Wolf

by Wolf (lit)

  Almost as if he knew her thoughts, he lowered his head and began to work his way upward again. This time, though, his touch and his kisses were more heated. The nips with his teeth stretched the boundary between pleasure and pain. A sense of building hunger edged them. Shudders rippled through him that matched her own.

  She parted her thighs, cradling him between them in a silent demand as he sought her nipples again and tormented them with the hard suction of his mouth until she thought she would blackout.

  Surging upward abruptly, he speared the head of his cock unerringly into the mouth of her sex. She sucked in a sharp breath, coiling around him, meeting him thrust for thrust and urging him to move faster as she felt rapture burgeoning, taunting her with the great prize. It didn’t tease her long. She discovered she couldn’t prolong the wait to savor the feel of him gliding in and out of her even when she tried. It was as if her body had become so finely attuned to his that it waited only for his touch to soar.

  A profound sense of bliss washed over her when she felt his body convulsing in release with hers, reinforcing the sense of oneness.

  He rolled the two of them onto their sides when they’d finally stopped shuddering with release. Tucking her snugly against his length, he arranged the two of them in a comfortable tangle, released a heavy breath of relief and dropped to sleep as if he’d been knocked out. Sylvie envied that ability to simply shut down, but she didn’t dwell on it long before she’d dropped below consciousness herself.

  It was low, deep voices that roused her. For several moments, she was too disoriented to grasp what must be happening, but as her senses sharpened, she realized she could hear them well enough to make out what they were saying—or at least Mac.

  “…days. No clue what we might be heading in to. Could be they’re on to us and have set a trap. I don’t think so, but it’s still a possibility. Could be we’ll have trouble with the others. If we aren’t back in four days, I want you out of here. Watch your back trail and get Sylvie and the pups to safety as quickly as you can—whatever you have to do.”

  “You doan make me easy in my mind, mon ami,” Beau growled. “You tink dem others might challenge you?”

  Mac shook his head. “I don’t know. I just don’t want to take any chances. They may smell her on us. They certainly know she was still with us when we dropped them. I just don’t know what to expect and I don’t want to take any chances with her or the pups.”

  They left before she could make up her mind whether to allow them to know she’d awakened or not. For several moments, she lay tensely, struggling with the urge to leap up and race after them and the sense of abandonment she felt that they hadn’t even told her bye.

  Finally, knowing it was too late and probably wouldn’t be welcome if she had yielded to her impulse, she allowed the tension to go out of her. Sleep dragged at her. She was still exhausted. She knew she couldn’t have been asleep more than a few hours. Her mind was struggling to make sense of what she’d heard, though. For a while it seemed it would chase sleep away regardless of her weariness, but exhaustion finally reclaimed her.

  The cabin was so still and empty when she woke that she awakened with a sense of panic. Thrusting the covers away, more than half convinced she’d dreamed what she’d thought she’d overheard, she rushed to the door, opened it and peered out. Beau was crouched in the shade of a tree not far from the front door. His gaze raked her in a leisurely fashion before he met her gaze.

  “Mornin’, chère. And how are you on this fine day?”

  Sylvie blinked at him, remembered she was naked and sidled behind the door.

  His eyes gleamed with a mixture of amusement, desire, and irritation. “There ain’t much you got, baby, that I haven’t already licked, chewed on, touched, and looked over.”

  Sylvie felt her belly clench, but her face heated with discomfort. “Don’t be subtle on my account!” she said dryly.

  He chuckled. “That’s what I was thinkin’—no point in being shy, now.”

  “You’d rather I was brazen?”

  He seemed to consider it. “I doan think that’d come too natural to you, and I’m mighty fond of the way you are,” he said finally, rising slowly to his feet. “How ‘bout I fix the two of us a little breakfast?”

  Sylvie swallowed at the reminder, glancing around.

  “They’re gone, baby—left before first light. They got a way’s ta go.”

  Sylvie met his gaze. “I think I’ll take a shower first.”

  “Can I watch?” he asked, grinning.

  She couldn’t help but smile. “No!”

  He shrugged easily. “Cain’t blame me for tryin’. I’ll just wait inside and lick you dry when you come back.”

  Sylvie’s eyes widened and he laughed. “Go! Bathe! And make it quick. I’m starvin’ an’ I’m either gonna have to gnaw on you or find somethin’ a little more substantial.”

  She didn’t know how to take his teasing, or even if he was. Well, she knew it wasn’t altogether a tease—unless he had something in his pants besides his dick. She made it quick anyway, unwilling to linger outside too long naked when it was so bright out.

  Almost as if her thoughts had tempted capricious nature, dark clouds began to gather by the time she’d finished. She scanned the sky a little worriedly as she hurried inside. Beau, crouched in front of the fire he’d stirred up with a pan of eggs, swiveled on the balls of his feet and watched her while she dried haphazardly on the coverlet and pulled her t-shirt on.

  She flicked a glance at him as she picked up the sweatpants to examine them, discovering with little surprise that it hadn’t been her imagination that he was still watching her.

  “You gonna cover up all the purty things? Now I’m disappointed.”

  She studied his back when he turned around again, looked at the pants speculatively, and then dropped them. Any thoughts that had flickered through her mind that she might disconcert him by taking him up on his challenge were dashed. From the look he gave her, she began to think she’d played right into his hands.

  She settled a little gingerly on one of the chairs. They’d taken a stab at repairing them, but without any tools to speak of, the chairs were still scary to sit in.

  Beau had made an omelet. He cut a third for her and a third for himself.

  She doubted she could eat half that much, but she dug in. “Did Mac say how long he thought they’d be gone?”

  Beau shrugged easily. “Three or four days. It’s a far piece, even if they four-foot it. I tink you can hold off worryin’ about it for at least three.”

  Sylvie didn’t know whether to be disconcerted, irritated, or amused about his calm assessment. She didn’t dispute his assumption that she would be worried. She was anxious already, and would’ve been, she was pretty sure, even if she hadn’t overheard the conversation before the others had left.

  She finally decided she found it soothing. She just couldn’t imagine that Beau would be so completely blasé about it if he wasn’t convinced that they’d be alright. “It looks like it might storm. Do you think that might slow them down?”

  He shrugged. “It’s possible. Enough rain could swell rivers and streams, wash out roads and bridges and that would definitely slow things down. I’m thinkin’ they’ll take the high route, though. We smelled the rain a comin’.”

  Nodding, Sylvie focused on finishing her meal. “What is that like?” she asked when Beau had helped himself to the last of the omelet.

  He snorted. “Hard to describe,” he finally said wryly, but frowned thoughtfully. “I suppose it would be sort of like when somebody has bad eyes and then they get glasses. It’s not really that scents are stronger. It’s more like they’re just clearer, easier to separate and identify.”

  “Well, that’s a comfort,” Sylvie murmured.

  Beau chuckled and she felt her face heat. She hadn’t realized how that must sound. Embarrassed, she got up and began to stack the empty plates in the pan he’d used to cook. “I’ll just wash the
se.”

  It began to rain while she was trying to wash the dishes. She ignored it, rushing to finish, but it was raining hard by the time she had. Soaked, she left the pan and dishes and dashed back into the cabin, nearly slamming into Beau. “I’m soaked,” she said warningly.

  He gathered her close anyway, brushed her wet hair out of her face. “I was sort of hopin’ for that, actually,” he murmured, settling his mouth over hers.

  She tensed in surprise and doubt, but even as she relaxed against him, she felt the heat begin to churn inside her. His mouth felt wonderful on hers, intoxicating. She was almost disappointed when he broke the kiss after a brief taste of his passion. Holding her gaze, he peeled her wet t-shirt up. When he’d removed it, he left her to hang it over the back of one of the chairs. “Come on, chère,” he murmured when he turned to her again, holding out his hand. “We might as well cuddle a while an’ keep each other warm.”

  Somehow, she didn’t think he had cuddling in mind, but she thought she would enjoy it regardless. Crossing the room, she placed her hand in his and allowed him to lead her to the bed.

  When she lay down, he unfastened his pants and pushed them from his hips. He hesitated when he saw that she was examining him with frank admiration. There was nothing not to admire, she thought wryly. His skin was dark, even below the waist, but slightly lighter and that set off the black nest of hair and his raging erection even more.

  Lifting her gaze after a moment, she scanned his flat belly and male breasts. Dark hair liberally sprinkled his breasts and ran down the center of his chest, forming an arrow pointing to his groin. His muscular arms and legs were also sprinkled with dark hair, but she thought, overall, he was surprisingly unhairy for such a virile male and wondered if he had American Indian in him besides the French and Spanish.

  He climbed in with her, pulled the cover over both of them, and curled around her. She waited a little tensely for him to do something, anything, and waited. Finally, she glanced at him questioningly.

  His dark eyes gleamed. “What?”

  Sylvie frowned. She didn’t feel comfortable asking him why he hadn’t started anything, though. “Nothing.”

  He settled his head beside hers on the pillow and she began to think he actually had meant only to cuddle, either that or he was waiting for her to make the first move.

  “It’s good sleepin’ weather,” he murmured after a few minutes.

  “Is it?” she responded, although the pitter patter of the rain on the metal roof above them, the fresh scent of the air, and the warmth radiating from him was starting to make her drowsy.

  “Good weather for lyin’ in bed and makin’ slow love to my woman, too,” he murmured huskily.

  Sylvie felt her heart jerk reflexively. She turned to look at him and found that they were nose to nose. He stared deeply into her eyes a moment and then angled his head to match his lips to hers. A delicious, languid warmth filled her as he made love to her mouth with his. There was nothing rushed or fevered about it. He seemed intent on savoring her taste and the silky, inner walls of her mouth, stroking his tongue lazily along hers, sucking at it lightly when he’d coaxed it into his own mouth.

  An hour later, he was still savoring and Sylvie was beginning to get uncomfortable.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “You were dead serious when you suggested ‘makin’ slow love’,” Sylvie murmured ruefully.

  Beau smiled around the nipple he was teasing and finally released it. “You complainin’, chère? Gettin’ impatient?”

  Maybe a little. She lifted her arms and folded them behind her head. “No. Just curious. Wondering if you mean business or you’re just going to tease me.”

  His nearly straight black brows rose and then met above the bridge of his long, narrow nose. “Oh, I mean business, chère. I most definitely mean business. I’m workin’ at redeemin’ myself.”

  “Is that what you call it?” Sylvie asked teasingly. “Why do you think you need to? I didn’t scream loud enough before to convince you I was enjoying it?”

  He chuckled huskily. “Maybe I jus’ like hearin’ you sing, chère? Then again, maybe I’m thinkin’ the encore should be more outstandin’ than the original performance, ‘specially when that was a might rough around the edges? I have to show you my entire repertoire before you can make a proper judgment on whether or not I’m as good as I think I am.”

  Sylvie chuckled. “Now how am I supposed to prove you’re as good as you think you are?”

  His eyes gleamed. He shifted upward to capture her lips. “Oh, I’ll know, chère, by the pitch of your song,” he murmured against her lips.

  She was pretty convinced he really did mean business by the time he broke the kiss. She was gasping for breath as he made his way downward purposefully. Already tipsy with the heat scouring her, she thought she was going to come from the assault he launched on her keenly sensitive breasts. Until the moment he caught one tip between his teeth, she hadn’t realized his leisurely caresses had brought her so close to her peak, that he’d warmed her by subtle degrees until he had the blood pounding at every pressure point, had her wound as tightly as a coiled spring.

  She clutched at him, desperate for him to stop one moment before he did make her come and anxious for more the next. A mixture of disappointment and high anticipation filled her when he finally ceased to torment her breasts—and then impatience as he moved lower. “Beau!” she gasped plaintively.

  He ignored the demand, nibbling down her center until he reached her mound. She was so drunk with need by the time he’d tortured the acutely sensitive spot on either side of her mound that she didn’t actually tumble to his goal until she felt the hot, faintly rough texture of his tongue glide along her cleft.

  She arched her back, digging her head into the pillow as a groan tore from her, groping blindly for his head. “No!”

  “Yes.” He pushed her thighs wider in spite of her effort to squeeze them tightly together.

  “I’m going to come!” she said warningly.

  “I know you will, chère,” he said, his voice husky with satisfaction.

  She almost came the moment he began to tease her clit. She fought it with everything she had, clutching feverishly to the thought that she could hold on until he came inside of her. The battle was a short one. He’d driven her so close to climax before he’d begun to pluck at her clit that she was lost before she began to fight it.

  She arched her back, gasping hoarsely as her climax hit her with the force of a supernova, blindingly, shatteringly. She was screaming hoarsely for mercy and bucking like a wild thing before he finally released her clit, freeing her from the most wonderful torment she’d ever imagined.

  He kissed and nuzzled his way upward again, causing her to quake with hard aftershocks. Instead of entering her as she’d expected, however, he settled against her, nuzzling his face against her neck and stirring a rash of goosebumps along her side.

  He sought her lips when she’d finally managed to stop gasping for air. “Better,” he murmured.

  “Mmm?” she murmured weakly.

  “Not quite the tone I was lookin’ for.”

  She opened her eyes with an effort to look at him just as he dipped to capture a nipple in his mouth. A groan escaped her, but even she wasn’t certain whether it was dread or anticipation. Her breasts were almost excruciatingly sensitive. A few moments had her grinding her teeth. “Beau!”

  “Maurice. I think we’re well enough acquainted to be on a first name basis, doan you, chère?”

  “Oh god!”

  “Yes, baby?”

  “Maurice!”

  He poked the mouth of her sex experimentally with the head of his cock. “Is this what you want, chère?”

  Sylvie uttered a growl, sat up, and grasped two handfuls of his ass, pulling at him. “Damn it, Maury!”

  He tsked. “Take care, chère. He’s a timid fellow. He may duck and run if you’re too forceful.”

  She fell back against the bed in f
rustration. The moment she did, he settled lower, captured her mouth in a searing kiss and curled his hips to drive deeper inside of her. She whimpered into his mouth as she felt him spreading her, felt a deep ache flare to life. He set a tempo that reignited the heat of before inside of her, brought her soaring upward toward another peak. She writhed feverishly beneath him, clutching at him, matching his thrusts. The bubble of tension grew inside of her until she was nearly mindless with the need to reach a crescendo, fearful that it would elude her. It burst with a suddenness that took her breath. The moment she sucked in a sharp cry, he began to drive faster, deeper, nurturing the convulsions ripping through her until she was screaming hoarsely with the force of it and when she fell, there was no net to catch her. Blackness engulfed her.

  Beau had a supremely satisfied look on his face when she finally roused enough to pry her eyelids up a fraction. His eyes gleamed. “Was it good for you, chère?” he murmured, amusement dancing in his eyes.

  “Oh god!” Sylvie moaned weakly.

  “I know, chère, but it’s blasphemous to call me a god. Demi-god will do.”

  * * * *

  Sylvie wasn’t certain if Beau—Maurice Michel Beauregard—had been ordered to keep her occupied or if he’d interpreted his watch duty to include entertainment, but he kept her well occupied. They spent the first day in bed for the most part, dozing, making love, and sometimes merely cuddling together while they exchanged childhood misadventures, achievements, and disappointments. It rained harder the second day than it had the first, but he spent most of it wandering the woods in search of a kill to feed them and she spent most of the day staring glumly out the window at the rain, wishing it would stop, and wondering if Mac and the others had reached the rendezvous point. She knew Beau didn’t wander far. He reappeared periodically to check on her, always with an excuse for why he’d needed to come back—to get firewood inside before all of it was completely soaked, because he’d forgotten to take a bottle of water with him, or he’d thought he’d heard her call him. It was after dark when he finally came back with one of the small wild pigs that seemed abundant in the area. She thought he might not have had to spend the entire day hunting if he hadn’t felt the need to stay so close to keep an eye on her, but she kept her thoughts to herself.