Werewolf in the North Woods

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  “Thank you for tending to me, Dr. Wallace.”

  He pulled her pants up and stood. “Oh, I’ll be tending to you a lot more. You’re going to need some serious tending.” He raised his voice. “All done, Donald! I’m going to help Abby to that rock over there and let her sit down while I pitch her tent. She needs to get off that leg.”

  Donald walked back in their direction. “Pretty bad, huh?”

  “Nasty gash.” Roarke hooked a shoulder under Abby’s right armpit. “If you have a queasy stomach, you don’t want to look at it.”

  “Other side,” she muttered.

  “Huh?”

  She rolled her eyes. “It’s the right leg, so you want to support me on the left side so I can hop on my left leg.”

  “Oh. Right.”

  “No, left.”

  He blew out a breath. “That’s what I meant. I can already tell you’re going to be a difficult patient.”

  “I think she’s a trouper,” Donald said. “Don’t worry about a thing, Abby. Roarke and I will handle this situation.”

  “Thank you, Donald. I feel like the weak link.”

  “Nah,” Donald said. “One thing about all this. Neither of you will forget this honeymoon!”

  “I’m sure you’re right.” Roarke eased Abby down onto the rock. He’d never given much thought to his actual honeymoon—where he’d like to go or who he’d be spending it with. Up to now, he hadn’t been able to picture anyone in that role.

  He didn’t have that problem anymore. Instead he had a different one. He couldn’t picture going on a honeymoon with anyone but Abby.

  Abby lay in her small tent and listened to raindrops patter on the teal-colored nylon while the guys fixed lunch. According to Roarke, Donald’s tent had a front flap that could be propped up to provide shelter for things like making food. Roarke had promised to make sure Donald’s tent was set up a good distance from hers in the hope that Roarke and Abby could enjoy some alone time later.

  She still wasn’t sure how Roarke planned to get her to see the Sasquatch pair and keep Donald away, but she’d handed him the first part of the plan and it seemed as if it would work. Her plan had come to her while listening to Donald’s monologue this morning.

  Although he was the hero in nearly every story he’d told her, he’d mentioned an incident in which he’d cut himself on a sharp staple and his beautiful secretary had rushed to his aid with ointment, a bandage, and plenty of sympathy. His hands, it seemed, were critical to his team at Sony. On a hunch Abby had asked whether there had been any blood involved in this industrial accident of mammoth proportions. That’s when she’d learned that Donald had a serious phobia.

  “Abby? Ready for some soup?”

  “Bring it on, professor.” She sat up and scooted back in the tent to give him room. They hadn’t tried sharing this space yet, and she was curious about how they’d maneuver. He was very large.

  He unzipped the flap and crouched down with a tin cup in each hand. “Minestrone.”

  “Sounds great.”

  “It will be if I can get it in there without dumping it all over both of us.”

  “Well, we can’t eat outside in the rain. Let me help.” Donald wouldn’t be able to see through the opaque material of the tent, so she gave up the pretense of her injury and crawled toward the entrance. “Give me one of the cups.”

  He handed it to her, and she crawled backwards and set the cup on a bare spot on the tent floor. Careful not to kick it, she crawled back. “Now the other one.” She repeated the process so that both cups were together on the floor. Then she carefully took a cross-legged position and hoped she’d left enough room for Roarke.

  “This is one small tent.” He got on all fours, pulled off his hiking boots, and tucked them just inside the entrance before coming in. Closing the short distance to Abby, he kissed her full on the mouth.

  She wouldn’t exactly say she’d been bored lying alone in the tent, but that kiss made life a whole lot more interesting. Cupping his head, she delved into his mouth with her tongue and made a happy little sound low in her throat.

  He drew back with obvious reluctance. “You need to make that sound more like a moan of pain than a moan of ecstasy,” he murmured softly. “At least until he starts in with his harmonica.”

  She kept her voice low. “Is that likely to happen soon?”

  “I never thought I’d say this, but I hope so. I told him that playing the harmonica would be a good idea so the Sasquatch couple would be drawn to this very spot.”

  “Smart man.”

  “The problem is, he likes his food, and I don’t think he’ll start playing until after lunch. So maybe, all things considered, we should have our soup before I…” He paused to waggle his eyebrows at her. “. . . take off your bandage.”

  “Do you think you can sit down?”

  “Sort of.” He maneuvered into the spot she’d left for him and copied her cross-legged position, except he had to hunch over or his head would have made a dent in the roof. “Whose idea was it to bring these tiny tents, anyway?”

  “Yours and Grandpa Earl’s, if I remember correctly. I wasn’t involved, and I came out to discover you’d both agreed these would be marvelous.” She handed him one of the cups.

  “Yeah, well, they’re not. And explaining the separate tent thing to Donald was quite a challenge.”

  “I didn’t hear that part.” Abby picked up her cup and took a sip. “What did you say?”

  “I told him that when we got married, you were a virgin.”

  Abby choked on her soup.

  “Sorry.” Reaching over, he rubbed her back until she could breathe again. “I should have led up to that.”

  “No, really? What makes you think so?” She glared at him, but kept her voice lowered. “That was the best you could do? A virgin?”

  He shrugged. “I had to think fast, because he was obviously confused when he saw that we had two separate tents. I told him that you were so shy at first that you didn’t want me to see you dress and undress, so you wanted your own tent for that.”

  “If he heard us in the cave this morning, I’m sure he knows I’ve recovered from that problem.”

  “Oh, yeah, he knows. I told him that after a couple of nights with me, you’d turned into a wild woman.”

  “You didn’t!”

  “Shh.” He placed a hand over her mouth. “No, I didn’t. I can’t seem to resist teasing you, probably because I’m getting horny as hell and we can’t do anything about it until he starts playing his damned harmonica.”

  “So what did you say about me?”

  “That with some gentle persuasion, you’d emerged from your virginal shell and were starting to enjoy the benefits of marriage…to a stud.”

  She whacked him on the arm. “You’re incorrigible.”

  “I told you. I get like this when I’m sexually frustrated.”

  “So think about something else. Tell me how you see the rest of this playing out. Unless you think he has his listening device pointed this way.”

  “Nope. It’s permanently set up pointing at the Bigfoot pair lumbering in our direction.”

  Her pulse rate spiked. “That’s pretty exciting, Roarke. Aren’t you excited?”

  “Not about that.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’ve dealt with these creatures before, so it’s not quite the thrill for me that it is for you. Besides, they really do stink. That part won’t be any fun at all.”

  “So how will this work, exactly?”

  “I’ve been thinking about it, and here’s my idea.” He lowered his voice and leaned closer. “You lie down close to the edge of the tent, and if I lie on my side, I should be able to—”

  “The Bigfoot plan, you sex maniac.”

  “Oh. I assumed you meant how we could enjoy some nookie.”

  She couldn’t help laughing, but she muffled it because she was supposed to be in pain. “You assumed wrong.”

  He sighed. “Too ba
d. All right, I’ve been thinking about the other plan, too.”

  “That’s reassuring.”

  “Do you want to hear this or shall I just start kissing you again?”

  “I do, I do.” She gestured for him to continue. “Please.”

  “Okay, once I make contact, I’ll figure out a place the Bigfoot pair can hide for a day or so. A cave would be perfect. I’ll tell them they have to be absolutely quiet so they won’t show up on Donald’s surveillance equipment. I’ll set a time when the helicopter will pick them up.”

  “What about me seeing them?”

  He rubbed her knee. “Take it easy. I’m getting to that. We’ll figure out a way for you to watch them board the helicopter.”

  “And what about Donald?”

  “I’m thinking some sort of misdirection. The Sasquatch will have gone silent, so when I come back with some fake antibiotics for you, I can bring news of sightings in a different part of the forest. If this trail has gone dead, I think he’d go.”

  “We absolutely can’t let him near those creatures, Roarke. For all his brains, he’s incredibly insecure. He would use them shamelessly if he thought he could make a splash in the media and get his fifteen seconds of fame.”

  “I know. Don’t worry. I’ll protect them from him.”

  “This time. But he’s developed that equipment specifically so he can locate them. He’s a menace.”

  Roarke frowned. “You’re right. Maybe I need to arrange for a good scare while he’s out here, so he’ll give up on this idea completely.”

  “I’d be in favor of that. Something involving blood should work.”

  “Right.” Draining the last of his soup, Roarke set down his cup. “And speaking of squeamish Donald, I sure would appreciate him playing us a little tune.”

  “Are you sure about this idea? Even if he can’t hear anything, I’m afraid we’ll look like a couple of cats in a bag.”

  “You just have no faith in me at all, do you?”

  “Yes, I do, but—”

  “There’s a slight breeze blowing, so I suggested that he face his tent away from it so he can sit in the doorway under the flap to play without getting wet from the rain. Turns out the breeze was very cooperative, and now the front of his tent faces in such a way that he can’t even see yours.”

  She gazed at him admiringly. “I’m impressed.”

  “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet. Hark, is that the sound of O, Suzanna! I hear?”

  The notes piercing the air threatened to pierce Abby’s eardrums, as well. “You weren’t kidding. He’s terrible.”

  “Actually, I’m becoming quite fond of his playing. I can’t speak for Mrs. Bigfoot, but that harmonica is certainly sending my hormones into overdrive.”

  Abby laughed. “They were already there.”

  “True.” He held out his hand. “Give me your cup.”

  She handed it to him, and he put both cups outside the tent and zipped it closed. “And now, my poor injured bride, I need you to take off your pants. Both pairs.”

  “Do you, now?”

  “Absolutely. I’m a doctor.”

  “Not that kind of doctor.”

  “Hey, we’re out in the wilderness, and you obviously need a doctor. Are you going to be choosy?”

  She had no idea how they were going to engineer a sexual experience, but with lust raging through her body, she was more than willing to try. “Yes. And I choose you.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Roarke might have had sex under more difficult conditions, but he wasn’t sure when. Back in the cave he’d promised Abby an experience he might have trouble delivering unless he wanted to open the tent flap and stick his feet out into the rain.

  Then again, maybe that wasn’t the only alternative. A little creative thinking might be in order. While he’d been trying to figure out the logistics, his extremely cooperative patient had removed not only her outer pants and underpants, but also her bandage, her knit top, and her bra. Lucky him, he was in this tiny space with a naked woman, one he craved beyond all reason.

  “Maybe this isn’t so bad.” He gathered her into his arms. “In such close quarters, you can’t get away.”

  “Neither can you.” Sliding her hand under the elastic waist of his sweats, she soon had eliminated the barrier of his briefs and was stroking his rock-hard penis. “My, what a big dick you have.”

  “Wait. Are you actually doing a riff on Little Red Riding Hood?”

  “I suppose you’re tired of hearing Little Red Riding Hood jokes.”

  “Well, no woman has ever known what I am, so I don’t get too much of it.”

  “Then it’s about time you had to deal with Little Red Riding Hood jokes.” She continued to fondle him. “After all, we are in the middle of a forest, and you are a big bad wolf.”

  “You are so right. And do you know what big bad wolves do to little red-haired girls like you?”

  She laughed. “No.”

  He grasped her wrist and pulled her hand out of his pants. “They eat them right up.” His reflexes had always been excellent, and before she completely understood his intent, he’d reversed direction and had a knee on either side of her shoulders and his head between her thighs.

  “Roarke!”

  Her startled exclamation told him she hadn’t expected him to deliver on his morning promise. But deliver he would. He’d had soup for his main course at lunch, and now he’d enjoy some dessert.

  He started by using his tongue, and she tasted better than cherries jubilee and chocolate mousse combined. He vowed to sample this treat more often…and then realized that he wouldn’t have many more opportunities to nestle between her legs and feast like this. He’d better enjoy it while he could.

  From his first contact with her moist treasures, she’d begun to whimper and moan. Thank God for harmonica music, because he wanted to hear more of those sweet sounds of hers. Scooping his hands under her bottom, he lifted her toward his eager mouth and delved deeper.

  He was so involved in loving her that at first he didn’t realize that a second event was beginning at her end of the tent. But when her warm fingers wrapped around his cock, which she had freed from his clothes, he stilled.

  “Little Red Riding Hood has an appetite, too,” she murmured.

  If he hadn’t been crazy about this woman before, he was now. With a groan of joyful surrender, he lowered his hips and felt her warm tongue and hot mouth rise to meet his throbbing penis.

  After that he had a little trouble concentrating, but he was determined not to come until he felt the jolt of her climax roll through her. More than once he thought he might lose that battle because she had a real talent for this erotic game. But then her thighs began to quiver, and her cries became more breathless. He had her.

  She came gloriously, and he feasted on the bounty of her orgasm until…oh…yes…yes. The urgent pressure of her mouth and tongue destroyed the last of his willpower and he let go. He wanted to yell as she drank him in, but he didn’t dare, so he smothered his cries against her slick heat. The vibration of his muted shouts of triumph spurred her to lift her hips in a silent request, and he gladly plundered her moist softness until she shivered against him once again.

  He would have given her a third orgasm, but she sank to the floor of the tent and brought her thighs together, shutting him out.

  “Abby?” He kissed her wet curls. “Girls don’t have a limit like guys. You can have more.”

  She gulped for air. “Not now. He stopped playing.”

  “Really?” Apparently his pounding heart had drowned out everything but the beautiful sounds of Abby coming. He’d completely lost track of the harmonica music and whether or not it provided cover for their activities.

  “So that means he might hear us,” she said.

  He traced lazy circles over her still-quivering thighs. “I don’t care.”

  “Yes, you do,” she said softly. “We need him to believe I have a bad cut on my leg. The rest of the pla
n depends on it. If he knows what we’re doing in here, he’ll doubt that I’m hurt and it all falls apart.”

  She was right, and it should bother him that she was more intent on the Bigfoot plan than he was. He needed to focus. But how was he supposed to do that, when he’d begun to question everything he’d believed about how his life would go?

  Twenty-four hours earlier he’d told himself that he could easily walk away from Abby. That was no longer true. And it wasn’t only because of the great sex. That explanation was backwards.

  He felt completely tuned in to her, as if he could read her mind and she could read his. That was why they had such great sex. He’d never felt so mentally connected in a sexual relationship. The implication of that was huge.

  “Wallace?” Donald’s voice came from right outside the tent. “Everything okay in there?”

  Shit. Roarke lifted his cheek from Abby’s damp curls. “Just fine, Donald.”

  “I thought I heard Abby moan, so I wanted to make sure she’s not worse.”

  “I’m okay, Donald,” Abby said. “After we finished our soup, Roarke checked my bandage and it turns out I’d started bleeding again. He had to put some pressure on it to stop it. It was kind of gross, but everything’s settled down, now.”

  “Oh. Well, that’s good. I’m glad you can deal with blood, Wallace. I’ll just be in my tent, then.” His announcement was followed by the sound of his quick retreat through the wet leaves.

  Roarke reversed direction again, this time a lot more slowly than the first time. A fantastic orgasm could affect a guy’s reflexes, and besides, Abby had shoved his sweats to his knees which made maneuvering awkward.

  Once he got his briefs and sweats back in place, he covered Abby’s body lightly with his own and gazed into her eyes. “Nice touch, emphasizing the blood.”

  “Thanks. I learned all I know about telling glib lies from you.”

  “I’m not feeling particularly glib right now.”

  “No?” She combed his hair back from his forehead.

  “We’re almost done with this project.”

  “Don’t count your chickens, professor. We still have a lot to accomplish.”