Wolf's Heart: Bayou Wolves #3

by Anne Marsh

  “Don’t tempt me,” I mutter, heading for the bathroom. I’m fostering a litter of abandoned kittens and, while they’ve reached the age where they can be alone for a few hours while I work at the club, they still need plenty of TLC. Fortunately, I arranged for a neighbor to check in on them the night of my dad’s party.

  I keep the kittens in a cardboard box lined with towels, but one of the little rascals has scaled the sides during my absence. It sits in the middle of the floor, staring up at me reproachfully with dark eyes. Apparently I’m supposed to have installed a kitty elevator so it can return to the box at will. All of the kittens start talking up a storm when the door opens, recognizing the arrival of dinner. The kittens are almost ready to re-home and I miss them already.

  I scoop up my escapee and nuzzle his tiny head with my cheek. I’ve mentally named this one Houdini, Fleet, Ninja Kitten, and Where-the-Hell-Did-You-Go-Now over the course of our time together. Kitten doesn’t like having his world limited to four cardboard walls and a bathroom ceiling, and I can’t blame him. We’re kindred spirits like that.

  Boots thud down the hallway behind me. “Jesus. You realize you’re a wolf, sweetheart?”

  Every day that ends in y.

  The kittens must recognize a predator too, because they start hissing and spitting. Houdini arches in my hands, and I tuck him against my heart.

  “The big bad wolf’s coming to huff and puff and blow our house down,” I tell the kitten.

  Jace steps into my bathroom, and the room gets two hundred percent smaller.

  “I thought the big bad wolf ate up misbehaving piggies.” He wraps a hand around my hip and tugs until my butt and his dick are in happy alignment. My breath catches as I process his words. He can’t possibly mean…

  “Am I the pig in this scenario?” I wriggle. I’m not bending over to return Houdini to his siblings because I can feel the hard ridge Jace sports behind the fly of his jeans. Does the man walk around permanently erect?

  “I’d be happy to eat you,” he growls softly. Oh. Wow.

  He’s… offering me oral right here, right now? Is he serious? Because my inner bad girl is all ready to jump up and down and scream pick me! Or just scream. His fingers tighten on my hip, and I hold my breath.

  He turns me on. I don’t know why I have this thing for this particular wolf, but I’m seconds away from begging Jace to do his worst—because it would undoubtedly be my best and would make me some new memories. My breath catches, my lungs refusing to exhale as my whole body locks down on the erotic possibilities of me, Jace, and the bathroom. In the shower, on the floor—hell, up against the wall. There’s no question he’d do it all.

  “Now you’ve got nothing to say?” Amusement colors his voice.

  “I think I should plead the fifth,” I say honestly. He’s gorgeous, and I want him bad, but he’s also more than a little overwhelming.

  “Uh-huh.” He reaches around me, rubbing a finger over Houdini’s forehead. “Human rules don’t apply to pack.”

  His finger grazes my breast.

  “Some of them do,” I say. He makes me feel breathless and needy, and I’m not sure how I feel about that. He could be the king of orgasms, but he’s also a wolf—and he’s dominant. I don’t need to borrow that kind of trouble—or fuck it.

  “Why do you have kittens in your bathroom?” he asks, changing the subject on me. He rubs the top of Houdini’s head again, and the shameless little creature stops hissing and starts purring.

  “He likes you.” Ignoring the way that finger of his isn’t touching just the cat would be prudent.

  “Magic fingers.” I catch the quick flash of a smile out of the corner of my eye. “I know my way around—”

  “Don’t say it,” I order, stepping away to set Houdini back down in the box. I don’t need to hear Jace say the word pussy, because… yeah. He’ll say it, and we’ll both think about the available pussies in the room, and I don’t need to imagine Jace thinking about my vagina. Houdini protests when I set him down, and I predict he’ll make another break for it. I need to get out of this small space. Maybe with fifteen feet—or an entire state—between me and Jace, my libido will let my brain start thinking again.

  “You didn’t answer my question,” he says, holding the bathroom door open for me. That means I’ll have to walk down the hallway with him at my back—and I don’t think the position is an accident. “You said you know all you need to know about me, so tell me what you know.”

  “You ride a bike. You belong to a motorcycle club. You’re really good at hurting people, and right now you answer to the Jones Alpha, who also happens to be your brother.”

  I call the words over my shoulder. Funny how quietly he walks. I know he’s behind me—the nerve endings in my body appear to be one big Jace radar—but I can’t hear him move. I also can’t decide whether his silence is unnerving or impressive.

  I head for the kitchen. My stomach is hitting my backbone. I didn’t make time for lunch, and unless my kitchen has miraculously sprouted groceries, I’m looking at kitten food or microwave pizza. Except when I step inside, I’ve grown a third option. A cardboard box filled with Chinese takeout cartons sits on my counter and I must have been really tired not to have smelled that—it smells heavenly. My stomach promptly growls in agreement. Real food. The kind that encompasses all four food groups and that doesn’t require a microwave. Food is way better than sex.

  “You brought food?”

  “I’m gonna take care of you, sweetheart.”

  Well. Okay, then.

  I don’t want to fight with him, not when I could be eating and he’s clearly made an effort (not that I know why—I’m a sure thing thanks to my dad), so I bite my tongue and get out plates. When we each have a full load, he tugs me back out into the living room and down onto the couch.

  If it had been up to me, I’d have picked the table, but this is kind of nice. My couch isn’t big, and Jace’s thigh presses up against mine as we eat. He doesn’t say much at first, so I concentrate on dinner.

  When I’m so full I can’t eat another bite, I set my plate on the coffee table and curl up. Jace also brought a bottle of wine and a six-pack of beer. Normally I don’t drink (and okay, I prefer those frozen cocktail drinks that resemble milkshakes with alcohol), but I let him pour me a glass of red and then he brings the bottle with him. And since he makes me more than a little nervous, one glass leads to two. Or possibly three. I’m a lightweight, and now he knows it too. I also still don’t know why he’s come over, but I plan to find out.

  “Did my dad send you?” Things feel more than a little awkward between us, what with my dad offering me like I’m some kind of commodity (which, in his mind, I am) and Jace seeming willing to take him up on the offer. I suspect the operative word is seeming, because Jace doesn’t take orders, and I instinctively trust him. That trust part is probably stupid, but my wolf likes him. She doesn’t think he’s going to hurt us intentionally—and she doesn’t want to hear all the ways he could accidentally hurt us.

  Jace shakes his head. “Came over because I wanted to.”

  Oh. I finish my wine while I think that one over. I don’t have any experience dating, thanks to my dad, but I’m pretty certain that wasn’t what Jace meant. So I take a guess.

  “Your day wasn’t complete until you’d committed felony B&E?” Since I hadn’t given him a key, there is only one way he could have gotten in.

  He looks unrepentant. “Told you you needed new locks. Anyone could get in here. You got a weapon?”

  Nope. My dad hadn’t trusted me with one after what happened to Bolt. Not that I’d shot the wolf or anything—just not pulled him out of the bayou and away from the gators—but my dad knew something had happened. He just hadn’t been able to prove it, and it had been more convenient for him to keep me around in one piece. Gave him an opportunity to play the mating game twice.

  “I’ve got pepper spray,” I volunteer, and he gives me a look. We both know pepper spray won’t
stop a werewolf. It’s kind of like putting Tabasco on chicken—except I’m the meal in question.

  “Can you shift?” He sets my wine glass on the table and pulls me into his side casually. I stiffen up as soon as I make full body contact with him. Food I can handle, but cuddling with Jace is too much. I still don’t know what he wants, but it’s undoubtedly more than I can afford to give him. Even if the scent and feel of him is nice…

  “Relax,” he grunts, like a one-word command is all it takes. Must be nice to be him—bigger, stronger, and in charge.

  Since I’m clearly not going anywhere—and my wolf craves touch like most wolves—I let my head fall onto his chest. I can hear the steady beat of his heart beneath my cheek, and then his arm curls around me. With anyone else, I would feel trapped. Funny how Jace makes me feel safe instead. Safe—and special.

  “I can shift,” I murmur, mentally debating where to put my hands. I finally settle on tucking them beneath my cheek. “I just prefer to stay human.”

  If I had my way—which looks about as likely as snow in California in July—I’d never shift again.

  “Big Red or one of the Breed teach you basic self-defense skills?”

  I blame what comes out of my mouth next on the wine. “Fighting them makes it worse.”

  He must know what the it is because he curses. A really obscene, graphic curse. I’ve been forced to do that too, so I just wait for him to be finished.

  “You should know how to defend yourself,” he says when he runs out of curse words. “I’ll teach you.”

  “You?”

  “Me,” he growls. “Someone’s gotta do it.”

  “Do I need to defend myself from you?” The words kind of hang in the air between us, the subject we’ve both been dancing around. My dad wants the two of us to mate, and what my dad wants, he orders and gets. It’s that simple. Self-defense lessons are a moot point.

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” he snaps, but that isn’t the question I asked.

  “Then don’t,” I growl back. His fingers tighten in my hair.

  “You realize what I could do to you?” His dark gaze bores into me. “We’re alone, Keelie Sue, and I outweigh you. I could be on you in seconds. Nobody to hear, nobody to help—you want to let me do what I’ve been fantasizing about since the last time I got you on a bed alone?”

  I should run for the door, even if it is my own damned door and he’s the intruder. Instead, I open my mouth, and the question just kind of pops out. “What do you fantasize about?”

  He looks me straight in the eye, and I fight the urge to drop my gaze. To admit he’s the dominant one, and I’m the submissive.

  “Fucking you. I’m gonna strip you, hold you down, and fill you up. Any way I can, I’m gonna get inside you. I’m gonna make you like it too, like it so much that you’re begging for me.”

  Begging sure isn’t on my fantasy bucket list. I’ve done enough of that to know it isn’t sexy. “That sounds more like a plan than a fantasy.”

  The slow smile he gives me is part scary, part sexy as hell. It’s the look of a predator spotting his prey. He has me, and we both know it. “Let’s find out.”

  He moves, reaching for me, and he’s right. I can’t stop him. He takes me down to the floor, like the animal he claims to be, twisting so that he takes the brunt of the fall. For a long moment I stare down at him, then he rolls and pins me beneath him. My head whirls, both from the wine and my sudden change in positions.

  “Gotcha,” he whispers roughly, his fingers tangling in mine.

  When did I start liking Jace Jones?

  And where did this urge to lick him all over come from?

  He rocks against me, pressing his dick into my front.

  Okay. When he does things like that, my urge to lick makes perfect sense.

  JACE

  I’m done with the games. I want to fuck her again, and she isn’t saying no. Since we need to be clear on the yes, do me again portion of events, however, I lean down, forcing her to meet my gaze.

  “If you want me to leave, tell me now.”

  Just in case she has any doubts about the next item on my date-night agenda, I slide my dick up her denim-covered pussy. She needs to lose the pants. Since she doesn’t say anything, I figure I have the green light. It’s okay with me if she’s a little shy. Her experience with her daddy’s wolves hasn’t been good, and she’s still learning she can trust me.

  Letting go of her hands, I drop down her body. She has a gorgeous, compact body, all sweet curves. When I settle between her legs, she makes a little squawking noise as if I’ve surprised her. She’ll just have to get used to me, and right now I really, really want a taste of her pussy. Just so I can see if she’s even sweeter than I remember.

  I pop the button on her jeans, and tug. “Off.”

  She blinks at me, the wine clearly still doing a number on her brain, but then she lifts her butt so I can pull her pants off and toss them away. Just to be certain, I inhale, but I don’t smell fear. My girl smells aroused.

  Her panties are cute, a little white lacy number with blue polka dots and a pink bow that are the perfect target for my tongue.

  “I like these.” I circle the bow with my finger.

  She makes another noise and kind of tries to close her legs. Too bad for her I’m already between them. She doesn’t stand a chance against two hundred pounds of wolf, as I tried to tell her before. Guess we’ll play show-and-tell now.

  Her fingers flutter here and there, like she’s trying to decide if she wants to hide her goodies from me, or do something else. Since I’m up for making suggestions, I grab her hands and set them on my shoulders.

  “Jace—”

  “I’m listening.” I am, too. If she has a list of all the places she wants me to kiss, or the dirty things she needs me to do to her? I’m her fucking wolf, that’s for sure.

  “We shouldn’t—”

  “You don’t have to do anything. I’m gonna take care of everything.” I mean it, too. While sinking my dick inside her tops my current wish list, I also intend to make this good for her. She’s had a shit deal in life, and I absolutely want to kiss her better. The way I see it, all she has to do is enjoy. I’ll do all the rest.

  I’m practically a Boy Scout and she can pin the medal to my goddamned chest later. First, I have my mate to kiss.

  I ease down a little further, grabbing one of her throw pillows and tucking it under her head. Probably should take this to the bedroom, but she hasn’t invited me there yet, and I don’t want to wait. Feels like I’ve been waiting about a century for this anyway.

  “You’re gorgeous,” I tell her, although gorgeous is an understatement. Her panties frame the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen, a sweet mound with hair the color of caramel. Thanks to the peek-a-boo lace stuff decorating the front of her panties, I have no doubts about that at all.

  She wriggles, and that’s my invitation right there. I press my mouth to the top of her mound, hooking my thumbs in the lacy straps over her hips, and she makes another one of those sounds I love so much.

  “You’re loud.” I can’t keep the satisfaction out of my voice, and a pretty pink flush spreads over her cheeks and down. Best. Fucking. Moment. Ever. Her white panties make me feel dirty as hell. I know I’m pushing her, taking her outside her comfort zone, because no matter what those other bastards did to her, they did it for themselves. They hadn’t made sure she enjoyed it, and for that alone I’d have to fucking kill them.

  Just not right now.

  Two quick jerks, and the straps holding her panties together break. I tear her panties off because why the hell not? Cute as they are, I want what’s underneath more. Her scent hits me, all arousal and sweet female, and it feels so fucking right my wolf wants to howl.

  She babbles something that almost sounds like words, her nails digging into my shoulders hard. I really want to listen, but all I know are that the sounds coming out of her mouth aren’t no or stop or even you goddamned bastard. So we
’re good.

  I lick her. Do it nice and slow too, giving her a chance to get used to me because I’m such a gentleman. She’s slick, all wet and juicy, and now I’m the one groaning. She’s still blushing, although I don’t know what she has to be embarrassed about. She’s beautiful, and I sure don’t mind knowing she wants me. I’ll make this good for both of us.

  I part her pussy with my fingers, holding her open for my mouth and exploring her with my fingertips. Trying to be gentle almost kills me, but she rewards me with a moan. A moan that gets louder when I drag my fingers up, the work-roughened skin pulling at her. She’s sensitive as shit, and I love that.

  Love a whole lot about her, if I’m honest.

  I cover her with my mouth, claiming every inch of her that I can. I might not get in her head or her heart—and stupid bastard that I am, I kinda want to be there too—but I’ll own her pussy. I eat her like a starving man, licking and tonguing.

  She tastes so goddamned good. Not like I haven’t gone down on a female hundreds, fucking thousands, of times before, but Keelie Sue is different. Probably could have made a list that fills a book, but I’m too busy getting lost in those sweet little sighs that she makes. Then she gets a little lost herself, trying to grab my hair and drag me exactly where she needs me most.

  Time for her reward. I rub her hard with my tongue, shoving into her body with my fingers. Give her three, and she takes me easily, her body melting around mine right before she clenches around me. Moaning and squirming, she comes on my tongue, and I love every fucking second of it. Might love her too, but I’m not going there, not right now. Not with my tongue deep in her pussy, and her knees tight around my head. I’ll figure it out later.

  She collapses back on the floor with a little mewl. I’ve turned my mate into a boneless heap, so I’ve finally done something right. A few seconds later and I know that this taste of her is all I’ll get tonight. She lets out a little snore, half a bottle of wine and one hell of an orgasm catching up with her.