by Zoe Chant
It was just his strong arms around her, his lips on hers, her heart pounding in her chest. He slipped a hand into the waistband of her jeans, and she wanted them off, wanted him on her, in her. She wanted to know how big he was, how he’d feel, what it would be like to ride him.
Do werewolves do it doggy style?
She started giggling, breaking the kiss. Jason didn’t seem to mind, but he did seem a little confused. “What?” he said. “What?”
“I—I’ll tell you later,” she said, “I’m sorry—”
“It’s okay,” he said, smoothing her hair back with one hand, the other still wrapped around her. “It’s okay.”
“I think you should stay at my place tonight,” she said. “Because of the animals.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Good idea. We can tell your family on the way home.” He kissed her again, just a peck on the lips, but it sent shudders through her.
“There’s a lot we need to tell them,” she said.
“Yeah,” he said. “There is.” He kissed her on the forehead this time. “And some more things I need to tell you.”
“Good things, I hope.”
“All good things.”
There was no way she could tell her family about werewolves—much less about Jason—on the way home, but they did explain that they were worried about Lucy’s apartment, and that Jason had decided the safest way to determine if there was a threat was if he spent the night. “I’ve got that pullout couch,” she said, just in case Dad started getting suspicious.
“I’ll mostly be awake,” he said. “I can sleep through the day tomorrow.”
Lucy was suddenly certain she wouldn’t be getting much sleep either.
It was hard to keep still in the back of the car. She pressed her thighs together, hard, and tried not to think about the things she wanted Jason to do to her. She wanted. Wanted so much. Jason was talking big, and she didn’t think anyone could possibly know what they wanted so soon. She didn’t think there was any way she could live up to all he was thinking. But hell, she wanted to take advantage of having a guy like him around as long as she could. If he wanted to love and leave, she’d at least get some good love out of him. He sure acted like a guy who knew what he wanted. She still couldn’t quite believe he wanted her.
“You’re spacing out again,” Frieda said, elbowing her.
“Sorry,” she said. “Lots to think about.”
“Yeah?”
“What do you think? About the house?”
“I dunno,” Frieda said. “It’s big, which means a lot of work.”
“We got the money, we could hire someone,” Ophelia said. “They could tend the gardens or whatever. If anyone wants the place.”
“What do you think, O?” Lucy asked. “You want to live there?”
“Out in the middle of nowhere like that?” Ophelia snorted. “No thanks. Plus, you’d have to redecorate the whole thing. It’s…too much.”
“It’s not that bad,” Lucy said.
“It’s…was he gay? I bet he was gay.”
“He might have been gay,” Frieda conceded. “Never married, right? And the place was kind of…stereotypical-looking. Like, he knew how to decorate.”
“Richard didn’t say anything about his personal life?”
“Nothing much about him at all,” Lucy said. “We’ve been trying to figure him out for a while. I mean, we’re not heirs by default, he named us in the will. But we never even knew him. I can’t even remember meeting him.”
“Me either,” Frieda said. “I can’t remember meeting anyone from Mom’s side of the family. Dad said they kind of dropped off the radar after she died.”
“She didn’t have much family anyway,” Lucy said. “Her parents were gone, remember? So it would’ve just been Oliver and any extended family. And if Oliver didn’t have kids, that meant we didn’t have any cousins. Mom might’ve but….”
“He’s a stranger,” Frieda said. “And he gave us all this money.”
“I think maybe that’s why I want to hold on to the house,” Lucy said. “At least for a little while. Kind of…get to know him.”
“We’ve got time,” Frieda said. “I still haven’t figured out what I want to do with myself. Just no more sheep, that’s all I know.”
Ophelia grinned. “You can be the caretaker.”
“Of our country estate?”
“Exactly!”
Lucy giggled.
“Maybe we could put in a pool and hire a pool boy too,” Ophelia said.
“You don’t need a pool boy,” Dad said wryly.
“Somebody would have to take care of the pool,” Ophelia objected.
“Enough,” Dad said.
Thinking about the house helped keep her distracted…right up until they dropped off Dad and Lucy’s sisters. Then she was alone in the car with Jason. Handsome, handsome, blue-eyed Jason. It was like he could see right into her, right down to the bone.
“We’ll tell them tomorrow,” she said. “About…all this. I need tonight to let it sink in.” She reached over tentatively and took his hand.
He just grinned. “Thank you,” he said. “For trusting me. I know…I know I’ve asked a lot of you.”
“Don’t,” she said. “You’re going to make me all mushy.”
He laughed. “Mushy wasn’t exactly what I had in mind, but I’ll take it.” His eyes darted over to her. “Got any plans for when we get back to your place?”
She had all kinds of ideas, but they all flew out of her head as soon as he asked the question. “Um,” she said. “Kind of?”
“Kind of,” he said, and his voice was warm, rich. It sent another shiver down her spine. “I don’t know, maybe we better go with my plans.”
“What were your plans?”
“Well,” he said. “I was thinking of your kitchen table. It’s pretty sturdy, don’t you think?”
The kitchen table had crossed her mind. She shifted her weight again. God, she was wet. “I bought it at a yard sale. The guy said it was made from a barn door. That…that sounds pretty sturdy, right?”
“What about the legs?”
“They’re pretty big. I think. I mean, they’re thick. I mean….” Everything that was coming out of her mouth sounded dirty. “I bought it to hold some weight. Not for—for my art supplies and things.”
“Big and thick,” he said. “That the sort of thing you like?”
She bit her lower lip so hard it hurt. “Sometimes,” she said. They were almost at her house, but she was going crazy now, her body almost feverishly hot. She couldn’t wait to get out of the truck, to get her hands on him. To have his hands on her. Would he claw? “Werewolves—do you change, like, in bed?”
He laughed. “No, a little bit of claws and fangs sometimes. But…that’s up to you.”
That sounded pretty hot, actually. “Oh,” she said. “Really?”
“Yeah, the change—it’s like dropping over a cliff, once it’s really kicked in. You can’t stop it. But you can do a little bit, at the edge. I’ll show you, if you want.”
“Yeah,” she said. “Sure.” She pressed her thighs closer together. It didn’t help at all. It just felt hotter. And wetter.
“Almost there,” he said. “Almost there.”
She wanted him. Wanted him so much. Almost wasn’t close enough. She wanted to get her hand between her legs, but she wanted to wait, too. Wait until they were alone together.
Jason didn’t waste any time parking. Lucy almost ran to the apartment door.
There was a box on the steps. It had her name on it, and a return address she didn’t recognize. “I….” She looked over at Jason, who had a deeply concerned look on his face.
“It smells all right,” he said, glancing around. “I think I might—” He looked at her. “I can tell better if I change. Is that all right?”
“Yes,” she said. “If—”
“I’ll be fast,” he said, and winked. It was fast. For a second, his hair was thicker, his nose l
onger, and she caught a flash of tooth, and then—
It happened all at once, like Jason had said. It was almost like watching him drop to his knees, only as he dropped, he changed. One second there was the man, and half a second later, the wolf and a pile of clothes. “Wow,” she said, as Jason snuffled at the box. She picked up the clothes. Jeans—she had to make sure that his wallet didn’t fall out—t-shirt, boxers. Cotton, but not cheap cotton. They were still warm from his body. She unlocked the door, and Jason scampered inside.
“Should I—?” Could he understand her now?
He shook his head and changed again, fur shifting into hair, his broad shoulders forming under the fur, and there was a man on his knees before her. “I don’t smell anything,” he said, “you can bring it in.”
She shoved the box in. It was heavy. She shut the door behind her.
“Lock it,” he said, standing up slowly and giving her a full look at him. Broad chest, thick muscles, hard dick. Wow, was it hard, and big, and—
She shoved the lock in place. “I’ve got condoms,” she said. “In my bedroom.”
“Bought some last night,” he said. He grinned. “Hope I wasn’t getting too far ahead of myself.”
“No,” she said, pulling her t-shirt over her head. “I guess not. You want—”
“I want you just the way you are,” he said, pulling her close. His skin felt warm against hers, electric. They kissed again, and he put his hand behind her head, pulling her closer. She could feel his erection against her jeans. He started unbuttoning them, and for as big as his hands were, he was damn good at fiddling with buttons and zippers. He slid his hands over her butt, and pulled her even closer.
He moved, and suddenly her jeans were off. He was quick for as big as he was, too. He pushed her back, her ass against the table. “Hold on,” he said, and there she was, shirt off, legs spread, jeans on the floor.
He came back with a condom. “Okay,” he said. “Let’s do this.”
“Let me,” she said. “I wanna put it on.”
“Yeah,” he said, his teeth bright and white and predatory. “I’d like that.”
She unwrapped the condom, trying to keep her hands steady, and reached out to his cock. “Come on,” she said. “Closer.”
He stepped closer, and she rolled the condom over his cock, slowly, carefully. “You drive me crazy,” he said.
She licked her lips. “Show me,” she said, feeling brave and wild.
He lifted her like she was nothing—like no one had even come close since she was a kid—and put her up on the kitchen table, pushing himself between her legs. She almost held her breath as he started slipping in.
He felt thick and hard and perfect. Just her size. So much of him, but it didn’t hurt; she was already so wet. So ready for him. Her clit was throbbing. She gripped the edge of the table and held on.
She didn’t have to wait long. He started thrusting, fast and hard, and she grabbed the table harder, trying to keep her balance, trying to keep her legs open enough, let all of him in.
“You’re so,” he said. “So—”
He never finished the sentence. He just thrust, pushing her against the table so hard she had to hang on so she wouldn’t slide across the surface. She was half afraid if she didn’t, she’d fall right off the other side of the table. But he put his hands on her hips and drew her closer, held her steady as he thrust into her. It rocked her, body and soul. She could feel how hard her nipples were in her bra, and she wanted to shove it off, but she was too busy holding on, too busy feeling Jason’s dick slide into her, again and again and again.
“Close,” he panted, “so—”
One of his hands came off her hip and moved closer, further in—
His thumb was rubbing circles on her clit, soft, light—
She came then, orgasm rushing through her like a bullet train, starting at her toes and working up through the rest of her body. She cried out, and she could hear James roaring. She’d never felt anything like it, anything this good, this perfect. She took the time she took catching her breath to take him in, his muscular chest covered in dark hair, his strong jaw, his warm, raw mouth. “You’re so beautiful,” he said, finally, when he had caught his own breath. “I…I can’t even believe I’m here with you.”
“You’re something,” she said.
He laughed. “I guess we ought to do something about this box,” he said, and she missed him as he slid out of her. “Maybe I should put my pants on.”
She grinned. “You don’t have to.”
“Yeah, well, I probably should or we’ll never get to it.” The smile he flashed her was almost shy. “I’m flattered.”
“You’re gorgeous,” she confessed.
“Takes gorgeous to know gorgeous,” he said, grabbing his jeans from where Lucy had left them. “The box smells fine. Like little old lady. Not toxic, last I looked.”
“I didn’t recognize the address. Loudonville, New York. I think that’s upstate.”
“You got me, I’m from that other coast.” He started pulling his jeans on. “Just open it carefully, and I’m here if anything goes wrong.”
“Okay,” she said. She pulled her own jeans on and found the box cutter in the junk drawer. The box opened easily enough. It had a note on top of a layer of tissue paper.
Lucy,
Oliver Rome asked me many years ago to pass these items on to you after his death. I apologize for not calling you first, but I’m not very good on the phone these days, and I thought a letter would be sufficient. While he trusted his lawyers, there were some things he preferred to be handled personally. I confess, I was a bit worried that I might not outlive him, by the end—he had a long and full life.
You may have questions after reading all this. I might, if I were in your place. I am happy to answer any of them you have to the best of your ability.
With regards,
Emily Lee
“You ever heard that name?” Lucy asked. “Emily Lee?”
“Nope,” he said. “I met a couple people from the clan, but no Emily Lee.”
“Was Richard a werewolf?”
Jason shook his head. “Just a normal human.” He’d put his shirt back on too. Too bad.
Lucy put the letter on the dining room table.
“I’ll bring the box over on the couch,” he said. “We can go through it together.”
“Okay,” she said. “Is it heavy?”
“Not really,” he said, lifting it up. “I can smell paper, now it’s open. Lilac scent.”
“Well, as long as I don’t get a paper cut,” she said, and lifted the first page of tissue paper.
There was another letter immediately below, also addressed to her. The handwriting was different. She sat down and opened it up.
***
Lucy,
I must apologize, deeply, for my lack of contact over these many years. Your father’s family would not have approved of me, and for too long I assumed your father would be no different. By the time I learned differently, I had no idea how to make up for all the lost time. I hope you will be able to forgive me.
I feel silly writing, ‘by the time you read this, I will be gone,’ but it’s true. Richard has been given my orders as to the distribution of my estate, but I already know that you will be the Queen to our little clan. I know it must come as something of a shock, but from what I have learned about you, I know you will rise to the occasion and help us We have a long history, much of which I’ve been writing up in my retirement. I hope the knowledge will help make up for what my absence entailed.
If I am fortunate, I will have accomplished the clan alliance between our clan and the Kwoli clan. If not, their alpha, Jason Hewett, has proven himself trustworthy and honest. I feel confident saying you can finish negotiating with him successfully, and I must say, if love were to blossom between him and you or your younger sister…but I am gone, as I said, and it’s not really any business of mine any more.
Keep the clan strong.
In return, you will want for nothing. My love and best wishes are with you. Please share them with your sisters as well. I hope they will understand.
Yours with affection,
Oliver.
Lucy read the letter silently, and Jason watched her face as she reached the last line. He’d sat next to her, and he felt lucky he let her read over her shoulder.
So Oliver had known. He hadn’t told Jason—maybe he thought it would be better if Jason found out who the clan Queen was on his own. Maybe he hadn’t wanted Jason to marry for power.
He’d liked the guy. He wished they’d had the chance to meet face to face, to have him tell Lucy the truth about werewolves, about the clans.
There were more letters under the first envelope. Lots more.
“What did he mean about Dad’s family not approving of him?” he asked.
“Not sure,” Lucy said. “I mean, you guys can hide the werewolf thing pretty well, right?”
“Yeah,” he said.
“They’re pretty conservative. Maybe he was gay. Or an actor. Or a Buddhist.”
“I don’t think he was a Buddhist,” he said. “Let’s read through the letters, maybe that’ll help.”
There were two piles of letters, tied with string. One had a post-it with Personal written on it, in Oliver’s handwriting. The second post-it said Clan Business.
Lucy looked at them both for a second. “I’d better read these,” she said, picking up the Clan Business pile. “Why don’t you start on the second pile, tell me what stands out. I can read through it all later, but right now…I want to know why he sent these to me.”
Jason had to admit he did too. And sitting next to the woman he loved certainly didn’t sound like a bad way to spend an hour or two.
There was a stack of about twenty letters. It looked like the oldest one was on the top, so he started there.
Ollie,
Been far too long since my last letter. I miss you, miss you like I’d miss water or breathing, but I’m damned if I can spare a minute to actually write. We’re working 18-hour shifts, and then I fall into bed, fall back out, eat half my weight and do it all over again. Almost lost one last night and I ended up staying on for 21 hours. Personal record. The kid’s okay, though. Might even make it.
