Pleasure Me

by Tina Donahue

He finally understood what she’d gone through when he’d first left. How many times had she looked out her window wondering where he was, what he was doing, if he’d fallen in love with another shifter or a human for that matter? Damn. He pounded his fist into his thigh for having been such a coward. A fourteen-year-old girl’s ego was fragile. She’d needed a boy to tell her she was pretty, wanted, worthy, as much as a guy needed the same from a girl. No matter how much parents or relatives gushed over a kid, those compliments meant nada. Teens needed approbation from their peers to feel complete. He’d been no different. Yet repeatedly, he’d turned his back on her, thinking of nothing except running away from his own pain.

  He deserved her treatment now, but also wanted her near so he could at least look at her. Know she was safe.

  “Come back. Come close. Please.”

  The star-splashed sky and heavy moon were the only witnesses to his whispered plea this evening. Still, he kept vigil well into the night, hoping to catch a glimpse of her in human or wolf form. Strolling by at different times were Drew, Ryker, other townspeople, and the two lovebirds he’d shooed off the pickup he didn’t own. Not Starr. Never Starr.

  Without adequate sleep, he began to drag through work, shuffling worse than the zombies on The Walking Dead.

  Milo, a coworker, leaned against his finished order, arms crossed over his chest. He’d shoved his safety goggles to the top of his head. His earplugs dangled on an orange plastic cord around his neck, the same as his facemask. Bits of sawdust danced in the sunbeams. The whirr of the blades had quieted, making the sounds of nature seem muted in comparison. “Need help?”

  “Nope.” Wylder slid the last of his planks in place.

  “You look like shit. Had too many at Gee’s last night?”

  He wished. The booze might have relaxed him. He was too tired to pull in a full breath, yet his body pulsed with tension. “Couldn’t sleep with all the damn noise.”

  “If you say so.”

  He stopped wiping his sweaty forehead on his sleeve, ready to rumble over that smartass comment. Milo was already on the other side of the platform, a thermos of water to his mouth, head thrown back, drinking greedily.

  Wylder rounded the area and reached for his thermos. Something shifted in the corner of his eye. His hand stalled. Not chancing a breath, he concentrated on the image to see if his first glimpse had been correct. A tall, willowy woman with black hair. Yep, he still saw her.

  Starr.

  He turned and blinked. Where the hell had she gone?

  Pine trees stretched in every direction. Pickups circled the mill, most parked haphazardly. He strode across the grounds, scanning the area. A deer darted through the foliage ahead, quickly lost within the shadows. Rabbits munched leaves. Wind pushed at his back, ruffling his tee, driving his hair against his bristly cheeks.

  He shoved back the strands, tilted his head, and sniffed.

  Sweet flowers and even more enticing musk flooded his senses. The world lurched. He stopped and locked his knees, his legs too watery to keep him on his feet. She’d been here. Simply walking by? Watching him? Wanting?

  He turned a complete circle once, and again then so many times his dizziness returned. Where the fuck was she? Sniffing, he caught her scent, stronger now, and jogged to the right.

  “Hey!”

  He started at Milo’s shout and looked over. The guy had his hands out in a what-the-fuck-are-you-doing? gesture.

  Behaving like a damn fool? He tramped back to the platform, glancing over his shoulder repeatedly. If she was out there, he wanted her to know he not only approved, he craved everything about her, especially having her watch him.

  Milo clamped his hand on Wylder’s shoulder. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” He shrugged away from the man’s touch. “Damn wasp kept bugging me.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  He was really asking for it. Wylder bit back his irritation. “Let’s say we cut the chitchat and get to work.”

  Milo held up his hands. “Fine with me. I’ve been waiting for you to do so all day, but you’ve been battling bugs.”

  Ignoring him, Wylder returned to his tasks. His concentration was so bad, he was surprised he didn’t slice off any fingers on the blades. After work, he trudged to the convenience store.

  Something moved in his peripheral vision again.

  He stilled at the door, his breath catching. Several older women stopped talking and stared at him. Not caring, he sniffed repeatedly, overwhelmed with delight at catching Starr’s scent. He rushed inside, waiting for her to do the same.

  She didn’t.

  Pissed, disappointed, and beat, he slogged home with his meal of whole wheat bread and a jar of peanut butter. Before he reached the bar, he caught another glimpse of her.

  He whirled around quickly, his grocery bag smacking into the handlebars of a motorcycle. Wasn’t fast enough for him to catch her. Even Neo and his lightning quick moves in The Matrix couldn’t have done so.

  Wylder squinted and craned his neck, still searching. No dice. No Starr. She was like those ghosts in movies, hovering nearby only to flit away when the actors turned to get a better look.

  Of course, those poor slobs didn’t have the heightened sense of smell he had. He picked up her scent immediately. She was, or had been, here, too, as she had at the mill and convenience store.

  This location and the store made some sense. She might have wanted to buy food or a drink. But the mill? Since when did she go shopping for wood?

  No fucking way had she been there for lumber. She was following him.

  Hot damn.

  His excitement built worse than a wolf during the rut; even his hair hurt from intolerable desire.

  To make things easy for her, he stuck to a daily routine so she didn’t have to search or guess where he’d be. A text message, email, or phone call would have been faster, but she needed time to do this her way. After making her wait twelve years for him, he could endure a bit of this cat-and-mouse game.

  Until she changed the rules.

  He spotted her from the corner of his eye at the mill and the convenience store as always, but not at Gee’s. Next, he caught her at the bar, but not the mill. The store was the only constant with her always darting into his vision there, even on the weekends, until she wasn’t showing up at that location on a regular basis either.

  Didn’t matter. He kept at it, doggedly going through his days big as life so she could find him when she was ready. Better be damn soon, he was walking bowlegged from his constant boner and grinding his molars to dust.

  The weekend rolled around again, leaving Gee’s and the store the only places he might spot her. He hung out in his windowsill until he couldn’t stand inaction any longer and strode to the store, his new white tee practically glowing in the unrestricted sun, screaming, “Look at me, I’m here, baby.” Even a nearsighted human could have spotted him a mile away.

  The fragrance of pine, damp earth from yesterday’s rain, leaves, new and old scent markings bombarded him. None of them her fragrance. Bummed, he yanked open the door of the store.

  Her scent hit him with hurricane force. He wavered slightly, unable to breathe or think. She was here? Inside? Where? He marched down the aisles, smiling briefly at other residents, forcing himself not to push anyone aside because of his crushing need.

  He stopped near the back of the store. She studied the selection of candy, the left side of her face hidden by her curtain of hair, blue highlights shimmering in its raven color, the tresses shiny and thick. He squeezed his fists to keep from reaching out and crushing those locks in his hand, pressing his face to them to fill himself with her fragrance.

  She tapped her long fingers against her thigh, her jeans as worn as his, her tee also white like his because they fit. They were perfect for each other, always had been once they were both of age.

  Tired of waiting, he reached past her for the PayDays, his favorite. Hers, too. She’d told him so shortly before he left, slipping th
e candy bar into his hand, her smile luminous with adoration he’d never known existed.

  She looked over now, her expression more open than the last time they’d been face-to-face but she wasn’t drooling in delight like he was. Nor was she fawning over him as her fourteen-year-old self had done.

  His heart cramped but he managed a smile and held up the candy. “My treat. How many would you like?”

  “The whole box.”

  He counted thirty. “Didn’t your mom tell you these would rot your teeth?”

  “I’m making up for lost time. For ten years, I wasn’t allowed even one candy bar. A camera puts on the pounds, you know.”

  Poor deprived baby. He grabbed the box and the one with the Milky Ways beside it, her next fave. Some shifters had a hard time with chocolate, the same as dogs. Not her. Him, either. Another way they fit. “You like Butterfinger, Twix, Snickers? Say the word, they’re yours.” He wanted to buy her the whole damn store. He would have done anything to give her the world.

  Her irises shifted, turning a deep-gold the way they always did when she was happy or aroused. However, her shoulders were also shaking with suppressed laughter. “I was only kidding. Not about the ten-year sentence without candy but wanting the whole box. You can put it back.”

  He didn’t. “I’m serious. Whatever you want, name it, it’s yours.” As long as she didn’t tell him she wanted peace again, freedom, and space from him.

  A pink flush crept up her throat, the same color tinting her cheeks. Shoppers passed. Neither he nor Starr acknowledged anyone else, the air between them suddenly thick with promise. Perspiration slid down his spine and the side of his face. He was so damn hot, in another couple of seconds he might burst into flames.

  She cradled his cheek, drawing her thumb over his bottom lip. Currents of new warmth swept through him. His mouth, the back of his throat, and the tips of his toes tingled. A sound he didn’t recognize as being quite human or animal escaped his throat. She sighed breathily and melted into him with stunning ease, her lips brushing his.

  He groaned. She fitted her mouth to his, muting the sound, and slipped her tongue inside.

  Aww God. His knees sagged, bumping hers. She tasted of life, hope, pleasure, love, a flavor only a supernatural being could create, her mouth hotter than the sun, sweeter than spring. Nothing on this Earth had ever satisfied him better.

  He pressed into her. She did the same with him, their thighs touching, his rigid cock nestled against her precious mound, wanting inside her tight, moist heat. A pulse beat hard in his throat and temple. His balls screamed for relief. Each breath he took was meager but filled with her wondrous fragrance. His head swam and his muscles ached as he fought to suppress too many base urges—throwing her over his shoulder, carrying her into the forest, mounting her until the end of time.

  She tore her mouth from his, her boobs wiggling prettily with her strained breaths. He wasn’t certain he’d ever breathe normally again.

  “This.” She swallowed and pointed at him.

  “Huh?”

  She heaved in another breath. “You said to name whatever I wanted. This.” She touched his mouth.

  No shit? “Me, too.”

  Her laughter pealed through the store. “Yeah, I know.”

  “No, you don’t.” He tossed the boxes on the shelf, slipped one arm around her waist, and planted his other hand on the back of her head. “I mean this.”

  He claimed her mouth, plunging his tongue inside.

  Starr sagged into him, lost in his heat and strength. Bad move for someone who claimed to want peace and solitude, but she couldn’t help herself. She had needed to taste him for twelve years, dreamed of his stubble rasping her cheeks, his tongue deep within her mouth, possessing her.

  He eased her closer, his grip steel, unwilling to let her go. He drove his fingers into her hair and cupped her skull, keeping her still in order to plunder her mouth.

  A whimper rose to the base of her throat, the sound muffled by his tongue and the blood pounding in her ears. Never had she been as alive, her body molded to his, fitting perfectly. God, she wanted to drown in his effortless masculinity, laze in his kindness.

  Whatever she wanted, he’d said.

  This, for now. Later, who knew?

  He’d hurt her beyond words years before. She understood he hadn’t meant to. However, the pain had lingered and grown, leaving her unsure about men. She’d never had a father to teach her how guys thought or behaved, only Wylder. He’d been her instructor without realizing he was even playing the role. She came to expect every guy to be like him, running from her as he had, leaving her uncertain and lonely.

  Kade had been different, his intensity a comfort rather than setting off alarms. What a fool she’d been. No more. She had to take things slow, no matter what her heart and body wanted.

  Wylder ran his thumb over her throat, pulling a new moan from her. Forgetting control, she sucked his tongue deeper, not yet content, wanting to be a part of his heart, blood, and soul. Would she ever have enough?

  She’d followed him to his job, this store, and Gee’s, hoping to get some relief from her endless craving rather than whetting her appetite for more. At least Wylder hadn’t laughed at her foolish stalking. If he had, she would have died even more inside. Instead, he’d made himself available, almost too visible as he never had in the past.

  Because he was a changed man, she a changed woman, things could work out.

  In time.

  She pulled her mouth free again, her lips stinging from the force of their kiss.

  “Uh-uh, we’re not through.” He brought her right back, practically devouring her, the same as she did with him, her leg wrapped around his, arms wreathed over his shoulders, the noises they made sloppy, joyous, uncontrolled.

  “Ah, guys?”

  She froze. He didn’t, grunting and groaning. With her palm on his chest, she pushed him back, freeing herself. Quickly, she smoothed her hair on the left side.

  A friend of her mom’s glanced past her to him and gestured to the candy rack. “I just need the gumdrops and I’ll be on my way.”

  Wylder pulled every pack off the metal pole and handed them to her.

  She smiled wanly. “Thanks.”

  “Welcome.” He snaked his arm around Starr’s waist again.

  She elbowed his gut.

  His breath puffed out. He dropped his arm. “What was that for?”

  “Enough of the kissing. All right?”

  “Hell no.” He crowded her.

  She stood her ground and lifted her chin. Her days of being a pushover for any man were history.

  His shoulders drooped. He gave her one of those don’t-be-mad-at-me smiles guys used at one time or another to get their way.

  She wasn’t moved.

  He sobered. “You want to go outside?”

  “No.”

  “Where?”

  “Home.”

  “Whose?”

  “Mine.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “Your mom’s there, right?” He scratched his neck. “Won’t she mind if we, uh, you know….”

  He didn’t need to draw her a picture. “No, she won’t mind, because we aren’t going to.”

  His shoulders slumped again. “You mean today, right?”

  Hell, he was asking her as though she knew. “I wanted to kiss you. That’s all.”

  “Wait.” He held up his hand, grew thoughtful, and stared. “Since you have kissed me, you don’t want to anymore, ever? Was I that bad?”

  Her legs were still wobbly, her insides and brain reduced to mush. She was still using all her will to retain her dignity. If she hadn’t, she would have dropped to the floor, drooling like the unhinged. “Seriously, you need to ask?”

  His cheeks reddened. “Only with you.”

  Because she mattered or because she hadn’t given him two thumbs up? “I have to go.”

  He grabbed her wrist. “Why? We can have a beer, take a walk, talk.”

  Not w
ith her tangled thoughts, they couldn’t. They’d end up in his room, humping away. Gee’s patrons would hear every whap of the bed against the floor and wall. She was already tense whenever the pack members spotted her, not knowing what they might say. Adding more gossip wouldn’t help. Once her and Wylder’s kiss in here zipped through the town’s supersonic grapevine, everyone would be looking at her as though she had three heads instead of two, like they were currently doing.

  She yanked her arm away. “Bye.” She fled the building and raced past the vehicles in the lot, reaching the road.

  “Starr Joseph, stop, I mean it!”

  She jerked at Wylder’s shout and turned.

  He was yards away, sunlight glancing off his silky hair, the rays glinting in his light eyes. His eyebrows and stubble were nearly black, his skin rich and fragrant, the scent drifting toward her with the breeze.

  She bit back a wanton moan.

  He pointed his finger at her. “You’re my mate, understand? Sooner or later—and I predict much, much sooner—we are getting together. Believe it.”

  Chapter Three

  Okay, he’d lost his cool and had bellowed his feelings for everyone in town to hear. So sue him. As far as Wylder was concerned, nothing mattered except to have Starr know where he was coming from.

  Did she ever. Whether she agreed or not was a different story.

  Her gaze went blurry with desire yet she also stepped back. Her nipples couldn’t have been harder, practically poking holes in her top. Even so, the color had drained from her face.

  Not exactly the reaction he’d wanted, but, hey, they were both new at this. They’d learn to communicate. Whenever she decided to stand still long enough for them to do so.

  She took off again, hair flapping in the breeze, her sweet ass bouncing merrily.

  With each of her long strides, his stomach sank further and his tension mounted. He pressed his toes into his boots, forcing himself not to run her down. She didn’t need macho wolf at this point, him staking his claim with a snarl and love bites. A little romance might go a long way. Him wooing her like guys of old used to do with their babes. Only how?

  Showing up at her house spit and polished would probably please Ethra to no end. Starr might duck out the back door and literally head for the hills. Crooning beneath her window at night with his lousy singing might encourage a sleep-deprived neighbor to shoot him. Hallmark would never make the kind of greeting card he needed to win her over. A phone call she might not answer. A text or email seemed too impersonal, if she even deigned to read the damn thing.