His to Claim

by Paris Brandon

  Chapter Five

  Once upon a time, the swimming hole had been their meeting place. She and J.D. had used the rope attached to the huge overhanging oak to swing over the middle of the water, drop, and then swim to the dock.

  They’d been lucky none of Magnum’s men had ever found them.

  The pond hadn’t been a secret, but they’d been careful never to establish a pattern. It had been a game in those days, and only after J.D. had disappeared did Bree realize how dangerous it had been. Their rendezvous had only been exciting because they’d been kids escaping adult supervision.

  Even now, she could recall their playful awkwardness. Neither had been willing to chance admitting they might be attracted to the other. As long as they didn’t acknowledge their growing closeness or the underlying reason for it, they’d been safe to challenge each other, as friends.

  She’d known the moment he’d pulled into Ray’s yard the other day, she’d run out of excuses for not choosing a mate.

  All of her bluster and defiance about wanting to experience life and make her own choices had been a sham. She’d always known what she wanted, and, believing she would never have J.D., she had chosen to stay unmated. Why else would she have visited their old haunt daily since he’d left?

  Early summer tended to be a bit chilly until mid-afternoon, but she could never wait to dangle her feet in the sun-warmed water. The ritual usually comforted her, but now, fantasizing about a life with J.D. only served to make her edgier.

  Her oversized lime-green cotton sweater slid off one shoulder as she pulled her fuchsia print skirt up over her knees then braced her hands against the rough wooden dock. The breeze caressed her bared skin, and she imagined J.D.’s rough, work-worn palms taking its place. The gentle rolling motion as the dock lifting and lowering mimicked the languid sex of longtime lovers, but she yearned for choppier waves. A storm-tossed union, as the blood thundered in her veins, and J.D. fucked her.

  Face lifted to the sun, she reached beneath her loose top, and cupped her bare breast. This close to a full moon, she could barely stand clothes touching her skin. Her fingers became J.D.’s calloused digits, exploring her taut nipples and firm flesh, pinching and kneading. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, and the little sting added to the pleasure.

  Lifting her feet out of the water, she hooked her heels at the edge of the dock and spread her thighs. Eyes drifting shut, she let her hand drift, slip under the skirt bunched in her lap. She cupped the slick flesh between her legs and slid a finger over the seam of her sex. Her clit throbbed, and she flicked the engorged nub and moaned, teasing and tensing until she vibrated, warm and needy. Dipping her fingers inside, she swiveled and stroked, matching her rhythm to the crazy slow ebb and flow of the water lifting the dock.

  Her focus narrowed to the fevered thrusts of her fingers, and she was swept into the fantasy of their writhing, sweat-slicked bodies. The dock dipped violently. She came with a cry. Still writhing from her orgasm, her fingers still encased in her own sticky warmth, she caught a flash of movement.

  J.D. stalked toward her. Chest heaving as if he’d run miles, he seemed to be searching for words before scooping her off the end of the dock. “I scented you fifty yards away,” he whispered as he kissed her, his tongue plunging into her mouth, exploring until they both needed to come up for air.

  She hooked her legs around his hips, and he grabbed the fingers she’d been pleasuring herself with and sucked them into his mouth, mumbled something she couldn’t make out then whispered a desperate plea for more. She watched his face as she withdrew her creamy digits, but, instead of slipping them into his mouth, she painted her own with the musky moisture and delicately swiped her tongue over her middle finger. A shudder rippled through him, which made her hotter than knowing he’d caught her pleasuring herself.

  He crossed his arms over her back and hooked his hands under her butt. She settled into his embrace and wound her arms around his neck.

  His long strides ate up the ground until he reached the overhanging oak then he let her slide down his hard body and rigid, denim-covered erection. She leaned against the tree’s rough bark, and the tactile contact made her shiver.

  When his fingers hovered over his fly then stilled, she said, “You’re going to stop now?”

  He laughed and went to his knees. “Don’t move,” he instructed before trailing a finger over the fluttering seam of her pussy. “On second thought, move as much as you want.”

  He leaned forward and slipped one of her legs over his shoulder, opening her wider, and his tongue followed his finger, separating and exploring, drawing out her pleasure. One finger joined another, and he swiveled them until he found the perfect rhythm.

  She moaned and rolled her hips as his tongue laved and flicked her clit. Finally, he suckled the distended nubbin while keeping time with his clever fingers. She came, screaming his name and grinding against his mouth.

  He pulled away, his smiling face wet with her juices. At last, he unbuttoned his jeans and slid the denim over his bare hips. His erection sprang free, rising from a nest of dark curls to stand rigid against his stomach. She licked her lips, but he shook his head and leaned forward, caging her against the old oak.

  She spread her legs and tilted her pelvis. His calloused palms gripping her ass sent a shiver of excitement through her as he lifted and settled her on his bent thighs.

  Sweat slicked his corded muscles and dampened his hair. His breathing seemed as strained as his smile. “My hands are a little full.”

  Reaching between them she palmed his foreskin and found a pearly drop of pre-cum she rubbed over the satiny tip. She bounced the rigid column of flesh against her clit, teasing the taut flesh.

  J.D. curled his hips, and she circled her slick opening twice before directing him inside, inch by rigid inch.

  “Hard and fast, now,” she growled, and held on to his shoulders. “I want to watch.”

  He eased out a bit, but his first thrust slid over the secret pleasure button that many couldn’t find. Lifting her legs higher, he nearly unseated her, but he worked his shaft in and out as he fucked her, pushing her over the edge. He came, thrusting furiously until another orgasm built and threatened to topple them both.

  J.D.’s arms went around her as he eased them down until they came to rest on the ground, still joined, his cock twitching inside her. He smiled and started to move, hardening with each slow thrust.

  “We need to talk, but first I need you again,” he said, right before she figured out the pleasure button thing hadn’t been a fluke.

  ***

  They barely made it to the truck with their clothes more or less intact before a group of boisterous teenagers arrived, several jumping fully clothed into the water. It seemed a sort of celebration ritual, and tugged a memory of their last summer together from where he’d tucked it away.

  Even with the threat of Magnum’s brutish treatment, he and Bree had always found something to be happy about.

  Bree grinned at the laughing, splashing bunch, and shook her head. “Were we ever so carefree?”

  “We were good at fooling ourselves.”

  She flicked him a glance, and her mouth pulled to one side. “Do you want to keep the attitude, or do you want to tell me whatever had to wait?”

  The kids threw them exasperated glances, and he didn’t blame them. He’d had her twice, and he wanted more, but preferably without an audience. The musky evidence of sex scented Bree’s skin, making him hard. He turned the key, and the ancient truck engine sputtered once then turned over.

  “I’m waiting,” she said.

  “Sorry, I’m…distracted.”

  “Maybe I should have worn underwear.”

  “No. Never wear underwear again.”

  “Now you’re distracting me. What’s changed since the other night?”

  His brain could barely form a coherent thought. He licked his lips, the faint taste of her cream, salty and swe
et. “My father started talking and the bottom line is he isn’t a threat to Luna or anyone else. He got a raw deal and made the best of it.”

  “And you wanted me to know this because…?”

  “I’m not leaving. I don’t have to leave.” He knew he should say more, but her nipples had peaked beneath the damp cotton of her sweater, her soft round breasts clearly outlined. “The only thing keeping me from pulling over and having you in the middle of the road is I’d like to claim you without wondering who will show up next.”

  “You don’t like to be watched while you’re having sex?”

  He started to sputter, and she laughed right before a rabbit ran across the road and he jerked the wheel to the right to avoid crashing into a tree.

  “You want someone to watch us having sex?”

  “I knew you were watching me. I’ve gone to the swimming hole every day since you’ve been home, hoping you’d be there.”

  “And what if it hadn’t been me?”

  “Oh please. I almost came when I heard your truck, but I’m a wolf, J.D. I like sex, and, since Magnum’s death, I’ve had a chance to experience anything I choose, and I choose not to limit myself.”

  “You’re not interested in being claimed?”

  “I think we should have sex a couple of more times before we discuss why you think you want to claim me.” She grinned and raised her skirt, flashing him a glimpse of the delicious triangle of dark curls covering the plump lips of her sex. His dick strained against denim, and the friction threatened to send him over the edge.

  He barely made it into Bree’s yard before he slammed the truck into Park, scooted over, and pulled her onto his lap. He kissed her, crushing her mouth until he could separate her lips and delve inside. She straddled him, slid over the ridge of his erection, and he groaned.

  They tumbled out of the truck, and he wasted no time lifting her into his arms. He had to stop kissing her long enough to open the door and get them inside. The idea of being watched might appeal at another time, but not now.

  He wanted her all to himself. Wanted to be the only one to hear, taste, and touch her. He didn’t need an audience. He needed her.

  They made it to her bedroom in record time. She skimmed out of her skirt while he fumbled with the zipper of his jeans and kicked off his sneakers. All golden skin and silky limbs, graceful and wanton at the same time, she shivered as he shoved his pants over his bare hips.

  “Come here,” she demanded, her voice a caress. She reached for him, wrapping her slender fingers around his shaft and tugging gently enough to lead him to her bed before playfully pushing him onto crisp white sheets.

  He leaned on his elbows and watched as she settled between his legs. His breath hitched when she locked gazes with him and traced the contours of his dick, cupped his balls, and lowered her head.

  “We were sort of rushed the first time.” She feathered her fingertips over his sac.

  He lifted his hips, and she took him deeper until he swore the tip of his shaft reached her throat. The sensation took him down, and she followed, swirling her tongue over his sensitive flesh, swiveling her grip on his shaft until his hips came off the bed.

  “I want inside you,” he groaned, and gripped the bedsheets when she chuckled and sucked harder, her grip more possessive, her mouth hotter and more demanding.

  “Come for me,” she whispered.

  The pressure built as her mouth and hands worked to stoke the fire in his belly until he came, hard and deep. She massaged the sticky fluid over his balls and fluttered her fingers around his asshole, drawing another tremor.

  “Why don’t you come up here, and I can return the favor.”

  He scooted onto the bed, and she climbed over and swung around, lowering to his mouth. He gripped her hips, inhaled her scent, and plunged his tongue into all her warm, willing softness. She moaned as he lapped, and nibbled, and savored their mingled essence.

  Sticky fingers returned to his hole, and he raised his knees to give her better access. She added a twist, gently working his erection as she eased one finger inside him while she suckled and pumped.

  He slipped two fingers into her delicious, warm channel, sliding in and out, coating them in her cream before pressing each, one at a time into her tight little asshole. He teased a moan from her, and the sound reverberated around his shaft, another layer of pleasure he hadn’t expected, but Bree had been surprising him since he’d come home.

  He didn’t think anyone died of pleasure, but he wouldn’t mind giving it a try.

  Her clit throbbed against his tongue as he worried the hot little nubbin of flesh, and a ripple shuddered through her. Oh yeah, he wanted more.

  Her belly tensed, and her pussy fluttered a warning. He engulfed her inner lips in a hot, frantic kiss as she bounced against his mouth and fucked another furious, swiveling finger into his hole. He gripped her hips and came bucking and shouting.

  He flipped her around and pinned her to the mattress. Beneath him, she lifted her hips, and pressed his shaft between them. Her belly quivered with a self-satisfied chuckle when he bent his head.

  He’d never grow tired of kissing her, of tasting their mingled essence. Already half-hard, he licked a path past her chin and throat, until he could draw one rosy nipple into his mouth.

  She moaned, and he sucked the turgid peak between his teeth and nibbled gently until she whispered, “Harder.” He nipped and soothed, worried the tender flesh until she writhed and begged.

  He trailed kisses from her ribs to her navel and along the ridge of her hipbone. She spread her legs and whimpered. Hovering over her glistening mons, he dipped his tongue into the crease.

  She tasted of sex, sunshine, and desperation as he traced her opening and delved into her warm, wet channel while he worked two fingers around her clit and pumped with the same rhythm he tongue-fucked her. Her body tensed, and she reached for him, crying out when he covered her and slid inside. He caught the sinuous roll of her hips with each thrust until she came, bucking and screaming his name, pushing him over the edge into freefall.

  Chapter Six

  J.D. couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket, but what he lacked in skill, he made up for with enthusiasm. He apparently knew the only song with lyrics on the Dracula soundtrack and had been trying to entice her to return to the shower for the past five minutes.

  “Come into these arms again,” he burbled, but Bree resisted the temptation. After round two in her bed this afternoon, J.D. had filled in the blanks about what had happened the night Ray had sent him away.

  Beneath the revelation his father hadn’t been a coward, she’d sensed he’d been trying to let go of his anger over the bitter betrayal he’d endured after finding out his dad had let him believe he’d been dead for the past twelve years.

  Pulling her robe tighter, she set about making a couple of sandwiches and plating them with a few potato chips. The extent of her domestic goddess routine expended, she laughed at J.D.’s improvised lyrics. They’d begun to sound more like dirty limericks. Bree’s wolf snorted and rolled onto her back.

  All wolves sensed the spirit of the one who called to them, and most of the time knew better than the human in whose skin they resided, who they belonged with. She’d instantly recognized the primal heat between them, and it had been a revelation.

  He continued to murder the lyrics, and she had no doubt he’d bleed for her, as she now knew she’d do for him. Why not consent to his claiming? He’d asked again before he’d headed for the shower, and she’d seen a flash of confusion behind his cocky grin when she’d fumbled for an excuse.

  She’d distracted him by washing each crease and dimple he possessed with a warm washcloth followed by her tongue. He’d happily returned the favor, exploring as if he’d never tasted her before.

  He finally gave up trying to convince her to play, and shut off the tap. His voice could have used the accompaniment of cascading water, but then she might not have heard the inventi
ve curse word or the truck door slam—slam being the operative word.

  She counted to five, and the bathroom and front door opened simultaneously.

  “Come—” J.D. stopped singing. He had a towel around his lean hips, and water still beaded his bronzed chest. His leering grin vanished at the sight of her cousin’s snarl.

  Gunnar had always been larger than life, but she’d been spared his legendary temper because she’d never done anything to warrant it. Until now. He’d planted his large booted feet in the middle of her living room and didn’t look inclined to move. His long blond hair flowed over the olive-drab T-shirt stretched across his muscular chest. His jeans had a rip at one knee, totally out of character, and probably a recent occurrence. She recognized the fighting stance accompanied by his doubled fists and snarl.

  J.D. made it across the room in seconds. Beside her, his low growl reverberated against her ear.

  Crap.

  “J.D. this is my cousin, Gunnar. Gunnar, this is—”

  “I know who he is. What the hell is he doing here?”

  She shot her cousin an exasperated glance. “He’s wrapped in one of my towels, his hair is wet, and I’m in my bathrobe. I’ve always thought you were reasonably intelligent.”

  “I thought the same of you until your mother told me—”

  “Told you what? Did she tell you I’m not interested in her plans for me? Did she tell you, for the first time in my life, I don’t need to wonder if the alpha is going to make me take a mate I despise or be available for any or all of his men whenever they feel like it? For the first time in my life, I have choices, and if I choose to run with J.D., it’s none of your business.”

  “He’s supposed to be keeping an eye on his father.” Gunnar’s fury shook the windows and, on any other day, might have made her cringe, but J.D. stood beside her. Close enough to warm her, she sensed his wolf, coiled and ready. J.D.’s growl ended on a sarcastic chuckle, surprising her.

  “Did anyone bother to keep an eye on him after he came close to bleeding out the night your father died?”