ve already got a target painted on your back.”
“Stop.” The sharp tone of his voice made her jerk her eyes back to his. She’d been speaking to him, but the truth was, she’d been so lost in her own thoughts, she’d almost forgotten he was close enough to hear even the softest whispers. “There were two shooters. Israel said they believe the second was planning to shoot you, but after seeing the first bullets bounce off the glass, they both fled.”
She was chewing on her lip, and he almost smiled. If he’d just wait, her inherent honestly would kick in, and she’d confess Cam had already told her about the second gunman—in three, two, one…
“Mr. Barnes said there was another person closer to the river, but I thought he was just fishing for information.” This time, Bronx wasn’t able to hold back his smile and chuckle.
“Cheŕ, Cam Barnes is honest to a fault. He doesn’t fish, and he walked in here knowing more about you than you can possibly imagine.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because I know Cam, and I know my brother. They don’t go into situations unprepared if they can avoid it, and they had plenty of time to pull together a mountain of information about you. Once your face pinged the facial recognition program, they would have had pages and pages of information before they finished their after-dinner drinks.”
It was true the man had seemed to know a lot about her, but she hadn’t thought to wonder why until now. Damn, she’d always tried to fly under the technology radar. Looking for the other half of the pendant had been her sole focus, and she hadn’t wanted to leave a digital trail. Being able to hear and have a place to live had been all she’d focused on for months.
She wanted to be able to dance to music again. Not being able to hear children playing in the park was gut-wrenching, and having people look at her like she was dumber than a box of rocks when her response was clearly off-base made her feel ignorant. Answering the questions she thought they’d ask almost always caused so much confusion, she’d finally stopped engaging in even the most casual conversations.
“What was that thought?”
“What?”
“That last thought. What was it? And don’t bother lying because I’ll know.”
She could feel the connection between them growing and didn’t doubt he’d know if she gave him anything less than a truthful answer. Hell’s tiny tinkling bells, she was too tired to make up a plausible fib, anyway. Telling him how isolating her hearing impairment had become was a relief. At least now, if he asked her a question and her answer seemed to come from the farthest corner of left field, he’d understand why.
“I have several employees who have told me the same thing. A couple of them confided their hearing loss was responsible for more than one failed relationship. Dating often involves conversations in noisy environments—restaurants, bars, theaters, ballparks, etc. Their hearing loss made those chats impossible.” She nodded.
“It’s awful, and hearing aids are a nightmare in those places because they magnify everything. This close… in a quiet room, I can almost pretend I’m like everyone else.”
“Cheŕ, you are not like anyone else, and that’s exactly as it should be. Remember, we are fated mates—uniquely perfect for one another.” She felt her eyes fill with tears at his sweet words and hoped he could see her gratitude because she wasn’t sure it would be possible to speak around the lump in her throat. “Fatigue is coming off you in waves, Cheŕ.”
She knew he was going to insist she go to sleep, but all she could think about was how wonderful it would feel to have this man touch her—to show her the pleasure she’d only read about in books. Before she could reconsider, she leaned forward and brushed her hips over his.
“Please.”
To his credit, Bronx didn’t appear frustrated with her bold move. His gaze softened, his pupils dilating until there was only a narrow ring of color visible. She wasn’t sure what she was asking for, but he seemed to understand. He didn’t respond immediately, continuing to watch her with such intensity, Kenya started to become uncomfortable. Maybe she’d overstepped some boundary or broken some unspoken rule.
“We’re going to have to work on your focus, Cheŕ. I’m looking forward to testing your limits and showing you more pleasure than you ever dreamed possible. The only thing I want more than I want to make love to you is to claim you as my mate. Put yourself in my hands, Kenya. Tell me you understand what I want from you. This is too important for there to be any misunderstandings between us. I don’t want you to feel pressured, and I damned well don’t want you to wake up tomorrow regretting what’s about to happen here.”
She was beginning to think he was going to talk her to death. Fudgesicles in paradise, maybe this was his way of sidestepping. Maybe he was reconsidering—not like she’d be surprised. Who wants to bed a woman who brings snipers into their life? The whole thing was starting to lose its appeal, and for a moment, she wondered if that was the plan.
“You’re reading too much into what I said, Kenya. I don’t want to assume you want me to fuck you into a stupor if that wasn’t what you had in mind.”
Fuck-a-dilly circus. Nothing like laying it right out there for the whole world to see. Why, oh, why had she ever thought she could keep up with this man? But then again, who better to learn from than a man who so clearly had so much more experience?
“I want you to touch me. Sleeping next to you would be great, but it isn’t going to be enough.” She tried to slow her breathing before she passed out. “Damn, I thought it was supposed to be women who always wanted to talk, and that was after sex, right? So, this whole conversation is throwing me off a little. Do I fully understand what you want from me? Probably not. I don’t have enough experience with men and certainly not any with a Dominant. I don’t think reading Fifty Shades of Gray counts as experience—maybe if I’d seen the movies, too.” Shaking her head in an effort to bring her thoughts back to the topic at hand.
“Fucking hell,” Bronx practically growled the words as he pinned her beneath him and slanted his lips over hers. Her back arched involuntarily, pressing her breasts against his chest, letting his hair tease her nipples. A wave of desire built deep in her core, sending lightning racing up and down her spine, each strike sending a jolt of electrified need directly to her pussy.
Her vagina clenched, and Kenya wanted him to do something… anything to satisfy the aching need burning her from the inside out. Nothing existed but the man pressed against her. When she felt his cock’s rigid length pressing against her mound, Kenya’s legs parted of their own volition. Feeling the smooth skin covering the head of his cock sliding through her wet folds made her wish she could tilt her hips, but he held her still.
“We were only going slow until you agreed to be mine. Now, I set the pace, Cheŕ.”
Fudgesicles, get on with it already… before I burst into flames.
Chapter Seven
Bronx wasn’t sure which body part was going to melt-down from need first—his cock or his brain. Every minute he spent with his mate solidified their connection, and he hadn’t even formally claimed her yet. Fuck me seven ways to Sunday, if it gets better than this, I may not survive.
“Are you ready for me, Cheŕ? Is your pussy slick with cream, waiting for me to push in so deep, we’ll both lose our minds?” Her earthy scent surrounded him, and Bronx was glad he’d insisted she slept naked. Knowing his cock wouldn’t encounter any obstacle made her so tempting, he was struggling to control the urge to fuck her with all the urgency and passion boiling in his blood.
Fate not only chose a shifter’s mate, the Universe also bestowed a sexual attraction so strong, it was recognized as a rite of passage. Many packs sheltered newly mated couples or polys for several weeks aft
er their mating, knowing they were completely and utterly focused on fucking. Meals were delivered to their suite, and pack betas covered for their Alpha until he’d worked it out of his system and could once again focus on pack business.
Bronx circled the tip of his cock around her opening, groaning as agonized pleasure ripped through him. Surprise sifted through the sexual fog clouding his brain when Kenya’s legs opened further, and his tip finally found its mark. Heat spread over the sensitive skin covering his cock head as he worked his way inside, his progress slowed by the vice-like grip of her vaginal muscles.
“Damn, Cheŕ, you are so tight. How long has it been for you?” He felt her entire body tense beneath him and knew he’d asked a question she didn’t want to answer. “It’s important for you to be honest with me, Kenya. I don’t want to hurt you. I’m not a small man, and you’re not only petite, your pussy is as tight as a—” Before he could finish the sentence, he heard what sounded too much like a strangled sob. Pulling back so he could see her face, Bronx knew she’d never been taken by a man.
“I haven’t actually ever… well, I haven’t had real sex.” Real sex? As opposed to pretend sex? “That didn’t sound right, did it? What I mean is, I had a boyfriend who put his fingers inside me once. I wasn’t impressed. I kept reading about how great it would feel, but it hurt.”
Bronx was shocked by her admission. It was humbling to admit how pleased he was he’d be the first man to push himself into her slick heat. Damn, he was dying to fuck her every way imaginable, to hear her scream his name as her mind shattered from pleasure. It would be his great honor to erase the memory of discomfort some fumble-fingered kid.
“We’ll go slow. If you feel anything other than a pleasurable burn, tell me. I don’t want to tear the tender tissues of your vagina.” He didn’t want to hurt her, and he damned well didn’t want to do anything that would keep them from a repeat performance or two during the night.
“Yes, I promise. Can we skip some of the tutorial and get back to the learn as you go part?” Bronx felt himself smiling and couldn’t remember the last time a woman had amused him during sex. He’d only played at the club a few times during the past couple of years because his business had taken over his life. “I’m on the pill, and since I haven’t ever had… umm, you know.”
“Real sex?” Bronx tried to temper the amusement in his voice but knew he’d failed when he saw her eyes sparkle with mock annoyance.
“Are you laughing at me? Because it seems pretty rude to laugh at someone when your favorite appendage is prodding your target.”
“Point well-made, Cheŕ. It would be foolish to risk my cock’s safety for a cheap joke. I have plans—many, many plans—for my… what did you call it? Oh yeah, favorite appendage.” This time, barely visible laugh lines creased the corners of her eyes, and Bronx silently vowed to make certain those shallow wrinkles became more pronounced every day. He’d always believed the most beautiful women were those who smiled easily and often. Spotting happy couples walking into his dealerships was a skill he developed early. All he had to do was look for those who had character lines drawn deep around their eyes because those were the pairs who laughed together.
Bronx pushed the head of his cock in until the walls of her vagina tightened around him with a vice-like grip. “Relax, Cheŕ, let me in, I promise you’ll not regret it.” She gave a clipped nod as the energy surrounding her seemed to shift from guarded to desire. Bronx was determined to make certain this was a moment she would remember forever with fondness. He would take his time—no matter how excruciating it was to hold back. By the time he was balls deep in heaven, they were both slick with sweat.
“Feeling your body pulse around my cock is the sweetest torture. The walls of your channel trying to pull me deeper is the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced.” His tip was already pressed against her cervix, her sweet gasp every time he flexed all the proof he needed, she was attuned to the pleasure awaiting her.
“More. Please. Just because I haven’t done this doesn’t mean my body doesn’t want to chase it. It feels like a wave, building slowly, and the crest will be epic if I can just hang on long enough.”
Bronx was genuinely surprised by her insight. He’d never wanted to be a woman’s first because he’d understood the inherent responsibility and wanted to avoid having a woman other than his mate intimately bound to him. Everything was different with Kenya. Introducing her to the pleasure of submission was going to be the icing on a very sweet cake.
“I’m going to give you what you need.” He was thrilled to find out she needed something more to push her over the edge. Plain vanilla sex would leave her wanting. Thank the Great Goddess above for sending him a mate who needed his dominance as much as he needed her submission. Wrapping his hands around her wrists, Bronx pulled her hands over her head, guiding her fingers to the steel posts of his headboard. “Hold on. Don’t let go, or I’ll stop.” Her eyes widened as her slender fingers encircled the smooth metal.
“There are only three acceptable responses, Cheŕ, do you know what they are?” Without waiting for her to answer, Bronx forged ahead. “Yes, Sir is always preferable. Stating your answer in a simple, respectful way ensures there are fewer opportunities for misunderstandings. If you are unsure, saying yellow will let me know we need to pause so you can ask questions. Think of it as a highway caution light. If something is too much for you to bear, physically or emotionally, saying the word red will stop everything.”
“Forever?” It was a common newbie question and one he should have anticipated.
“No, Cheŕ. Everything stops until we’ve had time to discuss what went wrong and how we can avoid making a similar mistake in the future.” Every Dom he knew would delay another scene until the next day, but there wasn’t any reason to overwhelm her with details. “If you’re honest, in your answers and responses, there won’t be a reason for you to use a safe word. Do you understand? I know it was a crash course.” He’d be able to read her body’s responses if she didn’t deliberately mask them.
“Yes, Sir. I trust you. I’ve been studying you for months, and I’ve seen how you treat people.”
Bronx nodded, grateful for the gift of her trust. He looked at her hands and shook his head when he saw the death grip she had on the bed. Prying her fingers loose, he gently massaged them before putting them back in place.
“I don’t want you to cut off your circulation. I’ve asked you to hold on, so you stay in place because I want this to last, and Cheŕ, if you touch me, it will be over too soon.” Bronx was pleased to see her smile. He set a slow pace, giving her time to fully adjust to his size and the inevitable stretch as blood rushed to her sex, swelling the tissues. The extra time also let his cock ready itself for what he was sure was going to be an earth-shattering climax.
“Oh, my stars and garters, it’s so much better than I imagined.”
He agreed. Her body was already starting to quake around him, the intensity of her response pushing him closer and closer to his own release. Bronx wasn’t sure what pushed him more—his wolf’s physical desire for his mate or the sudden pressure in his chest from an emotion he’d never experienced with another woman during sex.
“I wanted to make slow, sensuous love to you, Kenya—show you how perfect it would be once we were mated—but you are shredding my control, Cheŕ.”
“Faster. Please. Sir.”
Any question he’d had about Kenya being able to embrace her inner submissive shattered into a splintered memory. Bronx was torn between giving her what she asked for and playing it safer than he knew was warranted. The sound of her soft whimpers as her body locked down around him snapped the last thread of his control.
“Fuck me. Ride it out, Cheŕ. Stay with me until you’ve milked the last drop.” He thrust until fire raced up his spine, exploding at the base of his skull, then rocketing back down to boil in his groin. The first spurts of cum felt like his testicles were being squeezed in a damned juicer. For a few seconds, Bronx
wondered if he’d ever catch his breath. By the time he was spent, they were both panting for breath, and it was several seconds before he had it together enough to roll to his side. He wanted to stay buried inside her for as long as possible, every moment strengthening the bond between them. It wasn’t as good as claiming her, but it was still an important part of the process.
“I’ll get a warm cloth for you as soon as I’m sure my legs won’t crumple out from under me, Cheŕ.”
“I can clean myself up if you’ll just let me rest for a second or two.” She sucked in a deep breath, and for a few seconds, he thought she was going to pull away. Kenya finally let out a deep sigh as if she’d admitted a huge defeat. “Okay, it seems as though it’s going to be a little longer than I originally planned. My brain doesn’t seem to be speaking to my muscles at the moment.” As amused as he was by her observation, he wasn’t going to change his plan.
“Part of my privilege and responsibility as your Dom and mate is to see to your comfort and safety. Don’t think for a minute, I intend to give up the opportunity to pamper you.” He understood her reluctance. She’d been on her own for a long time—hell, if he had to guess, he’d put his money on her taking on the role of parent for her mother more often than it was the other way around. Nothing he’d heard or read indicated Lisa Star had ever been a candidate for mother of the year.
Pulling her close once again and wrapping her in his embrace, Bronx sent up a silent prayer of gratitude he’d finally found her—and for the bulletproof glass his family insisted he install when he’d built his home. The questions about their parents’ accident had never been answered, and since the rumor mill continued to churn, despite the years that had passed, it hadn’t seemed extreme.