I feel internally swollen, everything is excessive, and it’s hard to pick my head up. There’s a need to shift from fur to skin.
Something besides me is inside my head. I can feel the strange presence taking up space just on the peripheral edge.
He shakes himself out, a lick to the side of my neck, cheek pressed against cheek, before he stretches and waits for the Wild to find her legs again.
When his Wild tries to mount her, she tucks her tail around her, the nip is real this time, and Cassius sheds his fur to skin. He’s a blur.
“He got ahead of me. My apologies.” Now his hand runs down her neck, scratches at her flank; she rolls on her back, belly exposed, and he laughs.
“It was the right thing to do, Treajure. I hope you aren’t upset?” I can’t see him real good, nothing but an outline of a body. The Wild whines in her throat; he touches her cheek with his, and kisses her neck, her throat, and licks off the blood in her fur.
He shifts again and walks slowly, almost reluctantly back to the house. He goes inside first. I find the robe and shift quickly, putting it on me. I still can’t see, and I can hear him dressing in the layers of himself.
I can feel his fingers at one of my ears. He pushes the earring through the hole. I feel the deliberate way he touches the back of my ear; it gives me a shiver in my spine.
“That feels good when I touch you there.” I can’t even shake my head, because he’s pushing the other earring through the hole, securing it with the backing. The pad of his thumb plays with the thin skin behind my ear for a few staggering moments. I can feel something rush through my blood, but it’s not my blood rushing. It’s his.
My glasses are put on by him next after I blink a few times, and his eyes are waiting for mine to see him.
“Perfect.”
My breath is gone.
His nose runs the length of mine, slow.
Everything responds—my body leans into his.
He takes a minute before those lips are on mine.
Soft. Warm. Gentle.
I want to take a taste of his tongue that is nudging between my lips.
He breathes in, heavy. I can feel him curl his shoulders around my body. I’m being pulled flush to his chest.
He’s a force…
This is urgent male; he kisses with ownership. To claim my lips as his, only his. His tongue belongs against my tongue.
The warmth inside me spreads, and he makes this noise that he kisses me through. Our breaths meet and are inhaled by the other.
“Tell me your name,” he asks through the break in his lips still pressed to mine. “Let me know your name.” He’s on my mouth again, eyes closed. His hands run back down my robe to mid-thigh, lifting it up next time as he runs them back up me. I can feel the cold air hitting my inner thighs as that throbbing heat spreads deeper below my mound.
He’s stone-hard; I can feel him. He’s responding the same as me—I’m as slick as he is hard.
I have no underwear on, and I can feel the wetness with each clench of my thighs.
His hips shift, and I can’t help the moan that comes from deep in my throat. He stiffens.
“Do it again.” The noise is made again, and he rewards me with a kiss that demands I give him everything back he’s giving me. He pulls me even closer with a drawn-out noise from his chest.
We’re both breathing hard. His hand skims over the front of my thighs to reach around and grip me by the ass, picking me up so I can feel him on my mound. I feel the length of him straining through his jeans, pushing into my space.
Heart pounding each time my hips shift into his.
I can barely breathe; everything is a rush forward.
My hips desperately push back into his. We are lips and tongues, hands, and I can’t stop from thinking I’d like nothing more than to shove his jeans to his ankles and feel a male for the first time in my mouth.
A raspy breath drags out of his lungs as his hand smooths down over the silk robe against my mound, and I freeze.
The back door opens, and instead of jumping away, he holds me to him, our foreheads touching. I’m embarrassed to be caught but not him. He makes no move to hide this from anyone.
“Sorry.” The Luna backs out, but not before the twins bully themselves past her.
“What are you doing?” Ken asks his father.
“I’m giving Treajure a kiss. Is that okay?”
“I guess so.” Ken makes a disgusted face, and Dee’s eyes are as big as mine.
“Why?” Dee asks.
“Because I like her.” He pulls away his eyes from mine to meet the twins, then to his mother, whose face has become red and blotchy.
“Why do you like her?” Ken is persistent and confused.
“I just do.”
“I like her too,” Dee chimes in and holds my hand.
“I like her too,” Ken mimics his sister’s reply.
“Well, it’s settled, we all like you.” I can hear the smile through Cassius’s voice.
“We all like her,” the voice of the Luna joins in, and before I know it, I have to take my glasses off and wipe away the tears that keep coming from what I feel inside me. Joy.
Letter 20
Cash,
You should move on because I already have.
Kennedy
Chapter 21
Skin in the Shade of Slate Drawn on Paper
Cassius’s range is wide. I can feel his eye on my face even if I can’t see him. I feel every glance; I feel every brush of vision that keeps coming back to my face, to my lips, to my neck. I feel him, the security of the inside of him.
“Well. I think I’m going to bed. Goodnight. Are you coming, Grace?” I understand where Cassius gets his puppy pout; the Silverback looks at the Luna all lip and desire with eyes that grow big. The Luna nods her head, and if he was in Wild form, his tail would be wagging incessantly. He has a little pepper in his step as he make his way the other side of the house.
“Well, goodnight, see you in the morning.” His mother kisses his forehead, then she presses her lips against mine.
“Treajure, I’d like to talk to you.” He doesn’t mumble; his words are clear precision. “I want to ask you if it would be all right if I marked you?”
I stiffen slightly.
“Not today.” He shows me his palms. He’s calm.
“I’m just asking if it would be all right if I marked you, only if you want me to. I know the Wilds have done their business, and now it’s time for us. You and me.”
My legs buckle, and I’m sitting on the chair, all loose as if I don’t own a bone in my body. Cassius waits for an answer.
“You’re going to have to tell me what you want. I won’t do it without you telling me, Treajure. I know you can talk. I can feel all those words inside you.” He touches his chest with his hand, the center of him.
“I promise I won’t do anything you aren’t ready for. We’ll take all this slow. As slow as you need.” His eyes are trained sharp right on my face before they soften, and I swear he’s smiling through them now.
“I’m off to bed. Goodnight, Specs.” He doesn’t kiss my forehead; he brushes his lips on mine before pulling away with a subtle growl that terrorizes the deepness of my sex.
He leaves his door cracked slightly, and I can hear him get on top of his bed. It’s dark in his room except for the sickle moon that is out.
Entering, I stop in the middle of his room. The outline of his body is held still on his bed. I’m not sure he’s breathing, but I can feel the race of him.
His head turns toward me. “Do you want something, Treajure?” His voice reaches out, touches my face. I can feel it all over me, surrounding me, holding me like a warm blanket.
There is no answer from me. The word you is trapped the same way spit is under my tongue and it’s swallowed down, leaving me there standing by myself with everything surrounding me.
“Goodnight, Specs.” Cassius rolls on his side, facing the wall, his back to m
e, and I slip underneath his bed, feeling the wooden frame above me until my breathing is even and my eyes can’t stay open any longer.
The next morning has Cassius working on his computer, but he makes it a point to get up from the table to kiss me good morning in front of everyone. The Silverback takes a sip of his coffee with a toothy grin stretched as wide as his shirt across his face.
The twins just stare at their father, at me, and start to giggle.
“Nothing’s wrong with kissing,” the Alpha says with an even brighter smile glued to his face.
“That’s right, nothing is wrong with kissing.” Luna Grace wraps her arms around her mate’s chest and kisses him on the cheek.
“Now Grace, you’ve made my lips jealous, and you know we can’t have that, can we?”
“You’re right, forgive me, Alpha.” Her lips touch his, long and slow, not indecent but there is a fine line.
“Better?” She pulls away, and his neck follows her lips.
“Almost.” He kisses her once more, a little deeper, and Cassius looks away, the twins giggle, and I turn red.
“Better. Them lips are a jealous thing, Grace. You know better than to start with the cheek.” His teeth nip at her neck before he leans back against the chair.
Crane gags.
His mother throws a butter knife at his head, misses, and Caleb smacks him lightly.
“What did I do?” Crane asks.
“You made your mother mad.”
“And you’ve never?”
“That was when I was younger. I’m a changed wolf.” Caleb’s teeth shine white toward Crane.
Crane huffs, “Don’t you have your own house?”
“The food’s better here.” Caleb opens the fridge and helps himself.
“When you’re older, Crane, you’ll understand.” I can see the way Crane’s skin crawls as Caleb pops a few grapes in his mouth, teeth smiling as he chews.
Crane stretches out his shoulders, squaring himself against his brother, and Caleb stretches himself to his completed height—a big wolf who knows it.
“Outside.” A quick whip of a word comes from the Alpha.
“He started it.” Crane points, and Caleb is right there with a pulled-out bottom lip that tremors as if he’s going to cry, teasing his brother.
Crane chases Caleb outside, and I can see them wrestling on the ground. Ken jumps from his seat and goes outside, jumping on the pile of them with his elbow.
Dee rolls her eyes. “Boys.” And for her, that says it all, but she does get off her chair and runs outside to throw her own elbows into Caleb’s chest. He grunts and groans, holding his heart in pain. Crane lets Ken toss him around and fakes injuries as they bite and nip each other with blunt teeth and no claws.
Cassius runs outside and tackles his brother hard to the ground. It’s rough but gentle, and the Alpha even gets in on it.
The sketchbook sits beside the laptop, and I take the opportunity to open it. The noise that comes out of my chest startles even me.
The first page is me, in a shadowed sort of way; all I can make out are my glasses on a blur of a face. The next picture is more my eyes through the glasses. Each page different, each page getting clearer and sharper.
I can’t stop the desperate flip of each page. Everything is here, all the details I never knew I had. Each picture a picture in itself, it tells some kind of out of focus story. The middle of the book has my body now drawn with a face that’s becoming clearer. More light than shade now. I’m becoming clearer with each line the pencil makes.
Another desperate flip, I want to ingrain this into my memory forever.
A clear portrait of me, a side view of my face, the ruby earring is the only thing that holds color in the entire book. Everything else is shades of slate.
A throat clears, and my head lifts from the book, dropping it on the table. Hands tremble.
Cassius stares right into me, and I feel that everything is about to change.
The quiet seems solemn and heavy.
Everything will change…
Chapter 22
Paper Dreams in the Form of Solid Flesh
Every night Cassius asks me, “Do you want something, Treajure?” Every night I say the same thing, nothing, and he does the same thing, turning on his side facing the wall, wishing me goodnight.
The days are filled with hugs and kisses, deep kisses that have his hands all over me, and my hands all over him, but that’s where it stops, and I’m about to go mad with want.
Tonight’s no different. He’s on his bed fully clothed; the layers of him are all there. His head turns, the full moon’s light reflecting in his eyes.
“Do you want something, Treajure?”
This time, I make a noise in my throat to prepare the muscles to work.
Breathe…
His whole body turns toward me nice and slow.
“Cassius.” It croaks out, but out it comes. I clear my throat again and this time say his name better than the first time.
It takes him a minute to sit up then stand to make his way over to me.
Everything changes. I can feel it inside him, inside me.
“Say it again.”
He turns his ear to me, and I reach up on tiptoes to press his name against his ear. “Cassius.”
Can he feel me trembling? Because when I put my hand on his chest to undo the first few buttons on his shirt, I can feel the shifting of his skin.
The weight of his hands are on the pad of my hips. He watches my fingers as I unbutton every button his shirt has before pulling it down off his shoulders, and past his arms, and finally his wrists. A layer of him lays at our feet.
“It’s only fair.” He shifts his eyes to meet mine before the shirt I wear is pulled off my body.
A layer leaves my skin.
His t-shirt is soft in my hands when I pull it off him, letting my knuckles touch his torso, his chest, shoulders, and finally the shirt is off.
He grunts through a flared nose.
The palms of my hands run up and down his back before the nails dig in against the shifting meat of his muscles.
He holds my bottom lip with his teeth, not too hard, but enough that I can’t pull away from him as his hand holds an appreciation of lace. He strokes the material with his thumb, rubbing against the nipple that feels too tight.
He makes a low, urgent noise; his hand fills with my breast, a firm squeeze before the skin of him dips inside the cup, feeling me raw without the lace between us.
That draws out a noise from deep within, a moan that he swallows down in a giant gulp.
I feel up his spine. His shoulders are curled around me. I feel the skin along his neck to the new growth of hair that I scratch my fingers into.
Heat flushes, rushes, and consumes all thoughts.
My thighs clench when he holds the other breast in his hand. I sigh, muscles shift, tense but not relaxed.
“You’re perfect,” he says into my neck, teeth scraping at the skin.
Everything is changing…
I feel him through his jeans. He’s ready, hard and bulging. I’m slick—I can feel myself soaking through my underwear.
Undoing the button, he dips his head to watch my fingers. The zipper pulls down. I can’t hear it over my breathing. I look up at him as I pull those jeans down his hips, past his thighs, and leave them at his ankles.
Cassius has pulled his bottom lip into his mouth, and he’s all eyes now. His chest heaves, and I place a kiss against the stone rod of him through the material of his underwear.
Fingers hook to the band of his boxers.
“Are you sure?” His hand touches my cheek. “You don’t have to.”
Cassius doesn’t understand, I need to.
My knees hit the carpet, and as I go down, his boxers come down to his ankles. He steps out of his clothes and pulls a hiss of breath in when I run my nose along his length, inhaling his scent.
There’s some sort of primal smell to his sex that goads me
on, that makes me want to taste him with my tongue. I can feel the saliva pool in the back of my throat. I want him inside my mouth.
His knees bend when I lick the tip of him, tasting that fluid that starts to bead from his hole.
I can feel his fingers weave through my hair when I sink my mouth down on him, putting him halfway in, feeling the smoothness of his balls, before grasping the base of him.
“Fuck.” The sound crawls out of him.
He doesn’t fit all the way inside, but I try my best, and for my effort, he’s letting his sound rumble around the room.
He lets me explore him without interference, and I explore the male side of him. Licking the underside of his shaft, working my tongue around the shine of his head. Exploring his balls, feeling how they move in my hand.
A hard breath comes out of his mouth when I stroke him from the base, my mouth around the tip. His fingers dig into my hair, borderline painful.
His hips are moving now, I can feel him watching what I’m doing, and I cast my eyes up with him in my open mouth.
“Fuck.” His legs bend a little more, he thrusts himself inside the space of my mouth, and I gag from it.
Eyes water.
“It’s only fair,” he says through exposed teeth, bringing me up to my feet.
He groans when the zipper of my pants come down, he inhales when the material pulls down from my thighs, he takes them off completely, and he pauses to go on his knees.
His straight nose pushes into my mound; his tongue, oh, I can feel his tongue right there, licking me through the material.
He looks up at me with something precious written across his face. His tongue drags down the curve of my underwear. He groans with half-closed eyes. Nails dig into my thighs, holding me still, and all I want to do is shove myself in his face.
I can’t stop looking down at him even when his fingers curl around the band of my underwear, pulling them down, and that tongue hits a nerve that makes me jump from the sheer force of pleasure.
The Wildflower Series Page 68
