by Renee Rose
I can’t decide if I’m disappointed or relieved.
“You take my cock so well, baby.” His lips are right at my ear again, his deep, rasping voice seductive. “Open your eyes and look at where you are.”
Are my eyes still closed? It seems they are. I allow them to flutter open. I’m still nose to tile with the shower wall, Jackson’s hard muscled body pressed against my back.
“This is a tight space, don’t you think?”
My heart hiccups. It is a very tight space. And the exit is blocked. And I’m not the least bit afraid.
I let out a puff of laughter. “It is.”
He nips my ear. “You survived it.” He eases out of me and gently turns me around. His eyes are still blue, and his teeth do look sharper than usual, but he is clearly Jackson the man, not the wolf.
“I’m not afraid when I’m with you.” It’s true. Not a twinge of claustrophobia.
He shakes his head. “You don’t ever need to be afraid again. You’ve conquered it.”
I’m not sure I share his confidence in me. This situation is special. Next time, I probably won’t have a goddess-worthy male fucking the daylights out of me to make me forget to be scared. But I love that he remembers. That he cares.
I smile up at him. “Maybe we should practice a little more to be sure.”
Agony flits over his expression. “I’m not sure I’ll survive it. I need to get out of here and run. Otherwise, I’m going to end up tying you to the bed and fucking you for the next eight hours. And that’s if you’re lucky and I don’t lose control.”
And bite me. Mark me as his.
Fresh heat spikes in my core. I’ve never felt so desirable in my life. Yeah, I know I have a hot body and have even used it on occasion to my advantage. But this animal side of Jackson, this crazed, I can’t-stand-being-near-you-without-fucking makes me feel like Helen of Troy. Or the most irresistible siren.
He tugs off the condom and steps out of the shower to dispose of it. When I come out, he opens a towel for me. Doesn’t just hand it to me but waits for me to step into it then wraps it around me. There’s a familiarity to the gesture—like we’re a long-time couple, easy with the little sweetnesses. Suddenly I want that so badly—want to stay and have Jackson King be my normal. My pack.
But he’s already said it can’t happen. He has to mate another shifter. Not me.
The pain of it nearly blinds me. I turn away so he won’t see it on my face. I need to rescue Mémé and leave town. Guilt for even thinking about a man when she’s missing squeezes my stomach.
Yes, finding Mémé and leaving town is the only ending to this story that makes sense. I just pray she’s still alive. She’s the only home I have.
~.~
Jackson
I don’t know how I survived fucking Kylie without marking her. My teeth were down, serum coating my fangs, but I somehow kept the wolf in check. Because I had to. To protect my female.
Yeah, I just flipped the bird to moon sickness. Taking the female my wolf wants desperately to mate without biting her ought to win me a medal of achievement. But my entire body itches to shift now. And I don’t know what will happen after I’ve given the wolf free rein.
I wrap a towel around my waist and stalk to the back door where I jam the barricade in the giant doggy-door. The last thing I want is to come in after running under the full moon and attack Kylie.
“Do not let me in if I’m on four legs,” I tell her.
She’s followed me out, also dressed in a towel. It occurs to me that she could really use a change of clothes—she’s been wearing my clothes or her same jean skirt and tee for three days now—and I feel like an asshole for not remedying the situation for her. A small one compared to her missing grandmother. Her eyes are wide, but she nods bravely. No surprise there. My little hacker thief, stealing million dollar paintings by age ten.
Somewhere out on the mountain, Sam howls, calling me out to run. “I have to go. Lock the door after me and don’t open it. Understand?”
Another nod.
I grab her for a rough kiss, our mouths melding, tongues twining with enough heat to draw my fangs down again. It takes all my effort to pull away from her, shift, and run out into the night.
~.~
Kylie
I wake to the sound of howling right outside the cabin. The hairs on my nape stand up at the eerie cry. One wolf.
I look at the clock—four a.m. I passed out in the large, comfortable bed in what I assume was the master bedroom right after Jackson left. And now, it seems, he has returned. But he’s on four legs, which means I can’t let him in.
Thud. That sounded like a body being thrown at the back door. He’s trying to get in. I slip out of bed and limp to the kitchen at the rear of the cabin. I’m wearing nothing but one of Jackson’s T-shirts, which I found in the dresser. I peek out the window and see Jackson, in his giant silver wolf form, heaving himself at the barricaded doggy door.
The black wolf—must be Sam—appears behind him and nips at his hind quarters.
Jackson turns on the smaller wolf and attacks. The two roll on the ground, their horrible growls filling the air. It seems like more than play. Jackson’s teeth snap, Sam’s answering whine sounds pained.
Jackson once again runs and heaves his enormous body at the door. He seriously is trying to huff and puff this door down. The fact that he doesn’t just shift and use the doorknob tells me he’s incapable of it. And this is why he told me not to let him in.
A shiver runs through me that has nothing to do with the cool mountain air.
So what’s Sam doing? Trying to protect me? Keep Jackson away? It would seem so, because the smaller wolf once more comes after Jackson, nipping him and running away before Jackson can bite him in return. When Jackson ignores him and goes after the door again, Sam repeats the action.
This time, Jackson moves faster, taking a bite out of Sam’s flank. The wolf yips pitifully, and my hand flies to the door handle. I need to stop this before Sam gets hurt. But I’m no wolf. What do I know about stopping a wolf fight? Maybe this is just full moon play.
But no. Jackson stays on Sam, even when Sam rolls over and gives him his belly. The great silver wolf goes for his throat. I scream at the same time Sam transforms into human form.
“Jackson.” The urgency in Sam’s tone scares me.
Dear God, if Jackson’s jaws snap on Sam’s throat in human form, will it kill him? I fly out the door, needing to help.
Sam’s amber gaze swivels to me, alarmed. “No!”
Jackson whirls and leaps to the steps in a single, impossible arc. His shoulder hits my waist and knocks me against the door.
“Ooph.”
Sam transforms back to wolf and makes a similar graceful leap, landing on top of Jackson and throwing him off the steps. The two tussle again.
I cage my scream. Common sense tells me to run back inside the cabin and lock the door, but I can’t let Sam stay out here and get hurt for me. I can’t.
“Jackson!” I yell to distract him.
His head jerks up with a ferocious snarl, and he charges me once more.
Sam moves quicker, leaping through the air and landing between us. Once more, he shifts to human form, reaching for the door knob. “Get. Inside.”
Jackson shifts too, and slams Sam against the wall, choking him with a forearm across Sam’s windpipe. His eyes are ice-blue, eerily inhuman. “Stay. Away from her.”
Sam’s palms fly up in surrender. “You’re...a danger,” he wheezes.
For a moment, I think Jackson will kill Sam, but his eye color starts to bleed into green, and he releases Sam, who gasps and clutches at his throat. Blood drips down Sam’s leg from the earlier bite.
“Sam,” Jackson rasps, regret laced through the single syllable. He cradles Sam’s head and leans his forehead against the younger man’s. “Fuck. Thank you. I’m sorry.”
“You okay?” Sam asks, which seems backwards, since he’s the one who’s hurt. But I kno
w he’s asking if Jackson’s in control.
“Yeah.” Jackson grabs my arm and spins me around, giving my ass a pop. “Get inside, female. I told you not to open that door.”
Butterflies take off in my belly at the hint of punishment to come.
“You want me to stay?” Sam asks as I head inside, as told.
“No, I’m back. Thank you, brother.” There’s a solemnity to the way he speaks, as if he’s uttering a solemn oath or vow. A shiver of recognition of their pack roles gives me gooseflesh.
Jackson steps in, his cock fully engorged, swinging as he walks. He’s an incredible sight—wild, smelling of pine and dirt and the night air. His muscles bulge and shift as he stoops to throw me over his shoulder. His expression is dark. Ravenous.
“Jackson. Jackson. Are you okay?”
He carries me to the bedroom and sets me on my feet. “I don’t know. You tell me. Is it okay to disobey me?” He rips the T-shirt off me in a swift tug. Wraps a fist in my hair and pulls my head back.
I’m unbelievably turned on, and a smidge scared, because he’s not quite Jackson. There’s a fierce hunger in his face, a controlled violence just below the surface.
He kicks my feet apart. “Spread your legs.”
I obey.
His palm connects with my pussy, a punitive slap. “Wider.”
I spread wider. He slaps my pussy again, still controlling my head with my hair.
“Answer my question. Is it okay to disobey me, kitten?”
Any minute, I’m going to tell him to take it down a notch, make sure this is play and not real. But, apparently, I don’t want that, because my molten pussy aches for his touch and, “N-no,” is the only sound from my lips.
Another slap. Another. It hurts and sings at once. Slap. Slap. He continues spanking my lady parts. My legs tremble, and I wonder if I can come from pussy spanking alone.
I don’t get to find out. “Bad girl,” he murmurs in my ear. His huge palm kneads my ass. He doesn’t sound the least bit angry. All I hear is excitement. Seduction. He wiggles a finger between my cheeks and presses on my anus.
I jerk in surprise, tightening my cheeks in embarrassment.
“I’m going to have to fuck your ass for this.”
He releases my hair and stalks around the bed, throwing the pillows in the center.
My poor wobbly legs barely hold me up, and my tummy is all flutters. “Jackson, I don’t think—” I trail off, staring at his enormous erection. No. Way. “You’re too big. I don’t think I can take you.”
He stalks out of the room, and I hear a dark laugh. When he returns, he’s holding a bottle of olive oil from the kitchen. “Oh, you’ll take me, little girl. You’ll take every inch of me. That’s your punishment. When you disobey, kitten, you get it in the ass.”
It sounds like a horrible idea. A terrifying, wonderful, horrible idea. But I can’t bring myself to refuse. My body is wound up in a tight coil, desperate to be sprung.
He slaps my ass. “Lie over the pillows, baby. I’m going to own that hot little body of yours.”
Something akin to a mewl comes from my lips, but I find myself obeying, tottering to the bed and climbing over the pillows. Presenting my ass to him like a cake on a platter.
There’s a dark rumble of approval. I watch over my shoulder as he sheaths his cock and pours a generous amount of oil over it then trickles another stream along my crack.
He crawls over me, one hand fisting his cock, the other massaging oil into my ass, around my anus.
“There are consequences for disobeying your alpha.” He pushes the head of his cock against my anus and waits.
I tighten against his touch, but, a moment later, the muscles give. As soon as they loosen, Jackson pushes forward, penetrating my tight hole.
I let out a keening cry.
He stills, stretching me wide, waiting for me to calm down. The care he takes reassures me that he’s in control, and I yield, willing my pelvic floor to relax. He pushes in farther and the stretch becomes more intense, then eases.
“There. That’s the head. I’m in, baby. Now, take the rest of me.”
I whimper but let all my muscles go slack, arch my back a little, and wait.
“Good girl,” he rumbles, one hand coasting up my side, stroking my skin.
The praise sends curls of warmth through me, and I arch some more.
“That’s it, baby. Take it like a good girl, and I’ll kiss that ripe pussy when I’m through.” He eases in and out, giving me a tremendous sense of urgency each time he fills me.
My ass is stuffed full of his cock, but my pussy feels tragically empty. I reach my hand between my legs to remedy the situation. My flesh is juicy, swollen beyond recognition, even to my familiar fingers.
Jackson growls and catches my wrist, pulling my hand out. “Mine. What did I tell you about touching your pussy? Only I get to master this sweetness.” He covers my body with his, reaching around to cup my mons. It’s exactly what I need. The tremors start through my body.
“Jackson.” The hoarse cry doesn’t even sound like my voice. “Jackson, please.”
“That’s it, baby. Beg me.” He picks up speed, plundering my ass while his fingers fuck me from below. I’m dizzy with lust, drugged with need. The cabin spins and tilts.
“Jackson!” The room fills with keening cries, which must be mine.
A snarl and a roar cut across them, and Jackson plunges deep. I grab his fingers in my pussy and push them deeper and hold them there as I come, too, my vaginal muscles squeezing, anus tightening around his huge girth.
He pulls out too soon, stumbling back, and I twist to see what I already know will be there. Fangs.
He tears off the condom and discards it. Then comes for me.
~.~
Jackson
If I don’t get enough of Kylie, I’ll die. I need to possess her in every way.
Fates, I almost killed Sam out there. My wolf smelled Kylie in the cabin and needed to get inside with a desperation that rocked me. When Sam tried to interfere, the wolf thought he was challenging me for her. Thank fuck he shifted, or I would’ve gone moon sick for sure.
Even now, the fact that I just orgasmed doesn’t ease any of the fierce need sifting through me. I pray if I just keep claiming her, pleasuring her, fucking her, it will appease my wolf enough he won’t mark her.
I pull the pillows out from under her heart-shaped ass and flip her over. Shove her knees apart. Apply my mouth to her core, licking and sucking like my life depends on it.
She’s limp at first, her knees falling open, still languorous after her orgasm. But her fingers come to my hair when I tongue her clit, and she lets out a weak moan. I don’t stop. She tastes like heaven. I feast in her juices, devouring her. I rub her clit, suck and nip her labia.
She tears at my hair, hoarse cries coming from her throat. She’s incredible, the way she gives herself to me, so willing to receive all the pleasure I need to pour on her. Her untrained body is infinitely responsive. I penetrate her with two fingers, find her G-spot on her inner wall, and work it until the tissue hardens and wrinkles.
“Jackson. Jackson. Please. I can’t take any more.” Her knees cinch around my head.
I penetrate her with both tongue and fingers then return to sucking her clit, pumping three fingers in and out of her until she comes for the third time tonight, her channel squeezing and releasing as she lets out a long, keening cry.
I wish it was enough. I know I’ve already exhausted my little human. Precious, beautiful female.
I climb up to sit on the bed and pull her across my lap. Her scent punches me into animal mode again. I spank her pretty ass, fast and hard. “Jesus, kitten. The scent of your arousal makes me crazy. I can always smell when you’re turned on. I knew it that first day in the elevator after I touched you.”
She whimpers, and I register than I’m hurting her but can’t seem to stop. It feels so damn good to smack her juicy ass, and the little cries she grunts she makes
only feed my frenzy. My wolf starts to howl.
I spank her until her ass turns red.
“I’m sorry!” she cries, and I work my hand under her hips, twiddle her little clit again. I keep slapping, loving the way her cheeks flatten and spring back under my hand.
“I don’t need you sorry. I only need your surrender. This is the only way I keep my wolf from marking you.”
She wriggles over my hand, her cunt leaking juices down my fingers.
“Do you like that, baby?”
“No...yes...ohhh,” she pants. “Too much. Too much, Jackson. I can’t take any more.”
I push her off my lap, but there’s no stopping me. “Inside you,” I growl. I lift her to her hands and knees then force her upper body down, so her face presses into the covers. Somehow, miraculously, I remember to don another condom. I snap it on and push into her wet heat. My fangs punch out longer; a snarl rips from my throat.
Don’t mark. Just. Fuck.
Mate, the wolf roars.
Just. Fuck.
My balls slap against her, cock sliding in and out of her tight channel. She takes all of me in this position, takes me deep. My thighs shake, balls draw up tight.
She moans and wails, her cries both pitiful and wanton at once. Her pussy is still wet and willing. Generous in how hard a fucking it takes.
Just fuck just fuck just fuck. Don’t. Bite.
I come again with a roar. Kylie’s screams join my snarl, and she orgasms, milking my cock with her tight muscles, drawing even more cum out of me. I shudder, chills and heat running through me like I have a fever.
Kylie lets out a sob as I slip out of her. I dispose of the condom and catch a whiff of salt. No. A tear slides down her nose.
The scent immediately takes my wolf down. He whimpers and retreats. The lust-induced haze over my brain dissolves. Oh fates—my female. Have I hurt her?
“Baby, baby, baby,” I croon, quickly disposing of the condom. I scoop her into my arms, cradle her against my chest. I settle back on the bed. “Are you hurt?”
