Dire Wolves Whiteout

by Shelby Morgen

  “You were gone so long, I didn’t think you were coming back.”

  “What did I tell you? Didn’t I promise to keep you safe? How could I do that if I didn’t come back?”

  “But… I never told you… and then you were gone… and I remembered the lunatic with the silver bullets was still out there…”

  He kissed her eyelids, her cheeks, before he cradled her head in his hand and tucked it under his chin. “I may leave, baby, but I’ll always come back. I promise.”

  “I should have told you, John… I love you.”

  “You told me. In every way that matters. You gave me something I never thought I’d have again, Zan. A reason to want to live as a man. I love you more than I ever thought I could love anyone, ever again.”

  A single sob shook her, before she shoved it down, and her medical training took over. “Come into the office. Let me look at your eye. Have you put anything on that? Let me…”

  John’s expression turned serious. “I’m OK, Zan. I’ll heal. There’s only one thing I need right now. You.”

  Uncertainty flickered in his eyes for a moment, and Zan sensed a deep vulnerability behind that Alpha Male façade. His body would heal. His heart -- that was in her hands. This time she wasn’t afraid to tell him what she wanted. She slid her hand between them, into the waistband of his jeans. His whole body trembled when she circled the head of his cock with her fingertip. “I think you missed me.”

  The muscles along his jaw bunched beneath the smooth shaven skin. “Zan…”

  “I missed you.”

  “Gods…”

  She worked his zipper down, freeing enough of his cock to stroke the head and wrap her hand around the shaft. “I want you, John.”

  His mouth opened and closed, and he had to try again. “Here?”

  “Any time. Anywhere. And yes. Here. Now.”

  She didn’t have to tell him twice. The duffle bag hit the barn floor. John spun her around, pressing her ass against the Jeep’s fender. With her grip on his waist still holding her steady, he fumbled with her zipper. She let go of his cock long enough to help him out, wiggling the jeans down her hips as far as she could before they both figured out that was never going to work. “You can’t take your pants off here,” he argued. “You’ll freeze your ass off.” He pulled himself back together, scooped up his duffle bag, and settled her on his hip like a toddler. “And your crew’s here. Tell ’em you’ll be back later.”

  Zan peered around his shoulder and waved. “Manage without me for a while, guys. I’m gonna get laid.”

  Uncertain laughter turned into a chorus of cheers. John tipped his hat in their general direction and carted her up the small hill to the kitchen door. A potted plant hit the sink as he skimmed off her parka and deposited her on the counter. He made another try at her jeans, this time pulling them all the way down off her legs, her undies and barn shoes along with them, then shucked her shirt off over her head. From an outside pocket on the duffle bag he fished out a handful of gas station condoms, spilling them across the countertop.

  “Not this time,” she said, pushing them out of the way.

  “Zan? Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, I’m sure. Endangered species, remember?”

  He stilled for a moment, resting his cheek between her breasts, and she almost thought she felt him sob. She wrapped her arms around his head, wondering for a moment where his hat had gone, sweeping her fingers through the stubble of his military cut. “Your hair,” she moaned. “What happened to all the gorgeous hair?”

  “Undercover assignment. It’ll grow back.”

  “It’d better.” And then he popped the clasp on her bra and she forgot how to speak as her heavy breasts spilled out into his waiting hands. He sucked one puffed nipple deep into his mouth, grinding his jean clad cock against her naked pussy while she squirmed. “God, I missed you.”

  “I missed you,” he managed around her nipple, though the words came out garbled. He let go with a wet pop. “Gods, how I missed you.” He licked her other nipple, as if to make sure it didn’t feel neglected. “I hated having to leave. No matter where I go, I’ll always come back. I don’t want to be anywhere but wherever you are.”

  Something exploded within her. She thought she’d loved him before -- loved him enough to let him go -- but this, this was different. This was a different kind of love. One that would hold him in her heart forever. “I’ll be here,” she promised. “It’s not home till you’re with me.”

  He kicked off his jeans faster than she’d known a man could, pulled her to the edge of the counter, and, with one sharp thrust, buried himself in her, his cock hot and thick and pulsing with need.

  “Oh, God, you feel good.” Home. He was home.

  “Hell yeah.”

  Zan smacked his shoulder playfully. “You know what I mean.” She tore at his buttons, freeing his shirt and pushing it back off his shoulders. She was right. Soft and worn from much washing, smooth as silk. Loosing one hand at a time, he shrugged the shirt off, letting it join the clothes scattered about her kitchen floor.

  He drew back a little, then thrust in again. “Now I feel even better.”

  “Do that again.”

  He repeated the move, teasing her pussy with just a taste of what she wanted. “Like that?”

  “Just like that.” It wasn’t enough, and it was too much, all at the same time. “I need you. Fuck me, John Wolfe!”

  That was all she had to say. All he needed to hear. John pulled out and slammed back in again, hard, rocking her backwards with each thrust. She was his. Nothing would ever change that. Not this time. She grasped at the edges of the countertop, frantically trying to match his rhythm, like a dancer out of step. He grasped her hips and held her, pulling her to him as he thrust, and back on the down stroke. So hot. So wet. So needy. All for him. He had to slow down, or he’d never last…

  “Oh, God! Fuck me! Harder!”

  He felt the burning need spear up inside him, and his cock thickened, the knot swelling within her. Though she didn’t have the tight ring of muscles that would tie them together, her pussy contracted around him, and that was all he needed. He pistoned his hips, thrusting harder and deeper with every thrust, his balls tight and high, slamming into her with each stroke.

  “Oh, oh, oh!” She clawed at his arms, convulsing each time the thick bulge of his knot hit her G-spot, throwing her head back, barely missing the cabinet doors as she came again and again.

  “Home,” he whispered next to her ear.

  “Home,” she agreed.

  And when he tipped back his head to howl his conquest to the world, she joined him. Her pitch wasn’t quite right, but he’d never heard a sweeter sound. Jet after jet of hot seed pumped into her, his orgasm washing over him in long, slow waves. Sucking in deep, panting breaths, he laid his forehead against her shoulder. Her arms tangled about him, holding him close as the tension slowly faded.

  “John?”

  “Mmmm?”

  “The man with the silver bullets? Tell me he won’t come after you again.”

  “He won’t come after anyone again. Not him, not the rest of his fanatical friends.”

  “How did you find them? I know you couldn’t track through the storm. We tried. He must have been counting on the weather to hide his tracks when he went hunting you.”

  “Hey, it’s the twenty-first century, love. Just search for whack jobs on the web. I guarantee you’ll find plenty. Narrowing the search down a bit took some time, but nothing’s impossible.” He fumbled blindly with his duffle bag and found the pocket he was looking for. “I thought your friends at the sanctuary might want these.”

  “Are those…”

  “Silver bullets. What’s left of them.” He paused, hesitant to tell her the rest. “Zan… the man I took those from… he’d been here before. In your home. I knew his scent.”

  “Steven…” She laughed, a harsh little sound that didn’t speak of humor. “So it wasn’t me. It was you he was a
fter. He must have been trying to use the sanctuary as a way to track you down. Tell me he won’t be coming back.”

  “No one will hunt us again.”

  “What about the cops? Evil as those men were, they’re still dead humans.”

  “The Wolfskinned have their own ways. This was justice long overdue. I didn’t go alone. The council sanctioned the clean up, and your government doesn’t interfere with Tribal law.”

  “Tribal… Of course. The Feds would have to have some way to classify you. Does your council know about me? About us?”

  “Yes. Though I would like to present you formally and claim you as my mate before the elders. But they know of you, and the work you do here. You are already under council protection. Others guarded the sanctuary for me while I was away.”

  She gasped. “There’s been a big wolf hanging around the sanctuary the last week or so. He’s one of you?”

  “Didn’t I tell you? Wolves mate for life. And we protect what’s ours.”

  Shelby Morgen

  Shelby must be insane. What else would have led her to start an online publishing company? Shelby shares her belief in electronic publishing with her long-time friend and business partner, Bill, her husband of 27+ years. Perhaps the insanity is contagious.

  Shelby loves writing off beat tales that defy as many rules as possible. She likes chocolate with her peanut butter, suspense with her romance, and kink with her sex. She’s always had a hard time keeping science fiction, fantasy, and paranormal from mixing with her kink. Fortunately for Shelby, electronic publishing has opened many new doors for cross-genre authors and artists.

  Author, editor, publisher, and Slayer of Pirates, Shelby has the coolest job ever -- she’s the keeper of dreams. Visit her website at www.ShelbyMorgen.com for her latest releases. For a heads up on new stuff, you’re welcome to join her Yahoo! group, http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ShelbyMorgen/join.

  Email Shelby at ShelbyMorgen@yahoo.com or blog with Shelby and Treva at Loose Change, their Publishing Insider’s blog: http://treva2007.livejournal.com.