Her Siberian Shifter

by Faye Avalon

  He’d stopped often to kiss her, at times more passionately than others. And even once, when they were in a sheltered batch of trees and shrubbery, he’d laid her down on a carpet of leaves and they had made love.

  He took time to tell her how amazing she was, how beautiful, even when she knew that she was anything but with her hair in disarray from getting caught in branches, her make-up virtually non-existent from the ardor of his kisses, her blouse a little torn after he’d ripped it.

  He teased her on the way back to the cottage, tapping his pocket as if to remind her that inside lay her panties, the ones he’d refused to give her back after he’d dragged them off in his urgency to get inside her body.

  Once back, they’d taken a bath together, and then, when they’d dressed, Tor drove them to a restaurant famed for its cuisine. Connie had been amazed that he’d been able to get a reservation at such short notice, but knowing him, with his charm and influence, she really shouldn’t have been.

  As the evening went on, he seemed a little on edge. While he remained affable, there was a tension that flowed from him, and it built with each moment.

  They’d arrived back, enjoyed a nightcap, and several times Connie had the impression he wanted to say something to her. Since they’d been growing closer over the weeks, seeming to culminate in the wonderful weekend they were sharing, Connie had hoped that Tor was about to admit that he wanted to make their relationship a little more permanent. Maybe even ask her to move in with him. She would have done that, in a heartbeat. She was falling so hard for him. But each time she thought he would say something, he retreated. She’d had a feeling that the growing tension in him was because of whatever he wanted to say.

  Then she had the awful feeling that maybe he was going to end it. She’d heard of men who liked to give the woman they were about to dump a really good time to remember them by before driving home the truth. But that didn’t ring true for Tor. He wasn’t that type of man. He didn’t play games. He was straight as an arrow. If he wanted something he went for it. Money, business, women. He saw, he got.

  If he were going to end it, he would simply send her packing. She knew that instinctively. And any residual doubts she might have harbored along those lines were destroyed when later he took her to bed.

  He’d lowered the lights when she came in from the bathroom, and he stood by the bed, minus his jacket and with his shirt collar undone.

  Connie never ceased to enjoy the sight of him this way. Just a trace of the consummate businessman remained in the tailored trousers and fitted shirt, but the civilized veneer seemed to have been stripped away along with his tie.

  His shadowed jaw begged to be stroked, and Connie’s fingers twitched with the urge to do exactly that. He stood there, hands slipped into his trouser pockets, and his dark gray eyes beckoning her to come to him.

  He looked her up and down, seeming to find pleasure in the fact she’d left on her red lacy bra and panties. She knew how he loved taking them off her.

  But tonight, he just stood there, feasting his gaze on her.

  “Why don’t you take off the bra?” he said at length. “Slowly.”

  Keeping her eyes locked on his and folding one arm across her chest to keep the bra cups secured over her breasts, she slipped first one strap and then the other. Reaching around with her free hand, she unhooked the fastening.

  She tucked in her chin and looked at him from beneath lowered eyelashes.

  “Ditch the bra,” he ordered, which made her pelvic muscles clench. She’d never had a lover who liked to bark orders at her during sex, had never had a man who enjoyed being dominant in quite the same way that Tor did.

  She held off just a few moments longer, enjoying the way his eyes darkened. Slowly, slowly, she let the bra slip away, holding the end with the crook of her finger, before letting it drop to the floor.

  Tor made a sound that might have been a groan, and then he sat on the bed and leaned back on his elbows as if to enjoy the show. “Now the panties.”

  Connie turned away and hooked her thumbs into the sides of the lace. She wriggled her butt as she slid the material down slowly, revealing her bared flesh a little at a time.

  Bending over, she slipped the panties down her legs and stepped out. Again, she hooked a finger over the fabric and, looking at him over her shoulder, dropped the panties to the floor.

  “Turn around,” he said, his voice graveled and thick. When she didn’t move, he raised his eyebrows. “Believe me, you wouldn’t want me to come over there and make you.”

  Still looking at him over her shoulder, she smiled. “I wouldn’t?”

  “You wouldn’t,” he confirmed. “Bad girls who don’t do as they’re told get punished.”

  Sensation tingled between her legs. She’d been at the receiving end of Tor’s punishment a couple of times and had basked in the afterglow of it for days.

  She stuck her butt out a little, remembering how he liked to deliver playful smacks to her ass. He took the hint, coming off the bed and striding up behind her. He put his hands on her waist, sliding them down to cup her backside.

  Connie dropped her back against him, thrusting out her breasts in the process. “It looks like you needed to come over here and make me,” she reminded him huskily. “Am I going to get punished?”

  He squeezed his fingers around her soft flesh, making her wince a little. “Make no mistake about that, my sweet.”

  Slowly, he moved his hands up her back, then around to cup her breasts. He kneaded the tender flesh, and Connie’s insides did a slow, sensuous roll. Heat exploded between her legs, and her stomach muscles ached from the need pulsing inside her.

  His middle fingers arrowed up to toy with her hardened nipples, and she gasped in a breath at the pressure of his touch. Leaving one hand around her breast, he slid the other hand down over her stomach and cupped her mound.

  Connie let out a low moan. “I think I really like how you punish me.”

  He caught her earlobe between his teeth, biting down gently. “I haven’t started yet.”

  The whispered threat reverberated sensuously in her ear, and she shivered.

  He slipped a finger inside her, holding her steady against him when she started to writhe. He drove another finger deep, altering the angle of his penetration so that he finger-fucked her sideways. He seemed to go so deep when he did that, and Connie closed her eyes.

  But her enjoyment was short-lived when he withdrew his fingers, angling her toward a tall bureau by the window. The evening was warm and they’d left the window open, so that the scents of the night forest crept inside and added to the sultry atmosphere in the bedroom.

  Tor lifted her arms and placed her hands on the top of the bureau. Then he drew her hips away so that her back was flat and her butt stuck out. She felt him move away and hoped that he was stripping off so that she could get to feel him against her, inside her. She heard a click, but before she could turn around he was back, and still in his open shirt and trousers.

  There was something incredibly erotic about being naked, and in such a compromising position, when the man who was about to fuck you was still fully clothed, Connie thought dazedly.

  Her sultry thoughts were cut short when a sharp tap landed on her backside.

  “Ouch. What was that?” She enjoyed being swatted on the ass with his hand, but they’d never progressed to the use of objects.

  He turned her head back when she tried to look around. “The only words I want to hear from your lips right now are how much you’re enjoying what I’m doing to you. Do you understand, my sweet?”

  Since whatever he was using landed on her ass again, a little sharper, harder this time, Connie wasn’t sure she’d be capable of much in the way of conversation anyway. She was ridiculously wet and could barely hold herself up thanks to the boneless feeling in her legs.

  “Do you understand?”

  She kept her eyes on the bureau drawer in front of her. “Yes.”

  Another slap wi
th the object, a ruler Connie realized, and then he used his hand to smooth her smarting flesh. “Spread your legs wider,” he said and used the ruler to nudge her inner thighs apart.

  Feeling immensely exposed, and so incredibly turned on, Connie wished that Tor would get rid of his clothes and just be inside her. She ached for him, her intimate muscles pulsing with desire and need. She wanted to feel him, to touch him, to wrap her arms around him and hold him close. She wanted his warmth, his scent.

  He dropped the ruler to the floor, coming up behind her. “Do you feel me?” he rasped, pressing his erection tight against her ass. “Do you feel my cock throbbing to be inside you?”

  “I want you to get naked, too,” she said. “So that I can really feel you.”

  “Not yet. I want to play with you some more.”

  Her pelvis clenched painfully. There was obviously a downside to sharing a whole weekend with Tor, to being just the two of them with all the time in the world. He could use that time to toy with her, make her wait, no doubt giving her multiple orgasms before they hit the main event.

  She hit her first orgasm when he wrapped an arm around her hip and slid his fingers inside her again. She bucked, moaned, and helplessly surrendered as the sensations rocketed through her. While she swam in the after-effects, Tor lifted her into his arms and carried her across to the bed.

  His eyes glittering, his breath coming in uneven bursts, he laid her down on the duvet, spread her legs wide and settled between them. Hooking his hands beneath her knees, he raised her up and lowered his head.

  The first touch of his tongue to her heat always triggered a chain reaction that sent fire shooting through her whole body. Like fireworks. Like blue touch paper set alight at one end and burning through the whole length until it made the rocket explode.

  He toyed with her, giving her only the very tip of his tongue. Her complaints only got her his withdrawal, and he sat up on his knees and looked down at her through sensually hooded lids. She was a quick learner, and remained silent, although she couldn’t help twisting her hips in the hope he would resume his delicious ministrations.

  He did. And this time he pushed his tongue in deep before retreating, then deep again.

  Connie enjoyed her second orgasm, her hips coming away from the bed in the hope of finding some escape from the relentless torture of Tor’s expert touch.

  But he wasn’t done with her. He subjected her to tiny licks and dips, sliding his tongue along the damp length of her slit, before dipping deep again. And miraculously, she was soon ready to come again. She wasn’t at all sure she could stand it much longer.

  “Tor … I … I can’t…”

  He withdrew, sat up, his mouth swollen and slick with her. “Have you so easily forgotten my instructions to you?”

  “No, but you’re making me feel…”

  He grinned, impossibly sexy and handsome, and then his expression darkened. “You have no idea what you do to me, Connie.”

  He stripped out of his shirt and threw it aside where it landed on the floor next to where her discarded panties lay. Connie feasted on his bared chest, on the sheer breadth and contour of his muscled physique, the dark hair that spanned across his pectorals, his waist, his stomach.

  While she was still drinking her fill of him, he stood and unhooked his belt. He pulled it from his waist and again threw it aside. He fixed his eyes on her while he slid down his zipper and discarded his trousers.

  His erection sprang free. Such a fabulous specimen of manhood, Connie thought as she stretched her arms over her head. He really was the epitome of everything a man should be, not just physically, but intellectually, too. She was a lucky woman.

  With that sinful grin he sheathed himself, came back to the bed, and moved over her. “Ready for me?”

  Always, she wanted to say, and raised her hand to stroke his stubbled chin. “How can I not be? You’ve made me come three times already, but it seems I’m always ready for you.”

  He lowered himself slowly, the tip of his erection prodding against her tender and heated flesh. The shock of his girth always made her tense a little, but she took him in readily, eagerly, wanting him to fill her, claim her.

  He thrust deep, his eyes on hers, and withdrew as she clamped around him, eager not to lose his thickness filling her, completing her.

  She wanted him so much, always so much. There was not another man she could ever imagine would make her feel the way Tor did.

  Her heart simply glowed as he moved inside her, her whole body melding to his as if they were meant to be two pieces of the same whole. She slid her arms around his neck as he continued to thrust, and she ached to tell him how she felt, how he made her feel. But something held her back.

  They had never spoken of such things. And she couldn’t bear him clamming up and maybe even withdrawing from her if she spoke words of closeness, of desire, and wishes, while they were intimate. But she felt them. She felt them so much.

  Tor changed angles, moving just a little to the right, and she felt the need building again. Another orgasm. Yes. She was a lucky woman.

  She contracted around him as his seed burst into the condom and he shouted his release. Emotion swamped her, overwhelmed her. Her throat ached from holding back the words she wanted to speak.

  Long moments passed while Tor held her gaze. His jaw seemed tight, his shoulders still bunched.

  Something flashed in his eyes, his body rigid and unmoving except for the air he sucked into his lungs. Connie all but held her breath, willing him to speak, to say the words that she herself held back, the words she so ached to hear from Tor’s lips. From his heart.

  But then he rolled off her and onto his back, and the moment was lost.

  ****

  In the bathroom stall, Connie jerked as she came back to the present. She checked her watch, wondering how long she’d spent daydreaming and half expecting Tor to start hammering on the door at any moment. Since it had only been a few minutes, she hurried out toward the bar where she managed to catch a few brief words with both her friend and her employer. She gave them both a spiel about a personal matter requiring that she return to London and handed them the notes she had written, which she told them would explain things more fully.

  With a promise to Trina that she would keep in touch, and with Darius’s displeasure at being left in the lurch and down one bar staff member without any notice, Connie went outside to the waiting car. Tor opened the back door for her, but Connie refused to give him eye contact.

  Once inside, she slid as far over the back seat as she could get, relieved when Tor didn’t crowd her.

  “Any problems? With your friend?”

  “How do you know about Trina?”

  “I make it my business to know everything about you. Surely you understand that.”

  “Seeing as I’m not familiar with the vagaries of stalking, you’ll have to excuse me if I’m not up to date with procedure.”

  She glanced at the driver, pleased that the glass screen allowed some privacy. She didn’t relish other people knowing that she was being blackmailed, nor did she want other people finding out that Tor was part man and part wolf. She trembled at the thought. Briefly, she wondered if the driver knew that his employer was a treacherous shapeshifter. Perhaps he was one, too.

  The thought did nothing to settle her queasy stomach.

  “Are there others like you?”

  She hadn’t meant to blurt it out like that, but suddenly it seemed really important. If she was going to be held captive by this man, she needed to know who she could trust and who she couldn’t. Just in case push came to shove and she needed allies.

  “Of course.”

  “Is there some way of knowing. For a person who isn’t a wolf, I mean.”

  “You mean apart from when we sprout fur? Or howl at the moon?”

  His words, delivered with a wry grin, sent fresh panic ripping through her, but she wasn’t about to let him think he could intimidate her any more than he alre
ady had. “Is that what you do? Howl at the moon?”

  His steely eyes gleamed. “If the need arises.” Turning toward her, he rested his arm along the back of the seat.

  Connie instinctively edged away.

  “Tell me something. When you were a kid, did you believe in Santa Claus?”

  “Of course. Every kid does.”

  “What about the Easter Bunny? Fairies at the bottom of the garden?”

  Connie frowned. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  Another shrug, even as his fingers reached out to toy with the ends of her hair. “Seems to me it’s not that much of a stretch to believe in people who can become something else.”

  “Are you serious? Believing in fairies as a kid is a long way from believing in werewolves as an adult.”

  “I never use that word.”

  He said it so fiercely, Connie frowned. Had she touched a nerve? “But isn’t that what you are? Or are you just an average friendly wolf in sheep’s clothing? If we’re making comparisons with fairytales, the only one I’m thinking about right now is the one where Red Riding Hood gets threatened by the big, bad wolf.”

  “I’m not your average friendly wolf, not by any means. Something else you might want to remember.”

  Aware of the incredible nature of the conversation they were having, and the growing sense of irritation she sensed in Tor, not to mention her own jittery stomach, Connie glanced through the privacy glass to the driver. “I hope he’s listening in and heading straight to the Polizia.”

  “Grigor is not the same as I am, but he knows about me.”

  “He knows? And he doesn’t care?”

  “He’s a friend. Has been with me for many years.”

  So there was no chance of seeking out Grigor’s support if it came to it that she needed help. The hole she was in grew deeper, scarier, with each moment.

  “I wish to hell I’d just taken my chances back at the bar and given you the slip again.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “You wouldn’t have gotten far.”

  Her insides gave one nauseous roll, and goosebumps broke out over her arms as trepidation coursed through her. “More threats? God, you’re a real prince, Tor.” The car turned onto a freeway and traveled in the opposite direction to the airport. “Where are we going? I thought we were flying back to London.”