“No.” When she lifted her head from the pillow her earrings jingled faintly. She stretched her arms over her head with a wicked smile, arching her back to offer herself to him. “Do whatever you want.”
What he wanted to do was rip the sweatpants off her and bury himself deep inside her heat. The way her arched body pressed her groin against his aching cock did nothing to help his control.
“Anything I want?” he growled.
A sliver of caution darkened her pale blue eyes. “Within reason. I don’t like pain very much.”
“Just a little? How much? Is this too much?” He dove back to her breast, sucking it into his mouth with hard pressure, rolling the rigid nipple between his teeth before letting go. “How’s that?”
Her head was thrown back on the pillow, her eyes clenched shut. A frisson of alarm raised him up on his elbows. “Connie, was I too rough? Did I hurt you?”
“Oh, hell, no. I think the fireworks are getting started. Keep going.”
He gave his attention to the other breast. His mouth was demanding on her nipple, but the hand he explored her body with was gentle. He stroked from her collarbone, over the mound of her breast, to her ribs and the curve of her hip. He hesitated at the waist of the sweatpants, but when she lifted against him again he slid his hand past the drawstring. She wore small tight underpants of some slippery material. No one he knew wore underclothes. It was just another thing to take off to make the change to wolf. Imagining these, though, hardened his cock even more. His fingers inched into the underpants and found warm soft hair.
“Moving pretty fast, aren’t you?” Connie said, putting her hands on his shoulders. “We have all night and you haven’t even kissed me yet.”
He chuckled, stroking a finger along the seam he found between her legs. When he lowered his head to her mouth, he teased himself by just brushing his lips back and forth over hers in the same rhythm as his finger between her legs. Connie murmured approval, fisting her hands in his hair. He never liked wearing his hair loose, but he liked having his mate’s hands in it. It was an intimacy he’d never allowed with anyone else, even the woman he’d visited in Omaha. He slid his tongue inside her mouth at the same moment he speared a finger inside the passage between her legs. Wet heat enveloped both, wringing a shudder of delight from him.
“Did you see fireworks?” he whispered in her ear.
“Just little cherry bombs,” she retorted. “Kiss me again.”
Des didn’t know what a cherry bomb was, but from her tone, it was a negligible thing, and he was determined to meet her challenge. He kissed her again, while his finger played with her below.
“Des.” His mate’s voice was a panting sigh against his lips. “Take my pants off.”
“I don’t want to move too fast,” he said, at his most deadpan.
“What?” She looked up at him with confusion in the guttering light of the lamp, then smacked a fist against his arm. “You have a sense of humor! Who knew?”
“It’s a secret,” he said with dignity that dissolved when she began squirming against his erection to pull her pants down.
“Slowly!” he yelped. “Let me.”
She stared up at him for a moment before relaxing and spreading her arms out to the sides. “Okay. I’m waiting.”
He threw back the covers to expose her fully and began drawing the pants down her legs. He was careful to leave her underpants in place because he wanted to see them on her. It was like unwrapping the present the Lupa had given him for Christmas a few days ago, but better. This was his mate. She was accepting his mate claim at last. Her legs were long and white. Her hips and thighs were lusciously padded with feminine softness, and her calves were hard with muscle. Her ankle, the one that had been so grievously injured, was marred with red scars that might never fade. He leaned down to kiss the signs of her bravery.
“Does it hurt right now?” he asked.
“My ankle? No, not right now.”
Finally, he allowed himself to look at her, his mate, lying bare in his bed except for the tiny blue panties she wore. A small triangle of silk hid the place he’d been stroking, and black lace went around the sides of her hips. They must be something from the Times Before. Or maybe not. What did he know about women’s underclothes? They were pretty, though. He didn’t want to damage them, so he was very gentle when he pulled them down her legs. He tossed them on the floor beside the bed just as the lamp died with a sputter.
The darkness didn’t hide the lovely sight of his mate from his wolf-born sight. She was so beautiful to him. The flesh between her spread thighs was flushed with desire. It tempted him to explore, so he did until he realized her skin of her thighs was cold. He quickly drew the covers over them.
“Sorry,” he whispered. “I forgot you’d be cold.”
He shivered when his mate reached for his cock to slide her hand up and down his length. She put her other arm around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. “What are you going to do to warm me up?”
“I have a few ideas.” He used a knee to part her legs. “This one is my favorite.” And he pressed his cock, inch by slow inch, into her hot, silky body.
Connie trembled, overcome with hot desire. The complete darkness in the room made the sensation of his cock driving into her even more intense. Her moan came out of her as if his cock pushed it out. God, it was good! He felt even thicker than he had looked. His size had both excited her and made her a little nervous. He moved slowly enough to allow her body to adjust for him, though, so there was no discomfort, only a wonderful feeling of fullness. She lifted her knees to hook her ankles together over his ass.
“You feel so good,” she whispered. “I’m ready for fireworks.”
“If my mate wants fireworks, I’ll give her fireworks,” he promised.
It was the flat tone he’d always used, but now she knew he hid dry humor behind it. “Light ’em up!” she invited, using her heels to nudge his ass into action.
“Hold on,” he ordered, and began to move.
Boy, could he move! His first strokes were languorously gentle, but after a few moments she was meeting him thrust for thrust, and he left languor behind. She was sure if the bed frame wasn’t bolted to the floor it would be slamming against the wall. Her earrings chimed in time with Des’ thrusts, a reminder of Paul that she shoved away to focus on Des. The angle of his penetration, or perhaps it was just his size, pushed his cock continually over her g-spot with exquisite pressure. Orgasm was close. So close.
“Des!” she cried, holding on to his long hair for dear life. “The fireworks are coming. Just need a bigger spark, just a little more—Ah!”
Orgasm crashed over her, with waves that seemed to go forever. When her body finally stopped shaking, she was embarrassed by the scream she’d let out, but she remembered his frenzied howl roaring out over her scream. Des was slumped, unmoving, over her, like a heavy bearskin rug oozing male satisfaction with each panting breath. She gave a half-hearted shove at his chest to get him to move.
He shifted a bit so most of his body weight was off her, but his face was still buried in her neck. “I think you scalped me,” he murmured.
Her hands jerked open, releasing his hair. “Sorry!”
“I’m not.” There was no mistaking the smugness in his voice. “Did you see fireworks?”
She forced the inappropriate giggles back. “Oh, yeah. In Technicolor.”
“I don’t know what that is, but it sounds good.”
“It was better than good.” She flexed her toes against the mattress to savor the last rise and ebb of orgasm. “It was amazing.”
“I agree. Amazing.” He brushed his lips over the pulse thundering in her throat. “I love you.”
She stared into the dark, toes clenching. “Des.” Her voice got caught in her throat. She coughed slightly. “We had sex. Great sex. But that’s not love.”
She felt his hands cup her face, turning her in the dark to where he must be. “You’re right. Sex isn’t lo
ve. In the first couple of years after my mother was killed, I went to Omaha every few months, and I bought sex from a good lady named Jade. I liked her, and I liked the sex, but I didn’t love her. It’s different with you.”
She shouldn’t ask. She should change the subject. Really. “How is it different?”
His lips touched her temple in a light caress. “You’re my mate.”
“Oh.” She shifted her shoulders in the snug hollow their lovemaking had made in the feather tick. “We don’t actually know each other well enough to have fallen in love.” She hated the hesitant note in her voice, and firmed her face in the dark. “Love takes time.”
“It does,” he agreed. “For some people. The moment I knew you were my mate I began to love you. Since then, I’ve grown to love you more every time I saw you.”
“You did?” Inwardly, she slapped herself for her breathlessly hopeful tone. “How could you? We barely spoke.”
“I watched you. A lot. Didn’t you notice?”
She had noticed him enough to fuel hot erotic dreams that didn’t begin to compare to reality, but she didn’t tell him that. “No, not really.”
“I saw how you did everything you could to help the women in your house. I watched you try to balance your need for food, clothing, heating, and house repairs against the demands of the men in Kearney.”
Hell, yeah. Pushy men like Dick Dickinson had offered food and more woodstoves in exchange for more access to the women. They needed those things, but her women weren’t objects for trade. She drummed her fingertips against her bare thigh under the blanket. Maybe Faron hadn’t bargained as hard as he should have, allowing more freedoms to those men than Connie liked. Now she knew the reason for it: he had hoped the exposure would ensure the women found husbands before spring.
“But now we have you.” Connie felt herself relax. She fumbled in the dark to stroke his hair and caress his shoulder. “You promised to protect us.”
“You and the women are my Pack now. What do you think about Hawk, Red Wing, and a few more of the wolves coming and living at the House? They’ll increase security, and Renee and Marissa will live there too.”
Connie relaxed just a little more. “I think that’s good.” She surprised herself with a jaw-cracking yawn.
“Sleep now, mate. I love you.”
She twitched. “Des…”
“Shh,” he whispered. I know. We don’t need to figure it all out tonight.” He lay on his side and pulled the covers securely around them. “Sleep.”
She wanted to say she loved him, but she wouldn’t lie. Unless this first time was a fluke, the sex would be great, so that part wouldn’t be a hardship. He had asked her about having other wolves come live at the house instead of issuing a command, so apparently he would share responsibility with her and include her in decision making. She felt something for him. Lust, liking, and respect weren’t a bad start to a strange marriage like theirs. Love would come with time.
She snuggled her back against his front and curled her fingers around his big hand where it rested on her waist. “Good night, Des.”
Note from the Author
Does Connie ever love Des as much as he loves her? Find out in Wolf's Oath, a stand alone book in
Maddy Barone's After the Crash series, available at online retailers.
Discover Wolf’s Oath.
Learn more about Maddy Barone at:
www.maddybarone.com
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Size Matters
by Stephanie Julian
Part of the Lovers on the Fringe series
You know what they say about the size of a man's feet...
Tim has rescued Carrie after her car crashed in his snowy woods. Carrie is under the impression she picked him up at a bar last night. She's pretty damn proud of herself...
Carrie woke to pitch black.
She was naked and warm, cocooned between firm, hot silk and soft, warm cotton.
No, not silk. Skin.
Okay, that was interesting. Not bad, just… She didn’t remember going home from the bar with a guy last night.
In fact, she couldn’t remember going to Third and Spruce last night.
And this didn’t feel like home.
What she did feel was safe. And Carrie always trusted her instincts. Before she’d taken the job with the Journal, her father had praised her ability to assess any situation in seconds.
Right now, she sensed the absolute security of her surroundings and the desire emanating from the man—definitely a man—holding her on his lap.
What she couldn’t remember was how she’d gotten here.
She wriggled a little closer to the guy, felt his arms tighten around her and the hard ridge of his erection press against the bare skin of her thigh.
Wow, the guy was huge! Long and thick and… Oh, baby, she really had gotten lucky last night.
Turning her head, she reached out with one hand and encountered firm muscle. His arm flexed under her touch as she smoothed her way up to his broad shoulder then trailed her fingertips over his chest.
And rubbed her thigh against that enticing organ.
Thank God she’d shaved her legs yesterday.
The guy groaned into her hair. “Carrie…”
Oh, good. He remembered her name. Too bad she was drawing a blank on his.
Didn’t matter. Obviously, she’d gone home with him last night. Maybe she was still a little drunk, not just hung over.
But that ache between her legs… Damn it, she wanted sex. Now.
The dark closed so tightly around them, she could barely see his outline but she moved both hands up and up his body until she finally reached his face. Wow, he must be really tall and she meant really tall because she was no slouch.
At five-ten—without heels which she wore anyway because she looked damn good in them—she typically had a few inches on most men. And of course, she was the kind of girl who liked her men big and strong.
Which made sense of why she’d gone home with this one.
Stubble roughened his broad jaw, sending a shiver of lust through her and causing her to rub against his cock again. God, she loved to hear men groan. It made her feel all powerful, like Wonder Woman. Or that FBI chick from Fringe. She loved that show. Hell, she’d marry JJ Abrams in a heartbeat. The guy had a better imagination than most of the yahoos she worked with.
And she worked with some of the best in the field. Granted, the field wasn’t huge but…
With one hand, she traced his lips, pushing the other into his hair. The guy had lots of it. Down to his shoulders, at least.
Another point in his favor. She must’ve thought she’d hit the lottery last night. Wherever that had been.
And who cared about that now? Shifting around was a little difficult in the dark and she didn’t want to hurt anything vital—namely that gorgeous erection—but with a little help from him, she wound up with her knees on either side of his thighs as he sat upright, her hands on his cheeks and her mouth descending on his.
He seemed surprised at first, his body freezing into stillness, but when she licked at his lips, he got with the program and kissed her back. And great freaking Jesus, the guy could kiss.
His tongue dove into her mouth and twined around hers while his hands grabbed onto her hips and pulled her even closer.
God, he was huge. And she didn’t just mean his cock. Pressed against him the way she was now, she got a better sense of his size.
Her breasts were cushioned against a chest so broad and muscular, the guy had to be built like John Cena, the professional wrestler one of the girls at the Journal had a crush on.
His abs felt like a washboard, which she discovered when she pressed forward to rub her mound against his cock, looking for some relief for the tension in her body.
He broke away from her kiss, but his hips rose slightly, rubbing his cock almost where she needed it to go. Just a little to the left and he’d rub against her clit.
“Whoa, Carrie.” His hands tightened on her hips but didn’t push her away. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”
Hmm, maybe she’d had more to drink last night than she remembered. But he was so nice to ask.
“I feel fine.” She trailed one hand down his chest, fingers brushing against the tip of his cock. “And you feel amazing.”
She wished she knew his name but didn’t want to embarrass herself or him by asking for it. Later, after she satisfied this urge to jump his bones, she’d figure it out.
Right now…not caring so much.
Especially when she wrapped one hand around his cock and realized her fingers didn’t meet.
Thank you, Goddess of…well, whatever goddess handled huge guys with accessories to match.
Warm flesh pulsed in her hand as she stroked from fat root to bulbous tip. Silky soft skin slid over the hard core and a drop of moisture seeped from the slit.
Using her thumb, she smeared the liquid over the head as she felt one of his hands leave her hip to trail over her ribs to cup her breast as he groaned deep in his chest. Long fingers kneaded her, pinching the nipple into a hard, aching point.
Nuzzling her nose in his neck, she breathed in deep, his scent musky woodsy and a little smoky. Kind of like sex and good barbecue.
Did he taste as good as he smelled? She flicked his skin with her tongue. Salty, heady. All man.
Yumm-O, as Rachael Ray would say about some thirty-minute, fat bomb of a meal. If this was the main course, who needed freakin’ dessert?
She went back for seconds, licking from his neck to his earlobe, nipping the little piece of flesh and hearing his breath catch in his throat.
The hand on her breast tightened and, finally, he released the leash he’d been keeping on himself.
With another groan, he lifted his other hand from her hip to cup her unattended breast. She arched to give him better access and the motion rubbed her sex against his cock again. She clenched around nothing, needing something to fill her and fast. But with his fingers on her breasts, she was left with only one choice.
Dark & Stormy Alpha Nights Page 8
