by Anh Leod
She shook her head ruefully.
Before she could continue the conversation, he lifted both hands and placed them gently over those begging nipples. Her body wanted sex, even if her mouth wanted to keep talking.
“Smokie,” she breathed.
Before she could say more, he slanted his mouth over hers and blocked speech with kisses. She didn’t stop him, didn’t resist, just rested her hands along his belt and rocked her body against his.
At that moment, he knew being with her again had been as inevitable as the moonrise. Sudden fury rose in him. He’d lost control of his life and he hated that. Until now, being a shapeshifter had expanded his horizons, not limited them. He pushed Olivia’s slim form until her back landed against the faux-brick wall alongside the entertainment unit. His teeth scraped along her neck. He pulled his hands from her breasts and used his nails to rip down her shirt. As he spread the tattered fabric open his hand brushed against a large, solid disk on the entertainment unit. He grasped it.
When he glanced at it, he saw a stray roll of yellow caution tape. That might add a measure of control to the situation.
Olivia’s gaze followed his hands as he tore a strip of tape from the roll. She didn’t resist as he lifted one of her wrists into the air and created a long manacle to anchor her arm above her head on a water pipe that came into the room above the windows.
If anything, her nipples were harder—ripe cherries begging to be plucked. He grabbed a big bag of chips from the table and removed the clip then opened and closed it in front of her nipple.
Her chest rose and fell rapidly and her pupils dilated.
“Wet yet?”
She whimpered.
He took that as a yes and closed the chip-bag clip over her nipple. Her knees buckled and he grabbed her around the waist. After a moment, she steadied herself, and, looking him in the eyes, lifted her other hand into the air.
He formed another manacle and wrapped the end of the tape around the water pipe. It wouldn’t really hold her, but that wasn’t the point. This was.
He took the clip off and closed it around the other nipple. She gasped as blood rushed back into her flesh. He laved the swollen tip with his tongue as her hips bucked against him.
Yeah, she wanted to give him control, trusted him even just as a hook-up. He liked that.
“What’s with all the clothes, Olivia?” he asked, tugging at the waistband of her yoga pants. “Panties, socks? Not the girl I’m used to.”
She laughed, a hoarse sound unlike her usual warm chime. “Exercise clothes.”
“You don’t consider what we do exercise?”
She chuckled again then bit back a gasp as he removed the clip. He admired the pretty stripe of vertical lines the clip made around her engorged nipple.
“Aren’t you going to kiss it better?” she whispered. “You’re rougher than I am.”
He bent and did as she asked. Her body swayed toward his, almost as if he’d suspended her in the air instead of just raising her arms. The skin of her breasts smelled different than her hair, more coconut, less lemon.
“We should find a secluded beach,” he decided. “I’d love to love you in some deserted cove, the weather as warm as this, sand under our toes.” Love you? What was he saying? He meant “fuck you”, not “love you”.
She moaned in answer, sounding so irresistible that he had to walk his fingers down her gently rounded belly and find the damp curls above her slit. He found her clit and massaged it firmly, too horny to use a more delicate approach. He wanted her legs wrapped around him ASAP.
She tossed her head from side to side in response and her eyes closed. Taking that as agreement, he pushed her pants and panties down, pulling them off along with her shoes, until all she wore was socks and a thin gold-and-sapphire tennis bracelet.
Steadying her legs, he knelt on the floor. His cock thickened as he smelled her arousal up close. He licked up her slit then delicately opened her labia and let her cream cover his tongue. She tasted better than coconut or lemon any day.
“Oh, Smokie.”
He lifted his head. “Don’t think the door is locked. Think we’ll get company?”
She gasped as his tongue touched her again. He slid his fingers up her smooth legs then circled her ass. She really was a runner. Her muscles were well-defined, rounded, sexy as hell. His cock could burst through the zipper of his uniform pants, it was so hard.
“The things you do to me, girl,” he whispered, reaching into his pocket for a condom while he continued to lick her.
She yelped and bucked her hips. He gave up the quest for his condom for now, knowing she was close to coming. He slicked his fingers through her cream then rubbed them between her cheeks. She clenched around his fingers, grinding against his tongue. Gently, he slid his pinky into her anus.
She came in jagged jerks and he had to grab her ass to keep her upright. The feeling of her smooth, muscled skin under his hands reminded him of his own needs. He released her, undid his pants and rolled on the condom as soon as he found it.
“Ready?” he asked.
Just as he’d imagined, her legs lifted around his waist. He found her channel ready for him. His cock entered in one smooth, mind-bending glide. Despite her orgasm, despite being slick with cream, she was still so tight. And so hot. He grabbed her ass again and began to pump.
Olivia was a tall woman and her head found his temple. He felt her nip along the outer shell of his ear then her sharp little teeth found his earlobe. She nibbled until each bite felt like a flash of fire down his body into his cock. He drove harder inside her and she locked her ankles around his waist in response to the onslaught.
“You’re absolutely perfect, you know that?”
“That’s my line,” he panted.
“You’re the perfect fuck,” she said in a soft voice that lowered in register when he thrust again. “Perfect.”
Barkley’s tortured voice drifted through Smokie’s mind again. He pushed the words aside. “Perfect fuck” didn’t mean true mate. Even if she was perfect. Her camaraderie with the firefighters and commitment to the firehouse that was so central to his life, fit his existence. She had that sweet little house, the marvelous baking, and hot-as-fire sex in her favor. That body—slim and muscled, athletic, just like he was. Those pert, naughty nipples.
But she wasn’t a shapeshifter and didn’t it come down to that? How could a human be a true mate? Yet, Barkley had never been wrong. Smokie didn’t really believe the pronouncement was false. The seer had thought he was dying, right? He wouldn’t have gotten it wrong.
Except he hadn’t been dying. His injuries were minor for their kind.
A hard bite on his ear refocused his attention.
“Excuse me? Your cock is in my pussy? Wanna focus?”
Smokie found her mouth with his. “Sorry. Long day.”
He made sure she had no cause for complaint after that, changing the angle of his thrusts so every glide of his body rocked her clit. Soon she was gasping and crying out with every movement.
Behind them, he heard the door open then footfalls as someone moved inside, observed their tangled bodies.
“Excuse me.” Someone laughed when Olivia shrieked. The door closed again.
“Should have set those brownies outside,” Smokie said.
Olivia wriggled against him. “I think the tape’s coming undone.”
“My sex manacles? Never.” But he smoothed his movements, deepened them with every thrust.
“Don’t stop, even if they come in again.” She rotated her hips.
“I won’t,” he promised, giving as good as he got.
She swiveled against him, matching every slide and thrust he made. Gods, she really was perfect.
“Yes, yes…oh yeah,” she keened, losing her grip on his ear as she came.
Her channel tightened and released, tightened and released. Smokie felt his orgasm start somewhere at the base of his spine then his balls released and it felt as if his whol
e body poured into hers.
When he could think again, he steadied her. After grabbing his belt, he opened the pouch with his utility knife then reached up and cut the tape. He caught her neatly then lowered them both, half naked, onto the sofa.
“I need a nap,” she murmured against his chest.
“Mmmm,” was all that came from his lips.
Chapter Four
The next night after his shift ended, Smokie called King to notify his alpha that he’d be hunting in the woods near Olivia’s house, dangerously close to civilization.
“Don’t let anyone see you,” King warned. “We don’t need any more 9-1-1 calls.”
“I’ll stay off the streets,” Smokie promised. “But something else is out there. A wolf, if Olivia is correct. If it’s still there, I’ll find it.”
Of course, if he’d really been worried about what he might find he’d have brought a buddy along, but the moon wouldn’t be full for three days, so whatever lurked wasn’t a member of the Legion Clan. They could only shift during the full moon. Either a member of the Brotherhood was roaming too close to city limits or something, or someone, entirely unknown was out there.
He drove to the parking lot at the south end of the woods, which was a park entrance and far enough from Olivia’s house that she wouldn’t see him, then strolled a mile into the woods. He hadn’t seen anyone since the first hundred yards of his walk, so he shifted under the shelter of a tall evergreen.
After he’d shifted form, he lifted his muzzle to the still summer air and sniffed. No fires bigger than a campfire anywhere nearby. Something big up north—Tacoma, maybe. A warehouse fire?
His ears perked forward as he checked for other scents. Wolf. One of his kind, or the wild equivalent, was nearby. He listened, but heard nothing to alarm him so he set off in the direction of the scent.
It didn’t escape his notice that he travelled in the direction of Olivia’s home. She had been an architect at one time, Owen had told him, though she hadn’t built her current house. Very early in her career, when she was about his age, she’d won an international competition for a building overseas, in the Middle East somewhere. He wondered why she’d left the field.
Was a wolf tracking Olivia or someone else in her neighborhood? No one in the Brotherhood lived within two miles of her property. He’d checked.
He heard a low howl of greeting and a dainty gray-and-brown wolf trotted into view from behind a stand of alders. Recognizing her as clan, he allowed the female wolf to lick his nuzzle. She whined quietly, a mating sound. He remembered this female was Duke’s date from the other night. Her nose bumped his and her entire body moved closer. Something about the mating behavior made his hackles rise.
Turning, he drove farther into the woods, past a reservoir, up the hills, out of the reaches of civilization and onto land privately owned by King on behalf of the clan. The female wolf followed him. He set too fast a pace for any play.
As they’d climbed, the air had cooled. He figured there’d be no involuntary erections to explain away in the chill. After a deep breath for strength, he shifted so he could find out what she wanted.
The female wolf did the same. He recognized her as eighteen-year-old Daisy Dell, a clan member as cutesy as her name. Despite her age, she strutted, clearly feeling sexy while sky-clad.
He needed to keep this all business. Grateful for the cold, he folded his arms across his chest. “I didn’t recognize you before. You don’t run with the clan in wolf form.”
“My parents prefer to keep rituals in the family. It’s not worth arguing about.” She stopped a couple feet away and cocked a rounded hip.
“Why are you shifting so close to civilization? Haven’t your parents explained the rules? The authorities are getting wildlife complaint calls.”
She smirked. “I knew you hung around that area a lot and I wanted to find you.”
“I might pass by,” he admitted. “But I don’t run on the street.”
“I wanted to see her too,” Daisy said. She toyed with a strand of her long bleached-blonde hair.
“Her who?”
“The human you’re fucking. I wanted to see what your type was.”
“Why is it any of your business?”
She shrugged, making her breasts bounce. “I’m interested. You’re hot.”
“It doesn’t bother you that I’m with someone else?”
“Word is she’s your true mate but you haven’t made a move to claim her. I figured I had a window of opportunity.”
“You’re dating Duke.”
“Just a way to lose my virginity,” she said matter-of-factly. “It needed to be clan or my father would freak. It’s okay with Duke. He meets my father’s guidelines.”
“I guess he isn’t your true mate,” Smokie said flatly.
“Barkley can only tell if he sees true mates together. Since we don’t go to rituals, he hasn’t had much opportunity to see me.”
“I’m sure your time will come.”
She put her hand on his arm and leaned in so her breasts almost brushed his chest. “So what do you think? Me and you?”
“I have a true mate. I should value that.”
“Should?”
He swallowed. “Will. I guess I should thank you for making me realize even I think it’s important.”
“She’s human.” Daisy made a face.
“I’ll tell her what I am. If she can’t accept it, well, I don’t know the consequences of that exactly, but I’ll be honest.”
Her features screwed together. “She’s older than you.”
“What’s your point?”
The girl sighed. “You know who I am now, if you want me.”
“I won’t.”
“That’s really rude,” she huffed.
“So is making unwanted advances toward someone in a relationship,” he responded. “Try your wiles on someone your own age.”
“There isn’t anyone. It’s not like there’s tons of us. The largest group is the guys your age—you and Shamsky and Duke.”
“And Krypto. He’s less than two years younger than us.”
“He’s in college.”
“Maybe you can follow him to school next year.” He could only hope.
She rolled her eyes.
“Or you can go after a Legion shifter.”
Her expression didn’t change.
“That’s it then. I’m out of here. I’ll have to tell King who was roaming around. I suggest you don’t break the rules again.”
Daisy grabbed his arm. This time the gesture wasn’t seductive. “What if he tells my father?”
“I’ll ask him not to, but you’d better promise you’re going to behave.”
“I don’t have a reason to hang out around here if you’ve chosen the human.”
“In the future, you might want to reconsider stalking,” he advised. “Not the best way to get a date.”
She crossed her arms over her breasts and turned away, her walk jerky now instead of seductive.
“I didn’t mean to make you cry,” he called. “Just some advice.”
“I’m not crying, I’m mad,” she yelled back.
“Krypto is home on break,” he shouted. “I just saw him last week.”
She stopped moving and her head turned to her shoulder. “Really?”
“And he’s single.” Probably willing too, if a girl like Daisy went after him. For a shifter, Krypto was a nerd.
“Thanks.”
He lifted a hand and moved into the trees. “Any time.” Now for the important stuff. He shifted and returned to his clothes. He fired off a text to King then jogged toward Olivia’s house. On second thought, he slowed to a walk. He could use a little time to consider what he would say to his true mate. A little time to reconcile himself to the idea that his bachelorhood was all but over. Why didn’t it bug him more? Maybe the true mate magic worked on him already.
Still, her house came into view much too quickly and he knew she waited for him
there, to see if he’d found anything. She’d be concerned too, worried about his safety in the woods, though no worry was necessary. She needed to know the truth.
He scrubbed his hands over his face and pushed a branch out of his way so he could admire her house. The green-and-blue paint scheme both blended her house into the parklike setting and made it stand out from other nearby houses. Kind of like her. She blended into the background of the town, yet when you got closer, she stood out with her beauty and vibrant personality.
He squared his shoulders and crossed the street then knocked on her door.
“Your shirt!” The cry burst from Olivia’s lips when she appeared. She put her hands to his face, his chest. “Are you hurt?”
He looked down, confused, then saw he’d caught the collar of his T-shirt on a branch and torn it away from the rest of the fabric. “No, I’m fine. I didn’t even notice the tear.” He noticed muddy paw prints on his jeans, as if something had stepped on his clothes where he’d left them. An animal should have scented the wolf on his clothes and stayed away. He licked his lips.
She let out a breath. “Did you see anything?”
He froze, realizing he hadn’t prepared what to say. A coyote? Had he called Wildlife Patrol? No, he needed to tell her the exact truth. “Can I come in?”
She pulled her headband from her hair and massaged her scalp. “Sure, but I’m covered in ink. I could clean up, make us some dinner.”
He took one of her hands in his and saw it was smudged with black ink. “What were you doing?”
“Calligraphy. It’s a side job slash hobby. I have a commission for wedding invitations for a former governor’s daughter.”
“You have a studio in the house?”
“Yes, in one of the extra bedrooms. You can check it out if you want while I clean up.”
All the bedrooms were upstairs so Smokie climbed the steps and peeked in the rooms. The one with the best light was lined with tables on two sides and a huge storage unit that rested against the wall with no windows. It was filled with paper, inks and other tools of Olivia’s work. The wall with the door was covered with framed pen and ink sketches as well as the letter O in various fancy styles. He peered closer and saw the sketches were all signed “O. Bilson”. She was a talented artist. The fact that at least three of the drawings were of wolves made him wonder. Wasn’t that one King? Another could be Bijou Pompey.
