by Tami Lund
“What is it?” he asked as he rubbed his face against her beautiful, flaxen hair. “Tell me, Carley.”
“This is the part that hurts,” she whispered.
He squeezed her more tightly, as he struggled with his own self-control. He felt dual urges at the moment. First, to show her that sex did not hurt, and was not meant to be feared. And second, to go find whoever scarred her this badly, and teach him a well-deserved lesson. His hands shimmered as they shifted from human to animal, and he pulled on every ounce of control he possessed to tamp his temper.
“I suspect it hurt because you didn’t want it and weren’t ready for it,” he said, and then he rolled his hips, sliding his erection through her outer lips, and the wetness there. “Do you feel that?”
She gasped and arched against him.
“You’re ready for me, Carley. Do you want to? Or do you want to stop now?” He said another silent prayer to whatever Fates might be listening. Please don’t ask me to stop. Had he ever wanted anything so badly in his life? Another memory tried to intrude, but he ruthlessly pushed it away. This was nothing like that. Nothing.
“I…Do that again,” she whispered.
He did, pressing his hand into the small of her back as he did so. She gasped again.
“It’s never…felt like this.” She sounded confused, uncertain.
“I can make it feel even better,” he promised.
“Okay,” she said, shyly. “But go slow.”
It might kill him to do so, but he vowed to try. He started to lie back down, and she wrapped her arms around his back and said, “No. Like this. I like this.”
So he held her in his lap and slid backward until his back was pressed against the headboard. She straddled him, and he lifted his hips again, sliding his erection across nerve endings that he knew were ultrasensitive. Her gasp of pleasure confirmed it.
He wrapped one arm around her waist and slipped the other between their bodies. “Ready?” he asked, and when she nodded, he trailed a finger through her wetness until it slid inside. Her inner muscles tightened around his appendage, and she gasped at the intrusion as her eyes flew open and gave him a questioning look. He slid the finger out and in again, and her fingernails dug into his shoulders.
“Good?”
“I’ve never…”
“But good?” he urged as he continued to slide his finger in and out. Her eyes glazed with passion as she nodded. He added a second finger, and she sucked in a breath as her body finally kicked into gear and began to move with the motion of his hand.
“That’s it,” he encouraged as his thumb teased her clitoris. She let out a strangled cry, so he did it again. And again. And over and over until she suddenly arched and threw her head back and let out a shriek as her body convulsed through what he suspected might be her very first orgasm.
He was immensely proud that he’d been the one to give it to her.
She collapsed against him as he pulled his hand out from between them and wrapped both arms around her, holding her tightly as she struggled to catch her breath.
“That’s never happened before,” she mumbled against his shoulder, confirming his suspicion.
“Explains why it hurt to have sex,” he commented. “A little manual stimulation never hurt anyone,” he said with a teasing smile.
She blinked rapidly. “No, that certainly didn’t hurt,” she agreed, and then she giggled.
He shifted his hips. “Ready for more?”
“I don’t think I can—”
“Trust me. You can.” He pressed against her and then waited. His entire body was tense with the need for release. But he would wait. He needed her assent first.
She wiggled her hips experimentally. He sucked in a breath. And held it.
“Okay,” she finally said, and he let out the breath.
With one arm wrapped around her waist, he held her still, while the other guided his erection to her opening. Her nails dug into his shoulder as she buried her head into the crook of his neck. Her body tensed. If she wasn’t so wet right now, he would probably not be able to even do this. But she was and he was determined to prove to her that this was what it was supposed to be like between a man and a woman. Whatever the hell she’d experienced in the past was wrong, and as he gently pushed up while pulling her down with his other arm, he vowed it would be like this for her forever now. Never again would she experience pain during the act. Never again, he swore as he slid into her tight, wet heat.
And then he groaned, overcome with the sensation of something he’d been craving for a month, something he’d been fantasizing about every night as he sat either in her bedroom or on the roof of the building next door and watched her sleep. This was as close to the Summerlands as he’d ever get while still living in this life. He sank into her, and then stopped and waited for the tension to drain from her body.
“It doesn’t hurt,” she whispered as she experimentally shifted her hips.
He groaned again. “Actually, it does. But it’s a good ache. Want more?”
Her face was still buried in the crook of his neck, but he felt her nod. He pulled almost all the way out and then slid in again, painstakingly slowly. As his body twisted more tightly and ached for release, he felt the tension slowly drain from her body. It was a heady feeling, this knowledge that he could do this to her. For her.
She trusted him now. He could tell. Her earlier tension was replaced instead by a far different kind of tension. This one he knew how to handle. He knew exactly what to do to give her relief. He pulled out and pushed into her again, and was rewarded when she ground her hips against him, telling him without words that she liked it.
He slipped his hand between their bodies. If he weren’t so damn turned on at the moment, he could probably hold out until she had another orgasm without manual stimulation, but as it was, he felt like he was about to explode any minute. So he used his hand to help her along. As she threw her head back and her body tightened around him, her fingernails scraped along his shoulders, and he thrust again and again, harder this time, as he too lost control and finally chased her over the edge.
* * * *
Sometime later, he was jostled awake when she slid out of his lap. He blinked his eyes open and watched as she climbed off the bed and bent over to retrieve her clothing off the floor. Night had fallen. The only light in the bedroom came from the artificial lights of the city, spilling in through the window. He had deliberately ensured every curtain was pulled away from every window in his apartment, knowing she would need the natural light.
“You okay?” he asked quietly.
She turned her head, held her sweater to her chest to hide her body from view, and offered a shy smile. “Yes. Sorry I woke you.”
He stretched and yawned. “It’s okay. I haven’t been getting much sleep lately. And that was a hell of a workout.” He flashed a grin. His shifter senses allowed him to see the blush staining her cheeks, despite the low light.
“I should probably go home. I could use a shower.”
“You can shower here.”
She glanced at the partially open bathroom door. It was too dark for her to be able to see the giant jet tub and shower stall with three enormous showerheads.
“I’ll join you,” Reid suggested. “I’ll scrub your back.” He hadn’t showered with a woman in years, but the idea suddenly held great appeal. Because it was Carley.
Her eyes widened and her gaze flew to his. He shook his head.
“Have you ever had a single positive sexual experience?” he asked.
“Today I did.”
He shook his head again as he slid off the bed. “Come on. Let’s give you another one.”
He used candles, instead of turning on the harsh overhead lights. Besides the romantic element, he knew the lowered lighting helped ease Carley’s nerves. And it gave him enough cover to shed his undershirt and climb into the shower with her, although he was careful to face her the entire time. He would happily scrub her back, but
she was not allowed to touch his. Or even see it.
He used a soapy washcloth to ensure she was squeaky clean and…panting with need and desire. As he slid the washcloth between her legs—again—he whispered, “Want to do it in the shower?”
“Yes,” she responded, her eyes once again glazed with desire. He decided he liked that look on her.
“Want me to sit? Or can I take you against the wall?” he asked as he massaged her breasts.
*
He was giving her a choice. Carley was so bewildered, she didn’t know how to respond. Beside the fact that she’d never had sex in the shower before, so she had no idea which way was best.
“What…what do you want?”
“You,” he responded immediately. “Any way I can get you.”
“Oh my,” she said in a breathy voice. He overwhelmed her. She had no idea what to do, what to say, how to act. All she knew was…“Um, against the wall.”
“As my lady wishes,” he murmured, and he grasped her thighs and lifted her off her feet, pressing her back against the cool tile, and holding her legs wide, while he stepped between them.
“I need you to do the honors, Carley,” he said. “My hands are occupied at the moment.”
He meant for her to touch him, to guide his erection to her opening. She stared down at that appendage, a blush creeping up her cheeks. She was grateful for his choice to use only a small grouping of candles, rather than turn on the light, when they’d made the decision to shower together. As much as she enjoyed what was happening between her and Reid, she was still far too uncomfortable in her own skin to do this with the lights on.
He watched her, but said nothing. Giving her, she knew, the choice. Again. She’d never had so much control over her own experiences before.
“You don’t have to,” he murmured. She’d hesitated too long. And then she realized she wanted to. She wanted to touch him, to figure out if her hands on his erection would give him as much pleasure as his hands on her…inside her…did.
With one arm tightly wrapped around his neck, she tentatively reached down with the other and grazed her fingernails along the length of him. She felt his body tense and his erection give a jerk. She smiled when he closed his eyes and groaned.
“Damn, that feels good,” he whispered.
Spurred by his comment, she touched him again, wrapping her entire hand around him and smoothing it up and down, familiarizing herself with that part of his body that had just given her such pleasure a short time ago.
“If you keep doing that I’m going to lose it before we get much further,” he murmured, and she froze as she realized she’d gotten lost in the pleasure of giving him pleasure.
He chuckled. “If you want to keep it up anyway, go ahead. There are plenty of other ways I can make you feel good, too.”
She contemplated his offering, wondered what other ways there were. But her body craved him. She wanted this. She wanted him inside her again. Hopefully, this would not be their one and only evening together, and she could convince him at a later date to demonstrate some of those other ways. She had never felt this way with Miguel. It was a heady feeling, this urge to actually want to couple with someone.
Reid flexed his hips. She squeezed his erection again and then guided it toward her opening, gasping when he thrust into her, pressing her back against the wall and sending her body into sensation overload.
She immediately began gyrating her hips, as he tried to maintain a slow pace.
“Faster,” she said on a gasp, once again lost in the moment. She could feel her insides clenching, squeezing, building toward what she decided was going to be a fabulous explosion. She wanted this. She needed this. “Faster,” she said again, more demanding this time, as she clung to him, and her hips moved impatiently.
He surged into her, pulled out, and surged again. Over and over. “Yeah,” he growled. “Oh yeah.” And he kept it up, faster and faster, while she urged him on, until she arched and stiffened and shrieked and came apart in his arms. He pushed her through her orgasm and then continued toward his own, and then he held her there, pressed against the wall, as he poured himself into her.
She gasped. Panic surged through her system. Her entire body went rigid. He pulled his upper body away and looked down at her. She sucked in air as if she’d been underwater for too long.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked as he gently pulled out and slowly lowered her to her feet. He sounded so damned concerned. That alone went a long way toward tamping the panic.
“Sorry,” she muttered with her eyes closed, as she fought to regain control. “I just—it’s just—I didn’t mean to ruin it.”
“You didn’t.”
“Oh good,” she said on a sigh.
“Tell me,” he commanded, as he grabbed a washcloth and quickly cleaned himself up. He lifted the cloth as if he intended to clean her as well, but then hesitated. He seemed to instinctively know that she might not yet be ready for him to touch her again. Instincts, hell—it was pretty damn obvious by the way she was breathing heavily, her entire body once again tense with agitation. She felt another strong urge to tell him, to be honest about her past. It was an unusual feeling for her, as she’d done her best to close that particular door and never speak of it, to anyone.
“I always used to feel like I was suffocating,” she said. “You know, when…” She waved her hand feebly.
“When I came and pressed you too hard against the wall,” he guessed.
She nodded. “Except it was always on the bed, and I was always on my back.” She touched his chest. “It’s not your fault,” she assured him. “I’m okay now.”
He lifted the washcloth, silently asking her permission. She nodded so he slid the washcloth between her legs and whispered, “I don’t like it missionary style anyway.”
Chapter 5
“Spend the night with me.”
She hesitated. “Will I be safe?”
“From me? Not in the least.”
She laughed. He liked that he could make her laugh so readily. He suspected she’d not had much cause for joy in her past life.
“But I will keep you safe from the rest of the world,” he promised, because he knew she needed to hear the words. Like him, she was running from her past. The difference, he suspected, was that her past wasn’t dead. It could find her. And that terrified her.
After doing his best to reassure her that he could care less if they ever had sex missionary style, he had stepped out of the shower, quickly dried himself, and left the bathroom, leaving her to do her after shower routine alone, while he rushed to his dresser, pulled out an undershirt and slipped it over his head.
By the time she opened the door and walked into the bedroom, he wore a pair of lounge pants and the shirt, and held two glasses of wine in his hands. She took one of the glasses, sipped, and then he watched as the tension drained from her shoulders. They had walked out into the living room, but before they could sit down on the couch, he’d asked her to stay. And then he abruptly pulled her into his arms, squeezed her tightly for a moment before letting her go.
“What was that for?” she asked, stepping out of his embrace, canting her head to the side, and giving him a curious look.
“I promise, you’re safe with me.” He meant it. He would kill anyone who threatened her. Anyone.
He sat on the couch and pulled her down next to him, so close she was practically in his lap. She curled up against his side, tucking her feet underneath her. Her eyes already looked tired. He was willing to bet she’d be asleep before she finished that glass of wine.
“Why do you work evenings?” he asked. “Given your need for sunlight, I would think you would work in one of those restaurants that only serve breakfast and lunch.”
“I wouldn’t be able to express my culinary creativity nearly as much as I can where I work now. When I cooked for the king, I always had carte blanche, and until Tanner took over, an endless budget too.”
His entire body tensed. “
Tanner took over?” he repeated. “Tanner Lyons?” While Carley had previously confirmed that Tanner was mated to the lightbearers’ princess, she had not mentioned that meant he had actually become pack master.
A shifter, pack master over a coterie full of lightbearers?
“Well, the king is still the figurehead, but everyone knows Tanner runs the show now.”
“What sort of leader is he?” Reid had often wondered how different the son was from the father.
“A good one,” Carley confirmed, yawning widely. “The king had overspent the royal coffers, and Tanner managed to get us back into solid financial shape, within just a few months. One of the things he did was reduce the queen’s parties to once a quarter, instead of once or twice a week.”
She spoke with her eyes closed. Her voice was low and slurred with impending sleep. Reid wanted to ask her more questions about the coterie and Tanner. He had been so long with no communication with any other shifters.
He gently tugged the wineglass out of her hand and placed it on the coffee table. She snuggled into the crook of his arm. The corners of her mouth lifted into a sleepy smile. “You can take advantage of me again if you want.”
“I think I can wait,” he said drily. “I prefer my women to be active participants in the bedroom.”
“I prefer you in the bedroom,” was her mumbled reply.
He chuckled. “Glad to hear it.” He slid off the couch, pulling her into his arms, and carried her to the bed. “I’d like it if you slept naked, though.”
She didn’t open her eyes, but her lips lifted again. He laid her on the bed and quickly divested her of her clothing. After a moment’s hesitation, he shed his pants, and his shirt. Then he climbed into the bed, crowding her, wrapping his body around her much smaller form. She turned to him, her arm snaking around his waist, as she nuzzled his chest. Within seconds, her breathing became steady and rhythmic. She was asleep.
He had so many questions about the coterie, about Tanner, about the life she’d left behind. He hadn’t realized how much he truly did crave interaction with his own kind, until she came into his life.
