by Sophie Stern
“No panties.”
She shrugs, smirking at me, and I smile.
“Good,” I tell her. “This makes it so much easier to enjoy you.”
“What are you going to do?” She whispers breathlessly.
“Me?” I stroke a finger between her soft folds. She’s wet: really wet. Her body wants me just as much as I want her. “I’m going to lick this beautiful pussy until you come all over my face, little human. Is that okay with you?”
“Yes,” she squeaks out quickly. Again, she doesn’t hesitate or have to think about it, and I fucking love that. Theresa just doesn’t hold back. She doesn’t make me wait while she decides the perfect time or the perfect moment to do something. She’s beautifully playful and spontaneous and I fucking adore that.
Dropping to the floor, I lean over and start licking her right away. She groans, and then covers her mouth to stay silent while I touch her. She’s sweet and tangy in all the right ways. She tastes like fucking fruit. I lick her, teasing her clit over and over. She reaches down and grabs my hair, tugging me closer to her body, which makes me fucking hot as hell. There’s nothing more gorgeous than a woman who knows what she wants: who isn’t afraid to go after what she’s craving.
Right now, it seems as though Theresa is craving me, and I’m happy to make this good for her. I kiss her over and over, teasing and taunting her pussy until I can feel her start to throb. She pulses, her body shaking, as the orgasm sweeps over her. Once again, she covers her mouth, but it doesn’t matter. The groan that escapes her lips makes me even harder, even more ready for her, and when she collapses back against the couch, I feel fully satisfied.
I made her come.
I did that.
She looked so fucking gorgeous and it’s all because she let herself go while I worshipped her body with my tongue.
“Wow,” she manages to say.
“Wow indeed.”
I climb up over her and kiss her, teasing her lips with my own.
“I can taste me,” she says.
“Good. You taste fantastic.”
“Thanks,” she says. “But you haven’t…I didn’t…”
“Theresa, are you asking if you can suck my cock?”
The idea of her on her knees licking my body is fuckin delightful. I would love to have her kneeling in front of me and just taking me how she wants me to.
“I want you inside of me,” she says. I’m a little surprised, but I’m not about to turn her down. My inner-bear is having a fucking party. He’s overjoyed with happiness that it’s finally happening with Theresa.
There’s a part of me that knows this is a bad idea. After all, if she is my mate, I’m not going to want to let her go. I’m going to want to keep her forever. Saying goodbye after you’ve made love is never easy, and when it’s with someone you truly want to be with, it’s even harder.
But no one ever said good decisions were made with a boner, and I want her so much.
“Spread your legs,” I murmur, and she does.
I crawl up over her. Missionary-position on the couch isn’t exactly easy to maneuver, but it’s a big couch and I want to feel as close to her as I possibly can.
I want to feel close and touch her and just be with her. I push up her shirt to reveal her pretty bra, and I pull her breasts out. One by one, I lick and nip at each of her nipples, and then I move up to her mouth. I start kissing her, making out with her again, but this time, it’s definitely going somewhere, and we’re both completely excited about this. Her arousal wafts to my nostrils, filling them, and I realize that she smells like heaven.
My cock nudges against her pussy and she nods, whispering to me.
“Please, Heath,” she says. “Please fuck me.”
“When you beg like that, you look so pretty,” I murmur.
“Please.”
I can’t hold back anymore.
Even if I wanted to, I just can’t, so I thrust forward, filling her, and she groans when I do. Shit. She’s so fucking tight. My cock fills her, and I hold perfectly still because I’m worried that I’m going to come as soon as I start thrusting.
Sweet Theresa is like a falling star. She’s the kind of woman who comes around so rarely that when she does, it’s like Heaven and Earth stop just for her.
And oh, I want her.
So very much.
My bear is screaming at me, demanding that I make her my mate. No, he’s telling me that she is my mate, and that I have no say in the matter at all, but right now, I don’t even care. If Theresa were to tell me she wants to be mine, I’d let her.
How crazy is that?
I never felt this way with my ex.
I never felt like the world was going to stop spinning if I didn’t get inside of her.
“Heath,” she whispers. She closes her eyes and reaches for me, gripping me. She holds onto me like her entire world depends on it, which is crazy because right now, I feel like my entire world depends on her.
“You look so fucking beautiful.”
“More,” she whispers. “More, Heath. I want to feel you come in me.”
Slowly, carefully, I start to thrust into her once more. This time, I don’t hold back. This time, I give her everything I am. I fuck Theresa on my couch in the middle of the afternoon because she’s fucking fantastic and she’s beautiful and everything about this moment just feels so perfect and right.
It’s rare that something like this happens in a lifetime, let alone on a random afternoon.
She wiggles beneath me, taunting me, and I start to breathe more heavily. I’m trying to hold on. Really, I am. I just don’t know how much longer I can wait before I come apart.
“Come for me,” she whispers, and I fuck her harder, faster, deeper. When my orgasm hits me, it rushes over me and I growl, murmuring her name. My cock pulses for what feels like an eternity as I fill her, and I realize that I really don’t ever want to let her go.
She really is my fated mate.
Chapter Ten
Theresa
The next day comes far too soon, and I don’t want to go back to work. I don’t want to leave Heath or the cabin or Spot. I don’t want to walk away from the person who made me feel like a million dollars.
I just don’t.
But I have to because that’s what grownups do.
This thing between us was just a fling. It was just a couple of days where I didn’t have to worry about anything but worshiping his body and just having fun. For a little while, I didn’t have to be the writer or the artist or the person being interviewed.
For a few days, I could just absolutely relax, and it was unbearably wonderful.
Now it’s over.
And I’m leaving.
We load up Heath’s car with our gear and say goodbye to Spot. Then the kids and I climb into his vehicle. We’re all kind of silent because none of us is looking forward to what comes next. None of us wants to go home after everything we went through. Spending time with Heath was the most relaxing, wonderful thing I’ve ever done, and I want more.
I know that this thing between us was only supposed to last for the duration of my trip, though. It was a spontaneous, spur-of-the-moment fling.
Nothing more.
He brings us down to the lodge where we parked before embarking on our journey. He stops the car and the kids hop out. They race over to the playground next to the lodge, and we watch them from the car for a minute.
“So,” he says, fidgeting. “I guess this is goodbye.”
I don’t want it to be.
I don’t want to ask him to try to make something work with me.
The reality is that we live in two different cities and we lead two different lives. He’s got his real estate business and he’s building that big, beautiful house. He’s got a dog and a quiet, peaceful life.
Me?
My life is messy and complicated and a total wreck. I’ve got two kids who adore me and an assistant who can’t stand me. I’ve got fans who love me and reviewe
rs who hate me. Honestly, I kind of have it all, and love it or hate it, that’s my life.
Heath doesn’t need the drama that would come from loving a girl like me.
He doesn’t need the stress that comes from getting involved with a person like Theresa Jones.
“I guess it is,” I whisper.
He looks like he wants to say something else, but he doesn’t. He just nods and gets out of the car. He starts unpacking the bags and things. We’re right beside my car, so I reach for my keys and hit the “unlock” button. He opens the trunk and starts unpacking everything. Finally, I get out of the car to help him. Carefully, we load my tent, bags, and cooler into the car. When he closes the trunk, we head back to his vehicle to make sure we didn’t leave anything behind. I notice a familiar-looking book cover in the back of the SUV.
“Terri Jones,” I say, reaching for the copy of one of my earliest books.
“Have you heard of her?” He says. “She’s the best.”
“You like Terri Jones?” Color me surprised.
“Of course,” he laughs. “The way she pulls together a story is so fucking funny. Her characters are smart and wonderful. There’s this one book, um, Tales of a Bad Boy Millionaire, and it was so amazing. It had me in stitches from laughing so hard.”
I smile, trying not to talk too much about one of the funniest books I’ve ever written. He’s right when he says that book was one that makes people laugh. It’s probably got the most positive reviews out of everything I’ve ever written. Actually, if there’s one book I’d give people who want to read a Terri Jones book, that’s it. It’s the book I feel the best about.
“That one is good too, though,” he points toward the book I’m holding in my hands. The Bad Boy’s Secret Baby is an older story. It’s one full of twists and turns and surprises. “I’m not finished with it yet.”
“I’m surprised to see a man reading romance,” I tell him.
“Men can enjoy a good kissing book,” he winks. Suddenly, Spot starts barking. “Hang on,” Heath says, and he moves to look at what Spot and the boys are up to. On a whim, I grab one of the pens lying in the back of his vehicle, and I sign the first page of the book. On a second whim, I add my phone number. Maybe it’s a terrible idea, and to be honest, I’m not really sure why I’m doing this, but there’s a part of me that thinks maybe, just maybe, there’s a chance for something more.
Then again, maybe it’s just wishful thinking.
I shove the book back in the SUV and close the vehicle. Then I turn to see Spot, Heath, Silas, and Sebastian all running around. My heart hurts a little with the realization that this could very well be it. Maybe I really did just have my first official one-night-stand.
But oh, it was wonderful.
I pull out my phone and power it on for the first time this weekend. I didn’t bother leaving it on. Even if there was cell service at the campsite, I didn’t really want to spend any time thinking about Em or work or books or deadlines. It’s not that I don’t love writing. I do. I totally, completely do.
But sometimes writers need breaks, too, and me? I’m long overdue for a big one.
As soon as my phone turns on, it starts buzzing with notifications. Emails, texts, and even chatting messages from various apps are popping up. So much for a weekend away. All I wanted was a couple of days to just chill and relax.
I guess maybe that was too much to ask.
I know I’ve got a meeting tomorrow morning, so I really should get going, it’s just that the idea of leaving Heath behind kind of hurts more than it should. And as I stand by the cars looking over at him, I can’t help but love the way he’s treating the boys.
Like they’re his.
Like he’s comfortable with them.
He notices me watching as he pushes Silas on a swing and he waves, smiling. I don’t want to make this moment end, so I pull out my phone and snap a couple of quick pictures. It’s a bad idea. I shouldn’t be taking pictures of the boy who has stolen my heart away without even really trying, but I do. Soon my memories of Heath are going to fade away and the pictures are all I’ll have left.
Finally, he rounds up the boys and brings them over. He hugs them each in turn and loads them up into the car. He closes the doors and turns to me. Then he reaches for me and pulls me close.
“Theresa,” he murmurs. He holds me tightly, but the kids are here, so I doubt he’s going to kiss me goodbye. Maybe it would be weird. Maybe it would be awkward. Maybe it…
But he kisses me gently, softly.
In any other situation, I’d think he was promising me something, but I know that neither one of us is looking for something serious right now.
Right?
Isn’t that what’s happening?
We’re both just hanging on to what we have, trying our best to make things work. We’re both just doing our best because we have very different lives.
“Heath,” I whisper.
Please give me a chance.
Please come visit me.
Please come to one of my signings.
There are so many wonderful things I want to say to him, but I don’t because I know it’s not the right time for either one of us. There are so many words I want to throw in his direction. I just want him to know that hey, this thing between us is important to me, and I don’t want it to end.
But I don’t say anything.
Because it wouldn’t be fair to either one of us.
What are we going to do?
He can’t drive to West Valley every weekend and I definitely can’t come out to Storm Haven. The Dragon Mountains are beautiful, but living out here would mean I couldn’t attend mixers every night and do all of those other horrible tasks that I hate.
No, this is definitely for the best.
At least, that’s the lie I keep telling myself.
“I’ll miss you,” he whispers into my hair.
“Miss you more,” I say.
“If you ever need help with the boys,” he says. “I meant what I said. I’d be happy to help.”
“Thank you. That means a lot.”
“And you should hook up with some shifters in your city. See if they can help support you, too. Shifter kids require a lot of work. You know how they say it takes a village?”
“Yeah,” I smile. “I know.”
“You got this, pretty human. I believe in you.”
Then he pulls away, presses one last kiss to my forehead, and gets into his SUV. He starts the vehicle, backs up, and pulls out of the parking lot. And that’s it. I’m alone.
This is what we both knew was going to happen.
Literally.
Both of us knew that this thing between us was a short-term fling. It was just a couple of days of fun and adventure. The kids got to hang out with Spot and have fun shifting into their forms and back again and Heath and I…
I bite my lip.
I won’t say I fell in love this weekend.
I won’t say it.
It’s much too soon, and much too wild, but it’s completely unfair that I have to go back to my normal life now.
Because right now, leaving him is the biggest mistake I’ve ever made, and as soon as I get into my car and close the door, I start to cry.
Chapter Eleven
Heath
The next few days suck.
There’s no easy way to come down from the high of meeting someone you think could – and should – be your mate. Seriously. I don’t know how people meet someone they could adore and just fall head over heels for them and then walk away.
I’m a fucking idiot.
Even Spot seems lonely and bored without the boys around. He really liked having brothers in the house, even if it was only for a few days.
I finish closing on the property I purchased and I meet with an architect to talk about my plans for building. My entire week is filled with contracts and meetings and so many chores that I barely have time to do anything, let alone read.
It’s not un
til the following Friday night when I’m unloading groceries from the SUV that I spot my Terri Jones book I left in the trunk. I grab it and bring it inside with me. It’s a good night to finish finding out what happens to the bad boy and the girl he loves, so as soon as I’m done putting away the things I bought, I settle down on the couch with a bottle of wine and my book, and I open it up.
And then I stare at my book, blinking.
What the fuck?
This is an autographed copy?
I bought it used at a thrift shop a few weeks ago. I feel like I would have noticed it was autographed, but then I see that there’s a note above the scrawling script that reads Terri Jones. There’s a personalized message.
And it’s addressed to me.
Dear Heath,
Thanks for a great weekend. Couldn’t have asked for a better guy to rescue me. Part of me wonders how I’m ever going to return to reality after being beneath you for the better part of a weekend. I miss you already, and I’m never going to forget you. If you’re ever around my neck of the woods, give me a call. I’d love to see you again.
Love, Terri Jones
XOXO
Beneath the signature is a neatly printed phone number.
Her phone number.
Terri Jones’ phone number.
No, scratch that: Theresa Jones.
Holy dragons.
I slept with my favorite author.
The realization hits me like a ton of bricks. The woman I’m falling for – well, the woman I’ve fallen for – happens to write the most wonderful and romantic novels I’ve ever read.
And I let her walk away.
I stand up and start pacing because I’m a little bit horrified at what’s happened. How could I have done this? How could I have let her slip through my fingers?
It’s just that I thought she didn’t want anything serious.
No, scratch that.
I thought she didn’t want me.
So, what, I didn’t even try?
I really am dumb if I let my own fear and insecurities dictate the fact that I had a chance to love an incredible woman and instead, I let her walk away.
Well, fuck that.
