The Wolf's Heart

by Jenna Leigh

  “Lainie, baby.”

  She bit him hard enough to sting. He hissed and froze in place, his hand moving to her hair. She let him slide out of her mouth and glared. “Don’t call me that.”

  “Why?”

  “I like when you call me darlin’.”

  “Oh, fine, darlin’,” he said, gritting his teeth.

  She immediately sucked him inside the warm, wet cavern of her mouth. She opened wide to take him all in. When she hummed low in her throat, it vibrated up the length of his shaft, straight to his balls.

  He tangled his fingers in her hair for purchase and pumped his hips, fucking her mouth. She curled her hand around the base of him and held on for the ride. Her cheeks moved in and out with each thrust. Her fingers cupped his sac, sliding wetly over the surface. When she pulled away he let her go, thinking she needed to stop, so he was surprised when she moved farther down and licked the underside of his cock. “Do you like this?” she asked in a low, husky voice.

  “Yes.” He barely got the word out. All the blood had left his brain and headed straight to his dick. She flicked her tongue like a whip on the veined surface from below. She curled it around him, and nipped at the skin, lightly tugging on it. “Oh yeah, baby.”

  He opened his eyes when she laughed. She was watching him, her green eyes glowing wickedly. She rubbed her cheek against his thigh and then licked his balls. “Lainie!” He held his breath when she did it again, sucking the swiftly tightening skin.

  She bit down and he shuddered. If she kept this up, he’d lose it before he ever got to the next level. “Stop,” he gasped.

  “You didn’t stop the last time,” she pointed out.

  “But you can do it more than once without a break, darlin’.”

  “I suppose that does mean girls rule and boys drool.” She pondered this while she slowly circled the little spot right behind his balls with her fingers. He went up on his toes when her nails raked over him again.

  “Yeah, drooling.” He caved to her vast feminine superiority. She rewarded him by sucking his cock into her mouth again. He hit the back of her throat, but she didn’t stop and he damn well wasn’t going to argue about it too much. With a shout, he spilled his seed into her mouth, unable to take another minute of the torment. She made a little humming noise and licked the head of his cock once more before she got to her feet.

  With a smug grin she handed him the sponge he’d let drop to the floor and presented her back. “Go ahead, bath boy, and wash me.”

  He looked at the sponge then the soap, and smiled. “Sure, darlin’.” He emphasized the endearment and lathered the sponge. “Anything you want.”

  “That’s right.” She giggled when he ran the sponge down her back, then squeaked when he began to slather the soap between her legs. “I got there already.”

  “Aw, well, I’m just making sure you didn’t miss anything.” His finger slid into the folds of her sex to circle her clit. She shuddered and put her hands on the wall to brace herself. His fingers thrust inside her once and she moaned.

  Marcus turned her around so he could watch her face. He slid the sponge over her nipples. They hardened into little pink nubs of flesh. “Like berries and whipped cream.”

  “You can taste them.” She fluttered her lashes. “You need your mouth washed out with soap.”

  “I will, later,” he promised, and she pretended to pout. Her eyes glazed over a second later when he returned to his task of washing her.

  “Bath slaves kneel, right?” He led her over to the bench in the corner of the stall.

  “Yes.”

  He pulled one of the detachable showerheads from its holder and knelt down between her knees. His body was wedged between her thighs, exposing her sex to his gaze and more importantly to the stream of water he aimed at her clit.

  “Marcus!” She tried to shield herself with her hands but he just grabbed her wrists and held them above her head.

  “You can’t tell me you’ve never done this to yourself.” Her breasts tilted up, her nipples pointing impudently at his face. He bit one, enjoying the mewling sounds she made. “That you haven’t run the hot water over your clit, felt the pulse of it on your pussy lips then zipped it back to the middle.” He did what he said and she screamed when the first orgasm hit her.

  “Oh God.” Her mouth was open and with each breath, her right breast slid against his cheek.

  “Open your eyes,” he commanded. She had to struggle to do so, but when she did she became captured by his intense stare. “You are beautiful when you come for me,” he told her, then circled her nubbin again with the water. “Once more.”

  She wiggled but it was no use, his lower body was wedged between her legs holding them apart and his hand held hers captive high above her head. “Marcus, it’s too much.” He angled the stream, playing it over the entrance to her sex, pulsing it over the outer lips before darting it inside to hit her core again.

  He slid back enough to plunge his shaft deep inside her sex, letting her go to pull her hips forward so he could fuck her as hard as he wanted. With a frustrated hiss, he turned her over on her belly and plunged back inside. For a few minutes, there were only the sounds of their flesh slapping together.

  Holding her hip with one hand, he pressed the showerhead right against her clit, and her muscles spasmed around his cock. It took everything he had but this time, he pulled out to spill his seed onto the small of her back.

  His heart thundered in his ears as he slowly regained control of himself. Methodically, he cupped some of the cooling water in his hands and carefully washed the evidence of their lovemaking off her body. His hand trembled when he reached up to turn off the faucet, but he forced it to stop. With precise movements, he took her in his arms and held her, breathing in and out until finally, he felt human again. Or as close as he ever got.

  With a satisfied sigh, he stood and started toward the bedroom. Lainie opened her eyes and gave him a languid look. “Marcus Bei, you’re something else.”

  “You have no idea, darlin’.” He hefted her high in his arms and nibbled on her neck to make her squeal. She really didn’t, he thought, sobering for a minute. No idea how “something else” he actually was. He shook off the dark mood that threatened and lay down beside her on the bed.

  She stretched her arms over her head and grinned when he stared at her breasts. “Boys are so easy.”

  “Mm.” Marcus reached out and licked her nipple. “Girls aren’t too hard.”

  “We’re going to have to slow down.” She grimaced at the new soreness in her thighs. “I won’t be able to walk much less dance at that darned ball.”

  “What ball?”

  “The Caulder Ball!” She smacked him. “The reason for this whole mess.”

  He scowled at her choice of words.

  “Oh, honey, I didn’t mean it—” she began but he shrugged her hand off and stood to get dressed, retreating into the cold, aloof persona he presented to the world. “Marcus.”

  “I just remembered I have to go into the office,” he lied, pulling a suit and tie out of his closet.

  She came to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. “I didn’t mean us. Not that. I meant—”

  “Save it, I know what you meant.”

  She watched him go, silent and withdrawn. He looked so hard right now, unreachable and remote. She sighed and tried one more time. “I’ll miss you.”

  “Yeah, me too.” He gave her a halfhearted smile and left the room, slowly closing the door behind him.

  Staring at the closed door, she worried a sore spot on her lip with her tongue, debating whether to follow him to his office or not. Finally, she decided against it. Instead, she dressed and went downstairs where she found a very cold note from Marcus reminding her that she had to get a dress for the ball.

  After she’d eaten and wandered around the house for a while, she got bored. “Hey, Al?” The butler hunched his shoulders at the shortening of his name. She’d done it on purpose to vex him
. So what? She didn’t have much else to occupy her time.

  “Yes, ma’am?” He turned and gave her his coldest glare.

  “Where’s Mick?”

  “He just got back from town and is waiting for you to get ready to leave.” Allen sniffed and looked her up and down. “If you are going to buy a dress, I suggest you put on more suitable attire.”

  “Why?” She looked down at her sweatshirt and jeans. “It’s easy to get out of.”

  “You will be going to an exclusive shop, owned by the wife of one of Mr. Bei’s associates. Do you wish them to think that you are a ragamuffin?”

  “Ragamuffin? Who in the hell do you think you are? And who uses that word anymore?” she scoffed and folded her arms, meeting his glare with one of her own. “And while we’re on the subject, what do you have against me?”

  “I have no idea what you mean.” Allen straightened his cuffs and made another sniffing noise.

  “Do you use cocaine?” she asked him, narrowing her eyes in suspicion.

  “I most certainly do not!” He looked affronted at the very possibility, even more so than he usually did in her presence.

  “Then stop with all the sniffing. If you don’t have anything against me, why do you treat me like you do?” She refused to give it up. If, as Marcus said, they were going to try this relationship thing out, she would be here a lot. She refused to be made to feel unwelcome in his house by the damned butler.

  “I don’t know what you mean,” he repeated, blinking rapidly.

  “Sure you don’t.” She curled her lip. Then inspiration dawned. “What do you think I should wear? I have no idea what the proper dress code is for an exclusive boutique. I’m more a department-store type of person, if you must know.”

  “You don’t need to tell me that, ma’am.” His snide reply made her grit her teeth. However, you can take the girl out of the south, but you can’t take the south out of the girl. In other words, she could bullshit with the best of them.

  “Well, you dress so nice and all.” She drawled her words out and fluttered her lashes. “I’m sure you’d be able to help me choose. I don’t have much though, that man tore all my things up when he broke in.” She sighed, and let tears fill her eyes. “I don’t know what I would have done if Marcus hadn’t insisted on rescuing me.” Surprisingly, he fell for it.

  He smiled benignly down at her. “I will try to help you in any way I can. Follow me.”

  She hurried after him, hiding her smug grin behind her hand. “Hey, this is my room,” she called when he didn’t stop at her door.

  He kept walking until he got to a room at the far end of the hall, turning to give her an impatient glare that made her feel about three feet tall and three years old. It was like living with Joanna all over again. “You did say you didn’t have anything appropriate.”

  Well, she was a grown up now, and she’d prove it to him. She straightened her shoulders and marched past him, then paused as she took in the contents of the room with a silent whistle. The room was full of clothes, women’s clothes at that. Why did Marcus have women’s clothes? She opened her mouth to ask Allen but he distracted her by pulling out a beautiful plum-colored dress jacket and skirt. “Ooh.”

  “Yes.” Allen handed it to her. “This should fit you.” He stared at her feet and went to the wall, pressing a button. A panel slid back revealing shelves. Rows upon rows of designer pumps in various sizes stared back at her.

  “Why?” she asked faintly, taking in the sight of what she hoped wasn’t a sign of Marcus’s heretofore-unknown predilection for wearing women’s clothes. Or even something more sinister, like— Her imagination went wild at the possibilities; serial killer, pimp and stone-cold freak were at the top of the list though.

  “I will leave it to Mr. Bei to explain.” Allen held up his hand when she began to protest. “It’s his place.” The firm line of his lips let her know she’d get nothing from him. He pointed to the screen at the far corner of the room. “You may change there.”

  Lainie dressed quickly, smoothing the skirt down over her hips before stepping into a pair of soft leather pumps the same shade as the suit. She turned this way and that to look at her reflection in the mirror stationed behind the screen. It was a perfect fit. Maybe Al had been an undertaker in a previous life.

  She came out from behind the screen, twisting her hair up in the pins that he’d provided. “This fits great.”

  “Thank you.” He paused and grudgingly continued, “You look very nice, Ms. Westerbrook.”

  “Thank you, Allen.” She gave him her brightest smile and he gave her a small one in return. “I’ll be back in a while. Shopping sucks, you know.”

  “Yes, I know.” He sounded like he did. She wondered if he’d been the one to buy all these clothes.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Lainie sat in the back of the limo, alone with her thoughts. Though she’d tried to drag Mick into a conversation, she got only monosyllabic replies in return. Finally, she’d given up and allowed him to put the glass partition in place. She made him nervous, apparently. Classical music came from up front, soothing her jangled nerves on the ride into town. All too soon, they reached their destination and Mick opened her door, something she didn’t think she’d ever get used to.

  The store was actually an old house. The owner had renovated it just enough to turn it into a business without losing any of its original charm. Made of adobe, with the ever-present beams visible on the rooftop, the sign out front named it The Ult, in fancy gilt letters.

  A chime rang when Mick opened the door and Lainie hesitated, knowing instantly that this wasn’t her sort of place. She made good money as a freelance journalist, but not enough to shop here. She stepped inside when Mick gave her a strange look. He walked behind her, his hand pushing at the small of her back when she stopped. “Ms. Darton?” he called.

  “I’ll be right out!” a feminine voice called from somewhere in the back of the store. Lainie looked around while they waited.

  The floors of the sumptuously decorated foyer were black and white parquet tile that gleamed brightly in the sunshine. One wall held an original Georgia O’Keefe if she wasn’t mistaken.

  Dresses lay in what at first glance looked to be a careless manner over wingback chairs. Hats were stacked on ottomans, gloves were fanned out on a coffee table, and shoes were sitting on the mantel and the hearth of the large fireplace. When Lainie looked closer, she saw that the fabric was draped artfully, and the hats were more a still-life composition of color and texture. The shoes were bright spots in the earthy room, like jewels on display. Necklaces swayed back and forth on the hooks of an antique hall tree. There were no traditional display racks, just beautiful furniture used to hold equally beautiful clothes and accessories.

  A woman came out of the back and stopped short at the sight of them both. “May I help you?” Her lips firmed and her frosty tone didn’t invite Lainie to stay.

  “My name’s Lainie and your shop was recommended to me by—”

  “I am not open to the public, madam, but by appointment only.” She wore her raven hair swept up in a smooth chignon. Pearls at her neck and on her earlobes softened her severe black suit only slightly.

  “Ms. Darton?” Mick interceded. “This is Ms. Westerbrook. Mr. Bei should have called?” He made the statement into a question.

  “Oh!” She smiled for the first time and Lainie blinked at the transformation. Her bright blue eyes sparkled with delight. “Why didn’t you say so before?”

  “Why does it make a difference?” Lainie wanted to know.

  “Oh, you know men.” She waved her hand around airily. “My husband hates for me to work, but we compromised. I only see his friends’ wives and significant others.”

  “Pleased to meet you.” Lainie’s feeling of defensiveness eased. “My name is Elaine Westerbrook.”

  “I’m Charlotte Darton, it’s very nice to meet you. Marcus spoke so highly of you on the phone.”

  “I’m sure he di
d.” Lainie smothered a groan. Who was she kidding? If this was the type he consorted with, how did she hope to fit into his world? Maybe it would be better to leave after the ball. He would think she used him, but that was better than finding out just how unsuited she was to his lifestyle.

  “Ms. Westerbrook.” Ms. Darton was speaking.

  “Please, call me Lainie.”

  “Fine, Lainie it is, please call me Charlotte then.” The woman led her into another room, filled to the brim with ball gowns, with beads, feathers and in some cases, fur trimming.

  “I don’t think I should—” Lainie began, wondering at the price of all this stuff when a beautiful turquoise dress caught her eye. Strapless and gauzy, it was pretty much the most wonderful thing she’d ever seen.

  Charlotte noticed the direction of her gaze and smiled. “Come, you must try it on.”

  Lainie followed her into one of the dressing suites. They were much larger than rooms, with a chaise lounge and two overstuffed chairs. The far corner held three antique standing mirrors angled enough for her to see herself from all sides.

  She watched as Charlotte spread the dress out on the lounge and then turned. “We’ll get you into it and make sure no alterations are needed.”

  Lainie unbuttoned her suit jacket and slid it off, hurrying over to the dress. The skirt had to go and unfortunately so did her bra. She moved to put the dress over her head and let the other woman fasten it in the back. Lainie kept her head down and wondered what Charlotte thought of the marks on her body. If she noticed it, she gave no sign of the fact.

  “We’ll get all the extras to go with the dress, if you want it, that is.” She put her hands on Lainie’s shoulders and led her to the mirrors.

  Lainie took in her reflection and smiled. The bead-encrusted bodice caught the light, twinkling with every breath she took. The soft fabric, shirred to the waist, nipping in tightly before flaring out gently to the floor. Silky and light, it moved fluidly when she swayed. She felt like a fairytale princess going to the ball with her own prince.