by Tina Donahue
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Pleasure Me
Copyright 2016 by Tina Donahue
ISBN: 978-1-61333-995-4
Cover art by Fiona Jayde
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.
Published by Decadent Publishing Company, LLC
Look for us online at:
www.decadentpublishing.com
Pleasure Me
There’s no place like home…especially for a wolf who shouldn’t have run away.
Wylder Aaron always knew Starr Joseph was his mate, but the time wasn’t right for them. To escape his hopeless feelings for her, he fled Los Lobos and joined the military, not even saying goodbye.
Starr wanted nothing more in life than Wylder. When he left, she fled too. Her sultry beauty made her an instant success as the new look for a major cosmetics firm. However, fame is fleeting. At twenty-six, she’s old news and forgotten. Worse, loneliness led her into the arms of another were-shifter with a jealous streak. During his last rage, he slashed the side of her face, promising to kill her the next time she tried to flee.
She did anyway, returning to the safety and anonymity of Los Lobos…straight into Wylder’s arms.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Epilogue
A Cougar Among Wolves
Black Hills Wolves Stories
Wolf’s Return
What a Wolf Wants
Black Hills Desperado
Wolf’s Song
Claiming His Mate
When Hell Freezes
Portrait of a Lone Wolf
Alpha in Disguise
A Wolf’s Promise
Reluctant Mate
Diamond Moon
Wolf on a Leash
Tempting the Wolf
Naming His Mate
A Wolf Awakens
The Wolf and the Butterfly
Infiltrating Her Pack
Omega’s Heart
Rebel’s Claw
Claiming the She-Wolf
Worth Fighting For
Dangerous
Uncaged
Promiscuous Wolf
Disquieted Souls
A Cougar Among Wolves
Long Road Home
A Mate’s Healing Touch
Another Chance
Broken Silence
A Wolf’s Contract
A Mate’s Redeeming Touch
A Cougar Among Wolves
Pleasure Me
Winter Solstice Run
Wolf’s Holiday
Winter Magic
Winter Secrets
Winter Solstice Ménage
Wolf in Winter Clothing
Murder in Los Lobos
Scent of Murder
Scent of the Hunt
Scent of His Woman
Scent of Madness
Coming Soon
Secrets of the Hunt
Her Guardian Wolf
Jasmine Moon
A Note from Tina Donahue
I grew up reading those ‘brooding hero’ romances where the guy was always snarling, growling, and being a real pain. Definitely not my type. I love a man who can be tender and gentle in addition to being strong.
Pleasure Me was a delight to create. I adore Wylder. Not only is he a hunk and sexy as sin, he’s honorable. The kind of guy who’ll love one woman forever. Despite the obstacles that have kept him from Starr, he knows she’s his mate. She knows it too, but fights the inevitable. He ran from her once, hurting her deeply. She doesn’t want to risk her heart again.
Wylder has his work cut out for him and woos her in such a delightful way, I couldn’t stop smiling. This sexy beast has a tender side you won’t soon forget.
I’d love to hear what you think about Wylder and Starr’s romance. You can reach me at: [email protected]
Pleasure Me
A Black Hills Wolves Story
By
Tina Donahue
Chapter One
She wasn’t only back in Los Lobos, she was nearby.
Wylder pushed off his bed then stopped, feet planted widely apart, head lowered to stop his dizziness. Too bad it didn’t help.
Her fragrance wafted through his open window, rolling over him in waves and overloading his senses. Tempting whiffs of her musk laced her flowery scent. Earthy. Seductive. Images flashed in his mind. Her stripped bare on the dewy grass. Lids hooded, lips parted, arms open in welcome.
Yeah, right. He’d run off and left her once, telling himself he had no choice. Technically, he’d had none. However, he could have handled the situation better, kept in touch during the intervening years, pretended he’d given a damn because he had. More than she’d known. If he had offered her a little of his time and friendship, maybe he could have prevented the terrible events she’d faced these last months.
Too late now.
Her scent beckoned again. Aw, God. “Starr.”
Speaking her name aloud was foreign to him, yet the sound glided effortlessly off his tongue. As easily as she’d always filled his thoughts.
He gulped air to clear his head and padded to the window. Sunlight slashed across the road, touching the gravel lot in front of The Den, Gee’s bar. Wylder rented a room on the second floor of the establishment. This had become his home since he’d returned from his duty in the Middle East.
He gripped the jamb, steadying himself.
She stood at the edge of the lot, facing the bar. The ends of her glossy black hair and the hem of her olive-green T-shirt fluttered in the mild breeze. Otherwise, there was no movement. She might have been posing for a major ad campaign in one of those high fashion magazines, as she had in the past. Who knew what went through her mind at being back in town instead.
He wanted to call out, put her at ease. Fearful she might bolt, he dug his thumbnail into the wood and drank her in.
She’d filled out, no longer the slender teen he recalled, her shape womanly now. Battered jeans hugged sleek thighs. Her tee stretched provocatively across her ample breasts, the nipples pebbled against the soft cotton despite the warm summer day. A faint rose tint added a hint of color to her pale skin.
From her inner heat or embarrassment?
The wind picked up, whipping her hair back. She snatched the locks to keep them over her left ear and edge of her face.
He didn’t have to wonder why. Her mom had told him some of what happened to Starr in Los Angeles. Not enough, though.
She regarded both sides of the street. Deserted. Thick forest surrounded the small town, pines creeping up mountainsides, craggy rocks peeking through primordial vegetation. In the distance, young male voices rang out with laughter. Teens likely racing each other to the swimming hole.
Wylder breathed a sigh of relief the kids weren’t headed toward her with their snickers, cruel comments, and mocking
gazes. Dumbasses. Bullying wasn’t what Starr needed.
She tilted her face.
Their gazes met.
Starr.
His heart turned over, warmth flooding him. She had the face of an angel, her high cheekbones, full mouth, and almond-shaped eyes almost too beautiful to be real. She parted her lips in what might have been surprise, wonder, or yearning. He liked to think longing was on her mind, the same as his.
Her irises shifted from light-brown to dark-gold, the way they had in the past when she’d teased, wanting to get a rise out of him.
He’d ignored her then, had to. Not any longer. Their time, here and now, had to be right for him to claim her as his mate. What he’d known from the moment he’d become a man.
He smiled. Hell, he grinned, coming perilously close to drooling.
Gold faded to brown in her eyes, her yearning expression turning to hurt then caution. She stepped back.
Shit, she was going to run. He planted his hands on the windowsill and leaned out as far as he could without falling. “Starr.”
She pivoted away then faced him again, looking at the bar rather than up toward him. With her narrow shoulders squared, she marched inside.
Tim McGraw’s Live Like You Were Dying stopped abruptly, along with the patrons’ laughter and conversation, everything going dead quiet as though someone had flipped a switch. Or recalled how she’d run away.
One night, she’d been in her bedroom, the next morning gone, leaving all her things behind, devastating her mom. The town searched everywhere but couldn’t find any clues to indicate someone had abducted Starr or killed her. She’d simply vanished…until her picture showed up on a magazine cover. Not one of those true crime types with gory articles about murder, but the high fashion kind. Starr had fled to New York and eventually Los Angeles for a career in modeling and entertainment. A life filled with fame, wealth, and the beautiful people. Also known as humans who didn’t shift.
He’d run, too, but had given his parents and the town fair warning. Starr hadn’t. Forgiveness wouldn’t come easy.
He yanked on his boots, praying Gee wouldn’t say something to make her cry. The werebear never forgot anything, especially if one of the pack had done something stupid. Starr had. If Gee lit into her, Wylder would have to slug him to shut him up, hopefully. Not a smart move. The guy would tear him apart as easily as he flicked a pesky fly off his arm. Wylder was no lightweight, but Gee had four inches and nearly a hundred pounds on him.
Wylder tore out of his room and down the stairs, stopping midway.
Everyone had turned in their seats to glare at Starr. If they’d been in wolf form, their hair would have been bristling, fangs bared, bodies ready to pounce.
Standing in a circle of emptiness, she lifted her right hand and held up her middle finger.
Wylder leaned against the rail, uncertain whether to laugh or groan. She wasn’t flipping anyone the bird, thank God. A bright-pink Band-Aid with white kittens graced the tip of her finger. As a returning pack member, she’d taken the required blood oath with Drew, a prick on her finger being sufficient.
Some might have wanted a deeper wound, more blood, a pound of flesh.
From the corner of the room, the Alpha in question watched the unfolding events. Tipped back in his chair, Drew sipped his beer, not getting involved.
Starr was on her own.
Gee slammed a frosty mug on the bar. Several women flinched, along with a few guys. The werebear inclined his head to the jukebox in the corner. “No one likes to play music anymore?”
One of the ladies kissed her guy hard and wiggled to the music box on impossibly high spike heels. Her wolf was going to pay for that nonsense when her paws hurt. After slipping coins inside the slot, she read the selections, and punched a button. The first strains of Carrie Underwood’s Before He Cheats roared through the snug, dingy room.
The women pumped their fists in a power sign and shook their booties. The guys groaned.
Wylder tapped the bar, held up two fingers to Gee then strode to Starr. “Hi. Have a beer with me. Please. Over here.”
He chose a table away from the others and held out a chair for her. She remained where she was, scanning the room. Several couples danced, foreheads and groins pressed together, hands roaming shoulders, hips, asses. A group of guys played cards. Others talked and ate. The biting odor of beer, hamburger, musk, and older scents seeped into every inch of the space. No one looked her way again. For them, she didn’t exist.
She drew in her shoulders. Whether from hurt at how the pack members were treating her, or how he had so many years ago, Wylder had no idea. If he’d been a braver soul, he would have slung his arm around her and kept hugging until tomorrow then scent marked her to claim his territory for good. Not wanting to appear too needy, horny, or nuts, he waited.
She finally shuffled to the table with the enthusiasm of a man headed for the electric chair and dropped into the seat. “Thanks.”
He would have given several years of his life to have her the way she used to be, giggling joyously, staring at him as if he not only hung the moon but had also invented the sun in his spare time.
“You bet.” He sank to his chair, tried to find something to say, and couldn’t think of one word. With billions whizzing through his brain, he’d come up with zip.
Carrie wailed her song about the destruction she’d wrought on her boyfriend’s pickup, giving too many women in here dangerous ideas on what to do to men who’d hurt them. Poor guys. Poor him. He tapped his feet and drummed his fingers, ready to jump out of his skin.
Starr sagged back in her chair. “You like this tune?”
He’d stopped listening when she’d moved. Her fragrance had him reeling again, unable to concentrate on anything else. One more wave of sweetness mingled with the scent of ripe woman and he’d be a goner. His hard-on ached like a son of a bitch. His balls were so hot they were practically on fire. He didn’t dare move, afraid of coming in his jeans. “Not particularly. Why do you ask?”
“You’re tapping your fingers and feet in time with it.”
Oh. He stopped. Wanting to talk, needing to, he leaned toward her then reared back at Gee’s sudden arrival. Wylder’s nose nearly brushed the guy’s thigh.
Gee didn’t back off, standing between Wylder and her as he delivered two beers to the table. “You want mugs?”
Wylder looked around the werebear to Starr. “You?”
She shook her head, not making eye contact with either of them.
“Thanks, we’re good.” Wylder gave Gee a smile, wanting him to leave before he said anything hurtful.
The moment he’d returned to the bar, Starr started breathing again.
“You were brave to have come to this place first.” Wylder handed her one of the beers. “I didn’t make it this far until my third week back in town.”
She finished her sip and ran her tongue around the opening of her bottle.
His balls twitched.
“The returning war hero didn’t get a warm welcome?” She looked at him at last, searching his face. Her expression softened. She became as lost in him as he was lost in her, until she snapped back to her cautious state. “There’s a surprise.” She shrugged. “You’d left for the good fight.”
That was the story he’d told everyone before taking off. For him to admit to his parents, Drew, and the others that he had to get away from Starr or do something incredibly stupid wouldn’t have set the right tone. Being a hero, at least in his own mind, was better. “Wasn’t the good fight. I was wrong.” He lifted his shoulders. “My guess is a lot of the folks here knew I was a damn fool before I took off. Killing people is no way to spread freedom. Wars are only good for corporate profits.”
She lowered her bottle, a faint frown marring her smooth forehead. “Did you actually kill anyone?”
His gut churned. He needed to keep his mouth shut about those days. “Only when I had to fight for my life or my buddies’ lives. Even then, killing was the
hardest thing I’ve ever done.”
“Do you have nightmares?”
Yeah, and he didn’t want to talk about them. “It’s in the past. Best forgotten.”
“Right. Sorry.” She sipped her beer.
“Hey, I’m not cutting you off.” He touched her arm, her skin as velvety as a rose petal. Every nerve ending in his body fired, snatching his breath. “Ah, ask me what I do now, okay?”
She stared at his hand on her. “You won’t offer if I don’t ask?”
“Okay, that came out stupid.” He laughed. “I work at the lumberyard. Might get into construction, too. I’m keeping my options open. First, I need to pay my bills. Then I can see what I’d like to devote my life to.”
“There’s always Drew’s job.”
Wylder brought his hand back from her then twisted to look behind himself. Drew was talking to Gee, neither of them catching what she’d said. A quick glance around the cramped room proved everyone else was busy with their own fun. “Seriously?” He turned back to her and leaned in. “You think I’d want to battle him for the crown or be crazy enough to?”
“I don’t know.” She ran her thumb over the beads of moisture on her bottle. “I haven’t talked to you in years. Actually, I never talked to you at all. Whenever you saw me coming, you ran the other way.”
His cheeks burned. He cleared his throat. “Not because of you.”
She blinked. “Who then?” She made a face. “My mom? She told you to stay away from me? Your folks did? Magnum? Ryker? Gee?”
Wylder held up his hand before she named everyone in town. “No on all your guesses.”
“You’re gay?”
“What? No.” He made a face. “I had no business being around you.”
She turned to the others. A Keith Urban tune played on the box. The young couple at the next table kissed as though their time together was running out and they had to get in one more smooch before the end. The legs of their chairs scraped the floor; the table wobbled as they crawled over each other. One of the card players whooped and held up his winning hand. Two older guys arm wrestled. The guy next to them took bets on who’d win.
