The kiss was endless, stealing her breath and ramping up her heart rate. When finally he lifted his mouth from hers, she felt as if a tornado had struck her and left her still swirling in its wake.
“Is that what you’re afraid of, Alexa?” His voice didn’t sound any steadier than she felt. “Time to stop being scared. I want you, and I know you want me. What are you running away from?”
Oh, God, Jesse, if you only knew. You’d be the one running.
But her feet wouldn’t move and her mouth wouldn’t work. She could do nothing more than stand there, immobile, silently begging for more. And he was about to give it to her.
“Which way?” he asked, lifting her in his arms.
She was confused. “For what?”
“Your bedroom, darlin’. For what I want to do, we really need a bed.”
A tiny puff of breath escaped her lips. How had this gotten this far out of control so quickly? “Last door down the hall.”
Reaching to pick up his wallet, he carried her to her room with long strides. She barely had time to draw a breath before he had her robe untied and on the floor. His eyes darkened almost to chocolate as he raked them over her nude body.
“Magnificent,” he breathed. “But then I knew you would be.”
He cupped her breasts with his large, warm hands, weighing their fullness, squeezing them gently. When the pads of his thumbs rasped over her already sensitive nipples, she couldn’t help but gasp.
“Like that, do you? How about this?”
He bent his head to capture a breast in his mouth. His tongue pressed the nipple against the roof of his mouth. One hand molded to her other breast, pinching that nipple in a steady rhythm.
Alexa’s legs trembled and her knees wobbled. She was glad when Jesse carried her to the bed. His mouth still sucked her breast. Teeth gently nipped at the tip, followed by his tongue soothing the bite places. His hand continued to pull and tug on her other nipple.
She hadn’t thought her pussy could release more liquid but she felt slick and wet. She was hot everywhere. If he didn’t touch her there soon, she’d scream. She arched her pelvis and pressed her hips against him, urging him to do something. Anything.
“Don’t make me rush this,” he whispered, his mouth now at her ear. His tongue traced the delicate line of the shell. “I’ve waited too long.”
His lips drew a pattern down the side of her neck to the sensitive spot where it met her shoulder. Again, he placed tiny bites on her soft skin. With maddening slowness, he trailed his mouth over each breast, between the valley separating them, and down over her stomach. He paused in his journey to give proper attention to her navel.
Then he was kneeling between her thighs, her legs resting on his shoulders. His thumbs parted her labia, slick with her own cream. His tongue was an instrument of torture, stroking from her throbbing vagina to the swollen knot of her clit. Her body jerked under the lash of his tongue while his thumbs opened her wider to the assault of his mouth.
Her body felt hot, her skin stretched far too tight. This was beyond anything she could have imagined.
“Easy, darlin’,” he crooned and nipped gently at her clit.
His tongue continued its broad strokes the length of her sex, denying her its entry into her waiting hot channel. When he finally stabbed it into the slick flesh, a tiny cry escaped her lips and she fisted the bedclothes.
His tongue moved in and out of her greedy cunt, her hot muscles grasping at it, clenching, desperate to hold it inside her. She tried to close her thighs to squeeze him inside but his broad shoulders held her legs far apart.
The coil of need inside her wound tighter and tighter as he relentlessly pushed her up the spiral. Higher and higher he took her, toward the ultimate explosion. His tongue fucked her in a steady rhythm while his clever fingers tormented her clit and pinched her labia.
“Please,” she begged. “I want you inside me. Please, please, Jesse. Please.”
One hand drifted lower and the fingers teased at the tight rim of her anus. “This is where I want my cock, Alexa, if you’re willing. This is what I’ve dreamed about.”
He was going to fuck her in the ass. Every animal instinct inside her roared to life, and, unbelievably, her need escalated.
“Yes,” she moaned. “Do it. I want you to.”
Moving her so her legs were pushed back almost to her shoulders, his hands separated the globes of her ass. His tongue lapped at her anus. Then two fingers slid inside her hot, grasping vaginal sheath, scooping out her fluids and spreading them over the tiny anal rosette. One finger pushed against the tight ring of muscle, easing inside.
When he was in to the knuckle, he forced another finger in beside it and began a scissoring motion.
At first, she felt an almost painful fullness and a burning sensation in her tissues. But the more he stretched her, the better it felt. Every nerve in her body seemed to be firing at once.
“Oh God,” she moaned. “Do it now.”
With swift motions, he pulled a foil packet from his wallet, ripped it open with his teeth, and sheathed himself. Then he positioned himself over her. His breathing was unsteady.
“Here we go, darlin’. Get ready to feel me in that tight little ass of yours.”
The broad head of his cock pressed against her anus. His hips flexed and slowly, one tiny bit at a time, he pushed himself inside her. When the head popped in past the ring of muscle, he began to stroke her clit again, driving her higher.
All her pulses throbbed and fluid gushed from her cunt as Jesse’s cock continued to press into her rectum.
And then he was in, all the way. He leaned over her, balancing himself on one hand while the other continued to stroke her screaming sex. With a deep breath, he began to move his hips, stroking in and out of her. Peering up through slitted eyes, she saw the sweat coating his face and the tightness of his jaw as he fought for control.
“Let go, Jesse,” she rasped. “Do it now. Now!”
“Not until you’re ready,” he spat out through clenched teeth.
“I’m ready,” she cried, her hips moving with his. “Please.”
“All right, then.”
He increased the pace of his rhythm. Then, with one final pinch of her clit, he thrust her into her orgasm as his own overtook him.
On and on it went, shudders racking her body until she thought her bones would break apart. Above her, she felt Jesse shake with spasm after spasm. At last, as his tremors subsided, he collapsed on her and held her through the aftershocks.
After a long time, he lifted his head and feathered kisses over her face. His eyes searched hers intently. “Please tell me you’re not sorry.”
How could she be sorry about something so incredibly wonderful? The realization of her fantasies was even better than the dreams themselves. “I’m not sorry.”
Relief smoothed out the worry lines on his face.
“But you must be exhausted. You finished your shift and you need some sleep.” She couldn’t help the little grin that turned up her mouth. “You only came over here for your key, remember?”
“I think I really came over here hoping to get more than that.” He traced the edges of her lips with his tongue. “Darlin’, you’ve been driving me crazy for too long. You couldn’t get me to go to sleep now unless you knocked me out.”
He slid his penis slowly from her and lowered her legs with great care. “Give me a minute to clean up and catch my breath. We aren’t finished for the night. Not when I’ve waited this long for it.”
She watched the flex of muscles in his exquisite ass as he walked toward her bathroom. Her body still limp from her incredible climax, she realized what big trouble she was in.
She still harbored a natural desire to protect him from the dangers he faced each day, but now something had been added. In giving him her body, she’d cracked open the wall she’d built around her heart. But Jesse Farrell would never, ever knowingly want to mate with a shifter. And she couldn’t bear the
thought of the revulsion she’d see in his face if she revealed herself.
What should she do now?
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Mating Dance by Merryn Dexter
Chapter One
Rain battered the windshield as Sander Burrows forced the beaten sedan too fast around the corner. The wipers were shot and the scrape of rubber against glass tortured his sensitive ears. Mickey Sullivan, his partner for the past two years, braced himself against the side window as he swigged the cold dregs of a cup of takeout coffee.
“Jesus, Lashes! We’ll be no good to the kid if we end up in a fender bender.”
Sander grunted in apology but didn’t ease up on the gas. Mickey was right, but the details of the 911 call had turned his guts to acid. The first responders were ahead of them, but the system notified the taskforce of incidents in the neighborhood.
The “shots fired” report came from a block Sander knew well. He’d spent a lot of time there, both on and off duty, trying to get Nick Warren back on track. A good kid, like most he dealt with, who’d gone off the rails after his father died. Seeking a masculine role model in the wrong place, Nick had ended up a runner for a mid-level dealer. It wasn’t just about the money it put in his pocket although Nick peddled a self-persuasive “it helps my mom and my sister” line of justification.
Sander had never argued with him on that point. Instead, he kept his message to the kid simple—be honest with himself. Being in the gang gave Nick a sense of purpose, of brotherhood—something Sander could appreciate, having been born into a pack. The key lay in getting the kid to recognize it took more courage to leave a group run by a bad leader than it did to stay.
Sander’s brother Stefan had shown such courage, fleeing with his family when their mad alpha brought the pack into violent disarray. Guilt still gnawed Sander’s conscience. Youthful wanderlust meant he hadn’t been there to defend his niece from a madman’s predations. The same guilt kept him away still in spite of his family’s pleas to come home. They had returned to Los Lobos, the hometown he had left at twenty-two, feeling trapped. Magnum was dead and his son, Drew, continued to prove his worth as the alpha the Tao Pack needed.
Flashing blue and red lights blurred by the relentless downpour pulled Sander back to the present, and he slammed the car to the curb just before the taped-off cordon. He could hear Mickey panting in his wake as he showed his badge to the bored-looking patrolman. Hitting full speed, he ducked under the yellow tape and ran for the dreary, gray apartment building. A young kid, barely old enough to wear his dark-blue uniform stood nervously outside the door. Rain dripped off the brim of his hat, and he looked cold and scared as Sander stopped to show his ID again. Scared could get him killed. He paused.
“Take your hand off your holster, son,” he growled. “Don’t put your hand near that goddamn thing unless you intend to use it.” Everything inside screamed at him to hurry, to get to the fourth-floor apartment and check on Nick, but the rookie spoke to every protective urge of a natural dominant.
“Go, Lashes. I’ll sort this out.” Mickey’s out-of-breath words released the self-imposed trap, and Sander slammed through the door, hitting the first-floor landing with a leap no human could achieve. Fear over what he would discover made him reckless, and he clamped down, wresting control back from his wolf. The wolf viewed Nick and his family as theirs, a substitute for the family they couldn’t be there to protect. Failure was a drumbeat, throbbing in time with the vein pulsing in his temple, echoing in every step as he climbed higher.
The fourth-floor corridor lay empty, the iron tang of blood hit his nose, and a keening sob stung his ears as he hurtled toward apartment 4G. The scarred white door stood ajar, a taunting reminder of all the times he’d passed through it in happier circumstances. He paused, bracing against the frame as he once again battled his wolf’s aggression. His palm came away sticky, the smear of blood a precursor to the horror awaiting him.
The sight of the shabby brown carpet pulled him up short. Wet boot prints and other darker, viscous things marred the usually spotless surface. Angie won’t like the mess. A ridiculous thought. Nick’s house-proud mother had a damn sight more to worry about than dirty carpet. He scanned the room, his mind cataloguing the scene with the automatic detachment he’d developed after thirty-five years as a cop.
Good genes could explain away his youthful appearance for only so long then he moved on. Louisville was the third city he’d lived and worked in, fudging his age and records each time. He’d chosen it because he could drive an hour in any direction and be deep in a state forest or park. The guys from his precinct already teased him about his good looks, “Lashes” a reference to his pretty gray eyes framed by long dark eyelashes. He’d stayed too long this time; the desperate need to save kids like Nick had kept him lingering months past his set date to move.
His gaze skipped again and again to the little hand, so white against the dark blood soaking into the carpet beneath it. The keening voice of a mother in agony rose and fell before cutting off. Forcing his attention toward Angie, he stepped back under the force of the hatred flashing in her eyes. She rose on shaking legs, chest rising and falling in a rapid cadence as she tried to control her sobs enough to speak.
“Get out of my home.” The waves of pain rolling across the room almost dropped him to his knees. Her ponytail hung askew, eyeliner smeared across her red cheeks like a ruin as she raised a shaking finger in his direction. “You. You did this!” The accusation knifed his heart, and he fought the urge to throw back his head and howl his anguish to the ceiling. The wolf bayed for blood and revenge, but the human part of Sander knew the triggerman would be another kid. Just like the one curled protectively around his sister’s body. Another victim of the harsh reality of living in this part of town.
He raised his hand in supplication, reaching over the fallen bodies of Nick and his little sister as he appealed to the broken woman. For what, he didn’t know. For forgiveness? Fuck that, she has every right to her anger. He dropped his hand to his side and forced himself to stare at the dead children before him. Whatever his intentions, he’d caused this.
With a single, silent nod, Sander turned and left the room, Angie’s rising sobs battering his soul. The road to hell was paved with such things and he was bone-tired. Trudging down the corridor, he took out his cell phone and pressed a couple of keys. The smell of iron filled his nose, and he switched out the handset to his left. He studied the drying blood on his right palm as his last connection to sanity buzzed once, twice, three times before the laughing tones of his beloved sister-in-law pulled him back from the edge.
“Sander! Hello you gorgeous thing. You called just in time. Your little brother is being insufferable and I am all set to leave him.” Her voice faded as if she turned away from the mouthpiece. “Stefan, it’s your brother, and he’s promised to whisk me away from this life of misery you subject me to.”
The affection in her voice quite belied her words, and Sander smiled as he pictured Marjorie, red bobbed hair swinging, green eyes sparkling as she teased her mate. A smacking sound followed by a squeal and an outraged laugh narrowed the miles separating him from the truth he’d been ignoring for far too long.
“I need to come home, Margie.” His voice, husky with unshed tears, betrayed his fraying emotions as he shoved his way out of the apartment building. On the ground, he pushed past his partner, the kid, the flashing lights. All of it. His feet pounded on the slick pavement, duster raincoat billowing behind him as he ran hard. Ran toward what he needed—family, pack, the rolling majesty of the Black Hills.
Her gentle response offered a balm to his tattered soul. “We’re here, Sander. We’re here and we need you to come home, too.”
***
Four weeks later
The month since his return to Los Lobos had passed in a blur of activity. Stefan and Marjorie threw him in at the deep end, keeping him so busy he
fell asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow. It didn’t stop the nightmares waking him, more often than not in a pool of sweat and regret, but it kept him from brooding too much during the day. It was impossible to keep a secret in a houseful of wolves. If the screams weren’t enough, the sour reek of sweat on his sheets would be. The family chose not to mention them, and he chose to be grateful for their discretion.
Following the destruction of the barn, the former meeting place and source of so many painful memories, Drew had commissioned Stefan to construct a new function hall for the pack. Ross Luparell and his team helped draw the plans while Sander had been roped in as heavy labor. Good honest work, and it seemed important to demonstrate his commitment to assisting the pack in achieving its goals after so long away. A hard, brief conversation with Ryker, the pack enforcer, followed by a longer, no less tough one with Drew made it clear they expected everyone to contribute.
Recent events had tightened security, and no one rejoined the pack without being questioned. Sander’s past among the humans as well as his familial connection helped to ease his return, but he needed to prove he could be trusted. Single males were subject to close scrutiny following the terrible events over the winter and without Stefan’s support it would have been more of a challenge to fit in.
Rolling his shoulders to ease the ache in his back, Sander lifted the thick protective goggles onto his forehead and wiped the sweat from his brow with the bottom of his T-shirt. He paused to flip his middle finger at his nephew Caleb when he whistled in admiration.
“Nice tone, Unc! Don’t let Hannah see or I’ll have some competition.”
Sander snorted and cuffed Caleb before slinging an arm around his shoulders. He was such a good man, a son any father would be proud of, and his utter adoration for his mate was returned wholeheartedly.
“Come on now, Caleb. You know there’s only one female for me. We may have just met, but she owns me heart and soul. I’m looking forward to our hot date tonight.” His nephew’s laughing agreement almost covered the sound of rustling behind him. Sander turned, studying the bushes dotting the edge of the clearing, trying to locate the movement.
Silver Moon (Hot Moon Rising #6) Page 12
