Wolf's Property

by Anne Marsh

  “Explain or go to sleep.” I should keep on walking right out the door, but I can’t help savoring this moment. She’s sleepy and flushed and feeling good—thanks to me.

  “Good night, sleep tight, I’ll most likely kill you in the morning.” The words come out throaty, almost flirtatious. Maybe I should watch the fucking movie.

  “Is it the princess or the bride doing the killing?”

  I hear her shake her head. “Her pirate prince.”

  Uh-huh. I can’t hold back the slow smile. These kinds of standards may explain why she hasn’t run screaming from me. “Some fucking hero.”

  “Yeah,” she says, way too happily. “He kills ginormous monster rats and comes back from the dead for the princess.”

  “Go to sleep,” I repeat, hoping the third time’s the charm. I’m no fucking hero, although I’d definitely kill for her.

  WARE

  Our days fall into a kinda holding pattern. I don’t need my boys to tell me it’s fucked up as hell to think I can make a temporary mate claim work. I ride, I take care of club business—and each night, when I come home, Marly’s waiting for me. I’m still holding to my “no sex” rule, because she deserves both time to heal and better than a too-old, broken-down wolf. Don’t paint me as some kind of saint, though—because I cheat every time she so much as looks at me. My dick’s hard enough to snap, my balls permanently blue, but I make damned sure Marly comes each night for me.

  You’d think she’d be tired of me by now, but she gets this little look on her face that makes my dick shoot north and then I’ve just got to get inside her. Tempt her into riding my fingers and grinding her clit against my palm. I know her tells now, from the catch her breath gets when she’s close, to the way her thighs tense and quiver like every inch of her is focused on me driving her higher, faster, harder. She drives me crazy, she’s so slick and focused on taking what I give her, and that’s gotta be why I’m pulling my bike to the curb right now.

  The library’s not my scene and books aren’t my thing. It’s not like I’m fucking illiterate, but if it’s a choice between the pen and the sword? No fucking contest. As soon as I step inside and the door closes behind me, my skin itches. It’s so fucking quiet—and clean, but this is where Marly’s working now. It took her less than a week to find a new job, and that’s a minor miracle given the state of the economy. More than one patron looks up as I prowl toward the heart of the library. They sure don’t think I belong here.

  They’re not wrong. I’m not civilized, and I’m not even human. My boots hammer the floor, the sound echoing off the shelves of books. Not sure how anyone could read that many books, but Marly seems to think it’s important to try and she hauls home stacks of books. The history shit’s not bad, actually. Not like I’m planning on starting a book club, but it’s not a bad way to spend the night. Plus, some of the shit she reads has some damn sexy parts, and I’m always up for more inspiration.

  The main path leads straight to a big, semi-circular bank of desks. And Marly.

  I take up my usual station against the far wall. My brothers aren’t sure about Marly, and it’s true that killing her would be simpler. It’s just that I can’t bring myself to do it. She survived Big Dog, and I won’t let anyone else hurt her. The pack enforcer, Blade, keeps an eye on her. Not sure how he thinks he’s gonna stop her from talking short of slitting her throat, but he sure as fuck looks like a wolf with a plan. He’s also developed a new library habit that I don’t like. When he first introduced himself to her, he declared he loved reading, and Marly bought his bullshit hook, line, and sinker.

  Tonight, the bastard comes strolling in like he owns the place. He’s no more a reader than I am. He’s got a book tucked under his arm, though, and Marly spots him right away and lights up. As if he’s really interested in all the Art of War shit, when I’m betting the bastard just enjoys the scenery.

  Really fucking sexy scenery.

  Marly’s wearing a tight gray skirt and a silky pink blouse with a ridiculous bow tied over her tits. She looks downright sweet, which isn’t a look that usually works for me. But the fabric slides over her pretty skin, and when she bends over to retrieve something, I can see straight down her shirt. She looks beautiful, and my body about goes nuclear. She’s wearing a bra I bought, a wicked, dirty girl scrap of hot pink lace that scoops her tits up like they’re just begging for my mouth. My lips. My teeth. Gonna fuck her like that too, sliding my dick between the soft mounds because I’ll take what I can get before she moves on.

  Blade prowls right up to the desk and greets Marly. She’s nervous, but maybe that’s because he’s a wolf. Or could be because he’s a big, burly biker and he radiates danger. I’ve noticed the library tends to empty out when he makes an appearance. Marly checks out his book—and then takes him to task for a late book. Kinda cute really. Blade hands over seventy-five cents rather than protest, and fuck… Do his fingers brush Marly’s? I think about Blade getting close to her, and I don’t like it. Blade’s not gonna love her—he’s more likely to slit her throat. And yeah, I’m a jealous, too-possessive motherfucker because now I’m thinking about beating the crap out of Blade. He doesn’t go near her, doesn’t touch her.

  Mind made up, I head for the desk. Blade hears me coming, naturally, and turns to face me. There’s no good reason for him to be here talking to my woman, and we both know it. We’ve always gotten along though, not least because we respect the fuck out of each other, so we keep it polite. Mostly.

  He flicks me a mocking salute, shoulder-checking me as he passes. “You have a good night now.”

  Just as soon as he gets the hell out of my library.

  Marly watches me come, a Mona Lisa smile playing about lips slick with gloss. She’s got a whole drawer of that crap back at my place, and it’s a game guessing what she’ll taste like when I kiss her goodnight. I’m betting cherry. Something sweet, something lickable.

  And then she smiles, her tongue darting over her lips. Tasting the skin I’m gonna explore. “How can I help you?”

  I’ve got some ideas about that.

  And then fuck—I realize I didn’t just think the words. I said them. They hang in the air between us, and my sexy librarian’s eyes widen. And in the next breath, her body betrays her. Her panties dampen, her pussy slick with her arousal.

  My baby girl definitely wants to help me. Can’t let all those dirty intentions go to waste, can I?

  MARLY

  Ware’s imagination is filthy. It’s one of the many reasons I can’t make myself move away from him. Can’t leave him alone. He’s an addictive drug and I’m hopelessly lost. And he’s got ideas about how I can help him?

  Shit.

  He vaults over the desk, his big body coming at me impossibly fast in a rustle of denim and leather. Not an easy man. Not a pushover at all. I’ve played at dominance games, but Ware isn’t playing. He takes, he pushes, he demands. What have I started? He drops lightly to the floor before me, I try to roll my chair back instinctively, and then there’s no desk between us, no safety space at all. His legs brush my shoulder, my knees. He’s right there.

  “We’re in public,” I say quickly. There’s need and hot intent written on his face. His gaze moves deliberately down my body, and there’s no forgetting what I’ve let him do when we’re alone at night. What I’ve begged him to do. I’m not sure why he’s here now, but he doesn’t look happy to see me.

  He looks determined.

  I inch backward nervously on my seat. There are people—patrons—staring at us. Ware gives them a look, and they retreat back to their books. I should retreat too, I should… He drops onto the seat beside me and scoops me onto his lap. Hard thighs cradle my butt, and there’s no missing the dick pressed against the seam of my ass, either. I can’t allow this. Except he’s not giving me a choice. And I like his orders. They make me feel safe—and sexy.

  I should say something. “Ware—”

  “Be quiet,” he growls against my ear. The chair rolls toward
the lip of the desk, our legs disappearing beneath it as his rough command hangs in the air between us.

  Oh God.

  And his hand… I can’t see his hand, but I can feel it.

  If I were cataloging those fingers, I’d shelve them under E. Erotic. Ecstasy. There should be more words, but my brain shuts down with a whimper of delight.

  Ware wraps one arm around my waist, dragging his thumb slowly over my stomach. The muscles there jump and quiver obediently, wanting to urge him on. If I shifted I could force his hand lower, show him exactly where I need him. Not in public, I remind myself. It’s almost closing time, but there are still a few patrons left in the library, and putting on a peep show is a good way to get my butt fired.

  Not that it would do me much good. The man holding me has refused to actually fuck me. He passes out orgasms like the Good Time Guy, but his penis remains off-limits. Not sure what kind of kink he’s got in his head about us actually doing the deed, but I’m sure it’s some convoluted man logic that he’s certain makes sense. His fingers stroke higher, driving all logic out of my head.

  Am I really going to let him do this in public?

  Why would I even consider it?

  Because he’s got the world’s most-talented fingers and you want him bad. My body needs to stop making decisions for my brain, because I’m seriously considering knocking Ware to the floor and riding him cowgirl-style. If he were a book, he’d be burning up the shelves. Erotic, yes, but also P for Pleasure, Paradise… one wicked knuckle drags slowly down over my hot, wet core and all thoughts of cataloging fly out of my head.

  He’s driving me crazy, teasing me. Pleasing me. He’s a bad news, bad boy biker and he won’t be mine. Ever. He’s made that perfectly clear, yet I still want whatever he’s willing to give me. I like my men hot and dominant, and Ware’s my best fantasy come to life.

  He cups my pussy with one big hand, his thumb pressing against my entrance through my panties while he finds my clit with his other fingers. If he weren’t holding me up, I’d melt to the floor in a puddle of happy librarian. Oh my God, but this man knows how to touch me.

  “You wanna help Blade like this?” He catches my ear with his teeth, bites just hard enough to make me combust and stifle a moan that has no business being made in a library. “You like my brother wolf? Does he make you feel like this, mate?”

  WARE

  Not sure how Marly can stiffen and wriggle at the same time, but she does. My dick decides that’s all the invitation we need.

  “Blade’s a decent guy,” she grits out as if I don’t have my fingers on her pussy and she’s not wet for one of us. Better be me. I’ve been holding back, but if she grinds her clit against me one more time, all bets are off. Plus, she’s read Blade all wrong.

  “He’s the pack enforcer. He’s more interested in killing you than kissing you.”

  Heads turn in our direction again.

  “Closing time,” I announce to the room at large. I haven’t lost my touch, because the place starts emptying out fast.

  “It’s six minutes to five,” Marly protests, trying to shove off my lap. Nuh-uh. Not happening. She and I, we’ve got shit to discuss.

  “Keep your ass where it is,” I growl. “We’re not done talking.”

  She reaches under the desk and pries at my hand. Yeah. As if she could budge me. Still I kinda wish she’d do something else, something like welcome me.

  “I want more,” she hisses at me. “You think he’d give it to me?”

  I’ve given her everything I’ve got.

  “I’m not the kind of guy who does forever. You’ve spent enough time with wolves to know that’s not what you want, sweetheart. When we have sex, I’m gonna be the one in charge. I’m gonna do what I want to your body, when I want.”

  Same thing goes for the forever option, but I’m not telling her that.

  She twists her head so she can glare at me. Good to know she’s no longer scared shitless of me. Don’t need her running scared. “You don’t put out.”

  “Is that a complaint? Or are you trying to give me the orders now?”

  Because I know how I feel about that. I may not want her scared, but I’m the dominant wolf in this relationship. I hook a finger in the side of her panties and yank them to the side. When I dip my finger into her pussy, she’s soaked.

  “I’m not leaving,” she insists, as if I’m not fingering her. “I want to give us a shot.”

  Uh-huh. She doesn’t have to. I’m the one whose boots are hitting the road, ready to ride. I push my finger inside her hard and deep, her pussy clenching around me like this can keep me here. Keep me with her.

  Not a chance in hell.

  “If you come back to my place tonight, I’m paddling your ass good and then I’m taking you hard. You want to be mine, you got it—all of it.”

  As if that’s not enough to scare her off, I pull my fingers free and lick them, because the taste of her is a goddamned drug and I’m an addict. Not sure how I’m walking out of here, but I know where I’m headed. Home. To bed.

  Shit.

  She likes dirty talk.

  Fuck me, she likes me.

  I pretty much break the fucking library door slamming out of there.

  MARLY

  I close up the library, my pussy humming and aching. I’m not sure why I’m into big and bossy—guess my pussy’s stupid or just totally fucked up. Except I’m tired of making excuses for what I enjoy and, unlike Big Dog, Ware’s not going to hurt me. At least, not in the same way. I just can’t get him out of my head, and I definitely want to follow him home and demand he fuck me hard.

  Except no one makes demands of Ware.

  He’ll make me ask nicely, and then he’ll tell me exactly what to do…and I’ll enjoy it. I could pretend I didn’t, but there’s some part of me that definitely gets off on taking his commands.

  Somehow I’m not surprised when Blade materializes out of nowhere when I step out of the library and lock up.

  He steps in close, too, his shoulder almost brushing mine. “You need a hand?”

  I know how to lock a door. I’ve been doing it for years now, so I don’t think that’s what he means. “I’ve got this.”

  Blade’s silent while I finish securing the library door. It’s not like there’s so much there to steal, but we’ve had problems with vandals before. Mostly too stupid kids who think spray-painting a few books makes them cool or is funny, but this is my place. I won’t let anyone shit on it, which I guess makes me more wolf-like than I thought.

  “I meant you and Ware,” he says finally, when I shove the keys into my bag and turn toward the parking lot. “Know he mate-claimed you and all, but I’ve never been sure you’re good with the claim.”

  “We’re working on building emotional intimacy.” I read that line in a book and I only wish it were true. When I head for my car, Blade falls into step beside me, his long legs covering twice the distance as my shorter ones. What is it with bikers always being oversized guys?

  Blade never takes his eyes off our surroundings. “He claimed you. What else is there?”

  “You guys are downright medieval. Maybe you should try the twenty-first century for a change. There’s more to a relationship than a he-man declaration of mine and hot sex.”

  He shrugs and scans the parking lot, subtly angling his body between mine and the street. I’m tired of being the weak one, the little woman. I may like taking orders in bed, but that doesn’t mean I’m missing a spine—or a brain.

  I stop walking. Better to have this out now. “You think I’m in danger? In a parking lot, Blade?”

  He growls something under his breath. “You don’t know what kind of danger’s out there, baby girl. The wolves might be the least of your problems.”

  “Then you tell me and I decide what I do. What, exactly, do you think’s going to happen here? Rabid Chihuahua attack? Ghouls? Hostile werewolf pack takeover? Vampires?”

  He sighs and rests his hand against the small of
my back, hustling me toward my car. “One of four, baby girl.”

  I think about that for a moment, then decide I really don’t want to know which option Blade believes is a possibility.

  “Ware and I are working on taking our relationship to the next level,” I tell him. To bed.

  Blade snorts. “Spare me the details. I can smell him all over you.”

  “That’s just sex.” I think.

  Blade plucks my purse out of my hand, opens it, and retrieves my keys. When I open my mouth to protest, he just gives me a look. He has my car unlocked and the door open before I can work up the nerve to protest. And then he tosses my purse onto the front seat and gestures for me to get in. Since it seems like the only way I’m getting my keys back, I comply. He steps into the open space between the seat and the door, flattening a palm on the roof of the car as he leans in.

  “Ware claimed you in front of the pack. He doesn’t want me or anyone else around you. You smell like sex. There’s something between the two of you. And since he’s a wolf and not a white knight, you need to figure it out fast because his definition of relationship and yours don’t match. I guarantee it.”

  I hold out my hand for my keys. “You think he’d hurt me?”

  And why does the pack enforcer care?

  Blade curses again. “Baby girl, he wouldn’t do it on purpose, but he’s an old wolf. He’s been around a long time, and there are younger, hungrier wolves jonesing for his position in the pack. Some asshole challenged him every month under the last Alpha, and there’s no problem as long as he wins. You’re another way to hurt and bring him down, though, kinda like a bull’s-eye right on his heart.”

  I like the last half of that image, but liking doesn’t mean true. “We’re not about hearts and flowers.”

  Blade drops my keys into my palm. “Baby girl, I’ll say it again. there’s something between the two of you, and it’s more than just sex. Don’t know if you’re getting that poetry shit you seem to want, though.”

  He brushes his mouth over my cheek, one hand cupping the back of my neck and holding me in place. All sorts of emotions—fear, comfort, curiosity—roll through me. Jesus. Why am I so fucked up?