Indecent Werewolf Exposure

by Eve Langlais

  “Nope. Not a single thing. By the time the firemen put out the flames, everything was burnt to a crisp. Any clues we might have discerned were gone.”

  “He’s covering his tracks.” Yes, I’d begun to refer to the creature as he. Only a male would kill my poor, defenseless collection of shoes.

  “Maybe. I find it hard to picture the demon being so meticulous. It seems more likely someone else is involved.”

  A frown creased my forehead. “What do you mean?”

  “Someone had to have tipped off the fact we planned a raid. The timing of the bomb is too coincidental to ignore.”

  “Or the demon saw you guys surrounding the place and set a trap.”

  Pete shook his head. “The bomb was set on a timer. He knew what time to expect us.”

  Out came the defense lawyer in me. “Circumstantial. Another possibility is he set the timer and gave himself enough of a head start to get out of the blast zone.”

  “You seem awfully keen on trying to disprove the possibility of a traitor.”

  “And you seem determined to find one. Don’t let paranoia cloud you to other scenarios.” But his hypothesis chilled me.

  Could someone on our side actually be in cahoots with the demon? It seemed impossible. Farfetched even. Who would betray their kind like that? Then again, I had only to look at the history books with their gruesome details of war to admit to myself that it didn’t take much. A lust for power, a greed for riches, even simple revenge, it didn’t take a lot for some people to eschew common decency and turn to the side of evil.

  Pete sighed. “I can’t help my suspicions. Being alert is what keeps me and my kind safe. If it means wearing tin foil hats, we’ll do it. If it means investigating people I consider coworkers and friends, so be it.”

  “Does that include fuck friends?”

  “I know you had nothing to do with it.”

  Such certainty. It warmed me to know he didn’t consider me a suspect. “I know I didn’t, but I have to play devil’s advocate and ask, what makes you so sure?”

  “You would have never let me leave this morning, not knowing a bomb waited.”

  I snorted. “Are you implying I like you too much to kill you?”

  “Nope, I’m stating it.” His smug grin earned him an elbow in the ribs. He laughed.

  I scowled. “I do not like you.”

  “Are we still pretending that?”

  “Okay, I like you, but only because the sex is good.” Really, really good.

  “And I’m handsome.”

  My lips twitched at his lack of modesty. “Cute.”

  “Puppies are cute.”

  “Exactly.”

  Again, he chuckled instead of taking offense. “Fine. Be a chicken and don’t admit it. I’ll say it for you. You like me, Chloe Bailey. And one day, I hope you’ll trust me enough to say it. Maybe even come to love me.”

  Biting my tongue, I held back the words, I already do.

  * * *

  Arriving at his home—a brick two-story with a curved bay window, a single car garage, and not a piece of shrubbery out front taller than two feet—I noted the crime scene tape still plastered around his neighbor’s place, a grim reminder that danger lurked and had me on his list of things to kill. It reminded me I should really work harder at completing my bucket list.

  Item number one—start an actual list.

  As Pete unlocked his front door, I asked, “So how do you figure staying here, next door to the scene of the crime, is safer than say, hightailing it to some obscure tropical island?”

  Some R&R with a half-naked werewolf in Speedos would go a long way to restoring my good humor.

  “If the demon’s got you on his radar, there is nowhere you can go that will protect you forever.”

  “Nowhere?”

  “Okay, there are a few places, but somehow, I can’t see you taking the vows necessary to become a nun. Or living in a catacomb several levels underground.”

  I eyed him askance, but he didn’t even crack a grin. Someone was taking lessons from a certain vampire in controlling his facial expressions.

  Stepping into his home, I found myself, as expected, in a man’s cave. The living room, a decent-sized space with scratched hardwood flooring, had one big comfy-looking couch and a pair of worn, leather La-Z-Boys, flanking, you guessed it, one big-ass flat screen television.

  “Good thing I’ve seen your dick, or I’d wonder if someone had inadequacy issues,” I quipped.

  “Like it? I got a smoking deal on it. High definition. Surround sound. And every channel cable offers.”

  “Ooh, I can’t wait to see that new chick flick that came out on pay-per-view on this. We can watch it together.” To his credit, Pete didn’t cry, but the pained expression on his face said it all. I burst out laughing. “Just kidding. I hate girly movies. But I warn you, I have a penchant for horror and cheesy B movies.”

  “That I can live with,” he said with obvious relief.

  “Going to give me the grand tour?”

  “My pleasure.”

  More like mine.

  His idea of a tour ended in the bathroom with its massive tiled shower with six rotating showerheads and my clothes on the heated marble floor. I didn’t complain about the brevity of the visit; I couldn’t with his tongue in my mouth.

  Standing under the hot, streaming water as he soaped my body, I closed my eyes and basked in the attention. I loved the feel of his coarse hands on my body. Loved how he knew just where to stroke me, how to fondle my flesh, how to get me aching for his cock.

  As he washed away the stress of my day, the tension in my body eased, and I opened my eyes to see him smiling at me wickedly, his golden orbs alight with the passion I’d come to expect when we were together.

  “I’d say penny for your thoughts, but I have a feeling you’re going to show me instead of tell,” I said.

  “Show you. Pleasure you. Suck you then fuck you.” The dirty words slipped from his lips, each one a pleasurable jolt to my already fired-up libido. Despite the pouring water, he knelt on the tile floor, his hands gripping my hips. I leaned back and spread my thighs, eager for what he planned. Too eager. I grabbed him by the hair and tugged him toward my hungry core. With a strength I couldn’t help but love, he held back, teasing me, his lips close enough for him to blow hot air upon my clit. My sex contracted, anticipation as arousing as the act. With a gentle flick of his tongue, he touched me, and my whole body shivered.

  “Yes,” I sighed happily.

  Again, he stroked me, back and forth, wet laps across my already swollen clit. No matter how many times I got oral, I don’t think I’d ever tire of the incredible sensation. Shudder after shudder went through me as my pussy reacted to the stimulation. I dug my fingers into his scalp, urging him on. He placed his whole mouth on me and sucked, his tongue delving between my velvety folds and slipping inside.

  Moans filled the bathroom, mine as I couldn’t help but express my pleasure. My flesh throbbed, my inner sex tightened, my nipples pebbled, rock hard and begging for an erotic touch. He slid his mouth away from my heated core, and I whimpered as his lips worked their way up my body, gliding over my rounded tummy, tickling my navel, slithering around my nipples. I gasped when his teeth bit down on one nub, the tiny spot of pain an aphrodisiac that enhanced my bliss.

  “Would you stop teasing me?” I asked. He ignored. But I didn’t take offense. I knew he’d take care of me—in his own sweet time. Down I reached, grasping his cock, stroking the head of it. Two could play this game.

  It was his turn to moan and hip thrust as I pumped his hard and heavy shaft. With my second hand, I fondled his sac, kneading them through my fingers until they pulled up tight under his cock.

  “Enough,” he panted.

  I laughed. He growled. I shivered. Gawd, it was so sexy when he did that. Under the slick spray, he fucked me, lifting me enough to ram his dick inside my willing pussy. Wrapping my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck,
I hugged him and ensured his cock stayed where it belonged. Buried deep within me. We stood together that way for several moments, intimately joined, his cock a throbbing presence inside my pussy. I clenched my pelvic muscles, and a shudder went through his mighty frame.

  “You are so fucking incredible, baby,” he breathed against my ear.

  “I know.” I smiled when he chuckled, the soft rumble shaking us both in a way that added to the intimacy of the moment. But we could only cuddle for so long before need claimed us.

  With his hands gripping my full cheeks, he pumped me, pressing me back against the tiled shower wall, sharp thrusts into my tight sex. The sluicing water made me seem tighter than usual as it rinsed away my natural lube, but I enjoyed the gripping feel. Loved how he had to work harder to shove his thick shaft into me. My whole body quivered in time to his rhythmic strokes. My nails raked his shoulders as he brought me to the edge of bliss. And when he bit my neck, on top of the same spot Anthony enjoyed when we coupled? Over the edge I flew, the shudders of my orgasm milking him until, with a cry of my name, he spurted hotly inside.

  Not willing to separate quite yet, I clung to him, leaning my head into the crook of his shoulder. He sensed my need, or also craved the closeness, because he tightened his arms around my torso, locking me into place. In that moment, I knew I was fucked. Not literally, that was a foregone conclusion. I meant more heart-wise.

  I could deny it all I wanted. I liked Pete. Liked how he made me feel. Liked how safe and cherished and sexy I felt in his presence. All things I also felt with Anthony. Which left me where exactly? Was it time to take things to the next level? Was I ready? Were they?

  Later, sprawled on his bed, king-sized of course, I mustered up the courage to ask him some of the things I’d talked over with Brenda over the course of the afternoon and under the influence of alcohol.

  “Let’s say, hypothetically of course, that I was to decide to take things past the fuck friend level to the next, what would happen?”

  “Whatever you feel comfortable with.”

  “Which is?”

  Pete rolled onto his back and manhandled me until I sat astride him. His eyes caught mine in a gaze so serious it was like being in bed with a different man than the one I thought I knew.

  “Baby, I get that things are moving fast for you. Quite honestly, I feel like I’m riding on a roller coaster too. Just a week ago, I was a carefree bachelor, running around pissing on neighboring witch’s roses, the next I met this beautiful woman who told me I was a juvenile idiot and that I needed to smarten up.”

  “I did not say it like that.”

  “Not in so many words, but the implication was there. And I didn’t mind it. I actually loved it. Do you know how rare it is to meet a woman willing to stand up to a guy like me and tell it how it is?”

  “Oh, please. As if any woman is going to be scared of you.”

  “And you’ve just proven my point. You don’t see me as a threat. Other women, while titillated at the thought of sleeping with a big scary wolfman, would run the first time I said boo!”

  “Why would you say boo? Shouldn’t you like howl or bark?”

  “Impertinent wench,” he growled good-naturedly as he dug fingers into my ribs, tickling until I squealed for mercy.

  Panting and flushed, I draped myself across his chest. “Where were we?” I asked.

  “I was telling you how I fell for you the moment you told me to grow up. I knew then and there I had to get to know you better.”

  “Yet I turned you down when you asked me to dinner. If not for that accidental encounter at the marathon, we’d have never seen each other again.”

  “Or so you think.”

  “Explain.”

  “Despite your rejection, I had every intention of seeing you again. And it wasn’t hard to arrange. I saw your calendar on your desk. You had ‘volunteer for the cancer marathon’ penciled in great big letters.”

  “Hold on a second. You ran in the marathon because of me?”

  “Yeah.” Hot, confident Lycan or not, ruddy color suffused his cheeks. “I did it on purpose to run into you. Meeting your parents and getting invited for dinner just ended up being a stroke of luck. Some of the elder Lycans would even call it fate.”

  “Fate.” I snorted, but couldn’t help a spurt of warmth. “And here I thought I’d made it clear I wanted nothing to do with you.”

  He tapped his nose. “Good thing for me I smelled otherwise.”

  Bless his sense of smell. “Still, you couldn’t guess at the time I’d want you for more than sex.”

  “Aha, I knew you’d eventually admit you wanted me for more than just my hot body.”

  No wiggling out of the verbal trap I’d stepped in. “I never said that.”

  “Nice try, baby. You like me. You don’t have to say it aloud. It’s enough for now to know you do. Which brings me back to your original question of what happens now. I’ll admit I didn’t factor in the possibility of sharing. Anthony was an unexpected addition.”

  “No kidding.”

  “However, unlike humans who are still coming to grips with polygamy, Lycans have lived with that lifestyle for centuries. We’ve had to, given our numbers were never great to start with.”

  “I assume these relationships were with your own kind, though. I’m human.”

  “As are many of our mixed couples. To promote a healthy gene pool and prevent inbreeding, it is encouraged that we not only seek partners within our packs but outside too.”

  “I thought Lycans were born. Wouldn’t marrying humans deplete your numbers?”

  “Nope. Children have a fifty percent chance or more of inheriting the gene. And even those who don’t get it can pass it on to their progeny to a lesser degree.”

  “So if that’s the case, why the need for threesomes?”

  “Female Lycans tend to have a voracious appetite for sex when they go into heat, not to mention things can get rough. They often prefer sticking to our kind in multiples to satisfy their needs.”

  “Why does it seem I’m the only person who is struggling to adjust to the idea of living a threesome lifestyle?”

  “Because you’re worried about getting hurt. Two lovers in your life means twice the risk.”

  Since when was jocular Pete so damned perceptive?

  And now we got to the hard questions. “If you and Anthony fight, I’m the one who ends up stuck in the middle.”

  “Yup. So that means we’ll have to do our damnedest to get along. I’m not saying we won’t have our moments. However, despite our differences, we’ll do our best to ensure we don’t let them affect you.”

  “Kind of hard to avoid if, and that’s a big if, we were to come to a cohabitation agreement.”

  “Only a lawyer would use that word. If we shack up,” he arched a brow to match his rakish grin, “then we’d obviously set some ground rules. Rule number one, no fighting in the house.”

  “Whose house?”

  “Doesn’t matter to me so long as you’re in it.”

  Good answer. “Okay, I’ll play along. What’s rule number two?”

  “No secrets between any of us.”

  Couldn’t argue with that one either. “Three?”

  It took him a bit longer to come up with that one. “No leaving our dirty socks and underwear on the floor?”

  I snickered. “Oh, I’d be so screwed then. I’m awful when it comes to tidying up.”

  “Maybe we’ll have to borrow Anthony’s butler, or maid. I get the impression the guy’s a bit of a neat freak.”

  “Speaking of which, shouldn’t he have arrived by now? Night’s fallen.” And I didn’t like the idea of him alone, outside, not with a demon on the loose.

  “He’s fine. Don’t you know vampires are like cats? They always land on their feet and have way more than nine lives. Let’s keep hammering out the rules, so by the time he arrives, we’ve got a list.”

  “He’ll probably want to add some of his own.”

/>   “If you insist.”

  I laughed at his feigned pout. I saw what he did. Tried to lighten the mood so I wouldn’t worry. Appreciating it, I played along. “I have a rule. No leaving the toilet seat up.”

  “Ah and here I was looking forward to your screech of indignation the first time you fell in and got your ass wet.”

  My playful slap at his chest just made said torso shake harder with mirth. “No shedding in the house.”

  “Awww.”

  “Or coming in with muddy paws.”

  He initially chuckled, but as if struck by a thought, he quickly turned somber. “I almost hate to bring this up, but have you ever seen a Lycan in his wolf shape up close?”

  “Nope. The closest I’ve come is watching it on television.” I shrugged. “It’s not like you all run around shifting into your animal selves baying at the moon.”

  “For your information, I rarely howl at the moon. I do, however, like to chase squirrels.”

  “Why does that not surprise me?” I tempered my remark with a smile.

  “Would you like to see my wolf side?”

  He said it hesitantly, and as I stared into his eyes, I discerned wariness, even fear. Fear of what, though?

  Then it hit me. He’s worried about my reaction. A valid concern. It was one thing to talk and joke about what Pete truly was, another to see it. Touch it.

  Could I handle the fact my boyfriend—yes, boyfriend, we’d obviously gone past the line separating this from a sexual relationship to a real one—turned into a tail-wagging, shaggy beast?

  Only one way to find out. “Show me.”

  “Here? Now?”

  Apparently, he’d not counted on my acquiescence. “Yes, now. Might as well get this over with. I should know what I’m getting into if we’re going to be boyfriend and girlfriend.”

  There. I’d said it. Aloud. No taking it back now, not when super-duper-hearing boy caught it. Beaming because of his small victory, he forgot for a second what I asked. I knew the moment he remembered, though, because a crease marred his brow.

  “Are you sure?”