by P. C. Cast
Then his hands were tugging up her shirt. She started to help him…and remembered: 1) that she was wearing her least stretched out and frayed sports bra—“least” in no way meaning that it was attractive, and 2) she was forty. Suddenly he was, once again, ohmygodhe’ssofuckingyoung Justin.
“Uh, wait. I’m—I’m not completely okay with this,” she said quickly, smoothing down her shirt while she avoided meeting his eyes.
Instantly, he stopped. But he didn’t pull away from her. Nor did he throw a fit because he had a hard-on and needed to have sex now. He just shifted his weight so that she was resting comfortably in his arms. Then he lifted her chin with his finger, gently making her meet his gaze.
“Did I do something wrong?” he asked.
“No. It’s not you.”
He cocked an eyebrow at her and smiled crookedly. “Is there someone else here I don’t know about?”
“Of course not.”
“Then is it that you don’t want me?”
“Of course not!”
“Candice, I’m going to be honest with you. For the past several years I haven’t been connected to much—not another person or a job or even a place. I’ve been playing at life and just letting time pass. But with you I feel a connection, and that’s something I’m not used to. I want to see where it takes us. If that means going slow physically, I will. But I have to tell you that the truth is I want you more than I’ve ever wanted any woman in my life.”
His amber eyes had darkened to the color of aged Scotch. She could feel the sexual tension in his body. She loved the intensity with which he looked at her, and the way his hands lingered on hers. And she knew if she didn’t make love to this beautiful young man that she would regret it forever.
Deliberately, she sat up and, keeping her eyes fixed on his, she pulled off her shirt. Then she reached behind her and undid her sports bra, shrugging it off her shoulders. The late evening air was cool against the heat of her skin, and her nipples puckered. Justin’s gaze dropped from her eyes to her naked breasts. He reached forward and took her heavy breasts in his hands, lifting and caressing them.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he said huskily. “Look at you! You’re not some plastic girl who hasn’t lived enough to know there are sexier things than fake boobs and lace bras that match their thongs that match the color they paint their toes.” He bent and kissed the swell of her breast, then let his tongue tease her already aroused nipple while she moaned and arched into him. “You’re an earth goddess, rich and ripe and desirable.”
He pressed her back into the blanket again, his lips and tongue teasing her breasts. His mouth moved slowly down her stomach, kissing the waist of her shorts. Before she could begin to get nervous about the fact that her stomach wasn’t as flat as it had been ten years before, she heard him murmur, “Your skin is like silk, and you taste like lavender-scented honey.”
She probably would have let him pull off her shorts then, but he slid down, until he knelt at her feet. Smiling at her, he took off her running shoes and socks. When he kissed the arch of her foot she had a moment to think about how desperately glad she was that she’d had a pedicure just two days ago, then he moved from her foot to her calf, kneading it much as he had done the day before. Only now he interspersed his caresses with soft kisses as he made his way slowly up her leg.
“Justin…” His name was a moan, and all thoughts of statutory rape and moral turpitude permanently flew from her mind.
“Sssh,” he breathed against the sensitive spot behind her knee. “Let me worship you like the goddess you are, and allow me to teach you what I’ve learned since I left your class.”
“A little role reversal?” she asked breathlessly, making no move to stop him as his lips grazed her inner thigh.
“Absolutely, Ms. Cox. It’s time you quit worrying about marriages and relationships and nonmagic and just relax and enjoy a man who appreciates what an exceptional woman you are and can make you feel as good as you deserve to feel.” He nuzzled the leg of her shorts up so that when he spoke his mouth moved, hot and insistent, against the very top of her inner thigh. “What I’ve learned is how to use my tongue and mouth to bring a woman to orgasm before I fill her body with mine and stroke her into another climax and then another.”
“Do you do this often?” The thought of the possibility that she might be just another in a long line of female conquests began to dissipate her horny haze.
“No,” he moaned, his mouth on her skin. “Don’t think that. It’s you I want to taste—you I want to pleasure. I’ve fantasized about you for years. You have no idea how much I want you and how special you are to me. Let me make my fantasies real. Let me taste you.”
When he pulled at the waist of her shorts, she willingly lifted to make his job easier. As she settled back against the blanket, her eyes were drawn over his shoulder to the darkening sky and she felt a little jolt as she realized how close it was to sunset…which would be followed by moonrise…and a nearly full moon rise at that.
Observant as ever, Justin read the new tension in her body. He saw her eyes fixed on the sky and the clear concern in her face.
“I promise that you have nothing to fear from me.”
Reluctantly, her gaze left the sky and met his eyes. “But when the full moon rises, you’re a wolf, aren’t you?”
“Actually, there’s always a little of the wolf in me, full moon or not,” he said, nipping her stomach gently and then lowering his head to taste her with a long lick of his tongue.
Her breath caught in surprise and she had to bite her lip to stifle a breathy moan.
He kissed her thigh and then smiled up at her. “Remember, your magic is nonmagic. Which means I am unable to shift my shape around you. I am in man form right now, and as long as I’m close to you I’ll stay in that form.” He nuzzled her thigh and kissed her again. “Let me make love to you, my sweet Candy.” His voice caressed her name. “Let me be your lover.”
“I know exactly what you need…a werewolf lover.” Godiva’s voice whispered through her mind. Maybe her friend was right. And why not? Justin appreciated her. He listened to her and made her feel beautiful and desirable. What was wrong with her taking a young, virile lover who wanted to worship her like a goddess?…
With a triumphant smile, she made her decision.
“If you can’t change form as long as I’m close to you, I guess the right answer is for me to keep you very close to me.” She pulled the young werewolf to her and let his victorious growl vibrate against her naked skin.
Justin had been right. He had learned a hell of a lot since he’d left her classroom. And his tongue…not only did he use it between her legs with such enthusiasm that her vibrator would forever after seem a weak substitute, but his ability to listen (amazingly enough) hadn’t stopped when his dick hardened. He listened and responded when she showed him the secret place low on her stomach that was so ultrasensitive. He paid attention to that spot at the base of her neck. And his kisses…his kisses were an erotic adventure.
When he’d brought her to climax three times he finally moaned that he couldn’t wait anymore, and she’d reveled in the hard length of him as she guided him within her slick, ready folds. He’d tried to hold back—tried not to be too rough. She’d bit him on the shoulder and told him fiercely that she wasn’t a breakable young girl—that she wanted him—all of him. His growl had been sensual music. She gripped his hard hips with her legs and met his thrusts with equal strength, urging him on until he cried her name and spent himself within her.
7
Godiva had known what she was talking about. Having a werewolf lover was spectacular. Especially such a young werewolf lover. God, she’d almost forgotten the incredibly sexy strength of a young man’s body. And recovery time! Jeesh. That boy had been better than a recharged vibrator. Way better. She was so glad it was the weekend and there was no school the next day. They’d made love for hours, and he was still nibbling at her neck when he’d walked her hom
e. She jumped the steps into her house two at a time. He made her feel twenty again. No! She took that back. She didn’t feel twenty again—no way did she want to feel that stupid and unconfident again. Justin made her feel fabulous and forty, which was exactly what she was.
Candice had taken a long bath, delighted with the unaccustomed soreness of her body. And then, replete, she’d slept till noon. Noon! And only woke up then because her cell phone had toned at her, telling her she had a text message. She flipped it open, feeling a rush of pleasure even before she saw the text.
Are you busy tonight? I have a surprise for you.
What was he up to now? She grinned and replied:
More spidey sense?
His reply was a single word.
Better
She laughed out loud. This was fun! And, no. She wasn’t going to go on and on with herself about how long it’d been since she’d had this kind of fun…and that she might be having too much fun too soon. No. She was just going to enjoy herself.
I think I can fit you into my schedule.
She waited impatiently for the tone that signaled his reply, and when it came it sounded like beautiful music—even though she was completely aware of how ridiculously romantic that seemed.
Be on your deck at dusk. And be ready…
Be on her deck at dusk? And be ready for what? But she forced herself not to text him back and ask for details. She wanted to break her old habits. She overanalyzed things (“things” being defined as “men”). She knew she did it, and she knew she had gotten worse as she’d gotten older.
“Not this time,” she muttered as she fixed herself a cup of her favorite green tea and stuck a couple pieces of toast in the toaster. “This time is going to be different. This time I’m not looking for a husband; I’m looking for fun.”
Candice took her tea, toast, a pencil, and the pad of paper she’d started writing her poem on the day before out onto the wonderful wood deck that wrapped the length of the back of her house and looked out into the woods that surrounded Mysteria. She curled up cross-legged on the comfortable wicker rocker that sat beside the little wicker table.
It was such a beautiful day! The woods, always magical (literally and figuratively) looked like a romantic dream come to life. All that it lacked was the knight and the white horse and…
Good lord! What was happening to her? She was making her own self sick.
“Snap out of it and get to writing so you can get to the good stuff tonight.” Then, humming “Tonight, Tonight” from West Side Story she looked at the partially written poem.
Keep your Errol Flynns, Paul Newmans, Mel Gibsons
all puppets—empty masquerades.
Tom, Dick, and Harry, too
the boy next door
I want no more.
You ask, what now?
Well, love comes with the night,
in the most inexplicable places
leaving the most unexplainable traces.
You see…a wolfman is the man for me!
She smiled and began to write from there.
True, hair in the sink is copious,
Two hours later she should have been frustrated and annoyed. She was, after all, staring at the same line she’d written earlier and nothing else was coming. Well, not exactly nothing. She’d written line after line after line, but nothing seemed to work. Nothing could begin to capture the new, crystal bright feeling of happiness and expectation that was building inside of her, and that was the feeling she wanted her poem to evoke.
“Ah, hell! Never mind. I’ll write it tomorrow.” She had a date to get ready for, a really hot date at that, which called for eyebrow plucking, leg shaving, a full pedicure and manicure, and lots of hair primping. Not to mention that she was going to dig through some of the boxes she’d moved into the basement to find what she’d done with her really sexy lingerie.
“Tonight I will not be wearing a sports bra and grandma panties,” she promised the air around her. Had she not been so busy trying (unsuccessfully) not to giggle like a girl, she would have noticed the gaggle of pink-winged fairies who, overhearing her, had taken off in a burst of silver glitter and musical laughter out over the trees, heading in the direction of their favorite witch’s house.
Justin wanted to do something special for her. He’d been up most of the night thinking about what he could do—and about her. Her skin and her body…he’d never felt anything as lush and inviting. So this was what it was like to be with a woman versus a girl! Twenty-somethings paled in comparison to Candice. And he could talk to her! He’d actually talked with her about dreams he’d thought were long dead. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d even thought about painting, yet here he was, heading to her place with the huge book he’d checked out from the library, one with glossy, full-color pictures of famous pieces of art, tucked under his arm. With his other arm he carried a bag filled with several cuts of prime fillet steaks from his family’s restaurant, each broiled and spiced to perfection, and one of the brightly checked tablecloths they used in the dining room. He smiled as he got closer to her house and left the road to circle around to her backyard. When he could peer through the thick trees and just barely make out her deck, he put the book and the bag down, spread the tablecloth out over the leafy ground, and opened the boxes, letting the aroma of expensive steak waft in the light evening breeze.
He didn’t have long to wait. He heard their giggles and the whirring of their wings before he saw them. Then, poof! He was standing in the center of a cloud of fairies who, as soon as they spotted the steaks, squealed with pleasure and began a dive-bomb-like descent.
“Wait!” He growled menacingly and stood protectively over the delectable meal. The fairies paused, midswoop. “If you want the steaks you have to do something for me.”
Four of the glittering miniature nymphs glided toward him. They were only about as big as an outstretched hand, but their beauty was not diminished by size. They smiled coquettishly at him.
“We know you, wolfman,” the four trilled together, magically harmonizing. “We’ve often watched you pleasure females in the forest.” They ran their hands suggestively down their naked bodies. “We would be happy to do something for you.”
He quickly put his hands up, as if fending off an attack. “No, no, no. You don’t understand. The favor I need is not quite so personal.”
“What a shame.” They pouted prettily.
“Do you want the steaks or not?” He already knew their answer. Fairies craved red meat, but they never got enough. They could really be a pain in the ass; they were almost as bad as termites or fleas. His dad had to spray the restaurant for them monthly.
“We want the meat!” the entire group answered together.
“Good. Then this is all I need you to do.” He picked up the thick art book and then hesitated before he opened it to one of the three pages he’d marked earlier. “Do you know the teacher who lives in the cabin right there?” He pointed through the trees at Candice’s house.
As a group the fairies nodded.
“You know what she looks like?”
They nodded again, causing their long, shining hair to sparkle and glisten and float around them like slightly tarnished, then glittered, haloes.
“Excellent. Here’s what I need you to do…” Justin opened the book. The fairies flocked around him, making curious little cooing noises as he gave them their orders.
Candice was going to be totally surprised!
Candice was sitting in her wicker chair sipping an excellent glass of chilled chardonnay when he stepped out of the forest and onto the grass of her backyard. There was just enough light left in the dusky sky to see that his smile was reflected by the sparkle in his amber eyes.
“Hello, Ms. Cox,” he said mischievously.
“Hello, Justin,” she said in her best teacher voice. “Did you stop by for a little detention?”
“I don’t know.” His grin widened. “I think I’ve been a pretty good boy lat
ely.”
“Yes, you certainly have,” she said, feeling suddenly very warm.
“Not that I wouldn’t like being locked in a room alone with you.”
“So my surprise has to do with locks?”
“No, Miss Impatient. Nothing like that.” He climbed the deck stairs and leaned down to kiss her lightly. “You look beautiful tonight. Love the short skirt.”
Candice didn’t think she’d ever been so grateful for having good legs.
“Thank you. Wine?” she offered.
“I’d love some, thanks.”
She poured him a glass of sun-colored wine. Just before he sat in the empty wicker chair across from her he looked out toward the forest, raised his hand, and yelled, “Action!”
