by Tina Donahue
She focused on Olive and Fran. “How old are you two in human years? Fifties? Sixties? That’s really getting up there. How can the pack thrive with old members who can’t move as quickly as the rest of us or have trouble shifting?” She gestured to Fran. “You just admitted as much.”
Fran slammed her fist on the table. “Because of what you did to me. Before that, I had no problems.”
“You’re sure? Want to see if you can shift as quickly as I can? Bet you can’t. With each year, you’ll have more trouble. Eventually, you’ll slow down to the point where you’ll need help to shift, walk, do your daily chores. Happens to everyone when age creeps in. You’re not special. So what should we do about you, Olive, and others when that happens? Leave you in the forest to starve so the young, strong members can build the pack? Let you stick around but do nothing to help you out since you’re not valuable to the pack anymore? And what about him?” She gestured to Ty. “Look at that red hair and those freckles. He’s the only one here like that. Should we push him out too because of his coloring?”
One by one, she targeted each pack member, except for Derek and Rand, pointing out their differences, none of them perfect.
Okay, Nick was. When Portia finally got to him, she stopped.
His eyes sparkled with pleasure, pride at what she’d said registering on his features.
Olive had already plopped in her chair, head down at having the tables turned on her. Fran jabbed her finger at Portia. “This isn’t over.”
“Yes, it is.” Derek stood. “The material was defective. That’s the long and short of it. Let’s get back to work.” He strode from the room, followed by Rand, Ty, and the rest. Olive and Fran left through the kitchen, muttering furiously.
Nick hugged Portia. “Damn, you were amazing.”
“More like pissed.”
“I had no idea you had that in you.”
“Now you do. So watch it, mister. Cross me and you’ll get the same.”
He nuzzled her ear. “I like when you talk dirty.”
She giggled and wreathed her arms around his neck. “We still on for our date?”
“Even those two old bats wouldn’t stop me. Fix your sink, I’ll paint my wall, and we’ll meet at your place after we clean up, okay?”
“We could stay there. I’ll cook, save you the money.”
“No fucking way.” He rocked her back and forth. “Tonight, you relax and enjoy, while I show off my girl.”
Her eyes grew moist. She smiled so hard her cheeks hurt.
***
Nick slapped paint on so fast, specks flew wildly, dotting his arms, tee, and jeans.
Ty chuckled. “Big night planned?”
Hell yeah. He’d been perfecting this evening’s program since leaving the diner, wanting their date to be the best Portia had ever known. She wasn’t only brave but wise, everything she’d said ringing true. Olive and Fran had never been quiet for so long, color draining from their faces after Portia mentioned their ages. A sore spot for any female, whether she was a shifter or human. He guessed they hadn’t liked how the pack members kept bobbing their heads in agreement to Portia’s comments, riveted by her words. Damn. She didn’t have brass balls. Hers were made of steel.
He dipped his brush in the paint and gave Ty a sly grin. “None of your business.”
“Lucky man.”
“You have no idea.”
“You won’t either if you don’t get a move on.” Ty jabbed his thumb at the window. “Portia just shot past, heading for her place.”
“Was she smiling or crying?”
“Grinning from ear to ear, Fran nowhere in sight.”
Shit. Portia had already finished her job while he still had a fourth to go on his. “I hate to ask….”
“Go. You deserve a good night. I’ll finish up.”
Nick clamped Ty’s shoulder. “You’re a good friend.”
“Damn straight. Even though you’re getting paint on me.” He knocked Nick’s hand off.
Laughing, he patted the man’s freckled cheek, leaving paint there. “Have fun.”
“Yeah, you too.”
He would. Nick groomed himself as he hadn’t in too long, taking care with brushing his teeth, shaving, showering, scrubbing paint from his arms and hands. His cuts and blisters had already healed. Without thinking, he slapped on his aftershave, a leather scent Bree had liked. Hopefully, Portia would feel the same.
Once he’d dressed in his best knit shirt, new black jeans, and cowboy boots reserved for weddings or funerals, he checked himself in the bathroom mirror. Joe Manganiello he wasn’t, but Portia seemed to like him. That’s all he cared about.
He plucked wildflowers from his yard and snatched some nice looking roses from another pack member’s place, since that shifter and his mate were at their respective jobs. With the area deserted, no one spotted him behaving like a douche. Somehow, it wouldn’t have mattered if they had.
He held the bouquet to his chest and rapped once on Portia’s front door.
“Nick?”
“Yep.”
“Coming.”
They’d both be before the evening was over.
She swung open the door, stared at him not the flowers, then sagged against the jamb. “Wow, you’re gorgeous.”
He couldn’t find adequate words to describe her. She’d worn her cute-sexy socks as promised, pairing them with white high-heel sandals. Her dress was unexpected, making him damn near orgasmic. Narrow ribbons served as straps, each tied into a pert bow on the top, the neckline dipping low to reveal the valley between her breasts. The pink-and-white striped fabric hugged her like skin before flaring at the waist to a full skirt that stopped several inches above her knees. Her legs were smooth and tan, the dewy flesh bearing no moles or freckles, only the amazing rose tat on her calf.
His testosterone shot up so fast, sweat clung to his neck, back, and chest. “Please tell me you have on a thong.”
“Sorry, I don’t.”
Crud. “One of those really tiny panties?”
“You mean bikinis?”
“Yeah.”
“No.”
Damn. “You wore one of those girdle things?”
“What? No.” She smacked his biceps then leaned in, her breath clean and hot against his cheek. “Nothing. Nada. No underwear at all. I couldn’t find any to match my dress.”
Glory hallelujah. “Are you trying to kill me?”
“I could ask you the same. Sure you want to take the time to go all the way into town when there’s food here?”
If not for the dessert part of his plan, he would have caved. “Yeah. Let’s go. Wait. These are for you.” He gave her the flowers. “Oh hell, are you going to cry?”
“No.” She flapped her hand in front of her face and blinked away tears. “These are beautiful. You shouldn’t have.”
“It was no biggie.”
“No, I mean, you really shouldn’t have. Valerie and Zach didn’t see you stealing their roses, right?”
“It’ll be our secret.”
“You bet.” She pressed her nose to the blooms, inhaled deeply, and sighed. “Nice. Smell.”
He snuggled his face to her neck. “Amazing.”
She giggled, sniffed then stilled. No, she stiffened.
Fuck, she didn’t like his aftershave. He eased back, not surprised to see her nose wrinkled, upper lip curled. “I can wash it off. It’ll only take a sec.”
She regarded him blankly. “What?”
“My aftershave. You don’t like it. That’s fine. I can wash it off.”
“Wait.” She grabbed his arm before he could run to his place. “It’s a leather scent, right? I love it.”
“Sure? You didn’t look that way.”
“I smelled something else.” She shook her head. “It’s gone now.”
Nick looked over. “Was it Ty? Last whiff I got of him nearly knocked me down.”
“No. Not Ty. Doesn’t matter.” She tapped the flowers against his c
hest. “We better take off before anyone else notices how you stole roses and weeds.”
He fingered a tiny white petal. “These aren’t flowers?”
“’Fraid not. But at least they’re not poison ivy.”
“Does that affect shifters?”
“Dunno. I’d rather not find out.”
Right. He helped her into his pickup, piled in, and took off.
She rested her hand on his thigh, precisely where she should. “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
***
He pulled up to a mega-nice restaurant on Gulf of Mexico Drive, the narrow land area surrounded by water, a balmy breeze tempering the heat.
This place had to cost a fortune Portia figured Nick didn’t have. She squeezed his hand. “Are you wasting next month’s rent on this meal? You shouldn’t.”
“I’m not. I’m enjoying myself. Aren’t you?”
She threw her arms around him. “This is the nicest time anyone’s ever shown me.”
“We haven’t even started.”
He requested a patio table, after asking her if that was what she’d like. They could have eaten in the parking lot and she would have been thrilled. Sailboats skimmed the placid water, wind snapped the bright blue umbrella above their table, palm leaves swished. The hostess and server were all smiles, both women eyeing Nick. Portia couldn’t blame them. He put Charlie Hunnam to shame. However, if either woman made a move, she’d rip them apart. No more cowering for her. She was a kickass shifter.
For appetizers, she and Nick chose Portobello mushrooms, along with chips and salsa, feeding the fare to each other. He suckled her fingertips. She licked his palm, not caring what the other diners thought.
The server recited an endless entrée list of fish, each on special tonight. Although eating seafood wasn’t unheard of for wolves, they settled on New York strips with the trimmings. She gave the server a smug smile. “We like meat. Rare. The fresher the better.”
Nick bumped her leg. She bumped back. They snickered.
The steaks arrived, grilled flawlessly. Seared to perfection on the outside, each forkful juicy and red.
He swallowed bite after bite, barely chewing the food. “We need to set up a restaurant like this in the forest.”
“No kidding, with the patrons running down their own meat. Think of the bucks that’d save on the chow we’d have to order and kitchen help.”
His shoulders shook with laughter. “I can hear Fran now, complaining that someone else got the best carcass.” He made his voice nasal and whiny likes hers. “Derek, Derrrrr-rek, that was supposed to be my meat. I want to call a meeting. I want everyone to clear out of Moonlight.”
Portia covered her mouth, quieting her giggles. “Maybe she’s the one messing with the plumbing, wanting the other places for herself.”
“She sure as hell hates when I pound nails.”
“That settles it. I’m getting you an industrial-strength nail gun so you can go to town day and night.”
Nick raised his fist in a power salute. “Right on. Wouldn’t it be cool if you could hook up a Behemoth hit to it and make the nails shoot out in time with the beat?”
“Great idea. Plus having massive speakers.”
He bounced in place. “Surround sound, too.”
“And laser lights.”
They gave each other a high five, and collapsed with laughter, their glee turning to chuckles then happy smiles.
He kissed her fingertips. “Having fun?”
“The best ever.”
“It gets better.” He pointed his fork. “We haven’t had dessert yet.”
She leaned close. “Are we still talking about food?”
He winked.
***
After leaving the restaurant, Portia waited for Nick to pull off into a wooded area. There, they could shift, run, and mate to top off a great meal and evening, with that being the perfect dessert. Given their fledgling relationship, her fantasy might be a tad premature. Even though they’d known each other for months, during most of that time they had shared no more than longing gazes. At least she had, with him always hurrying away.
No longer. He finally landed on the same page as she was.
However, wolf-to-wolf mating represented the greatest commitment for shifters. A bond neither of them should take lightly.
Better not get her hopes up. Even if he’d only planned to buy her a Baskin-Robbins ice cream cone, that would be okay with her.
He drove into a resort parking lot and shut off his engine. Like the restaurant, this place was on the water and uber nice. Color her stunned and confused. “We’re going to a free seminar where they’ll talk us into buying timeshares?”
“Nope.”
“There’s a great band here with dancing?”
“You dance?”
When no one was looking. “Do you?”
“Guess we better take that off our itinerary.”
“What’s on it exactly?”
“Wait and see.”
He registered at the front desk, thanking the desk person for the key card.
Portia pressed her mouth to his ear. “Please tell me you’ve fallen into an inheritance. Did you see how much these rooms cost?” When she’d read the brochure, her eyes had nearly popped out.
“It’s only money.”
“Where’d you get so much?”
“Working round the clock in the community and doing security work for The Defenders on the side. I haven’t had anyone to spend my stash on. Now I do…don’t I?”
Oh God. Without trying, she’d brought up Bree, Nick having been alone. “How far to our room?”
“We’re on the top floor, ocean side. Miles and miles away. Think you can wait?”
“Hell no. Race you.”
He pulled her back and swept her into his arms, as a man does with a bride. Two older couples applauded. Portia’s face stung from excitement and pure pleasure.
Nick carried her from the lobby to their room, not putting her down by the door. “Can you get the key card?”
She pulled it from his shirt pocket and inserted it into the slender slot. Once inside, she was on him as fast as he was on her. Clothes flew in every direction with her having the advantage, not having worn underwear. His boxer briefs were still around one ankle when he stopped stripping and pointed. “Leave the socks on.”
“Yes, sir.”
They tumbled to the bed, making the springs squeak, devouring each other’s mouths. He draped himself over her until she pushed him off and zeroed in on his neck, her mouth welded to him, lips suckling.
“Ow, ow, ow.” He wiggled. “Another hickey?”
She hadn’t finished the first one. “Sorry.” She dove in for more, finally branding him with a mark that would hopefully last an hour. Damn shifter ability to heal quickly. The moment the blotch faded, she’d tend to it again. Lucky her. “Let’s really play.”
“Sure. Wait. Where are you going?”
Portia stopped crawling away and straddled his legs, her back to his front. She lifted her ass and scooted toward him until her pussy was above his mouth, his family jewels beneath her face. “Here. Is there a problem?”
Savage noises poured from him, a wolf ready for the rut. He grasped her hips and pulled her furry cleft to him. She dipped her head to his rigid cock and tight balls, the dessert he’d promised her.
They gorged on each other’s sex, mouths pressed close, lips sucking, tongues dallying over flesh glutted with lust, heated with passion, desperate for release. No way would she rush, savoring his clean-musky scent, the leather hint she adored.
Back at her place, she hadn’t meant for him to misunderstand her reaction, thinking she didn’t like his fragrance. That other odor had suddenly intruded again. He still hadn’t smelled it.
Why?
No. Screw it. Now wasn’t the time to consider anything except his big body, rippling muscles, and thick, fragrant curls. She wanted to shriek with joy, but was
too busy taking his cock into her mouth.
He growled and tongued her clit, licking her as relentlessly as she did him. They filled the room with pleasured sounds, their scents mingling with sexual fragrances. Male. Female. Life. Lust. She shuddered, desire spiraling then bursting, making her come too fast, unparalleled delight hurtling through her.
Her mouth hung open. She gasped.
Nick swung her off him, settled behind, and pulled Portia to her knees. “Spread your legs, lift your ass.”
Only death would stop her.
He plunged his rod into her damp pussy, thrusting hard and deep, precisely as she liked. With each pump, he stroked her clit. She lifted her face and came again, harder than before, too freaking soon. Damn, damn, damn. After fighting for air, she rested her cheek on the bedspread.
Nick pumped away, playing with her boobs, nipples, clit.
Pleasure rocketed through her with breathless intensity. She jerked. “No. God. Give me a minute.”
“Why?”
“I’m too…, This is…. I can’t….” She pounded the mattress, unable to make a coherent sentence.
“Want me to stop?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Gawd. He brought her to another climax, pulled out, and touched her anus. “Want to go for broke? Up to you.”
There wasn’t anything she’d deny him. “Yeah. Please.”
“You ever do this before?”
He would ask. “No. But I want to with you.”
“I’ll be careful.” He kissed her ass then used her lubrication and his seed to prepare her. “Ready?”
“Yeah.”
He entered slowly, inch by glorious inch.
She gripped the spread.
He stopped. “Too much? Did I hurt you?”
Hell no. Never had she been as filled, stretched to the limit, the act wonderfully decadent. “Uh-uh.”
