Her Billionaire, Her Wolf--The Novel (A Paranormal Alpha Werewolf Romance)

by Aames, Aimélie

  Sara had settled in to a plush chair that faced the receptionist's desk and had nearly forgotten that she wore a stained shirt in an office she had never seen before and that her very employment was likely hanging by a thread. Except that she believed what he had said--he would make arrangements.

  And Giselle had dutifully left almost immediately after the white shirted man had gone. She had not said a word to Sara, or even looked at her for that matter. Gone for less than a minute, the blond came back and acted as though Sara did not even exist.

  Sara did not mind, though. She was used to it. The women in data entry acted as though she were no more substantial than a mildly disagreeable perfume, wrinkling their noses ever so slightly at her passage, then forgetting her entirely as she gained her cubicle.

  The telephone chimed quietly and the blond woman picked up, listened without saying anything, then got up smoothly from her desk and stepped out of the room as she had done thirty minutes earlier. And, as before, she returned just as quickly, only this time she carried a white, cardboard box.

  And as with the women in Sara's office, Giselle's face was downturned as if she was obliged to a disagreeable task.

  She held the package out to Sara at arm's length and said, "A clean shirt. It is of silk and fitted with black pearl buttons from fresh water mussels."

  Without changing pitch, as if she were reciting a mathematical formula, she continued, "You can change in there."

  The cold, blond woman nodded to an adjacent, darkened room, its door ajar.

  Sara only nodded in response as she took the proffered box and went to the room. What she had taken for a broom closet revealed itself as she flicked the light switch. Instead of housing an assortment of mops and cleaning supplies, she saw a meeting room with a long table lined in chairs running its length.

  She shut the door behind her. The room was windowless and Sara gratefully took off her stained shirt.

  She opened the nondescript white package and what she saw inside took her breath away.

  The shirt was a thing of beauty. The feel of its shimmering texture was like cool water, its black buttons ringed in shining silver. Sara looked closer and saw a grey, nacreous rainbow glimmer in the buttons' color as she held the shirt up. The woman had not lied. They were beautiful pearls and while Sara could not be sure, something told her they were natural and not cultured.

  Which meant that the thin slip of fabric in her hands was worth more than her entire month's pay...probably, far more than that.

  She slipped it on and it felt like she was wearing nothing at all. The waist was gently gathered and the bodice held to her breasts in a very flattering way.

  Giselle has excellent taste, Sara thought as she went back out the door, thinking to thank her.

  But, the look on the blond woman's face was of undisguised distaste as she looked up. Sara's words of thanks died in her throat as Giselle said, "No. I prefer that you wait in there."

  Her tone was dismissive as she returned to her computer screen and Sara understood that it had been exactly that--a dismissal. In a single glance, the blond had sized her up and had decided that she merited not a single thought more.

  Sara returned to the empty meeting room, closing the door quietly behind her.

  She did not mind. She was used to it.

  ~~~

  Her anger had become a slow boil.

  Sara no longer wore a wristwatch. The battery in her last one had died two months earlier and she simply had not taken the time to have it replaced. Never mind the fact that the few dollars it would have cost would hurt more than she would have liked to admit.

  Only now, she wished she had spent the time and the money on a new battery, just so she could be sure she had every right to be furious with the man who had stuck her there.

  The hours had passed and she had done her best to wait patiently.

  Except that the meeting room chairs were far less comfortable than those in the receptionist's office. Ever so quietly, Sara had tried each one, but her bottom still pained her where his fingers had dug in so deeply to her tender flesh and not one of them eased her discomfort when seated.

  At first, the tiniest sound had taken on overblown proportions. The least noise was exaggerated into the stranger's triumphant arrival, back and smiling, ready to sweep Sara off her feet.

  Except that he had not come.

  Except that Sara was tired of waiting for hours while the thread from which her job hung had grown overstretched and thin to the breaking point.

  Except that she knew she no longer had any job to go back to and when she finally gathered the courage to leave this office, in very short order she would find herself outside the Abraxis Industries building and far from the security of steady employment.

  Except that she no longer had any choice but to wait and this, too, was his fault.

  She did not dare look for the strength it would take to hold her chin high and tell the frigid blond on the other side of the door that she would be leaving now and just walk out.

  And her anger heated further as the small sounds of an office building slowly fell still. Those sounds that are felt more than heard, the signs of life that gradually drain away as the worker bees leave in the evening hours, content at last that the day's thousandth battle had been won and the business would live to see the morrow.

  Except that Sara was still there, waiting, and the stubborn patience that had kept her calm the entire afternoon was worn away.

  What started as fine wisps of steam rising upon her temperament had turned to a veritable simmer as the hours passed.

  She strained her ears, listening for anything that might signal an end to her waiting, until, finally, Sara went as quietly as a mouse to the closed door of the meeting room and gently turned the knob.

  What she saw was the receptionist's desk swallowed in shadow and no sign of any smug, self satisfied blonds.

  She was alone.

  The steady simmer of her anger leapt to a roiling boil as she realized what a fool she had been.

  Forgotten. Unneeded. Cast aside as more important things took my place in his gorgeous eyes.

  The feeling of being special, of filling his regard with such intensity as he looked at her, only her, slipped like a hand into an all too familiar glove of bitterness.

  Of course. I should have known better.

  There was a sound and then the elevator doors slid open revealing the silhouette of a man, his gaze downturned as he flipped stapled pages in his hands.

  Without looking up, he stepped into the dimmed room and Sara marched directly into his path.

  What was I thinking?

  All thoughts of gratitude were gone. That he had come to her rescue in the restaurant, that he would make arrangements for her job...a new, exquisite silk shirt....

  None of it mattered any more as she stood in his way, burning with red rage.

  "Who in the hell do you think you are?" she said, wishing she could have shouted the words loudly enough to shatter the windows.

  Then, instead of raising her voice, her hand arced up in the shadows. It was slow, yet not, passing through the air as quick as an adder's strike, yet time had stilled in the near darkness and it was as though the air was as thick as syrup.

  Rather than slapping him hard across the face, Sara felt her wrist entrapped in an iron fist.

  And absurdly, she wondered what was written on the pages that drifted down to alight upon her feet while the shock of his viselike grip still vibrated down her arm.

  The beautiful lanterns of his eyes locked on to her own as he said, "Do you not know? Do you really not know?"

  His voice was calm, but his tone was glacial.

  Careful...you're on thin ice.

  "I have no idea who you are," she said, then bit back the rest of what she wanted to say as his eyes softened.

  "Then look at me," he said, his voice as calm as ever, "Right now, look at me and tell me who you think I am. The truth. All of it."

/>   Sara took a breath, then said, "You tell people what to do. You are so used to doing it, that you don't notice anymore."

  He stepped closer to her and the hand holding her wrist did not let go.

  "You're arrogant. You think you're entitled."

  Another half step closer as he pulled her hand to his chest, forcing her palm against him. Forcing her to feel him.

  There are cracks under your feet.

  "You think you own people."

  His other hand went to her shoulder and Sara could feel the strong beat of his heart under her palm.

  "And, you are brave. You step in when you see someone in trouble."

  Then he touched the side of her neck and Sara's breath came more deeply.

  "You are a knight. You saved me...."

  Pinned in the amber lights of his eyes, Sara knew that it was already too late, the uncertain footing she walked upon had turned to water as she felt herself drowning in his beautiful gaze.

  He bent down to her, his lips soft against her own, searching for truths other than her words.

  She pulled back from him, just enough to speak, her own lips brushing his as she said, "But, that doesn't give you the right."

  His mouth captured hers once more. Warm and velvety. She felt the light rough of a day old beard rasp gently against her skin as she kissed him back.

  "You don't own me," she said, breaking away only to sigh as his hands slid down her sides, then back up again as he cupped both breasts. Strong thumbs drifted across the nipples studding her blouse, swelling even more under his touch.

  "I told you I would give you cause for regret. Now, I shall give you reason for pleasure.”

  His voice was delicious in her ears, like warm honey as he continued, “And I can promise you that it will not be the last time, not for one nor the other.”

  Hands that could have crushed the bones of her wrist to powder only seconds before roamed freely upon her body. Strong fingers undid delicate pearl buttons.

  "Turn around...now."

  Sara pivoted to turn her back to him and then felt him once more as he pressed himself against her.

  Oh, he is so hot.

  Hard muscles made themselves felt as he reached around her, his arms encircling her while his member felt huge against her bottom.

  “Through meetings and conference calls without end, I thought of you,” he murmured in her ear, then bent down to the side of her neck, nipping lightly at her skin as he did it.

  “Your scent...your taste.”

  His mouth was upon her shoulder and Sara hissed as he bit down upon her skin. Enough to hurt, yet not enough to draw blood.

  Then, he drew back from her and with his hands upon her shoulders, he guided her to Giselle’s desk.

  “Place your hands upon the desktop.”

  Sara bent down and put her palms flat upon the smooth surface. She knew her bottom was filling his gaze in that moment and the thought of it made her even hotter.

  What is he doing to me? I’m not like this.

  Except that maybe she was. Her lunchtime obsession was standing behind her, no doubt admiring her body and all Sara could think of was that she was caught in a daydream. That at any moment she would startle and find herself gazing dreamily past liquor bottles into the mirror where the man of her dreams was to be found.

  But, no, he’s right behind you, getting ready to do...things...to you.

  And she wanted it. So very much.

  “Wider. Spread your hands farther apart.”

  His voice had taken on a gruff tone, as if the moment had caught him up as much as Sara. She set her hands wide apart, the effect being that she was bent over deeply upon the desktop.

  Then it hit her. Once again the scents of a pine forest, rich and wild, filled her nose. It was like walking among thick trees, deep under a canopy that held all in shadow even on the brightest day. Like the odors of soft soil giving way underfoot, black and humid after a spring rain.

  Sara could have heard birds singing, or frogs croaking, and it would not have surprised her. The wilderness had surrounded them and, as before, she felt a handkerchief cover her eyes to be knotted behind her head.

  The man whose name she did not know growled behind her and in that sound she heard undisguised lust. She heard animal desire.

  And she wanted him.

  Her panties were soaking through with the need that blazed like fire between her legs. Then she felt her skirt being slid upward before fingers found the boundaries of her underwear, hooking in hard and stripping them down.

  Sara moaned. She could not help it. Without meaning to, her hips shifted back, her legs spreading wide. Her very body cried out to be taken as she felt him lean against her once more.

  My God, his body must be incredible.

  Anywhere his skin made contact with her, she felt thick, corded muscles rippling with each of his movements.

  Whoever he was, he was a man who went far beyond just taking care of himself. The intensity she saw in his eyes apparently carried over to every aspect of his life. And in an epiphany, Sara understood it was his fundamental truth.

  This was a man of extremes, of intensity that defined his every thought, and in this exact moment, she was the center of his focus. All that mattered.

  She was, for just a short time, all he wanted.

  “You have no idea what you do to me,” he said, and once more Sara heard how deep his voice had become.

  Then, she felt him come up against her bottom and at the same time dip down low before lifting up again.

  She cried out.

  His cock was as enormous as she had thought earlier, only now it was between her legs. Not inside, but rather against her folds, sliding from behind against the wet of her desire.

  Hard fingers seized her hips as he slid through her folds before pulling slowly back to do it again and again.

  Sara panted with ecstasy. His member was riding through her lips and up against her apex in a way that burned like fire, but stoked her passion higher with each pass.

  “Please...please,” she panted, “Take me.

  “I’m ready.”

  Suddenly her head was jerked back hard as he took a fistful of her hair and pulled.

  “I decide when,” he said. The voice that had been only gruff a moment before was now guttural with heavy desire.

  He rocked in hard against her and pulled back once more in a delicious stroke that threatened to send her over the edge.

  Then, he hesitated. She could feel him, his length ready to slide forward again, then abruptly he shifted and in a full, powerful stroke he entered her, filling her as deeply as she had ever been.

  Oh...my...God....

  He pistoned back and then slammed forward hard enough to cause Sara’s hands to slide upon the desktop. His hand was still in her hair and she could see him in her mind’s eye, chiseled like a classical sculpture, mastering her with his extraordinary strength. Bewitching her with the beauty of his eyes.

  One more thrust and Sara felt herself clench in hard around him. There was none of the usual slow build up of tension as she felt an orgasm coming on. There was no warning...there were only muscles that convulsed deep in her abdomen while pleasure exploded behind her blindfolded eyes.

  He rode her, pounding into her, and as the sweat streamed down to drip from her nose, Sara was glad for every minuscule event in her life that had somehow led to this very moment.

  Again, her core rippled hard with pleasure, then she felt him become huge, swelling inside her.

  Without warning, he was outside of her, his cock slipping forward through the folds of her cleft. Desperate for him, Sara reached back to seize him in her hand.

  Together, they bucked wildly and then all thought drained away as he arched in hard against her. The muscles in his abdomen flexed as he convulsed in an orgasm that Sara felt to her toes.

  And, for the third time, her core pulsed with pleasure near to pain before turning to a shuddering of flesh that took her o
ut of time and out of mind.

  She only knew that she held the most magnificent man ever created in her hand as she rocked against him again and again until her apex slipped over the threshold of pain.

  After a long moment, Sara released him, bracing herself against the desk. The only sound was that of their breathing as both took in deep gulps of air.

  He drew back from her. She felt cool air come to replace the heat of his body against her back. Her legs trembled in aftershocks that fluttered like ghosts reaching up and behind her navel.

  Sara did not move, suddenly aware that she had gone against his command to leave her hands upon the desk.

  That breach may have been her last.

  She stayed where she was as she heard him moving behind her. Then heard him walk quietly away.

  What do I do now? Is it over? Did I ruin everything?

  Then soft footsteps announced his return.

  Slowly, he undid the knot holding the handkerchief in place.

  “Don’t move,” he said and she thought she heard something more in his tone.

  Then, she felt a soft, dampened cloth slip gently down her spine. He wiped at her skin slowly, ever so slowly, then worked his way down her body, to the backs of her legs, the insides of her thighs.

  His hands went to her shoulders and he gently lifted her up, turning her to face him.

  “Sara, I am fevered for you,” he said.

  His eyes searched her face, looking for some reaction, but she held her tongue while she turned his words over in her mind.

  I never told him my name....

  “Who are you?” she said, at last. “You think you have me all figured out, don’t you, yet I still don’t know who you are.”

  His lips turned up in the half smile that she was learning to recognize. The same half smile that was beginning to find its way into her heart.

  “You know all there is to know about me. All that matters, anyway.”

  She bit her lip, suddenly feeling self conscious standing in front of him with her shirt undone and her skirt still up over her hips.

  Sara scanned the floor, but there was no sign of her panties. She turned away from him slightly as she pulled her skirt back down into place before reaching up to button her shirt.