by Renee Rose
My moans meld into one long, guttural cry. Probably everyone in the damn hotel can hear me, but whatever. It’s Paris. “Carlos, Carlos, please,” I beg. I seriously want to weep—I’m so wound up, need release so badly.
Carlos starts plunging his fingers and the plug at the same time, fast, and stars burst before my eyes. I feel like I’m hurtling into a dark tunnel on a roller coaster. It’s Space Mountain all the way as everything in me shoots toward the finish line. It’s more like a portal, than a line, though, because the second I pass through it, my body tightens and squeezes, wringing every last bit of pleasure out while my mind, my consciousness, soars. I coast into outer space, flung so far and so high I can’t even remember my name. My age. My species.
And then I’m back. Panting into the bedspread as Carlos eases both his fingers and the plug from my body. He trails kisses across my lower back before he disappears to the bathroom to use the sink.
I’m boneless, incapable of moving from where I seem to have melted into the bed. When Carlos returns, he releases my wrists and gathers me up into his arms.
“Okay, ángel?”
Somehow I manage to nod. I try to make my lips move, to ask about his pleasure. I’d invite him to satisfy his earlier expressed fantasy of jacking off all over me, but no sound comes out.
Carlos presses a bottle of water to my lips and I drink.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs in awe.
I don’t need to be told—as an alpha female, it’s something I’ve always known, but he doesn’t seem to be saying it for my benefit. More like an observation he can’t help but make.
“Are you hungry, mi amor? I bought some snacks for us, too.”
I manage a weak nod. “When were you planning to feed me them?” I ask when he returns with a container of fresh strawberries, a baguette, and a jar of Nutella.
“I hadn’t figured that part out yet.” His rueful grin is humble and handsome and my remaining annoyance melts away. This is the male I remember from that cell in Mexico. The male I formed a bond with, whether I like it or not. He dips a strawberry into the Nutella and holds it up to my lips.
I take a bite, conscious of his gaze glued to my lips. A trickle of juice escapes my lips and Carlos lunges as my tongue flicks it away. He stops himself and swallows.
“Sedona. I-I have so many things I want to say, but none of them seem good enough. I’m sorry. I’ll start with that. I’m sorry.”
I look at him from under my lashes. “For what, exactly?”
“For what my pack did to you. I can never take it back. Never make it up to you. But the fates know I want to try.”
I draw in a breath. I have to ask this question. I need to know how much of what happened in Mexico was biology—the full moon and two alphas locked together—and how much is real. “What about what you said back in the cell—that you weren’t sorry it happened?”
Carlos clenches his jaw and busies himself with tearing off a piece of bread and dipping it in the Nutella. He feeds it to me. “That’s also true.” His voice has the timber of a heavy confession, like he doesn’t want to admit it, but can’t lie.
I’m dismayed by how much lighter his admission makes me feel. How far have I fallen for this guy?
I’m loving the chocolate bread treat and I lift my chin to urge him to give me more. He does, immediately. I don’t have any comparisons, but it’s hard to imagine a more attentive lover.
“Sedona, I don’t wish to force myself on you. The last thing I want is to make this all harder. But I’m also incapable of letting you go. I’m not saying that to scare you, I’m just trying to explain why I’m here, following you like a stray dog who smells meat.”
My lips twitch at his comparison and I see relief seep across his expression.
“Let me serve as your escort on this trip. I know you came to forget me. To forget what happened. But I’ve been watching you for days, mi amor, and your melancholy hasn’t lessened. Maybe you need a… friend to share your travels. I speak a little French and I’m very good at holding umbrellas and keeping the flocks of fans away from soon-to-be-famous artists when they stop to sketch things.”
I arch a brow. “Friend, huh? Do you strip all of your friends naked and tie them to bedposts?” The minute I ask the question, I’m burning with jealousy. Has he done this before? He did seem rather expert at it. I want to poke the eyes out of every female he’s been with.
His lips twitch. “You brought that on yourself, blanca. You should know better than to goad my wolf.” He uses that authoritative tone that gets me wet.
“What’s blanca—white?”
“Yes. So what do you say, muñeca? Will you let me stay? Be your companion?”
“That depends.” I already know my answer is yes. The heaviness that’s shrouded me since Mexico is lifting and European travel suddenly becomes as enticing as it felt when I first dreamed of coming here.
“Name your conditions, mi amor. I will respect them.”
I love the honor and respect he shows me. “When I say I need space, you back off. I’m not accepting you as my mate.”
He nods gravely. “Understood. I’m not asking for that.”
Suddenly shy, I snatch up a strawberry and bite into it. I love the hungry expression that creeps over Carlos’ face as he watches. I wonder if he’s going to demand his own pleasure or deny himself to prove he’ll behave. I’m tempted to confess to him that next time I’d love to try the butt plug and his cock, but I hold back.
He’s not my mate, he’s a companion. We still haven’t discussed how doomed and impossible any future relationship would be, but the subject looms over us.
“Maybe we should go to Spain,” I blurt to keep from jumping his bones.
“Why?”
“You speak the language. It might be more fun.”
He leans his forehead against mine as he presses another strawberry between my lips. “That is a wonderful idea, mi amor. We’ll go visit the haunts of Gaudí and Picasso. Dalí. Miró. Who else?”
I beam at him. Though I’ve been the princess of my father’s pack my entire life, and many would call me spoiled, I always felt like no one knew me. Like I’m little more than an object or symbol. Carlos pays attention. He knows exactly what I like and I love the feeling of being truly seen for once. And the idea of visiting museums with him nearly makes me giddy.
I nestle my head against his shoulder, settling into the comfort he provides. For all my brave desires to do this trip alone, it’s much nicer to have a partner. Especially one as capable and caring as Carlos.
Chapter Ten
Carlos
I should leave Sedona’s room before my throbbing cock makes me do something stupid and I erode the trust we just built. I breathe in her scent, which both tortures and relieves me at the same time. My sweet mate fell asleep on my shoulder—a pleasure I will work my ass off to earn for the rest of my life. Nothing felt better than providing for my mate—feeding her and sheltering her in my arms.
Well, nothing except bringing her to climax.
My wolf is still buffing his nails over that one. It was risky pushing her limits the way I did, but the payoff was huge. At Harvard, they taught us to analyze risk, figure out how to minimize it. It’s suddenly clear me that playing it safe has never served me. It goes against my wolf nature, my alpha nature. And it’s definitely the reason I have a shitstorm to deal with back at Monte Lobo.
Fuck the risks. My pack needs to be shaken up. The council needs their asses kicked and I’m the only one who can turn them on their heads. Changes need to be made, progress instilled.
Lying here with Sedona in my arms, everything is crystal clear. As if all I ever needed for actualization in life was to become Sedona’s mate. If I’m man—well, wolf in our case—enough to be her mate, I’ve become the alpha who can properly lead his pack. And that may mean doing things differently than my father did them.
Whoa. Is it true that part of my reluctance to move forward stems from
a desire not to out-do my sire? Mind-boggling and stupid, but there it is. I’ve been holding back out of honor for my father. If he didn’t challenge the council, what made me think I should?
Unexpected grief seizes my chest. I feel disloyal for even thinking I can do better. But if I don’t, I will never, ever win my mate. How can I hope to bring Sedona to a broken pack? What life could I give her?
I drop a light kiss on her forehead and ease her out of my arms and under the covers. I need to do something about my rock hard cock, or sleep will be an impossibility. If I were a better wolf, I’d leave her here and go down to my own room. But that’s a fucking impossibility.
I will never leave Sedona of my own free will. Not unless she asks me to go.
I pad to the bathroom and shuck my clothes, climbing into the shower. Even with the water turned on cold, I can’t get my cock to shut down.
Fuck it. I’ll be better able to handle sleeping next to Sedona if I jerk off in here. I turn the temperature back to warm and fist my raging hard-on. All I have to do is think about Sedona, lying less than ten meters away. Naked.
I pump my hand over my cock, eyes already rolling back in my head. All I have to do is replay the moment I claimed her back in Monte Lobo, and I go off, coming against the shower wall, the heat of the water suddenly way too warm.
I change it to cold and rinse off.
Now, hopefully, I can lie next to her without danger of attacking her as she sleeps. I towel off and tug on my boxer briefs. But when I re-enter the bedroom, my cock lifts at the sight of her.
Hell. It’s going to be a killer-long night.
~.~
Sedona
I dream Carlos’ hands are all over me, stroking my bare skin. He’s growling something stern and domly that makes my toes curl.
No wait. Hold the phone. Those are Carlos’ hands all over me. One glides over my hip, the other tangles in my hair.
I’m awake.
But I’m not even sure he’s awake. His breath sounds slow, deep, and even like he’s sleeping. I think his hands are roaming of their own accord.
“Carlos?”
There’s a hitch in his breath and he stops stroking me. Then, judging by his resumed slow exhale, he slides back into slumber and begins the caress again.
Everywhere he touches me comes alive, heating and tingling. His hand strokes up my side, slides around to cup my breast. He squeezes it, rubbing his thumb over my nipple.
Seriously? The guy is so good in bed he can do it in his sleep? I should’ve followed up on my question about how many females he’s entertained this way.
I squeeze my thighs together to alleviate the thrum of renewed desire building there. I blink at the bedside clock. It’s four in the morning. If he keeps this up, I will never fall back to sleep.
I grasp his hand and slide it down between my legs.
Again, there’s a pause in his breath before it relaxes back into an even cadence, but his fingers know just what to do. He strokes into me. I’m shocked at how wet I’ve already become.
I moan. Carlos growls.
Is he awake now? I can’t tell.
“Carlos?”
The growls grow louder, his fingers quest deeper, parting my folds, penetrating me.
I choke out a cry and scissor my legs tight around his hand, hungry for full contact.
A snarl rips out of Carlos’ throat and suddenly I’m pinned flat on my belly, his hand gripping my nape, his knees knocking my thighs wider.
My breath leaves me in a whoosh when he drops his weight onto me, thrusting his stiff cock in the notch between my legs.
I almost laugh. His cock is shielded from my entrance by his boxers, but he’s not awake enough to realize. He growls in frustration, thrusting harder. If it weren’t for the hand at my nape, I’d go flying into the headboard he’s pounding so hard.
He figures out the problem and bares his cock and a half-second later he impales me with it. Fully. As in, to the hilt.
I cry out, not hurt, just shocked by the force and abandon of his thrusts. He pumps hard and fast, pistoning with powerful hip-snaps, slapping my ass with his loins. His growls fill the room, providing the bass to the soprano of my gasping cries.
I spread my legs wider, arch back to meet him, blinded with the deepest satisfaction.
Yes, this.
I never knew it could be so good. So right.
And sleep-fucking, no less.
Carlos’ growls choke off and his body jerks to a stop. “Puh.” He lets out a breath. He releases his grip on my nape and shoves the hair out of my face, but his hips start thrusting again, even faster than before.
I twist to look back, and he’s staring down at me, his brows drawn together in a tight line.
“Sedona, oh fates—” He shouts his release, his voice echoing off the walls.
I swear I feel his hot cum fill me. I shove my hand down between my legs and rub my clit as I follow him to the finish.
He groans, still coming and rolls us toward our sides, reaching around to grasp both my breasts as he continues to thrust into me. His breath burns hot on my neck as he kneads my breasts, pinching my nipples.
I come again—an aftershock almost as good as the first one.
Carlos sucks and kisses my neck, groaning. I get the feeling he’s still coming back to consciousness. “Sedona, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—” The fingers I’m using on my clit scrape the base of his cock and he catches my wrist, pulling it up in front of our faces. “What is this?” His accent is so thick, so sexy. He takes my fingers into his mouth and sucks.
My pussy contracts as if he were sucking down there.
“Mi amor, you don’t touch yourself when you’re in bed with me. That’s my job.”
My heart, already racing from our interlude, picks up speed at the gravelly scolding.
He sucks my fingers again. “Mmm. You taste delicious, ángel. I’m sorry I didn’t do my job well this time. I was, uh…”
“Asleep?” I giggle.
He drops his head into my neck and laughs. “I’m so sorry,” he groans. “Did I hurt you? Are you all right?”
“I’m okay.”
He lifts his head, peering into my face with an intensity that makes my pulse jump. “You sure? I didn’t mean to do that to you, beautiful. I jacked off before I came to bed so I wouldn’t force myself on you, and then I went and did it in my sleep. Without protection.”
He looks so genuinely rueful.
“I would’ve stopped you if I didn’t like it.”
A look of wonder creeps over his face. “It was okay? You liked it?”
“I knew you were asleep. I was sort of amazed that you got so far with me without waking up. There ought to be an award for that or something.”
He’s still slowly pumping into me, even though we’ve both come and his cock is softening. He reaches between my legs and taps my clit lightly. “I deserve no award if you had to satisfy yourself, mi amor.”
A second aftershock ripples through me. A little one this time, but no less pleasurable.
“Never again.” He’s pulling out the bossy tone once more. “I will be the one to give you pleasure, ángel. It’s my duty. One I promise to take very seriously.”
I want to giggle but he sounds dead serious. Like he’s swearing a vow on his father’s grave.
“O-okay.” I don’t know what else to say.
He lands an epic bite-suck-kiss on my neck. “Nobody else touches this,” he growls, his voice low with warning. “Not even you.”
I shiver at the possibility of more punishment at his hands if I disobey. The idea thrills me and I can hardly wait to try it out, but I play along. “Okay.”
He nips the outer shell of my ear. “Good girl.”
Warmth curls through me at his words and I settle back into his arms. Maybe I will be able to fall back to sleep.
Chapter Eleven
Carlos
I carry coffee and croissants from the train snack cart to w
here Sedona sketches on her pad. The trip from Paris to Barcelona takes six and a half hours by speed train and I’ve done everything I can think of to make things easy and enjoyable for Sedona. I bought us comfort class tickets and paid for three seats instead of two so we wouldn’t have to sit with anyone else. I set up her phone to charge in the outlet between our seats and offered her my iPod and earbuds for music.
I love to watch her work, so absorbed in her sketch of a fairy alight a flower.
She barely looks up as I set the food down on my tray, but I don’t take offense. I don’t want to intrude on her time, I’m just grateful she’s allowed me to take care of her.
I pull my phone out and call Monte Lobo. It’s Sunday, and it was my habit when away to call my mother on Sundays. Of course, she doesn’t have her own phone, since technology is banned for all but the council and alpha.
I call Don Santiago, who acts as a sort of gatekeeper for the pack. Almost all transmissions go through him. I don’t like Don Santiago—I don’t like any of the council members—but he’s probably the most capable. Like me, he went to university. He has an advanced degree, even worked for a time in a genetics lab in Mexico City. He’s been out in the world enough to understand how things work, including technology and how best to use it. He was the one responsible for getting the mountain wired for Wi-Fi despite the rest of the council’s dire predictions that connecting us to the world would lead to our destruction.
Don Santiago answers on the second ring. “Carlos.” He always goes for this hearty, grandfatherly tone with me.
“Hello, Don Santiago,” I say in Spanish. “How are things?” It’s the same conversation we had every week I was away in college.
“All is well here, mijo.” He calls me my son, which always makes me bristle.
I don’t let it slide this time. “Carlos. Or Don Carlos. Not son.” I’m pleased I can say it coolly with nary a growl.
“Of course, I’m sorry Don Carlos,” Don Santiago smooths. “It’s just that I’ve known you since you were a baby.”
