He smiled then, the carnivore gleam that forced my heart to beat faster. “You think I like to play the wolf?”
“Isn’t it what all this is about?” I wanted to find something sure, something that made sense. Was my mark really one of the rare preternaturals? Was he causing the confusion in my brain?
“This…” His hand started to move again, a slow slide across my breast and down to the slight curve of my belly. His thumb dipped lower until he teased my clit and I bit the inside of my cheek to deny the low moan that wanted to escape. “Is about me fucking you.’
His smile deepened and the wolf shone in him. My heart kicked faster. A wolf never took a human. That was the ancient myth, anyway. Or if they did, nobody spoke of it. Was this the reason for the holes in my memory? Regret soured my thoughts. I’d lose my time with this man. And could only a human offer the little play of an old fairytale? The wolf form of a kink.
I let my fingers play along his jaw to his mouth enjoying the slow circles he drew against my flesh whilst I could still remember them, him. “How do you want me, Mr. Wolf?”
He tilted his head and pushed his finger deeper. “What do you offer?”
I eased in a breath. “This is your fantasy…”
Something shifted in his eyes and my belly did a strange little flip. His sharp smile faded, but a second finger joined the first. “Not a fantasy. Necessity.”
I wet my lips, trying to focus on him, but the increasing stroke of his fingers, the quick fire that licked at my flesh made it almost impossible. “Not…” I swallowed, the low throb in my belly deepening. “What?”
“And I’m hungry.”
I opened my mouth, but no words came out. The sharp scrape of the chair over the old stone filled the room as Balthasar kicked it back. He dropped to his knees before me. One hand took my hip, the other drew slow lines along my thigh, the sudden rush of sensation making me gasp. He pressed a hot palm to my skin and hooked my leg over his shoulder. I grabbed at his other shoulder to keep my balance. “Balthasar…?”
“Such sweet flesh.” He nuzzled my belly, his hot breath burning my skin and his tongue licking a slow line to meet his fingers. “Succulent.” His fingers left me and I groaned. Laughter brushed over my flesh. “So you know, I’m a slow and thorough eater.”
His thumbs teased the sensitive creases of my thighs. I fisted my fingers in his thick, dark hair and he growled, the delicious sound vibrating up through my body. One hand dug into my backside, the pain edged sharply with a strange pleasure. The ring he wore burned cold against my skin. Almost like a brand.
He licked and sucked, his tongue, his teeth finding every sensitive point. The low, satisfied growls deepened the growing need in my flesh. I ached for them. Craved them.
“More.” The word broke from me, quick and hard.
And somehow, Balthasar knew what I wanted, the feral growls increasing, rippling, flowing into me, mixing with the fire winding up through my body. Already the first threads of my release tormented me.
The promised strength of it caught my breath. Was my reaction to a mark always like this? So…intense. I couldn’t remember. His teeth grazed my clit and the shocked heat shot through my flesh, taking me with it. All worry, all thought vanished. Fierce, white light flashed across my vision, heat and joy wrapping around me. I cried out something, my throat raw with the sudden wildness of it, and for a long moment I lost myself in hot bliss.
“Sienna…”
Balthasar’s hot breath burned against my belly, chasing the final threads of my release. My hand trembled as I teased my fingers through his hair and held him to me, trying to find a breath and control the wild thud of my heart. I closed my eyes. Was that it? I bit my lip. He’d promised more and already the thought of it pushed new tingles under my skin. “And now?”
He ran his palms over my thighs. “Eager for more?” He stood, his hands never leaving my body and he glanced towards the long window, to the clouds shifting across the face of the full moon. “We still have time.”
He caught a long strand of hair behind my ear, his fingertips brushing my cheek. Firelight edged his features and his wild beauty forced my heart into a faster beat. Time. In the morning would I remember anything of him? A knot twisted in my gut but I ignored it. He was a mark. I brought pleasure. That was my role. “What now, Mr. Wolf?”
His lips twitched upwards and the corner of his eyes crinkled. The sudden, sharp change, the warmth and quick humour caught my breath. I wanted to label it humanity. But he wasn’t human. Not really. A second later, it was gone. “Now I fuck your sweet pussy.”
My gaze dropped from his, his harsh words a shock after what I’d just seen. I was his fantasy. It was the reminder I needed. In the morning, I’d forget him.
Balthasar yanked his shirt over his head and slid through the first button on his jeans. I stared at the dark line of disappearing hair and my fingers itched to follow, to undo more buttons, to trace a slow path along his dick. To watch his mouth part and his eyes close. To hear the quick, uneven hitch in his breath and let my lips and tongue takeover—
“Now, who’s hungry?”
His laughter was dark and wrapped around me, prickling my skin. He undid the remaining buttons and pushed down his jeans, kicking them to the side. Light flickered against his brown skin and my need to touch him, lick him, press my whole body against his had my flesh tight.
My heart raced. “Am I meant to answer?”
He tipped my chin up and the heat in his eyes held me. “You’d devour me.” He bared his teeth in a predatory smile. “And if we had time, I’d let you.”
“But you just said…”
His mouth dipped low over mine and I tasted myself. “Tonight is about me. You know that. It’s why you’re here.” He caught my bottom lip with his teeth and the pain shot through me, hot, stark and sharpening my desire. His hands gripped my backside. In one fluid move, he lifted me, holding me against him in a mix of silk and hot flesh. “I need moonlight on your skin when I fuck you.”
My chest tightened. The moon sliced through the window to stripe the stone floor, chilled and silver. A full moon and a preternatural. Panic kicked me. Would be transform?
“Worried, Sienna?”
Balthasar carried me across the room, his bare feet silent against the stone. He stopped by the high window. The air was cold, but the incredible heat of his body, the promise of what was about to happen, ran warmth through my body. I needed him.
A wicked smile touched his mouth as he turned and forced the moonlight to cut across my flesh. “Don’t worry, Sienna. I’m no more wolf than you are.”
Something about his words forced my hands to flex against his shoulders. He was preternatural. I could almost taste it. Wanted to taste it as my gaze followed the strong line of this throat, my lips burning. I had to look away from him before I lost myself.
He was a mark. The reminder shouldn’t be necessary, but it was. The windows looked black into the night, moonlight gilding the tops of distant trees and the wide expanse of open parkland beyond the hall. A wild, open space. I refocused…and I saw him reflected in the glass. Firelight touched his naked beauty, every inch of him sculpted perfection. My heart drummed. He was a job. Nothing more.
The reminder wasn’t working.
Balthasar knew I stared, knew it in the way his hands tightened against my backside, caught the silk, crushed it. “Like what you see?”
I willed my gaze back to his. “You know you’re beautiful.”
“It’s all surface.” He rolled me against him, the tease of his dick against my flesh forcing me to tighten my grip on his muscled shoulders. The warm silk slipped down my thigh, exposing me to him. “A veneer.”
I blinked, not able to speak as he firmed his hold and worked my body over his, the quick flicker of heat and want increasing in my belly. I ached for him. The movements were a slow torment. There was something in him I couldn’t name. Something like the predatory darkness I’d seen before. “Balthasar�
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“So sweet. Every inch of you.” His shadowed gaze held me, mixing fire with the need thickening in my blood. “But not for much longer.” And he thrust up, meeting the hard push of his hands on my backside, burying himself inside me.
I cried out. Pain, hot and unexpected, lanced through my body. I snapped taut, denying tears. It made no sense. How could it hurt? My job was to bring pleasure, to fuck men. I couldn’t be…
“Untouched.” He almost snarled the word and even in the heavy shadow, his eyes glittered. “Mine.”
“I…”
He pulled back and stroked again, deep and hard. A gasp broke from me, but I wanted to move with him as the tendrils of need coiled tight in my belly. He thrust again. And again.
“You wanted it this way.”
“I…” Words failed me. The incredible push of him into my body, the fierce heat of his skin against my thighs, my breasts, the aching promise of his mouth all caught me. His hard hands moved me, used me, finding an increasing rhythm. I didn’t fight him. I couldn’t. It was delicious. Right.
My mouth moved over his, tasting his breath and his wild, animal grin quickened my heart. I was the one who wanted to play? “Why?” I tangled my fingers in his hair, wanting to bite him, devour him whole. Dear God, I couldn’t fight the need firing through my flesh. “Why this?”
His low growl chased in a wild surge up from my belly. But there was an edge to it and his grin had faded. “You were scared.”
Of him. That touched a memory. The terror of this moment, of him taking me, fucking me, making me his, of losing myself in his wildness…but it wasn’t like that. It, he was glorious. And a soft growl rippled from my own lips, echoing his. Because that was right too.
“Sienna?”
I took his mouth in a fierce kiss, urging my hips down against his, wanting to find the wild heat of our release, the one that would bind us, the one that would change both of us. Memory burst through me with every hard stroke of him, with the delicious sound of our slick flesh. He was mine. Mine to carve, mine to mould. Mine to tame.
I broke my mouth from his, needing air, needing to look at him, see the effect I wrought. My power had scared me, not him. Never him. I bit his lip and his snarl brought my body to the edge. “My beautiful wolf.”
Balthasar groaned, his hands a pained-pleasure, his thrusts fast and growing wild. “My wife.”
For a moment, everything in me stilled. The ring he wore. I was his…completely.
Heat smashed over me, a blaze of white light and intense pleasure. I think I cried out. Possibly howled. My body shook, but he held me, his mouth at my ear, murmuring how much he had always wanted me, wanted this, us.
And with a final stroke, he came, his teeth finding my bared shoulder, marking me, changing me, bringing what I was to the surface. I arched against him. A new wildness beat in my blood, the slick heat of moonlight charging my skin. Wolf. I was finally wolf. A laugh broke from me. “No more wolf than you are?” He grinned at me, the corners of his eyes crinkling. Humanity. My heart tightened. I’d put that there, brought this wild, lone wolf in…as he’d ignited my own wolf within me. Balthasar Roth. The only preternatural that could turn me.
I’d wanted him to have the fantasy, the power of being a wolf. He’d agreed to be my mate, to offer his strength to drag out my own. Before him, I was little more than human. An embarrassment. But taking me as his wife tamed, controlled his wildness.
I touched his temple, feeling the creases. “Why did you agree to this?”
“You felt…right.” He turned his head to kiss my palm. “And thank you for this.” He stroked a large, callused palm up my spine, the silk spilling over his fingers. I sighed at his gentle touch. “But I don’t want to hurt you.” His eyes shadowed and he stared down to where our bodies joined. “Did I…?”
I growled and the silver in his eyes sparked. He was my wolf, my husband. Though the way I’d chosen to cement our union--hiding my own memory, playing out a fantasy—was unique, I would never let him think that I didn’t want him. “You could never hurt me. Never.” I licked his upper lip and eased my tongue along the line of his teeth. My smile was dark. “My, what big teeth you have, Mr. Wolf.”
Balthasar’s grin grew again, predatory, fierce. His voice was a soft, intimate growl that coiled fresh heat in my belly. We could still play out our fantasy.
“All the better to eat you with, my dear.”
No, my wolf wasn’t completely tamed.
Going Wild
by Jocelyn Michel
A brilliant blue sky arched over us without a cloud to mar it. Hot as blue blazes already, and it was only eight a.m. Used to a high-rise office with AC, my body had some adjusting to do. Sally, the make-up girl, rushed forward to dab my damp forehead with a tissue before moving quickly out of the shot.
“In five, four, three...” My director, Thomas, silently completed the countdown to show time with his fingers. The camera began to roll.
“Hello, I’m Neci Dominga and this is Going Wild!” I flashed the smile for which I was famous, ignoring the tight knot of doubt in my stomach. “Welcome to my world! For the next few days, I’ll be exploring the jungles of the Amazon in search of the giant anaconda. Only one cameraman will accompany me, documenting my every move in the wilderness. How will this city slicker survive? Stay tuned to find out.”
“Cut! That was perfect, Neci. Beautifully done.” Thomas moved on.
Eric, my producer, moved forward. “Great job. Now you’ll be leaving in ten minutes, so do whatever you need to do. That’s your transportation.” He pointed to a Land Rover loaded down with bags. I saw a guy sitting behind the wheel with one booted foot on the sandy ground. His cool glance told me nothing.
“Who’s that?”
“Ace Sanchez, your cameraman and guide.”
“John isn’t going?”
“No. But don’t worry. Ace is just that--an ace guide with exceptional sound and camera skills. He’ll get you in and get you out in one piece. We were lucky to find him. The rain may make filming tricky, but you have plenty of supplies if you have to stay longer than the two days we planned. We’ll see you back here whenever.”
For the zillionth time, I wondered what the heck I was doing. Why couldn’t I be happy behind the scenes at Spinning Earth Productions, being paid a lot of money for my ideas? Surely it wasn’t some vain attempt to please my dad, CEO. Since he’d dumped my sweet mom for a younger model two months ago, we did nothing but trade snarls in passing. I didn’t need his approval to be happy.
Was it adventure, then, that called? I liked to think so. I was, after all, very savvy, and savvy women didn’t make bad decisions. What they did do was come up with new programming concepts designed to lure viewers in the desired demographic. Who could’ve guessed that Eric would not only love my idea to debunk worldwide myths, but would want me to host it?
So here I was, accepting his dare and walking toward a truck that had seen better days driven by a damned handsome man with a scowl on his face. I pasted a smile on my own and stuck out my right hand, determined to charm him. “Neci Dominga.”
He took and shook it but didn’t let go right away, instead examining my French-tipped nails for a sec before raising his gaze to meet mine. “Ace Sanchez.”
“Are we ready to hit the road?”
“I am. Are you?”
“Of course.” I settled in on the passenger side of the Rover. I saw that Ace had shifted position and sat behind the wheel.
He reached for the key in the ignition, but didn’t start the engine. “Sure you’re up for this?”
“Why do you ask?”
“The jungle isn’t very forgiving, and you’re obviously...” He shrugged one muscled shoulder.
“What?”
“Soft.”
“Excuse me? I work out every day.”
“Not that kind of soft. I can see that you’re fit.” His emerald eyes swept my body, lingering on my breasts before dipping lower.
I felt a tingle deep inside and hated him for it. Not that I could blame him for our tangible chemistry. His safari clothing simply added to his mercenary charm. I’d never met a man so blatantly rugged with such an air of...danger, I guess...about him.
“I’m talking about the heat, the rain, and the bugs. Lots of bugs. Not to mention venomous snakes and poisonous spiders.”
“Just drive,” I told him, ignoring the warning. I would endure anything to make my show a hit. And he looked like a guy who could keep a gal safe.
With a doubtful shake of his head, he started the Rover and headed it onto the dirt track that led to nowhere. We drove for two dusty hours before stopping to refuel. I peed in the nastiest outhouse I’d ever seen. The smell haunted me for many miles after that. I finally dug into my backpack for my French perfume. I dabbed a drop on my upper lip, sighing my relief when the scent wafted upward and filled my nostrils.
Ace rolled his eyes, but didn’t comment. I stole a moment to study him. His chiseled features were almost too perfect, like someone had carved them from stone. The rest of his body matched. I realized I wouldn’t mind a throw-down with him, as in one of us would throw the other down and do some bone jumping. Sundown hovered by the time we reached our destination at the edge of the jungle. I scanned it, noting the lush greenery, tangled undergrowth and shadows that could hide anything.
Unable to suppress a shiver, I faked a smile to erase it. “This is it?”
“Yep.” Ace began unloading the Rover, handing me various bags. I took them without complaint since he’d kept the heavy stuff for himself. Everything had a strap of one kind or another, which meant we could hook each over a shoulder or across our backs, which left our hands free. Lights mounted on our foreheads via an elastic strap would help us see in the dark. I pulled my hair into a ponytail, binding it with one of the elastic bands I always kept handy.
Ace caught my eye. “We can do this two ways. You lead and I film, or I lead and you film.”
Guessing Eric had told him I had camera skills, I chose the second. While I could video, I had no idea how to use the machete he now grasped and would undoubtedly need. Ace pointed out the buttons on the infrared camera and then started into the jungle, first heading us down a path of sorts and then veering into the wild where no man had gone before. He swung the machete with every step. I filmed our progress, vastly enjoying the sight of his upper body muscles, rippling under his tan shirt, and his ass, which looked amazing in those pants. Whenever he turned to face me, I pretty much ignored the bulging pockets, focusing instead, on his bulging fly. Was he getting off on this adventure or on me? I hoped it was me. Not sure why. I had to keep my distance.
Just One Bite Volume 5 Page 4
