by Olivia Arran
“Something tells me I don’t have your full attention, sweetheart?” His words were muffled against flesh, his teeth nipping at my soft inner thigh. “Makes a man want to work even harder…” He growled, the sound vibrating and coiling in my stomach. His finger slid through my curls, circling my entrance in tantalizing strokes, his tongue lapping at my clit as he continued his particular brand of torture.
The pressure built, the need to have something inside me, filling me, growing with every deliberate circle, every flick of his talented tongue. My hips bucked, urging him on.
“Say the magic word, sweetheart…” he growled, lashing out with his tongue.
“Please…” the word left my mouth on a whisper, my eyes squeezing shut and back arching.
His finger drove inside me, his mouth latching onto my sensitive nub and sucking hard.
The first wave of pleasure swept over me, stealing my breath as tingling erupted all over my body, spreading out from my core and circling through my limbs, gathering speed as his finger thrust in and out, until I couldn’t speak, couldn’t think, could only feel. My knees were weak, my fingers unknotted, my hands drifted down, searching for something to ground me, to hold onto as pleasure spread, sweeping me away with it.
“Hands above your head,” he growled, nipping at my sensitive skin.
I hurtled over the edge, nails digging into the wall and hips thrusting, trying to push closer, to hold him there as I came apart.
Then, I was spinning. My cheek pressed into the cool wall, hands pinned above my head.
There was a roar in the distance, through the fog coating my mind. Hot breath on my shoulder, the graze of teeth.
He thrust inside me, hot and thick and never-ending.
I tried to spread wider, my legs bound by my jeans. Pushing back, I met his stroke, arching into him as he thrust deep inside.
His hand landed on my hip, digging in. “Fuck, sweetheart, your pussy feels good.” It was a tortured groan as he swiveled his hips, dragging his shaft out to the tip.
Moaning into the wall, I bucked beneath his hand, wanting him buried deep. Heat consumed me, my entire focus only on him. His hand burning into my skin, his thick cock pushing inside me, my body opening up to him. The perfect fit.
His hand tightened around my wrists. “Can you keep them there?”
I nodded, incapable of words.
He thrust forward, his hand sliding between me and the wall to palm my breast. Thumb sliding over my aching nipple, he rolled it, giving it a sharp tug.
My answering groan echoed around the room, my hips jerking as a shiver ran down my spine.
“So sensitive, sweetheart,” he whispered in my ear, his voice was throaty and hoarse. “Here,” he tugged at my nipple again, “and, here,” he thrust between my legs, earning another groan. “Where else…?”
My breath caught, a million questions firing off all at once as I waited for his touch. Somewhere. Anywhere. My skin prickled, sensitive to the point of pain. Where was his hand?
A featherlight touch ghosted over my back, trailing a path down my spine and circling the top of my ass.
A sob broke from my throat as his hand left me.
“How about your ass? Do you like to be touched there?” He punctuated each word with a powerful thrust from his hips, grinding his body into me as thoroughly as he wound his spell around my mind. His touch returned, skating over my buttocks and sliding along the line of my cheeks. “Or maybe not?” His hand left my skin.
I cried out in frustration. I needed his touch, his hand on me.
“Your neck? Soft kisses?” He stroked a finger along my jaw, pushing aside my hair until all I could feel was his breath on my skin. His thick shaft dragged in and out of my core, hard and swollen and demanding. His lips pressed against my pulse, tongue licking at the erratic fluttering, teasing it in slow, wet circles. His breath thundered in my ears, his scent surrounding me, sinking into me with every thrust, every lick, every low growl.
I was his. To do with as he wished.
Slick heat flared between my legs, the drag of his heavy shaft filling me, shattering me for the final time, splitting me into a thousand pieces as I bucked and shuddered, screaming his name on a silent cry.
With a roar, he clamped onto my hips, pounding into me as I came apart, then he froze, his cock buried deep inside, pulsing as he came in hot, thick spurts.
Drifting back to reality, the fog lifted and a shiver ran through me. Cold crept in, pushing away the warmth. He hadn’t claimed me. Hadn’t whispered words of love or affection. He’d played my body like an expert, pushing me higher than I’d ever been before. I wasn’t an idiot, he’d wanted me, needed me even, but was it enough? Could I do that again—not touch him?
He slipped out of me and I heard a rustle of clothing.
I stayed with my cheek pressed against the wall, biting back the tears that threatened to come.
“Sweetheart—”
“Don’t call me that.”
“I never lied to you.” He sounded lost. Confused.
Leaning down, I yanked my jeans back up. Crossing my arms over my chest, I turned around. “No, you didn’t, but it doesn’t make it okay.”
“You enjoyed yourself.” It wasn’t a question, and I couldn’t deny it.
“You’re right. I did. Thank you.” I turned on my heel and ran out of the kitchen, but the betrayal in his eyes followed me all the way to my room, no matter how hard I tried to squeeze it out.
Chapter Fifteen
Greg
She was upset. I’d warned her, but she’d insisted. I should have known better. Scooping up her discarded T-shirt, I hugged it to my chest, her scent perfuming the air.
Hell, I could still taste her on my tongue. Hear her screams in my ears. Feel her pussy clamped around my cock, squeezing tight as she pulsed around me.
Fuck. There was no going back, I’d warned her. She was mine, whatever that meant. A noble man would let her go, wish her happiness and love. I wasn’t noble. I was desperate. Needy. Addicted.
Torn.
I had to protect her.
But could I protect her from me?
Chapter Sixteen
Scarlett
He didn’t follow me; I’d thought he would. No knock on the door, no muttered apologies. Even the blinking red light had gone out. He wasn’t watching.
Hugging the pillow to my chest, I studiously ignored the ache between my thighs. The delicious, used up, satisfied ache. He’d done that. Given me more pleasure than I’d ever known. My mate. The man who was meant to adore me. Love me. Cherish me.
Did he even know how?
A tear tracked down my cheek to join the steady growing puddle at the base of my throat.
Damn him for being so good. For being everything I wanted.
I tried to blink my eyes open, but they were stuck together—swollen and sore. Peeling them apart, the lashes tangled and resisting, I blinked in the heavy darkness.
The frigid, unforgiving air left me ice cold. I was still naked from the waist up, cool air wafting over my back and leaving a cloud of goosebumps in its wake. Releasing the soggy, damp pillow, I pushed up to a sitting position, feeling blindly for the light.
Click. Warmth pooled in the dark, picking out shadows and bouncing them around the room.
A cold breeze caught my attention.
My head snapped around.
Eyes looked back at me, fingers digging into the windowsill.
Chapter Seventeen
Greg
Her scream stopped my heart and curdled my blood. I didn’t breathe again until I reached her room, sending the door crashing into the wall.
Scarlett was huddled in a ball on her bed. She blinked at me, her eyes were big and round, with dark shadows clinging to the edges.
“What is it?” I roared the words.
“He—”
“Where?” A red veil descended over the world.
Her eyes shot to the window.
The gla
ss splintered into tiny fragments under my weight, the ground hurtling toward me at breakneck speed. Rolling to a stop, I scanned the grounds. There was movement at the perimeter.
Shoving off my sweatpants, I called my wolf to me, releasing him like a wrecking ball, my bones snapping and my muscles stretching. Then I was off, my paws digging into the dirt, hind legs powering me forward, and my jaws snapping at the air. This fucker wasn’t going anywhere.
A man stopped, his eyes narrowing. Then he shoved off his shorts, and tugged his T-shirt over his head with a flare of defiance. He doubled over as the shift rippled over him.
He thinks he can take me? Bring it on motherfucker. My throaty snarl colored the air as I threw myself at him, meeting him claw for claw, teeth snapping and blood running thick. Dodging his teeth, I thrust razor sharp claws at his chest, dragging them down in thick lines.
Howling, he batted at me, his furry head hitting me around the ear, and back legs digging into my stomach and shoving.
I held on, digging in harder, my ears ringing and stomach heaving. We rolled, fighting for position, each searching for dominance.
He will not lay a finger on her, ever again. Heaving myself up and over, I swiped at his throat, my back legs pinning him into the dirt.
“No! Greg, stop!”
Scarlett’s scream cut through the red haze like a knife. But I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. This man had hit her. Hurt her. He had to be punished. My claws glinting, I set them on their path.
Skin. Human skin. In my way.
Throwing myself to the side, my claws sank into the earth, heart thundering in my ears.
The change rippled over me until I stood on human feet. Rounding on her, I lost it. “What the fuck are you doing?”
She stood over the downed shifter, her skin gleaming in the moonlight. Naked skin. She was still half-fucking-naked.
Standing over another man.
“Move … away … from … him,” I forced out though a throat thick with rage.
She didn’t move, her hands spread out as if in warning. “You’ll kill him.”
“And?” I couldn’t see her issue.
“You’ll kill him.”
“He hit you.”
The wolf on the floor shuddered, his fur receding until a man lay there. A very naked man.
My control frayed, slipping through my grasp. “Sweetheart, move away from him.” At my endearment, her eyes softened a touch, but she still didn’t move. “Please,” I gritted out, claws already extending, my wolf having decided point blank he wasn’t allowing a naked man anywhere near our mate.
“Promise you won’t kill him.”
“Sweetheart, if you don’t move away from him, I won’t be able to promise.” My biceps bulged under the strain of holding back my wolf, my vocal chords shifting and blurring my words with a growl.
Her eyes widened. “Oh.”
Oh? What did she expect. She was half naked and within touching distance of another man. Who was also naked. Who had just stood up, displaying his very nakedness for my mate. Posturing, wanting to steal her away from me—
Small hands stroked over my chest, soothing murmurs reaching my ears. Her scent twisted with mine as she molded herself to my side. “I’m here,” she whispered.
“Don’t look at him.” My voice skated on the edge of a plea, but I was past caring.
“Why would I look at him when I can look at you?” Her soft words were a balm on my soul, soothing the ragged edges and placating my wolf. His claws retracted from my mind as he sank back, the bliss of our mate petting us enough to calm him.
Wait. Petting us. My eyes flew to her hand, where it smoothed over my chest, her other hand stroking the length of my spine. I waited for the panic, the memories, the pain, but … nothing.
But I wasn’t aroused. That had to be it.
Though that was rapidly changing.
The other man averted his eyes with a strained chuckle, as casual with his nakedness as most shifters were. “Are you going to introduce us, Scare Bear?”
“Scare Bear?” The growl was back, my claws sharp and ready.
“Shhh, a childhood nickname, that’s all.” Her hands glided over my chest and down my stomach, fingers tracing the ridges of my stomach.
“Uh, Scar, do I really need to watch this?”
The man’s voice had me ripping my eyes from his, to look at her. A dreamy smile on her face, her lashes had lowered, her bottom lip twisted as she nibbled at it, she seemed oblivious to everything around her, her entire focus on … me.
Laying my hand over hers, before it reached its final destination, I squeezed. “Sweetheart?”
“Hmmm?”
“Maybe we should save this for later?” Though my cock had a completely different agenda, stiffening under her attention. The thought of throwing her down to the ground and showing her exactly who her mate was, had my serious attention.
This time the cough in our direction was pointed.
Checking Scarlett’s body was shielded from his view, I met the man’s eyes, giving him a satisfied smirk. “Let’s start with your name.”
“Jimmy.”
“You’re the one that hit her.”
The younger man swallowed, but didn’t cower. “I did.”
“Jimmy, you don’t have to—”
“I do, Scar. It’s not working, that’s what I came to tell you.”
“Oh.” She made to move past me, then thought better of it at my low growl.
“Would someone like to tell me what’s going on?”
“It’s … complicated.” Her soft words had my metaphorical fur bristling.
“Why not try me. I promise, if you go slow, I’ll probably get it.”
She stuck her chin out, fixing me with a look that would have any normal wolf shaking in his boots. “You’ve got to promise not to hit Jimmy.”
I glared at her. “Not happening.” She might not have a hint of self preservation, but this bastard had to be taught a lesson.
Then, she brought out the big guns, pursing her lips and whispering, “Please, Greg.”
Shit. “Sweetheart, you don’t play fair.”
“Neither do you, my dark wolf.”
Chapter Eighteen
Scarlett
Surprise flashed in Greg’s eyes, along with something else, something I couldn’t put a name to, but I filed it away to mull over later.
Jimmy got dressed under Greg’s watchful eye, manfully putting up with the other man giving him the evil eye and possessing a devil may care attitude.
“Don’t push him,” I hissed in his direction, wishing, for the first time in my life, that my childhood friend would grow up and recognize when he was outmatched. What had been hilarious to watch as a young girl, was now heading me straight into heart attack territory.
“Do you want my shirt?”
“No, she doesn’t,” Greg growled, his eyes flashing silver. His hand reached back to hold me still.
Jimmy shrugged. “Ah … scent. Right, yeah. I get it.”
“Walk in front and keep your eyes forward,” was the snarled response.
Shoving his hands into his pockets, Jimmy set off at a jaunty stroll.
I rolled my eyes at him, tugging Greg back. Jimmy was going to get himself killed. Or his ass kicked, at the very least.
Once inside the house, after Greg had retrieved his sweatpants—more the pity—and gone through the front door that I’d left wide open, Greg pointed one finger toward the living area, and marched me straight through to the kitchen. Grabbing the shirt I’d discarded earlier from the back of a chair, he proceeded to shove it over my head, pulling my arms through like he was dressing a child. His mouth set in a thin line, he bristled with barely contained frustration. His emotions were bubbling away under the surface, just out of reach.
“Greg—”
“If you’re going to tell me what the hell is going on, go right ahead. Otherwise, I can’t hear it right now.”
Okay, then.
/> He continued, as if he hadn’t just snapped my head off, “What were you thinking?”
“When?”
“Putting yourself in the middle of a wolf fight.”
Oh. That. “I’m not a weak human, Greg.”
His hands closed around my shoulders, holding me at arms length. “I could have hurt you!” This time the emotion clouding his eyes was plain to read: pain. Anguish. Fear.
“You didn’t—”
“And then you stood over him, guarding him.”
Ah. “I needed you to listen.”
“Were you not listening to me earlier? You’re mine, Scarlett. Mine.”
“You haven’t—”
He scowled at me. “It doesn’t matter. You gave yourself to me, you knew what I was asking.”
“Maybe I didn’t understand.”
Our eyes clashed, neither of us backing down. He wasn’t willing to give me what I wanted, and I didn’t know if I could settle. If I should settle. If only he’d tell me why it had to be this way. I opened my mouth, but he read the question in my eyes.
His fingers tightened on my shoulders, as if he were scared I would up and vanish. “If I could tell you, I would.”
“But, you can.”
“It’s not that simple.” Cursing under his breath, his eyes slid from mine to fix on a point over my head. “I—I can’t.”
The catch in his voice was my undoing. Normally strong and unapologetically arrogant, his shell had cracked to reveal a glimpse of fragility.
“Okay. We can sort this out later.” I wasn’t letting him off the hook, but I’d shelve it for now.
“Jimmy.” In that single word, I felt the weight of his anger.
“He’s a friend.”
“Hey, if you’re going to act as judge, jury, and executioner, could I maybe partake in my trial?” Jimmy called from the doorway, obviously having grown tired of waiting for us.
