by Jody Wallace
He didn’t return the favor. In fact he avoided the standard erogenous zones, concentrating on her legs, the back of her knees, her midriff and shoulders. He focused on kissing her, on seducing her instead of charging forward.
It wasn’t easy. His cock was hard, throbbing like a bass drum. Something about June roused an aggressive streak in him that rarely emerged when he made love. With shifters, sometimes—you had to be firm if they were alphas and you didn’t want them taking control.
Which he did not. That was a good way to wind up chained to a bed with a cock ring shoved over your genitals and a Polaroid camera capturing the moment.
Harry cupped June’s face in his hands and delved deep with a kiss. She sniffed, fidgeted and drew back for a moment.
“Why do I smell onions?”
He bit back a laugh. “I sliced one earlier.”
She inspected his face, their eyes level. Her fingers twiddled the back of his neck. The elastic bandage on her wrist rasped against his skin. “This can’t go any further.”
“You mentioned that.” He kissed her temple, blowing into her ear until she shivered. “Something about your cut getting infected.”
“And complications.”
“It’s not complicated.” He nuzzled his way down her throat. “It’s very, very easy. You undress me, I undress you, we go to the bedroom, where I—”
She palmed his mouth. “None of that.”
“Just sharing my thoughts,” he said, muffled. He thrust his tongue between two of her fingers, and she gasped before removing her hand.
His jeans constricted his cock, so he spread his legs to make space. He needed to get out of these pants. “Is there someone else?”
“No.” She continued to pet his shoulders, down his arms. If she were unwilling, she wouldn’t be stroking his muscles and smelling like sin.
“Are witches celibate?” He pulled her forward until her breasts rubbed him, his fingers wrapped around her ribcage.
“No,” she said, her voice a little strained.
He drew his hands up her curves until his thumbs were almost touching her nipples. She was, indeed, without brassiere. “Then what’s the problem, sweetheart? Do you think I only want one thing? Trust me, I like your cooking too.”
“You’re ridiculous.” Her pale skin glowed with a blush.
He rubbed her nipples slowly, around and around. Her breasts were more than a handful, their bouncy softness the perfect receptacle for his head. Or his cock. “We’ve been friends a long time. I’m willing to see where this goes.”
“It’s not that.”
“I’ll still respect you in the morning.”
“I never considered that you wouldn’t.”
“Then you’ve considered it.” He leaned forward and latched on to the tip of her breast, moistening the fabric. He wanted her to take her shirt off herself. She’d be more willing to follow where he led if she thought she was picking the path.
“Ahhh.” She arched her back, her hands digging into his hair. He responded by biting down, increasing the friction. Her hips rocked against him, so he dropped one hand to knead her cushy ass. This position had definite possibilities.
“Here’s something else to consider,” he told her as he fondled her other breast. “I want you bad. Bad enough that I’m willing to wait until you’re ready.” As long as she was ready in fifteen minutes. “I’ll do whatever it takes to get you hot and wet.”
“That’s beside the point.” She shoved his hand under her shirt, sighing when his fingers found her bare breast. He pushed the material until it was above her nipple, the dark pink gumdrop beckoning. “The thing is, I can’t…ah!”
Can’t. He didn’t like that word. He sucked her nipple, licking and pulling. Impatiently she shrugged out of her shirt, returning his head to her breast.
Oh yeah, he was in. Once they started tossing off their clothes, they’d reached a decision whether they realized it or not.
Obligingly, he kissed and caressed her gorgeous tits until she was squirming and panting, rubbing herself against his crotch in a way that felt good to them both. Well, it would feel a hell of a lot better if he weren’t bruising his dick against his zipper seam. He let his teeth sharpen and rake across her skin. She moaned.
He nibbled up her neck until he reached her ear. “Come on, June,” he whispered, licking her earlobe. “Neither of us can think about anything else. This is going to keep happening until you give in.”
She shook her head, her eyes squeezed shut. Her golden curls danced across her milk-pale shoulders. He kissed the dimple beside her mouth, and her lips parted, anticipating his kiss.
He didn’t kiss her, not right away. “I want you. I want to be inside you. I want to make you come while I’m buried inside your body.”
And then he kissed her, his tongue slipping into her mouth. She met him eagerly, the kiss of a woman who wanted her lover to take her to bed.
He squashed their bodies together, letting his fingers sink into the supple flesh of her ass. She wriggled against him. He slipped beneath the fabric of her pants, delighted to find she wasn’t wearing panties either. Her butt was like two silk pillows. He squeezed and released, reaching until the tips of his fingers brushed the hair that covered her mound. Moisture dampened her pants between the legs. The scent rose around him like steam from a shower.
“Tell me you don’t want me,” he dared her. “You ache for me, don’t you?”
She leaned forward, her forehead on his shoulder. Her hot breath gusted across his skin. “You don’t understand.”
“Then tell me.” He stroked her soft, private hair, not touching her labia.
“I can’t.”
Since that was the entirety of her sentence, he didn’t have to cut her off with a kiss. She was close. He could smell it. Sense it. Her heart raced and she hadn’t pulled away from him.
“If we can’t make love, let me taste you.”
“Cheese whiz.” She fell against him, her face in his neck. Her fingers tightened on his shoulders, like she was ready to hold on for the ride.
He probed her lightly, flicking her clitoris. She flinched. Juices dampened his fingers. “I’ll just use my mouth. My hands.” He stroked faster as she panted. “I want to slide my fingers deep inside you, one at a time. Two at a time.”
“I have to…”
Her feet hit the floor and she tried to stand, but he wouldn’t let her. “How about three fingers? Imagine them pumping in and out of you and my mouth—”
“I’m not sure I like the way you’re talking to me,” she said breathlessly. “It’s not nice.”
She didn’t smell unsure, and she didn’t act it. In fact, she pulled his face to her breasts. He nipped the tender skin, licking her nipples until she trembled. When he drove two fingers roughly into her body, she gasped.
“I don’t want you to feel bad.” He sucked one of her nipples hard, letting his teeth dig into her. “Shifters can sense things. I smell it, June. I know how close you are.”
“I am,” she said, her voice barely audible.
“I want to make you come. Just a little lick, honey. You can decide if anything else happens.” He started peeling her pants down her hips. Her soft, curved stomach was so perfect he had to force himself not to throw her on the floor.
Why was she so resistant? He’d never hurt her. He’d never let anyone hurt her. Harry might be an alpha, but he was no asshole.
“I can’t do this.” She caught his hands, her pants barely covering her privates.
“You won’t be doing anything.” He flicked her nipple with his tongue. “I will.”
This time when she tried to stand, he let her, but he held on to her pants. They slipped past her rounded hips, baring her damp curls. Because she was so aroused, he could see the hot pink skin there, glistening with dew.
Harry felt as if someone had put a perfectly grilled porterhouse on the table before him. He reached to cup her feminine heat, staring up into her face as he did
so.
June’s eyes were wide and brilliant blue, her cheeks flushed. Panic and lust ebbed off her in tandem. She wanted him. She was frantic for him. But she was frightened.
“What are you afraid of?” he asked. “If you say no, we can stop right now and I’ll never touch you again.” He’d touch himself, harshly, in a cold, cold shower. “But, honey, I am praying that won’t be your answer.”
He rubbed her pussy with his whole hand. Heat poured off her skin. Heat and indecision.
“If we’re together I could…lose myself.” She gripped his shoulders.
He didn’t sense any dishonesty, just desire. “You’re afraid to lose yourself.”
It sounded like woman-talk for falling in love. Hell, why was that a problem? He was halfway there already.
“Yes. And that’s why—” she swallowed, “—we should probably stop.”
Probably, his ass. If she wanted him to stop, she’d had ample opportunity to tell him.
He knew this one. If he stopped, she’d be ticked. If he didn’t stop, she’d be ticked. But at least she’d enjoy herself. Without another word, he hefted her onto the table, yanked off her pants and dropped to his knees.
June gasped with surprise, but she didn’t kick him in the head—a good sign.
“I’ll keep my pants on if that’s what you want, but you should know. You’re too late to stop me from tasting you.”
“I don’t think…ohhhh!”
Harry spread her apart and licked her from bottom to top, with particular emphasis on the middle. He didn’t want any thoughts in that pretty head right now except, Do me, Harry.
She squirmed around so much he had to push her onto her back and hold her still to get a good taste. Her musky sweetness filled his senses and sent his cock into overdrive. His jeans pinched him like a lobster. He ignored his discomfort, lapping her cream and sucking her clit. God, she tasted good. He could do this for hours.
She pulled his hair, but only to urge him on. As promised, he inserted one of his fingers in and out of her, followed by two.
“More,” she said. “I want more.”
By the time he got to three, she was starting to keen. She was a tight fit, so he pushed harder.
She tensed, her hands in his hair. “Harry,” she cried. “Oh stars, Harry, please!”
He raised his head. “Please what?”
“Do…do what you’re doing. I’m close, I…” She couldn’t get the sentences out, she was so agitated.
He pulled her clit into his mouth, laving with his tongue. He should set up a rhythm and finish her, but he loved a desperate woman. Loved how they begged him to take them, make them come. Loved when they gave themselves up to him. He wanted June to feel that desperate, that willing, so when she came she’d feel that much pleasure.
June whimpered, her hips surging. “It’s so hard to fight it. I can’t fight it.”
“Then don’t.” He nudged his fingers deeper inside her. He flicked with his tongue, butterfly light, driving her wild. Her scent sharpened as she neared her climax, so primal she almost smelled like a shifter. God, she was magnificent. “Let go, June. Let go.”
“I can’t.” A sob quivered at the edge of her voice. “I want to. I want to. I can’t.”
Harry felt a surge of sympathy but not enough to stop. That’s not what she wanted. She wanted to come, and come hard. She was wound up so tight, she was going to go off like a rocket. Besides, she wasn’t asking him to stop.
She was asking him to take over.
He started working his fingers in and out of her, simulating what his cock would do later. With a growl, he latched on to her clit and vibrated it.
June gasped. “It’s close, it’s here, I can’t…”
He knew the moment she surrendered. She widened her legs and gripped his hair. Her pussy grew hotter and slicker. She thrust against him with the abandon he’d been seeking.
That was it. She’d let go. She was his now.
Harry relished this moment. If he wanted to mount her, fuck her pussy, her ass, she’d let him. She’d take his cock wherever he wanted to put it and beg for more. If he wanted to spank her until her butt was cherry-red, she’d hand him the whip. Anything he wanted would push her over the edge.
And what he wanted was to suck her pussy until she cried. Until she lost herself to him, the exact thing she feared.
As if signaled, her sheath convulsed around his fingers. She moaned her satisfaction, and he milked it until she drooped, licking and probing until she batted him away.
“Stop.” Tears glistened on her cheeks, proof of the intensity of what he’d made her feel. “It’s over. I lost.”
Lost what, her composure?
“It’s hardly over.” He swept her into his arms, her body small against his chest, and carried her to the bedroom. He wasn’t done with her by half. He kissed her, nuzzling the skin of her neck, until she chuckled weakly.
When he licked his lips, tasting her musk, something niggled at him, something he couldn’t quite identify. A woman’s flavor bloomed when she climaxed, and there was something familiar about June’s.
It was more than the fact he’d known her eight years. Wolves were very good with scent. The memory went deeper, back to a time he hadn’t known her. Had he been living in New York? Before that? Had he been a teenager?
He dropped her onto the bed with a whoomp and, ignoring her protests, buried his face in her crotch, trying to place the marker.
And then he did.
Harry shot to the head of the bed and pinned June in place. She squeaked, but he cowed her with every ounce of dominance in him. He knew his eyes had blazed out white-blue. When she trembled, it only fueled his anger.
Somehow, some way, she was a shifter. A young one, but a shifter just the same.
“What the hell are you?” he demanded.
Chapter Eight
He knew. Not only had she slept with a shifter and lost her powers, but now he knew the big secret.
“I’m a witch.” It wasn’t a lie. Witches weren’t precisely shifters, after all.
“You’re a shifter.” His grip on her arms tightened. “You’re a natural alpha shifter.”
“I’m alpha?” That was news. She’d never known any witches who would have been alphas if they’d gone through the change.
His jeans rasped her flesh as he shoved a knee between her thighs. “Don’t play stupid anymore. First, though, tell me you’re over twenty-one. Jesus! I did not just sleep with a kid.”
“I’m quite a bit over twenty-one.” Witches aged well. Very well. But so did shifters.
He blew out an irate breath. “Are you a shifter?”
Did it matter what she told him? Once her incipient conversion was complete, the coven would erase both of their memories. In the gentlest way possible, of course. They wouldn’t even have a headache after the ceremony. They just wouldn’t remember the truth about her life.
They’d think she’d always been a shifter. They’d have no idea witches existed.
“All right.” June sighed. His fury ebbed when he realized he was getting his way. “I’m a shifter. Sort of. But it’s like hiding the fact I’m a witch or you’re a werewolf. We don’t share this outside our community. It doesn’t affect anyone but us.”
“It affects the man you just screwed.”
“I didn’t. We didn’t.” She flushed, her innards twisting with guilt and shame. Or was it the arrival of her wolf? At least Harry could advise her when it happened. He’d been through it himself earlier in his life.
“Not that line,” he said. “We did. Oral sex is still sex, and you popped like a firecracker.”
That she had. “What I mean is it doesn’t affect you.”
“That’s crap. When two alphas get together they tend to attract a pack. And I have zero interest in starting one. If this was some way to trick me into a bond, I’ll—”
“It’s not! The coven isn’t a pack, and we don’t want to be wolves.” She had no idea w
hether she’d want to be pack or independent after she transformed into a werewolf. But she did know she was happy with her life the way it was.
“But you are a shifter.” He whuffed her neck. “I can’t believe I never noticed.”
“You didn’t notice I could do magic, either,” June pointed out. Not that she could anymore.
“You smell like a juvenile whose wolf is trapped. It took me a while to place it. I haven’t been around younglings in years.” Harry frowned. “I’ve never heard of a juvie your age.”
“It wasn’t easy. You know when you finally get control of the wolf to release him? We take it a step further. We master the wolf and never shift. If we give in, we’re no different from other shifters.”
“Is that why you can do magic and I can’t?”
“Yes.” Good Goddess, he was quick.
“Let me see if I understand this.” His gaze canted to the right, and his grip on her arms loosened. “When we’re young we’re filled with potential. If you don’t shift, you can use it for something else.” He returned his attention to her face, his glower gone. “How long would I have to stay two-legged before I can do magic?”
“You can’t.”
“You sure? Because it seems pretty handy.”
“I’m sure.” Experiments had been done. A single shift meant no magic, ever. She could discuss magical philosophy with him until winter solstice, but witches themselves didn’t agree on the reasons.
“Damn, woman.” Harry’s brow wrinkled. “Why don’t shifters know?”
“Because you curse too much.”
“Come on.”
She bit her lip. “Custom.”
“That isn’t the whole truth.”
He might not like the whole truth. It didn’t present shifters in a flattering light. But she wouldn’t lie to him anymore.
“There are more of you than there are of us, and you’ve hidden yourselves for a long time.” Their ability to keep humans from finding out was a testament to shifter resourcefulness. It helped that they had no interest in positions of power outside pack structure.
