Werewolf in Las Vegas: Wild About You

by Thompson, Vicki Lewis

  She laughed. “I don’t know. I’ve never had the multi-jet experience before. Will I overload on pleasure?”

  “I hope so.” He held out his hand. “That’s my goal.”

  “Mmm.” She gazed at him with those emerald-green eyes. “And you’re a goal-oriented person, just like your sister, so I’d better watch out. This shower sound like the setting for an orgy.”

  “A two-person orgy would be a good description.”

  “You’ve done this before?”

  He shook his head. “I told you that I haven’t brought a woman up here until tonight.”

  “So how do you know so much about the shower? Have you been having a little solo fun in there?”

  He didn’t usually admit such things to a sexual partner, but Giselle invited honesty. “Maybe a time or two. But my equipment is decidedly different from yours. What I have in mind for you is a product of my imagination.”

  Heat blazed in her green eyes. “You’ve certainly fired up mine.”

  He gestured toward the walk-in marble enclosure, complete with a built-in marble bench. The water beat a steady tattoo against the creamy walls. “After you.”

  She stepped into the spray, raised her arms, closed her eyes, and turned in a slow circle. “Ah. Wonderful. No more sticky chocolate.” Arching her neck, she let the pelting water sluice through her hair until it hung in a slick curtain down her back.

  Luke swallowed a moan of longing. He’d heard of mythical water nymphs, and now he knew what they must look like. The high-intensity lights in the ceiling created rainbows in the mist and turned the rivulets of water sliding over her body to ribbons of silver. He’d never seen anything so beautiful in his life. He ached to have her, and sex was only part of it. He’d always wondered if he’d know when the right one came along. Well, fate hadn’t been kind to him. The right one didn’t want him for the long haul. That wasn’t fair, but he’d have to suck it up and deal.

  In the meantime, she was here, standing in his shower, and he had pleasure to provide. “Keep your eyes closed. Let me give you a tactile tour of the place.”

  She laughed. “Okay.”

  “Hold out your hand.”

  She stretched out her right hand. So graceful, that hand. She had apricot polish on her toes, but her fingernails were bare. No rings, either. She was unfettered and seemed to like it that way.

  He grasped her right hand with his, like a handshake, and slipped his other arm around her slick shoulders. “This way.” He guided her gently toward a spot where the jet was about crotch high—hers, not his. Water spattered on them from all sides as they moved across the marble floor, which was subtly ridged for safety.

  “This feels like one of those trust games, where you’re blindfolded and let your partner lead you around.”

  “Mmm, blindfolds. Kinky.” His balls tightened. “Want to try that after we dry off?”

  “After the way you described this shower experience, I might need a nap afterward.”

  “It’s possible.” He rebelled at that idea, and then his conscience pricked him. Just because he didn’t want to sleep while they had a chance to be alone didn’t mean she felt the same. “Okay, stop here, and turn this way.” He edged her around until she faced the jet from about two feet away.

  “Oh.” She trembled as the water beat firmly against the tops of her thighs. “I think I get this idea already.”

  “Move up a little and spread your feet apart.” He lifted her hand to the moist wall. “Brace yourself with your hands on the wall.”

  “Oh, Luke. If you let this secret out…” She groaned and stepped a little closer.

  That’s when he realized that two side jets were also stimulating her nipples. He hadn’t figured out that would happen. Bonus. He really didn’t have to do a thing. He could stand back and watch the jets do their work.

  But that was no fun. Dropping to his knees behind her, he nuzzled her firm backside.

  She gasped. “Luke, no.”

  “Easy.” With her enthusiasm for sex, he was surprised she seemed to be resistant to doggie style. “Just let me touch you. You’re so pretty back here.” Kissing her smooth cheek, he felt her quivering response.

  Maybe she only needed a little coaxing, and now that she was breathing quickly, nearing her first climax, would be the time. As he slipped two fingers into her moist channel, her spasms began. She surrendered to her climax with a wail as he used quick strokes to heighten the sensation of the jets. Her cries echoed against the walls of the shower.

  Her contractions subsided for a brief moment, and then he felt her tighten around him again. She moaned and pushed against the motion of his fingers. Her hips lifted, inviting him deeper. She wanted this, wanted more than this.

  His cock swelled in response. Standing, he grasped her hips. With one firm thrust, he sank deep. When he was buried up to the hilt, primitive instinct took over and he went a little crazy.

  The rapid slap of his thighs against hers beat in rhythm to the staccato sounds of their breathing, their groans, and finally, a climax that found them both at the same moment. She was loud, but he was louder, yelling at the top of his lungs, wild with the glory of it.

  They stayed coupled together as the jets beat all around them. Luke had thought he’d experienced sex with Giselle before, but he hadn’t touched the very core of her until now.

  She dragged in a breath and uttered one soft word. “Enough.”

  He understood. Sliding his hand around her body, he cupped her mound, shielding it from the jet. Then he wrapped his other arm under her breasts as he slowly eased his cock free.

  Although he was a little shaky, he called on his iron will. Turning her limp body around, he lifted her and carried her out of the shower. She would hate it if he put her back in that sticky bed, but the comforter was lying in a heap at the foot of it.

  When he laid her down on it, she made a sound of protest.

  “It’s fine.” Walking back into the bathroom, he grabbed up several large towels, also white. He’d been thorough in his color-coordination efforts.

  She lay curled on her side when he returned, but when he began drying her, she rolled to her back and opened her eyes. He didn’t know what he’d expected to find there, but it hadn’t been fear. She looked terrified.

  A million thoughts ran through his head. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “I can’t tell you.”

  “If you don’t tell me, how can I fix it?”

  “You can’t fix this. Nobody can. But…we shouldn’t have sex anymore.”

  Her statement hit him like a medicine ball to the gut. “Look, I’m sorry. But you acted as if you wanted—”

  “I did. I wanted you to do exactly what you did, and that’s why we have to stop having sex.”

  He frowned. “Giselle, there’s nothing wrong with that position. People have sex like that all the time.”

  “I know.”

  “Did someone tell you it was wrong? Were you taught that?”

  “No. I was taught that anything that brings pleasure to both partners is fine, but…”

  “But what? Did I hurt you?”

  “No.” Some of the fear left her eyes. “I loved it. And that’s why we can’t have sex anymore.”

  He stared at her. “You’re not making any sense. I can’t speak for you, although you said you loved what just happened. As for me, it was the best sexual experience of my life, bar none. I’ve never felt so deeply connected to a woman as I did while I was making love to you in that shower.”

  “Oh, God.” She buried her face in her hands. “I know! I know! That’s the problem!”

  Frustration made him get agitated. “How can it be a problem? Are you engaged? Married? You’re not wearing any rings, and you sure have acted like you were single, but if there’s another guy, then damn it, tell me!”

  She looked up and her expression was bleak. “There’s no one else. But there is a reason why we can’t ever be together, and I can’t tell you w
hat it is. I thought we could have a little sexual fun together and be done, but that’s not how it’s turning out.”

  “Hm.” Some of his indignation leaked away as he saw how truly miserable she was. “Well, I can’t imagine what this big secret is that you can’t reveal.” Then he had a terrible thought. “Please don’t tell me you have a horrible disease. No, wait. Please do tell me, so that I can help.”

  “You are so sweet.” She seemed on the verge of tears. “I’m not dying, and I’m not sick. Not at all. But thanks for the sympathy you would have given me if I were.”

  Luke blew out a breath, hugely relieved. “Thank God. But that leaves…” He racked his brain for a logical explanation. “I know. You have psychotic episodes. Maybe you even killed someone and your family covered it up. You’re afraid it could happen again, so you can’t get deeply involved with anyone. And you had your tubes tied to make sure the trait wasn’t passed on.” He glanced at her. “Is that it?”

  She shook her head. “I’m not psychotic. Stupid, yes. Psychotic, no.” She gazed up at him. “Can’t you just accept that we have no future and let it go at that?”

  “Absolutely! I thought we’d covered the subject and we’d have lots of no-strings sex until you left for ’Frisco. I was onboard with that. Then you announce we can’t have sex, after all.”

  “I’m afraid we’re going to fall in love.”

  Once again, he was sucker-punched. Yeah, it could happen. Probably had begun already, but he wasn’t a poker player for nothing. “Hell, no, we’re not! This is about sex, lady, not love. Do you see me writing you little notes? Bringing you flowers? Finding out your birthday?”

  “No.” For the first time since they’d left the bathroom, she managed a tiny smile.

  “That’s what I do when I’m falling in love, and if you don’t notice those behaviors, you can safely assume I’m only here for the S-E-X and nothing else.”

  “But you looked really upset when you thought I might be sick.”

  “Hey, I tear up at sad movies. I hate hearing about tragedies thousands of miles away. You could be a total stranger and I’d still be upset if you said you were really sick.”

  She cocked her head to study him.

  He stared right back. Her hair was a disaster, soggy strands that desperately needed to be combed out. All her makeup had been washed away, which meant he could see the pale freckles sprinkled across her nose. She was a knockout.

  “How about if I crack jokes while we’re having sex?” he said. “Will that convince you this is strictly a physical attraction?”

  “Do you know a lot of jokes?”

  Hope bloomed where before had stretched a Giselle-less desert. “Will I need a lot of jokes?”

  She grinned at him. “You might.”

  “Aha!” Moving over her, he urged her back onto the quilt and settled himself between her thighs. All this depressing talk had taken the lead out of his pencil, but in this position he’d be good to go in no time. “These three monkeys walked into a bar, and the first monkey said—”

  “You’re wonderful.”

  “No, he didn’t say that. He said—”

  “I mean you are wonderful, Luke Dalton. Now kiss me and quit talking about monkeys.”

  So he kissed her and silently congratulated himself on dodging a bullet. He also hoped he still had a joke book tucked away somewhere.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Giselle had more sex that night than she’d known was possible. Once they’d agreed a bed would be more comfortable than the floor, Luke had suggested moving to a different bedroom. Apparently, the penthouse had several. But Giselle had become fond of this bedroom and this particular bed, so she’d asked to stay.

  Consequently, they’d stripped off the chocolate-covered bottom sheet and put on the top sheet. Only one pillowcase was smeared, which left three others for them to use. When they’d added the comforter, dry side down, they’d been in business.

  Eventually exhaustion had claimed them in the early-morning hours, and they’d slept. Giselle woke up first, as pale light filtered in from the window. She was disoriented until she glanced over and saw Luke sleeping peacefully beside her.

  He was quite an Adonis, this human male she’d chosen as her one-and-only non-Were sexual partner. His dark blond hair was tousled from wild sex and deep sleep. He had a tiny spot of blood on his jaw where he’d nicked himself shaving in the middle of the night.

  She’d tried to talk him out of that scheme, but he’d insisted that good oral sex required a clean shave, and he wasn’t forgoing it because he was too lazy to get out his razor. She’d been the beneficiary of that resolve, and thinking about it made her flush with pleasure all over again.

  He’d followed that with some good old-fashioned missionary sex that had curled her toes. And, boy, did he have staying power. She’d heard rumors that human males didn’t possess the stamina of a Were when it came to the duration of each episode and frequency of said episodes. If Luke Dalton was typical, then the rumors were dead wrong.

  She didn’t think he was typical, though. True, having sex without a condom seemed to inspire him. Yet even taking that factor into account, his performance was nothing short of amazing. She, who’d always prided herself on being sexually fit, had begun to wonder if she’d be able to ride her rented motorcycle the next day.

  If not, it was her own fault. After the shower incident, she’d made the decision to pull away from this unwise attraction. She could have stuck to her guns and not allowed him to charm her right back into his arms. But her willpower, something she’d always been so proud of, seemed to be AWOL when it came to Luke.

  She melted every time he smiled at her. Then warning bells would clang in her head because she shouldn’t be melting at the sight of a human male’s smile. A loud siren screeched when she remembered that fateful moment in the shower when she’d allowed him to take her from behind.

  Luckily, it hadn’t been a binding. They would have had to be on all fours for that, but still…they’d skated dangerously close to having Were-style sex. Worse yet, she’d wanted to have that kind of sex with him.

  She’d even fantasized breaking her self-imposed rule against Were-human mating. Others had done it. The Wallace brothers from New York, Aidan and Roarke, both had human mates and seemed very happy. More recently Jake Hunter, the Alaskan Were who’d been so opposed to mating with humans, had done an about-face and chosen human Rachel Miller.

  But she knew of only one female Were who’d taken a human mate. Penny Stillman from the Stillman pack in Denver had abandoned her Were family so that she could live as a human and marry in the human way. She hadn’t told her husband, Tom, she was Were and had insisted on adopting children to guarantee she wouldn’t end up with werewolf offspring.

  Now that Giselle was involved with Luke, she could understand Penny’s decision to live a lie. The truth might have driven away the love of her life. But whether he had stayed or not, he would have become the guardian of a dangerous secret, one he’d have to keep from every human he knew, including those he loved. It was a burden that some had agreed to carry, including the three human female mates Giselle knew of. But a Were always had to consider whether it was fair to ask such a thing of the human they loved.

  Ultimately, Giselle couldn’t imagine choosing Penny’s solution, but expecting Luke to deal with the secrecy seemed presumptuous. Neither choice was a good one, which meant she had to let him go, and he would never know why. She should be filled with regret for allowing this relationship to happen.

  Whatever it said about her, she didn’t regret any of it. She didn’t think Luke did, either. He’d made it clear that he’d take what was offered and be grateful. If they dealt with heartache when all was said and done, it was the price they’d both pay. Speaking for herself, she would willingly pay that price for the memories she’d have of loving Luke.

  His nose twitched and he reached up to scratch it. Then, slowly, those dark lashes, surprising for his fair co
loring, lifted, revealing his blue-eyed gaze. He ran a tongue over his lips. “Did you hear the one about the fireman and the pole dancer?”

  She chuckled. “If that’s an invitation for another round of mattress bingo, I should probably pass. I need to be able to function today, and I’m not sure I can walk.”

  “Really?” He pushed himself to a sitting position. “Did I hurt you? I didn’t mean to—”

  “It’s okay, you sweet man. I could have stopped you at any time, but I was having too much fun.”

  His frown turned to a grin. “So it’s a good kind of sore?”

  “Uh-huh. Every little twinge today will remind me of you.”

  “Good.” He looked quite pleased with himself.

  “You’ll be on my mind constantly.”

  “And vice versa. Manly men don’t usually reveal such things, but I’m a little sensitive this morning, too.”

  “So what was the deal with starting off with a joke? It sounded like a signal that you wanted to get it on.”

  He pushed the comforter away and stroked her breast. “I do. I’d put up with a little discomfort for the ultimate reward.”

  Delicious tension coiled tighter with every movement of his hand. “Keep that up and I’ll agree with you.”

  “Nope. If you’re sore, then we need to back off for a little while.” Leaning down, he kissed the swell of her breast before hopping nimbly out of bed. “I’ll go get your suitcase out of the guest room and then I’ll start a bath for you.” He grabbed his phone from the top of the low dresser. “Mr. Thatcher can bring up Epsom salts.” His thumbs typed in a message. “You can soak your tender parts while we wait for breakfast.”

  Epsom salts and a bath. She felt cherished in a way that she hadn’t felt with her Were lovers. Then she realized why. Werewolves healed their injuries by shifting. If she shifted into wolf form and back again, her soreness would disappear.

  Her Were lovers had known this. They hadn’t needed to worry about any issues, from love bites to overworked muscles. She could take care of herself.