by Lynn Red
He rode her down to the ground, hard body pressed against hers before her head came to rest on the soft surface below. His face was shadowed in darkness as he looked down at her, the merest hint of his tight expression and the tension running through his big body enough to clue her into the battle that raged within.
“Kiss me, Max,” she whispered, reaching up to trail soft kisses along his jaw line. His stubble prickled against her lips, causing another wave of liquid heat to slip from her body, a hot trickle down her inner thigh as her body prepared itself for him. His soft growl, the inhuman sound from his human throat turned her on all the more. “Please?”
Wriggling against him, she worked her lips down his neck, and nipped the soft flesh in the same spot he’d bite on her to mark his claim. It was a step too far. He stiffened, the soft growl becoming a snarl as he moved. Within a heartbeat he had her hands over her head, breasts pressing against the broadness of his chest as a hard knee parted her thighs so he could settle between them. Her hips cradled him, a wordless moan in her throat as he rocked against her. Only the thin fabric of his dress pants separated them. She’d never loathed a piece of clothing so much in her life.
“Mine,” he snarled again but this time the sound was lighter, less inhuman. She knew without being able to see that the amber had begun to leech out of his eyes; leaving the man in control.
“Mine. Always mine.”
His whisper was almost reverent as he bent his head, but there was no reverence in his kiss as he claimed her lips. There was no patience, no gentle strokes to calm her. Instead he plundered, parting her lips with a hard sweep of his tongue and driving within so his tongue could mate with hers.
She groaned, the sound signaling her surrender and opening the floodgates. He angled his head, hand hard in her hair to hold her still as he deepened the kiss. Fire shot through her veins straight down to her pussy as his tongue slid and stroked along hers. The scent of arousal filled the air, hers and the deeper, wilder note of his. Teasing...tantalizing her, he broke from her lips and worked hot, open-mouthed kisses down her throat. Feverish, as though he were riding the edge of his control.
She drove her hands into his hair and reveled in the feeling of the heavy silken strands against her fingers. She’d always loved his hair, wanted to run her hands through it, wrap it around her fist. She did, and pulled his head back, arousal making her movements urgent as her wolf bayed for release, for a connection with the male she sensed so near.
He reared back at the pressure, looking down at her. The standoff lasted less than two seconds before she released his hair and he took her lips again. She sighed, the sound lost in his mouth. Arousal hummed through her. Her hips rocked against his, the fine fabric of his pants became rough and coarse against her hyper-sensitive skin.
“Can’t wait,” he gasped, sliding his hand around her neck to cup her throat. Instead of pissing her off as it normally would, the casual dominance thrilled her, made her blood sing and her body clamor for more. Her brain didn’t register what he was about as his hand moved down, hard fingers hooked into the front of her dress.
Fabric tore in a hard swipe, his claws caressing her skin but not cutting as he sliced the dress free, making short work of the straps. Her bra followed suit, shredded as it slipped from her body to leave her lying naked beneath him.
He growled, the rough sound wholly human as he leaned down. A gasp was torn from her lips as he swept a rough tongue over her nipple. Warm and wet, it circled the little bud until it stood proud. It didn’t take long, her body reacting with a willing eagerness that surprised her. Any other partner and it took forever, but Max seemed to know exactly what buttons to press to get her going. He played her body as though he knew her deepest, darkest secrets. With a small sound of satisfaction in his throat he closed his lips around the turgid nipple, pulled it into the warm cavern of his mouth and sucked.
She whimpered, back arching to offer more to his attentive mouth as she shoved her hands back in his hair and held him to her. Desire shimmered through her, the ripples of pleasure extending to her needy cunt. Lifting her leg, she wrapped it around his hip and pressed closer. Her hips rocked against his as she rubbed against the thick bar of his cock, desperate to find some relief. What was the matter with her? She’d never dry-humped a guy in her life.
He pulled away from her breast, lips slipping from her nipple with a soft ‘pop’. “Beautiful,” he murmured as he worked his way down her body with soft kisses, his ability to use words of more than one syllable further underlining that the man, not the wolf, was running the show.
Her stomach clenched as he ran his stubble covered jaw over it lightly, the quick flick of his tongue over the sensitive crease between hip and thigh making her jump. Heat welled, the cream of her arousal sliding from her to coat the lips of her pussy. She moaned, as his hands slid over her body to cup her breast and tweak the nipples, small bites of pleasure-pain as he slid lower down.
Big shoulders thrust her thighs impossibly wide. Her embarrassment at being spread open wide, her pussy on display for his perusal, lasted all of a second as he leaned forward and blew a cool breath over her. Anticipation pulled every nerve ending taut, her body on a knife edge as she waited for the first touch of his tongue. Needed it more than she needed to breathe, to see, to hear...
Wet heat laved her in a long, firm stroke from slit to clit and she arched up, crying out as her hips jerked up off the rug. He didn’t give her any time to recover. Instead he feasted on her like a starving man with a banquet laid before him. Big hands latched around her hips, he held her still for the attention of his mouth, driving her wild with long licks along her soaking pussy lips and quick, hard flicks of his tongue over her tightened clit.
She moaned, rocking against him as she pinched and pulled at her nipples. Each tweak sent fire arrowing down to her clit, her cunt clenching around nothingness as heat moistened her channel. She gasped, the tension in her body ratcheting right up to near breaking point as he shoved his tongue deep into her, greedily catching every drop of her essence with small growls rumbling in his throat.
“Oh god, Max...yes!” she whimpered, abandoning her breast to drive her hands into his hair and hold him against her as he ruthlessly fucked her with his tongue. She needed this...needed him. Tension spiraled tighter and tighter as he pulled away, replacing his tongue with two thick fingers.
“Aiiiyyeee,” she keened, hips bucking as he pumped the thick digits, curling his fingers back to brush against her g-spot. She’d always doubted its existence, but he zeroed right in on it, the pressure enough to curl her toes and coat his fingers with another wave of slick heat.
He did it again, and again, lifting his head to watch her as he drove her insane with the clever touch of his fingers. She let her fingers slide from his hair as he pumped, head thrown back as she concentrated on the sensations he was affording her. He knew exactly how to touch her, how hard and for how long, to bring her almost to the edge of reason. Writhing and panting she yearned for release, feeling it building up inside her. Almost there, just one more stroke.
He pulled away. Disbelief surged through her at the sudden loss, her whimper of frustration loud in the silent room. Then, with a chuckle, he dropped his head, pulled her clit between his lips and sucked.
She shattered apart, waves of pleasure crashing over her, buffeting her in their swell as she was tossed from one to the other. Screaming his name, she clutched at the rug around her as he growled and drove his tongue into her cunt to gather the rush of heat as she came hard.
She shuddered, strung out with the pleasure he’d brought her as he sucked her clit one last time and crawled up her body. Boneless and riding out the shimmers of pleasure still coursing through her, she watched him through half-lidded eyes.
Tension radiated from every line of his body as he shoved her thighs apart, ripping at the fasteners on his pants. They gave in a tear of cloth and his cock sprang free, slapping hard and insistent against the inside of her
thigh.
She shivered, reaching her hands above her head to arch her back. Displaying herself for him. Teasing him. Inviting him to take her. A hard arm slid under her, wrapping around her side and sliding up her back as he cupped the nape of her neck. Hard fingers curled around her shoulder, holding her in place and bracing him at the same time as he reached down and fit the wide head of his cock against her slick lips.
She caught her breath as he pushed. The delicate tissues of her cunt parted around him, the head slipping into her channel on a slick slide. She gasped at the sensation, as inch after inch, he pressed into her. He was huge, bigger than she’d thought and even with the slickness of her release, the long, slow penetration stretched her body to the limit. Her channel clenched tight around him as he stopped, hips against hers and head of his cock pressing against the entrance to her womb. She bit her lip, trying to stay still as she got used to him. She’d never felt more full and stretched in her life.
“Breathe,” he ordered, his lips branding her temple, her cheek, as he worked his way down to her lips. “It’ll be okay, I promise.”
She nodded, the slightest motion of her head. He took her lips again, his kiss so sweet and comforting that she moaned softly. But no amount of sweetness could mask the thrills running through her body nor stop the sudden urge she had to move. She shifted her hips, wary of the hard presence of his cock impaling her and gasped at the pleasure that cascaded through her.
“God, sweetheart. Do that again,” Max begged, lips a hairs-breadth away as his big body braced above hers and shook with the effort to stay still. “That felt so fucking good.”
She did as she was told, the ragged sigh that escaped her lips ending on a moan. It felt good, better than good. It felt fantastic. His hard cock pressed against all her nerve endings, the tight fit no longer remotely painful but the source of delicious friction that stoked the fire of her pleasure higher.
“Harder,” she begged, wrapping her legs around him when she couldn’t get the range of motion she needed to stroke the itch in her pussy. “Harder and faster, please Max.”
He chuckled, the sound a dark delight. “As you wish.”
It was like her request opened the floodgates. He pulled back slowly and then powered into her. A heavy thrust that had them both gasping in pleasure. Then all bets were off as he set up a powerful rhythm, pounding into her, his hips slamming into hers. The room filled with the ragged sound of their breathing, the smell of sex and the slap of skin on skin. Erotic sounds and scents reached inside her and pulled every nerve ending taut.
Pleasure rose, the heat in her veins rising with each hard thrust and roll of his hips. Max didn’t take her, he owned her, every movement an act of possession as he pushed her closer to the edge. She whimpered as he released her hands to brace himself over her, one hard hand wrapped around and onto her shoulder to hold her as he impaled her with his cock over and over.
He was relentless, hard lines etched into what she could see of his expression in the darkness, his eyes bordering on feral as he bent his powerful body to fucking her. Her nails scored his back as he moved over her, the tiny pain making him hiss and slam his cock harder into her greedy pussy.
Then it was there, the tension in her core reached breaking point, paused and shattered into a million pieces, bombarding her body with shard-like pleasure. Her cunt clenched tight as she cried out, pleasure washing through her veins in a warm flood as she came hard around his cock. Hard ecstasy swept over her as her body milked his cock.
He swore and upped his pace, hard, heavy thrusts as he chased his own end. Then he stiffened and slammed his cock deep to roar his own release. Inside her, his cock jerked and pulsed, bathing the neck of her womb with white-hot jets of seed for long moments until, finally, he shuddered and rolled, bringing her with him to lie, sated, over his broad chest.
Chapter Seven
Late the next morning Kelli wandered through the main room of the cabin dressed in nothing more than a pair of sweatpants and a faded t-shirt. Since Max had shredded her clothes last night leaving her with nothing to wear, she’d had to resort to raiding his closet. Not that she minded; wearing his clothes made her feel all fuzzy inside and closer to him. She had to take what she could get since he’d decided to abandon her for some emergency in town. She didn’t know what; he’d woken her at some ungodly hour and she hadn’t bothered to ask, instead burying her head under the pillow and growling at him to go away. He’d just laughed, and said he’d be back as soon as possible.
Lord alone knew when that would be. She’d had enough disasters when she’d moved into her current apparent to know that when it came to construction, Murphy had a firm grip of the reins. And, as the owner of his own building company, Max was first on the list when something went wrong.
She signed as she headed for the kitchen and her ultimate goal; coffee.
Despite the age of the cabin, the kitchen—like the bathroom she’d just showered in—was a delight. She grinned. In pride of place in the middle of the counter was a large coffee machine. Humming with happiness, or pre-coffee jitters, she set about loading the machine. A quick search of the cupboards revealed a large selection of filter coffee. Seemed Max was just as much of a coffee addict as she was. It didn't take long for the coffee to percolate. She sighed as she settled on the stool by the counter, a mug of hot java in her hands as she looked out of the window.
Three days to midsummer. Even now in the daylight, she could feel the pull of the moon. Like a devil on her back it goaded and prodded her, energy rolling over her skin and pulling at the wolf within. Three days to midsummer. Three days until she had no choice but to slough off the human skin and run as a wolf.
Any other month she had the choice; she could suppress it if she wished, but not this month. The midsummer moon was the most powerful, the most visceral of all the lunar phases. Intimately linked to lupine legend, it was the one phase where they had to leave their humanity behind, which was why only the deepest pacts or the most solemn claims were made beneath its moon.
Three days to change her mind about leaving. Three days to persuade her to stay. She took a sip of the rich dark liquid in her mug. Max had been insatiable. He'd woken her several times in the night and each time he'd been different. From rough and forceful as his wolf rode him, through playful and right to slow and so sensual it had made her toes curl. Each and every time he'd been different, like he was trying to cram a lifetime of loving into just one night.
Savoring the bitter-sweetness of the coffee, she sighed. Not in her wildest dreams had she thought he'd be that good in bed. She knew he'd be good... When they were kids all Max's girlfriends had raved about him, whispered conversations she'd eavesdropped on using a combination of stealth and her enhanced hearing.
They'd all been human, which had puzzled her. The thought that he preferred human females over his own kind had felt like he was selling out. Until she'd gotten older and realized there was no way he could fool around with a wolf chick. Not without her papa showing up on his doorstep. If there was one thing about lycan fathers, it was that they were very protective. If Max had bedded any of the pack girls, and her family had found out, there would have been a shotgun wedding faster than you could say the words. And there was nothing a suspicious father missed, especially not one with a wolf’s sense of smell.
She blinked, a wry smile on her lips as she rested her elbows on the counter. After last night, she could say without a shadow of a doubt that those girls hadn’t been lying.
Max was...wow. Just wow.
Cradling the mug in her hands, she looked out over the living area. Max had obviously remodeled, opening up the main room and decorating in comforting tones of cream and beige. Neutral, earthy tones which complemented the ethnic print cushions.
It was a comfortable place. A place for someone to unwind after a hard day at work. Her gaze swept over the big television and assorted electronic gadgets, past the hearth and over the doors opposite. One led to the bedrooms,
the other to an office if the heavy desk and big chair was any indication.
Curious, she slid off the stool. Her footsteps were silent as she padded over the plush carpet. Wolves were sensual creatures; even in human form they sought tactile contact of all kinds. A wolf that avoided touching was a wolf with problems.
She reached the door, peeking around the frame into the small room. Tucked away in the corner of the house, it was obviously a man’s office. Here dark leather, heavy wood and clean lines ruled without compromise. She took a deep breath, rolling it over her tongue. Max spent a lot of time here; she could virtually taste him on the air.
Wandering further in, mug in one hand, she stroked the fingers of the other over the leather jotter on the desk. Who used a jotter anymore? Her lips quirked as she noticed the slight marks on the desk where his laptop had rested, four small circles worn into the surface.
She turned and blinked. On the wall behind her was a heavy, carved wood plaque. Max’s work, it had to be. He’d always been whittling away with that little pocket knife as far back as she could remember.
It read simply ‘Sanctuary’.
Breath stilled in her chest. Unable to resist, she approached it. Traced the letters he’d carved with a gentle finger. In between one heartbeat and the next she got it. This place, hidden up in the mountains away from the town and the rest of the pack, was Max’s sanctuary. The place he came to escape the daily rigors of running the pack. That one word, painstakingly carved into the wood, hauntingly beautiful in its simplicity, said everything. How alone and isolated he was. The pressures placed on him as Stratton Alpha. His need to escape, if only for a while from the responsibility that he’d taken on when little more than a teenager.
Her heart ached as she dropped her hand. Her attention transferred to the pictures either side, flanking the carving like a couple of heavies. She frowned. One was a photo, an old one of a town picnic. It wasn’t one she’d seen before but she recognized everyone in it. A group of teenagers lounged on the grass, smiles on their lips and laughter in their eyes. A younger version of herself was at the front, twisted to the side and laughing up at the youth at her side.
