Sassy Ever After: Kissing Sassy (Kindle Worlds Novella)

by Gracen Miller

  Christ, does she even know how that sounded? “Snob.” Winking at her, he shoved away from his art table, the wheels on his chair making clack-clackety noises as he wheeled toward where she sat. “What type of tat would you want and where?”

  “A sexy sorceress with a magical ball in her hand.”

  Fitting since that would honor her lineage.

  “And maybe on my inner forearm, if it’d fit.”

  “A badass sexpot for my sextress.” He caught her hand and turned it over to expose her forearm.

  As he grabbed a sheet of paper to trace the measurement of her arm, she asked, “What’s a sextress?”

  “You.” Cajun flicked a peek at her. “My sexy actress.”

  “Looks aren’t everything, Cajun.” Olivia sounded unsure, and he knew something went on in her head.

  “You know you’re a sex kitten to half the world, so what’s up with that comment?”

  She shrugged. “Sometimes it’d be nice to be seen as a person rather than a wet dream.”

  “Chin up, beautiful.” He nudged his thumb across her chin. “My wolf wants you because of the way you smell and because you’re ours, the perfect mate designed just for me. That’s got nothing to do with your looks. I’ve seen your movies and never felt any emotion for you until you walked into Sassy Wolfe.”

  “Did you ever watch my movies and then fuck afterward? Or, you know, self-pleasure.”

  “You mean masturbate?” He grinned, finding it adorable that she wouldn’t say the word, while she’d said harsher, sexier things in some of her movies. She nodded, and he considered her, wondering which answer she wanted. “Did you want me to?”

  “I’ve never really considered myself a sex symbol. That title is best left to Marilyn Monroe. I didn’t have any celebrity crushes as a teen. I was too busy moving between foster homes.”

  “Marilyn Monroe has nothing on you.”

  She rolled her eyes and rubbed her wrist where he’d just been touching her. “Of course you’d say that.”

  He set the measurement of her arm on the table and stretched his legs out, eyeing her. She wanted straight talk so he’d give it to her. “Honestly, Olivia, I’d never fuck a girl while thinking of or desiring someone else. It’s not my style. I wouldn’t be with her if I couldn’t totally be with her. What’s the point? I’d be cheating myself as much as her. When I’m with you, I’ll only ever be with you.”

  Her eyes softened a touch, getting a little misty, and he knew he’d said the right thing. The right thing was easy to say when it was also the truth. He’d never been one of those guys looking at other girls while with someone else. Women were meant to be cherished, to love, not to minimize or use as sex objects. He would have executed a fist pump in the air if he wouldn’t lose ground with her. She made it hard to break through her outer shell, but that would make winning her heart all the more special.

  “No jacking off to posters as a teenager?” As his grandma would say, the devil was in her eyes, and his cock liked the vulgar comment falling from her lips.

  “Didn’t say that. I was like any horny teenager, sex always on my mind.” Kinda like how I feel around you now. “The flash of a butt-cheek had me popping wood at inappropriate moments.”

  “Good to know you’re not perfect.”

  “Far from it.” The government had turned him into damn near the perfect killer, and he’d almost lost himself to the savagery of his wolf during those years, but he no longer took pride in that. “I accept and cuddle with my demons.”

  Olivia laughed, her features relaxing as her humor died away. The smile left lingering on her lips made his wolf stand up and take notice, his tail wagging like crazy. Something had shifted between them. The air became less tense, and even her body language grew more relaxed. “So tell me about your first time.”

  Was this a ‘getting to know you’ session? He grasped the idea with both hands and went with it, because it meant he could ask her personal questions too. “You don’t want to know that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it was awkward, on a boat in the middle of the bayou, with gators bumping the boat, and I lasted about twelve seconds. She was not impressed.”

  “Yeah… mine was a mirror image of yours except without the bayou, gators, boat, and I sure didn’t come.”

  She will come more than once with me. It was a vow she could bank on.

  “I was sixteen. How old were you?”

  “Fifteen.” Dragging the outline of Olivia’s arm across the table to rest in front of him, he picked up his pencil and started to sketch the design she’d mentioned. “She was eighteen.”

  “Isn’t that statutory rape?”

  He shrugged. “Don’t know. Probably, but we live a lot differently in the bayou.”

  “You ever been in love?”

  “No.” He held her gaze. “You?”

  “No.”

  Cajun breathed a sigh of relief, not realizing her answer mattered to him until she responded. Crazy, yeah, but he wanted to be her first and only love. As he penciled the sorceress figure, he asked, “How many lovers have you had, Olivia?”

  Keeping his attitude cool, he pretended to focus on his drawing, but from the corner of his eye, he watched as she tilted her head to get a better view of what he drew. “A few good ones. Too many bad ones. Lately, I prefer my vibrator.”

  His grip tightened on the pencil, and the lead broke. I will not look at her. If he did, he’d drag her into his arms and show her how spectacular their connection would make sex between them. Just because he didn’t have experience with this type of bond didn’t mean he didn’t know when they came together those fireworks chicks talked about would happen, and he’d never roll his eyes at the concept again. But how do I compete with a vibrator?

  “Don’t get me wrong,” she went on, obviously not noticing his distress. “Even bad lovers are better than none. It’s about human touch sometimes and not the orgasm.”

  The loneliness of that statement hit him hard, like a gut-punch. No way he could ignore it. He turned his head and looked at her, realizing Aunt B was right. Olivia was lonely, and he’d bet his nuts she dealt mostly with fake friends. Her occupation pretty much eliminated any real ones.

  “What?” she asked when he said nothing, but just studied her.

  “I give human touch, free of charge, no strings attached. Hugs, kisses, caresses, orgasms, all of it free because you deserve it, are entitled to affection, without any expectations of returning the favor.”

  Right before she lowered her gaze, he caught the way her green eyes darkened. As she fiddled with her fingers in her lap, Cajun knew in his gut no one had ever put her first or made her feel special.

  “Theodore Gustav Wolfe, huh?”

  The change of subject concerned him. Bringing up his full name confused him even more. His given name had been mentioned a couple of days ago, so why reference it now, after he’d offered himself as a beacon of light in her lonely life?

  “Yeah.” He ran his hand through his hair, wishing he could figure Olivia Scott out, but deciding almost immediately he preferred her just the way she was… unpredictable. Christ, this woman made him crazy. Even crazier, for the first time in his life, he wanted someone else’s happiness more than his own. “You can understand why I prefer Cajun now.”

  “Oh, I don’t know, Theodore is sexy.”

  “It’s what my parents call me.” It was sexy hearing his name on her tongue too. His cock agreed smacking against his zipper. He shifted a little in his chair, cursing his inappropriate woody, and winced in discomfort. “You want color on your tattoo?”

  “Which way will it look better?”

  “Either. Just depends on what you prefer.”

  “Color then.” Cajun sketched a good thirty minutes before she spoke again. “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “Making you uncomfortable.” Confused, he looked at her, and she glanced toward his crotch.

  “What can I
say, catin? Around you, I’m a twin of my teenage years.”

  NINE

  Olivia

  From the back porch, she watched the Wolfe guys engage in a friendly competition of basketball. She’d never found sweaty men all that appealing, until now. Cajun with his shirt off and his chest gleaming with perspiration… She shifted from foot to foot. Jesus. Not just distracting but sexy as hell.

  These last few days had been torture, her arousal growing into a thing of agony. And it wasn’t all attributed to the siren song; at least, she didn’t think it was. She liked Cajun. A lot. He seemed like a genuine guy, and even though she tried to remain out of sight as much as possible, the moments she’d had a chance to observe him in a public setting showed her the man’s personality. Everyone liked him. Went out of their way to stop him on the sidewalks to chitchat. Each time he’d introduced her she’d been greeted warmly too. Blue Creek residents were very different from those in Hollywood.

  Cajun was open and honest with her too, not hesitating to engage in personal conversation, while she hid truths about her lineage from him. She felt no guilt for her duplicity because she’d learned to trust no one with the total truth. Anyone was a potential betrayer.

  Not Cajun. She’d bet her life he’d never betray her. No wolf would ever deceive his or her life companion. Of course that logic banked on them actually being mates. That type of trickery wasn’t in a wolf’s DNA.

  Withholding truths about her lineage had less to do with lack of trust, and more to do with the fact she couldn’t decide whether it would help Cajun or the Wolfes to know her secrets. This was one of those times when knowledge brought them danger.

  “Why so broody?”

  Olivia jerked from her thoughts, but played it casual by maintaining her focus on the basketball game. “I’m not, just thinking about stuff.”

  “About me? That kind of stuff?”

  She turned her head to peer at Cajun. Disappointment surfaced because he’d pulled on a shirt. He stood in her personal space. Just his heat affected her in ways she was uncomfortable dissecting. Add in his alluring scent, and she craved him with an intensity that made no sense. “About how sexy you are sweaty.”

  There. She received the reaction she couldn’t get enough of. His black pupils expanded until his gray irises almost inked out. The ring circling his irises glowed bright in the falling twilight and indicated not just the man was present, but also the wolf.

  “O…” Cajun’s arm shot out, gripped her nape and pulled her snug against his chest, his fingers swishing back and forth across the quickly fading, elevated bite marks Jessie had left behind. Her nipples reacted to the caress, coiling into achy beads. Cajun’s voice emerged gruff, “Don’t tease me. My wolf is on edge.”

  I’m on edge too.

  “We both want a taste of you.”

  Jesus, she wanted that too, but knew it’d lead to more.

  Thanks to the sound of his bed-sexy tone, her core clenched in need. That was a lie. It wasn’t just his bed-sexy voice that generated desire. Her core clenched in need anytime he was near. “Why’d you call me ‘O’?”

  “Because I wanna make you orgasm so hard your pretty mouth makes an O.”

  Carnal heat snaked through her body. “I bet you have tickets on yourself.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Australian slang didn’t roll off her tongue the way it had when she’d first arrived in the States, but it still slipped out from time to time.

  “It means you’re conceited.” But in a good way that appealed to her, unlike most of her movie counterparts who were sanctimonious assholes because of their fame and fortune and not because they’d earned the respect.

  “You’re wet.”

  God, yes I am.

  “I smell it, so don’t bother denying it.”

  “Wasn’t planning on it.” She curled her hands in his shirt, barely hanging on to her thread of self-control.

  ‘When I’m with you, I’ll only ever be with you.’

  His words from yesterday twisted through her mind. She couldn’t get them out of her head. Olivia knew he hadn’t been talking about her specifically, but it’d felt that way.

  “Your nipples are so hard they’re poking me in the chest.” His hand shifted upward off her nape to cup the back of her head. “So, yeah, I’m conceited. Considering I’ve not really touched you, I’d say my conceit is merited.”

  Olivia lowered her forehead to his chest. The wrong move because his scent was strong, overpowering her good intentions, and so robust she feared his unique aroma was burned into her sinuses. Desire to lick him and see if he tasted as good as he smelled was deep-seated. A kernel of fear spiraled through her as she realized one taste of him would activate the siren song. No confirmation was required as it was an innate knowledge.

  Fearing she couldn’t halt their destiny, she discovered that possibility didn’t bother her nearly as much as she’d have thought it would. She couldn’t breathe him deep enough into her lungs, couldn’t touch him enough. Olivia rubbed her cheek against his solid frame, the damp perspiration marking her as his.

  Did she really want to be marked by him? Yeah, she thought she did.

  “Tell me you feel this link between us, Olivia.” Cajun’s fingers coiled around the strands of her hair, securing his grip.

  The siren song. That was the term sorceri gave to the mating call, at least according to the book of sorcery she’d pilfered from the Gathering. The siren song was to be avoided at all cost because it was believed finding a soul mate weakened a sorceress. Strange, since her magic worked in his presence but didn’t around other wolves.

  “I feel something; did from the moment I saw you.” At her admission, he gave a sharp little tug, just enough her head angled back sharply so their gazes could clash. “I don’t like it, but I love it, which makes little sense. I’m itchy all over, hot everywhere, and—”

  “Hot between your legs?”

  Hot didn’t adequately describe how much her pussy ached to be filled by him. Only him. “I burn there, Theodore.”

  Cajun groaned, and his mouth crashed over hers in the next breath. He kissed her like she supplied all his oxygen, and she clung to him, afraid to let go or she’d realize it was the best and worst dream she’d ever had. The good-natured ribbing of the Wolfe men tickled her ears, and a fleeting moment of wanting privacy flitted through her mind. But then Cajun began to really fuck her mouth, and she forgot about them.

  Her back hit a wall, and he trapped her there with his body. Groaning into his mouth, she threaded her fingers through his hair while she dug the fingernails of her other hand into his shoulder. As far as first kisses went, his far exceeded expectations, beating out all her prior ones.

  The shifter is skilled with his tongue.

  Cajun caught her arms, lifted them over her head, overlapped them at the wrists, and held them in place with one of his. He broke the kiss, his wolf in his eyes, their united panting so loud it was the only noise she could hear.

  He glanced about and seemed startled, but focused on her once more as the back of his knuckles caressed her bare stomach. Olivia’s breath caught at the sensual touch, her muscles twitching beneath his stroke. His fingers tugged on her jeans, and the snap gave free, the material going slack about the waist. He leaned in closer, his breath puffing against her lips, as he lowered the zipper on her denims, all the while holding her gaze, going slow and giving her time to halt his advancement.

  She should stop him. The rational side of her brain told her to apply the brakes fast and hard. The devil on her shoulder encouraged her to take everything and live on the wild side until her interest in him burned out.

  Cajun’s mouth connected with hers again, his eyes wide open and holding hers, as his fingers swished back and forth across the exposed flesh above her pelvis. His hand went lower until the shock of his stroke across her intimate lips jerked her backward as her hips thrust forward into his touch. Constricted by her jeans, he managed to find enough ro
om to glide his fingers across her slick folds, wrenching a moan from her.

  He pushed downward on her pants. “I need to taste you.”

  “Yes.” Olivia would’ve helped, but he maintained his hold on her wrists.

  He shoved a hand into her jeans and palmed her ass, squeezed, as his fingers skimmed her crack.

  “Jesus Christ, a thong.” Cajun released her arms, lowered to his knees, and yanked her jeans down just enough to reveal her panties. While wearing a reverent expression, he fingered her underwear. “Love these.”

  With her denim hooked around her thighs and limiting her movement, the best she could do to offer herself to him was to thrust her hips forward. “I love a man’s fingers inside me.”

  All wolf ringed his irises. He ripped her underwear off, and in one rough move, he yanked her pants to her knees. Cajun cupped her bottom, his fingers digging into her ass-crack as he tilted her hips forward. The subtle shift in her pelvis opened her thighs just enough, and he buried his face between them. His tongue swiped across her folds, a raspy lick that catapulted her toward the heavens.

  Olivia moaned at the heat burning from her core, her fingers curling in his hair as his tongue flicked against her clit. He wasn’t just good with his tongue, but proficient too. She tried to spread her legs wider, but couldn’t thanks to her clothes. Needing more contact, she whimpered, but distant laughter startled her from her growing pleasure.

  “Wait.” She yanked on his hair, pulling him away and clenching her thighs together. “Not here. They can see us.”

  “No, they can’t. We’re too far away.” He dragged her jeans to her ankles. “Step out.”

  “Where are we? When did you move us?” She blinked about their location, not recognizing their whereabouts. The last she remembered, they were standing on the back porch in plain view of the guys.

  “Back side of the barn. You moved us when I kissed you.” Cajun trailed his palm down the inside of her leg.

  Olivia thought back to the moment when her back had hit the wall and his startled glance right before his touch traversed south into her panties. That must’ve been when they’d shifted locations. “I can’t teleport or whatever it’s called.”