What's New, Pussycat? (Wolf Mates Book 2)

by Dakota Cassidy

  “Okay. So first, promise me you’ll always use your nose, Martine. Paranormals like us live and die by the scent of others. You’ll get used to it if you do it more often. I know you’re a paranormal hater, but if you’ve got it, and it can save you from a bad situation, do it. There’s no damn excuse not to. If you smell Escobar, get the hell away from him.”

  “Promise.”

  He nodded his approval. “Good. Second, I say we figure out what to do next, starting with having someone with you at all times.”

  She scoffed, making a face at him. “That’s ridiculous. I don’t need a babysitter and I don’t want to inconvenience anyone. You all have lives to lead.”

  “Listen, let me be blunt. You’re doing me the favor, Martine. In return, I’m not going to let anything happen to you. Clear?”

  She smiled then, as though she were surprised. “I get it. Protect the death-sex mate at all costs.”

  Standing and pulling her hand, he hauled Martine out of her chair, molding her body to his. “It’s not just that, Martine. Stop diminishing it because feeling things is uncomfortable for you.”

  Said the pot to the kettle…

  Her giggle made his gut clench. He liked when she laughed. He liked when she smiled. He liked. “I don’t like that weird thing beating hard in my chest when someone’s nice to me. What is it called again?”

  Derrick traced a finger along her neck, loving the purr slipping from her throat. “I hear it’s called a heart, but that could just be a rumor. So, another confession.”

  Letting her hips mold to his, she looked up at him. “Go.”

  “When you disappeared the other night, I called Nat to help me figure out what to do. She asked if you’d used my laptop. We looked up your search history in the hopes of finding a clue as to where you’d disappeared.”

  Martine stiffened only momentarily before she said, “So you know about the shambles my life is in, and how popular I am on Facebook these days.”

  “Yeah. They were pretty harsh, huh? Especially that Lilly. Wow, she’s pissed.”

  “Do you blame her? I stiffed nearly everyone I’ve ever done business with.”

  “Well, you didn’t. It wasn’t exactly your fault, Martine.”

  “No. It was a warlock’s fault. I suppose I should just tell all my vendors and employees and clients that, right? All those humans will totally understand I was kidnapped and held captive by magic. It’ll be almost as good a story as the one where the aliens took me to their mother ship.”

  He held her tighter, splaying his hand over her ass, forcing himself to concentrate, to reassure her. “Point taken, and I’m sorry. You lost everything, didn’t you?”

  Her answer was to press her face to his shoulder, to look away. “Bah. It’s nothing I can’t regain. I mean, I’ll have to assume an alias, maybe cut off all my hair and dye it—”

  “Don’t you dare cut your hair off,” he ordered, grabbing a fistful and tilting her head back. He liked it long, falling over her shoulders and down her back. He liked when it trailed over his stomach when she put her glossy mouth around his cock.

  “That’s not ownership I hear in your tone, is it, Farm Boy?” she teased.

  Was it? Damn it. “The hell you say, Pussycat. That was fashion advice. Long hair suits you. The color suits you, too.” Yeah.

  She smirked at him before returning her cheek to his shoulder and wrapping her arms around his waist.

  “Maybe it’s time to consider a change in your life plan.” What the fuck was he saying?

  “I don’t get what you mean?”

  “You could always start over here. It’s safe as long as I’m around, and Cedar Glen could always use a wedding/party-planning business. God knows the mate happens often enough. Someone’s always celebrating something.”

  “But Cedar Glen isn’t Manhattan.”

  He chuckled against the top of her head, his hand straying to the curve where waist met hip, stroking it. “Nope. It’s better. You can breathe here—see the trees and the sky, smell the sunshine.”

  Smell the sunshine? Jesus, Derrick. Who are you, John Denver? Why the push to keep her here?

  Lifting her head, Martine gazed up at him and wrapped her arms around his neck. “What’s with the brochure-like pitch, Farm Boy? It’s almost like you don’t want to get rid of me when our death-sex is done.”

  He shrugged, as much to convince himself that he was indifferent to where she ended up. “Just figured your old life has hit a bump in the road, what better place to pick up the pieces and start fresh than here? In the interest of our blossoming friendship, I’m throwing out possibilities. Take them or leave them. No skin off my back.”

  Yeah. No skin.

  “But won’t that make things uncomfortable for us—for you? Isn’t everyone going to wonder why your mate’s off living in her own apartment and dating other men?”

  Now he stiffened. Whoa, whoa, whoa. Dating other men? Who the hell would she date?

  And why the fuck do you care, Farm Boy?

  To refrain from pouting like a two-year-old and to avoid being forced to explore his feelings on the subject anymore, he opted to nip this conversation in the bud. “You make a valid point. So let’s table this conversation for another time—maybe after we handle the other stuff, like this Escobar, who’d damn well better hope I don’t get my hands on him. You don’t have to make decisions this second.”

  “Good thing. It’s hard to make viable, important life choices in your nightgown,” she whispered, taking the option for conversation off the table when she used his neck as leverage and hopped up, wrapping her long legs around his waist.

  Now this? This he could get with. Losing himself in her body was an easy way to avoid dealing with how she made him feel things he didn’t want to feel. His cock, already aware of her curves pressed to his body, stiffened almost painfully. Martine did something to him—something new—something he couldn’t stop thinking about whenever they were apart.

  Right now, he wanted more of that something he couldn’t define.

  He plucked at the front of her nightgown, running his tongue over her lower lip, smiling when she shivered and her nipples tightened. “Speaking of nightgowns, isn’t yours uncomfortable?”

  She chuckled that low, husky laugh that left his chest tight and his desire raging and, while still clinging to his waist, lifted her arms up, indicating he should remove the barrier.

  Which he gladly did, admiring her pretty pink nipples and the way they turned upward, making his tongue itch to lick them.

  She slid her arms back around his neck in a loose hold, her eyes sliding closed when he cupped her breasts, thumbing each hard nipple until her head fell back on her neck.

  Her breathing grew choppy, her legs tightening around his waist when she leaned forward and whispered in his ear, “Let’s go make good on our agreement. Now.”

  Derrick grunted his approval, carrying her down the hall to his bedroom, where he dropped her on the bed and she watched him remove his clothes.

  Martine wasn’t shy as her eyes roved over his chest and down to his painfully erect cock. Her uninhibited sexuality turned him on like nothing else, made his mouth water and his pulse race.

  He crawled over her to grab a condom from the nightstand, dropping it on the pillow beside her head before bracketing her hips with his knees.

  Letting his body hover over hers, he entwined their fingers, pulling her arms over her head before taking her lips, capturing them in a kiss so deep, their teeth collided.

  Her nipples scraped his chest as she strained up against him, her tongue lashing back at his as she clung to his hands. The heat from her lush curves emanated upward, searing his body, making his cock tighten and swell until he needed her to touch him. Needed it like he needed to breathe.

  “Touch me,” he grated out, letting her hands go.

  Martine did as he requested, her soft palms skimming his chest, making his nipples pucker, grazing his arms, rolling over his back, se
nding waves of heat along his spine.

  When she reached between his legs, he hissed his pleasure, fought a yelp of satisfaction as her fingers wrapped around his shaft.

  Derrick bucked with a groan, driving into the tunnel she’d created with her hands as his mouth devoured hers. She urged him up the bed by bracing her hands on his hips, tilting her head to lock eyes with him until his cock neared her mouth.

  Christ, she was beautiful, unashamed of her desire, wanton green eyes staring up at him, her hair splayed around her shoulders. Martine licked her lips before she took him into her mouth with an agonizingly slow, deliberate slide of her tongue.

  He clenched his teeth to keep the roar in his throat from erupting as she bathed him with her wet, warm tongue. Her hands found his balls, tight with need, and cupped them, rolled them gently as she rode his cock with her mouth. His legs tensed and his hips thrust to meet the bob of her head as she took him deeper and deeper. Derrick drove into her mouth, his cock burning with untapped desire, thick and hot, fighting not to come.

  The picture she made as she pleasured him almost drove him as insane as her tongue, and he had to pull from her mouth, wincing at the cool air on his wet shaft. He could have stayed in her mouth forever, but she had places he wanted to explore with his lips and tongue and he couldn’t hold out much longer, with the kind of mind-blowing skill she possessed.

  She whimpered as he pulled away, sliding down her body with his lips, over the slope of her shoulder and down to her full breast, avoiding the tight nipple. Derrick let his tongue savor the underside of it as he teased her soft skin and she writhed beneath him when he began to plant hot kisses along each curve. Martine’s hands wound in his hair, clutching him to her as he captured a nipple and tugged at it with firm pulls, running his tongue over the tip, laving it with long strokes.

  Her long legs wound around him, using them to lever her hips upward toward the cock he wanted to ram into her, but he wasn’t ready to succumb to her tight depths just yet. He needed to taste her slick pussy, inhale the scent he knew waited there for him.

  Her breathing was ragged as he cupped her breasts, bringing them together and bathing each nipple alternately until Martine bucked beneath him, mewling small, breathy sounds of delight when he let go and paved a path of tongue and lips over her firm belly, caressing her rib cage beneath his hands as he went.

  Her scent, spicy and musky, filled his nostrils, making his head spin and his tongue burn to lick her wet flesh. Settling between her thighs, Derrick lifted her legs high and wide, exposing Martine’s flesh to his gaze.

  He closed his eyes as the sight of her, the sheer power of his lust making his gut clench and his body quake with need. He gripped her knees in order to regain control before running his hands over the silken expanse of her thighs, tracing a pattern of heated caresses. Derrick let his hands swoop down and rest between her legs, savoring the heat of her smoothly shaven pussy.

  Martine’s impatience became evident from the grip she had on his wrists, her hands small in comparison to his own, her skin a stark contrast of ivory against his own olive complexion. Lifting her hips, she offered herself to him with a raspy sigh, forcing him to lean forward and inhale, devouring her hunger as he dipped an urgent tongue between the slick lips of her core.

  Derrick heard her hiss and inhale sharply, her belly caving beneath his hands as he delved deeper, tasting the essence of her pussy. Finding her clit, he circled it with slow deliberation, wrapping his lips around the swollen nub, flitting his tongue across it.

  Martine’s hips rotated beneath his lips, lunging forward when his finger slid into her, gripping it as she clenched her muscles, her depths hot and slick, the taste of her sending a bolt of electricity from his mouth to his cock.

  Impatient hands yanked at his shoulders, digging into the flesh as Martine drew him away and up to her again. As he hovered over her, she opened her eyes and snaked her tongue out across his lips, tasting herself and purring with satisfaction.

  Sliding a hand under her back, he rolled Martine to her stomach, leaning forward to kiss the length of her spine. She immediately lifted her perfect ass in the air, ready to accept him, slithering the upper half of her body to lay low on the bed.

  Derrick fought not to tear into her, his cock raging, pulsing with need, his eyes drinking in her creamy skin. He dug for the condom, slipping it on before his hands found the smooth globes of her ass, round and firm. He squeezed them, smiling when Martine responded with a low, husky moan.

  Derrick positioned himself between her thighs and swallowed hard. Thinking it wouldn’t do to take her with the abandon he struggled to contain.

  Until he heard her whisper, “Fuck me, Derrick, hard.”

  That was it— he couldn’t stop now if he wanted to. His cock paused at her entrance only for a moment before he drove into her, hard and hot. Martine was slick and tight, so wet, he fought to keep himself in check.

  She gasped from the force of his thrust, but when he hesitated, she hissed again. “Don’t stop,” she whimpered, harsh and low.

  Lights flashed behind his closed eyes as he gritted his teeth and rode her relentlessly, pushing into the silk that clenched his swollen shaft with a frantic rhythm. Each stroke he took, she matched, driving back against him with a strength he’d never guessed she possessed, but she took each thrust with pleasure, tightening her small hands into fists beside her head when he reached around her and stroked her clit.

  When she bucked against him uncontrollably, lifting her luscious ass high, he totally lost it, his climax roaring through him from the base of his cock, shooting upward, tearing into him with white-hot heat.

  Martine shuddered, the slap of their flesh echoing in his ears as she came, gripping the blankets. His yell of completion echoed off the walls of his bedroom as he continued growling his release, pumping into Martine until he knew she was spent too.

  Her legs collapsed beneath her and he fell forward on top of her, her smaller body heaving against his larger one.

  Then she nestled against him, rendering him as speechless as he’d been since they’d first made love in a dream. It was the most incredible lovemaking he’d ever encountered, bar none.

  Derrick tucked his arm beneath her, hauling her close, inhaling the scent of her hair and trying to process the intensity of this driving need to keep her close, to show her that not everyone had to be a disappointment.

  That she didn’t have to be alone.

  She could be safe.

  She could be loved.

  Chapter Twelve

  Almost a week and a half had passed since she and Derrick had found a semblance of a routine, and since that stranger had snatched her up in the woods.

  They made dinner together, watched TV together, did crossword puzzles, talked about all sorts of things, and made more amazing love every night.

  They’d found a comfortable place—were they shared everything and nothing, because the expectation of a relationship, all the little things you held back when you wanted to impress someone, were unnecessary.

  She wasn’t afraid to show her displeasure when Derrick dropped his towel on the floor every morning after a shower and simply left it there, soggy and rumpled. Though, he had shown her how delicious it could be when he picked it up and wrapped her in it, pulling her close and giving her a searing kiss.

  Derrick wasn’t hindered either—he’d very loudly expressed his dislike of her spaghetti sauce, claiming it lacked his special ingredient. After which she’d flicked a spoonful of it at him, then licked it off his lips, leading to more incredible lovemaking on the kitchen floor while her sauce burned. He’d bought her dinner at the local diner to make up for it.

  They’d bonded over not bonding. Their words with each other were honest and sometimes raw. Their opinions uncensored—they were naked in the purest sense.

  And as each day passed, Martine found herself watching him when he wasn’t looking, not just because he was beautiful to look at, but because everyt
hing he did, he did well. He did it with purpose, and when it came to his family, he did it with so much love, her heart had almost exploded a time or two.

  Like Jerry, who’d offered to keep her safe when she wanted to leave the house. Derrick hugged him every day, unashamed to show his appreciation. And Hector, whom he’d sworn off eating bunnies for, or Max, who he religiously had coffee with every morning at the bar.

  She and Jerry walked together every morning now, and she found each day she looked forward to their time together more than the last. The quiet of the morning, the crunch of snow beneath their feet, the freezing air stinging her lungs were all welcome things.

  Things she’d miss when she had to leave. Things she was discovering didn’t smother her, but filled her up. Way up.

  Usually she and Jerry chatted about all sorts of subjects on their walks, but this morning her mind was elsewhere.

  Yep. It’s on that vacant storefront you saw yesterday when you went in to drop a sandwich off to Derrick for his lunch.

  She couldn’t help but smile when she remembered his grin of surprise the first time she’d made him lunch, carefully packing it up in a cooler.

  He’d dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose in gratitude before he’d gone off to handle some tussle between Morris Polanski and another vampire, playfully arguing over the pool table.

  That gesture, one he’d repeated every day since, was the reason she made him more sandwiches.

  She’d fought that notion—fought it hard until she realized his approval, his happiness over stupid pieces of bread and leftover sliced roast beef made by her hands, brought her happiness, too.

  And then there was the empty store, just down the street from the Bar, needing someone to fill it. It would make a great place to reopen a business—a business she was determined to breathe new life into.

  “Penny for them,” Jerry said quietly.

  She smiled, slipping her arm through his. “I was just thinking about the empty store down the street from the bar.”

  Jerry perked up, his sweet eyes alight. “Used to be an antique shop. Belonged to Mortimer Chase, but he gave it up to travel when he hit five hundred. Said he was retiring.”