by Anne Marsh
“Okay?” He actually pauses a heartbeat, waiting for me to give him the green light. How am I supposed to have a serious conversation right now? His thumb rubs back and forth over the too soft curve of my belly and rational thought gives it up to full-blown lust.
“Do it right,” I order because if I’m going all in, I want my reward. I want the mind-blowing, best-ever, biggest orgasm ever delivered by my big, nasty Viking.
“You got it,” he promises.
The man’s in a serious hurry because he doesn’t even strip me down. He just eases my jeans low enough to get at my girl parts and then he drops down. I have one long, glorious second to appreciate the sight of Carr on his knees and then he pulls my panties down, slides his hands beneath my butt, and lifts me to his mouth.
Oh. God. I think I actually squeak, which is embarrassing, but who moves from nice, safe, friendly pats on the back to full-blown oral? And why am I so happy about it? He’s got his face right in my naked pussy and this is way, way too up close and personal for me to be comfortable with his view. What if I smell? What if he starts and then decides he doesn’t like the taste of me? What if…
He blows, lightly, teasingly.
Devastatingly.
Dear God, I forget how to think. His head dips and he licks me, his tongue moving up and down with devastating thoroughness and officially turning me into putty in his big hands. Melted, happy, about-to-come putty.
“Carr.”
“Shhh.” He whisper-growls the command against me, and hell yes, I’ll do whatever he wants as long he keeps tonguing me. He’s eating me out beneath the Christmas tree in the most public part of the keep, and I should be worried about someone coming in and interrupting this but all I do is wriggle, trying to get closer. Pretty sure my real goal is to climb inside him.
He takes his goddamned time, teasing me with long, slow, delicious strokes. His tongue feels so good, deliciously rough and decadently erotic. I’m so hot I’m about to spontaneously combust. I’ve never felt like this, and definitely never with any of the wolves in my pack and it’s only partly because Carr kisses me as if there’s absolutely nothing else he’d rather be doing.
The man knows what he’s doing, pure and simple. He’s clearly either a natural or he’s put in some serious practice time. There’s no way I tell him to stop. Or move. Hell, even breathing suddenly seems like too much of a distraction when there’s just so much Carr to enjoy. I melt backward, my spine giving up the battle to keep me upright. My eyes drift closed because he’s so fucking gorgeous but he’s also making me see sweet, hot stars and the amazing view takes backseat to my urgent need to focus on the sensations tearing through my body. I dig my fingers into his shoulders because a girl has to have something to hold onto and he’s right there where all my attention is focused. He licks and tongues me, my greedy whimpers and the wet, decadent sounds of his kisses filling the air around us. Best Christmas carol ever.
He kisses me like he has something to prove.
He eats me like I’m his present and he’s never tasted anything sweeter.
I’ve heard the Vikings are fierce in battle, indefatigable and bold as hell. Thank Odin that attitude apparently carries over to sex as well. Carr doesn’t quit, doesn’t hold back. Not only does he have only the one speed (the man’s doing ninety on the highway of love) but he goes all in on my pussy, his tongue covering and taking every inch of my sex. He has access to all of me and he’s using it to my full advantage.
That beautiful, shaggy, golden head covers me, his hands touching and cupping. All claims to dignity and restraint shamelessly vanished by the power of his tongue, I grip his head with my thighs, riding his mouth, guiding him where it feels best. And he lets me. Holy fuck, this man actually takes direction. When a particular lick or stroke lights me up and I moan, he does it again. And again and again.
The man is a genius.
He earns the gold star in the oral sex sweepstakes.
He sucks on my lips, then drags his tongue up to circle my clit, making me officially crazy. I thrash and chant his name, broken syllables, and half-commands. Hell, for all I know, I recite the alphabet because he drives me out of my ever-loving mind. His strokes get stronger, the pressure sweeter and more intense. The muscles in my butt clench, my thighs tensing, as I dig in and give it up to the orgasm that explodes through me. He kisses and kisses and I’m soaring, falling, all tangled up in him and these feelings he thinks I need.
He’s wrong. I’m empty, I need someone to fill me up, and he has to know that. Has to feel some small part of what’s sweeping through me. He moves up, focusing his attentions on my clit as I shriek and clutch my way through the most intense orgasm of my life. The world disappears, blurring to the happy rainbow of the Christmas lights and Carr. His mouth, his fingers, his (oh God) teeth. All conspiring to make me fly out of my body with joy.
I collapse in his hold.
A thought floats through my post-orgasmic bliss. I think I might be glowing, damn him. A second, less welcome thought follows.
He’s ruined me for other men.
What a… shitty, horrible, wonderfully awful day.
Oblivious to my internal revelations, Carr gathers me up in his arms. “We all good?”
Carr
Kissing Dee is a mistake.
I mean, I enjoyed the fuck out of our kiss.
I’d like to do it again and some time in the next ten minutes absolutely works for me.
I want to keep her. Make her my long-term girl. Make room in my life for her.
No.
I’m shipping out. I have work to do, missions to lead, bad guys to kill. Life as a mercenary is simple—and there’s no room for a curvy little werewolf, no matter how amazing she tastes. She’s my new favorite meal and I could eat her for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
Besides, the way she blinks up at me is dazed and confused. She’s still blissing after I rocked her world, and when she comes down from that high, she’ll remember all the reasons I’m not the man for her. I’ve read her list after all, and I can’t be her dream man. Can’t be hers in any way. Last time I got too close to someone, I lost control. I learned from that painful experience and I need to remember that lesson now.
So even though Dee’s cute little ass is parked on top of my dick and she’s beaming up at me, her whole face aglow, I’m not sticking my dick in her. This little meeting beneath the Christmas tree is an orgasm for one and I’m not on the invite list.
I put her clothes to rights while she blinks and stammers her way through a thank you and shares her impressions of my bedroom skills (positive, thank you Odin). Covering her up is just self-preservation but then my mouth goes ahead and starts talking without checking in with my brain. “You okay, now?”
Yes, I bring up Ake, the fucking dog. Calder should be done taking out the trash and Ake won’t be back to bother Dee again. Since she doesn’t know that, I tuck and zip and button while she tries to work out an answer to my question.
“You kissed me better.” She still sounds dazed.
“Tried,” I grunt. And then because I have to know, “Did it work?”
She does some more blinking but then the craziest-happy smile spreads across her face. I am so fucked. “Yeah.”
“Good.” I stand up, bringing her with me, and set her gently on her feet. If we sit any longer underneath that tree, I can’t be responsible for my actions. Problem is, I don’t know what to do with her now. It’s not like I can slap her on the ass and send her on her way. Plus, since my dick’s hard enough to punch through the front of my pants, parts of me think we should resume the kissing and move onto other, more depraved sexual acts. Getting inside her tops my fantasy list.
She grabs the front of my shirt and hauls my face closer to hers. “Why are you doing this?”
I tell myself I have plenty of good reasons. Reasons I can share with her that don’t involve all these unwelcome, unwanted feelings she wakes in me. She chews on her lower lip as she waits for my
answer and I wonder if she knows that her fingers are drawing small circles on my chest. She’s touching me and that barely-there touch sends heat shooting through me.
So I go with the truth. “You deserve better than Ake.”
She can’t disagree with me on that one. Ake’s a dick, he’s only interested in one thing (said dick), and he won’t look out for her or protect her. He’s abandoned her, left her high and dry, and then attempted to force himself on her. The bruise on her cheek is just the seal on that wolf’s sentence. He hurt her—and he’ll never do it again.
I tug her into my side, savoring the warmth of her against my skin. She’s colder than she should be. She should be tucked up somewhere warm and safe. I’ll take care of that next. I’m not leaving her here alone in the great hall and I’m not handing her off to someone else who won’t take care of her.
She likes standing on her own two feet, even when those feet are frozen blocks of ice, ankle-deep in snow. She’s stubborn, my Dee.
She needs a distraction.
I whip her notebook out of my back pocket and crack it open. That wakes her up. She demanded the notebook’s return hours ago and I ignored her. I find a blank page and slide the pen out of the tiny spiral binding. It’s not nice to write in her stuff and I’ll bet she’s got some kind of system I’m about to violate six ways to Sunday but she’s not crying anymore. She sucks in a pissed off, indignant breath and I write her name in big, block letters at the top of the page.
I bat her hands away when she makes a grab for the notebook. She’s far too short to win a game of keep away. “Let’s make a new list.”
“What kind of list?”
“Lots of possibilities.” I underline her name. Not gonna draw fucking hearts and clouds around it, but this is important. “We could start with a list of your top ten sexual fantasies.”
She waggles her fingers at me. “You’re looking at fantasies one through ten right here.”
Pretty sure my mouth drops open a little. Fuck me, but she’s fun. “I thought you liked me just a little,” I say roughly. “Or maybe you wanna borrow my fingers?”
“I’ll keep it in mind,” she mutters.
Okay then.
I flip through the pages until I find her list of potential mates and then I draw big, thick black lines through all the names. “No more wolves. No more worrying about what guys want. You worry about what you want—and remember that you have everything to offer. You deserve better.”
She watches me, her gaze following my hands.
“Let’s make a list of all the awesome things about you. Stop focusing on these worthless guys and focus on yourself. I’ll start. “Smart. Humble. Pretty classy. Got an adventurous side and plenty of sass.”
“Keep going,” she yawns sleepily. “I like your list.”
“You like people, which is more than I can say about myself. You’re kind of cute and you go after what you want. We just need to channel that energy in a better direction.”
In my direction.
Dee
The next yawn blindsides me, practically cracking my jaw in half. It’s a tsunami of a yawn and if I wasn’t so tired, I’d be impressed. Go me. But I am tired, the day’s been way too long, and I still haven’t sorted out tonight’s sleeping arrangements. Plus, my body is still humming in the happiest of ways from Carr’s earlier attentions. The man’s weird. First he eats me out then he wants to sit around in the dark scribbling lists on pieces of paper. Just thinking about where his face and his fingers were earlier makes my body tighten, my pussy dampening.
No. Forget that. I’m not damp. I’m drenched, soaked, so painfully, thoroughly aroused that I ache. Stupid. Carr doesn’t want me anymore than Ake did. Hell, he’s already working on my dating profile.
“I’m tired,” I tell him. “I just want to go to sleep.”
“Got it,” he says. Seconds later, he’s lifting me into his arms and we’re headed… somewhere.
“I do have legs,” I point out. Not that carrying me seems to tax him, but it’s the principle of the thing. His only response is a grunt, so I happily shut up and let him do the heavy lifting. I’m half asleep when he shoves open a door and steps into a bedroom.
It’s his room. It has to be. A large, black duffel bag sits by the door. There’s a big, scarred wooden table covered with weapons in front of the fire. And his bed… that bed is large enough to hold most of the pack. Right now, it’s a veritable mountain of pillows and the thickest, fluffiest down comforter I’ve ever seen. Crawling into Carr’s bed and never leaving suddenly sounds like the best idea I’ve ever had.
He looks at the bed. The large, single, solitary bed in the room. “You can stay here tonight. I’ll go bunk down with Vik or Fell. What else do you need?” He looks around the room as if maybe the answer will suggest itself.
You. I need you.
“Company.” I blurt the word out. “I don’t want to be alone.”
He stares at me, silently running a big thumb over my bottom lip.
“I’m a mess, aren’t I?” Figures I have a sexy Viking mere inches away from me and I’m wearing dirt or Christmas tree or eau de Ake on my face. Carr’s pretty down-to-earth, so I don’t think he usually dates supermodels. Maybe slightly chubby werewolves aren’t his thing, either. Maybe what went down under his Christmas tree was a pity fuck Viking style. The pang of disappointment I feel is surprising. I barely know him. He’s terra incognita and he hasn’t invited any voyages of exploration.
So when he leans down and brushes his mouth over mine, I freeze. And when his tongue slicks over my bottom lip, tasting, I moan. He feels so good and it’s been so long since I’ve had good sex. His tongue returns, teasing and coaxing in a determined assault. I open up.
He swings me over his lap, my knees hugging his hips and thighs as if he’s my own personal Viking pony ride. Then he spears his big fingers through my hair and proceeds to kiss the everlasting fuck out of my mouth. He fuses his mouth to mine, sliding his tongue against mine until I’m moaning and wriggling. His hips move restlessly beneath me, pumping his denim-covered cock against my pussy.
Oh hell, yeah.
I plant my hands on his shoulders, burrowing beneath his T-shirt until I can stroke my fingers over his bare skin. Just that little touch feels so good that I lean in, seeking more.
He groans. “You’re killing me. Trying to keep this slow.”
“Why? What’s wrong with fast?”
“Nothing,” he says gruffly. “Just wanted to make it last.”
Oh. Okay.
My shirt comes off first, disappearing somewhere over Carr’s shoulder. My bra is nothing fancy—it’s a practical, comfortable white cotton. Stuff was in short supply in the caves and it’s not like Victoria’s Secret delivers to outer Greenland. Carr sucks in a breath as he uncovers me and I just wish I was… more.
“Look at you.” I sort of wish he wouldn’t. I mean even a Picasso would look kind of dumpy if you stuck it in a plastic frame, and I was no work of art to begin with.
Carr runs his battered knuckles over the curve of my boob. “You’re fucking gorgeous.”
He undoes the clasp between my boobs and my bra springs open, sliding down my arms. I give a little shimmy to work it all the way off and he groans. His dick does an impressive dance of appreciation beneath me, too.
Sword-callused fingers draw circles on my skin. He traces the sides of my boobs, the soft curves underneath and then closer and closer to my nipples. His shaggy golden hair brushes against my skin, ratcheting the tension up unbearably.
And then he kisses me. Thumbs stroking, fingers gently brushing my skin, he leans in and kisses my breasts. He kisses me like he has zero plans to stop anytime soon, and it’s not like I’m complaining. He makes me burn. There’s something so alpha and protective about him that I want to tattoo mine across his tight ass. When he lifts his head, the predatory look in his eyes only makes me wetter, and I groan when he cups the breasts he just kissed, needing to be closer.
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I’m not sure how I lose my pants. It involves some rolling around on the bed and wriggling as we work to ease the denim down my legs. He hooks his thumbs in the sides of my panties, tugs, and then I’m bare-ass naked. I think I see stars at that point because when I stop panting, I realize he’s standing by the side of the bed, yanking his shirt over his head. It goes flying and then his hands work his belt, whipping the buckle open and shoving the jeans down. Navy blue boxer briefs outline the biggest dick I’ve ever seen—and it’s all mine. He stares at me, his eyes moving over me like he’s trying to decide where he’ll start. I love a man with a plan—and his slow smile lights me up inside.
He shoves the briefs down and climbs into bed, dragging me into the center of the big mattress.
“Now?” I demand. Good things may come to those who wait, but I want to come now. Patience is not part of my master plan.
“Hell yeah.” He tears open a condom and rolls it on. Not sure we have anything to worry about, what with him being a near-immortal Viking werebear and me being a different, more mortal kind of shifter, but I appreciate the thought. He rubs his dick against my wetness.
“You ready?” The blunt head of his dick finds my opening.
I reach down and wrap my fingers around the thick length in answer. He’s so not getting away from me now. He’s all mine. I wriggle, repositioning myself, and he hits the perfect spot.
“Welcome home,” I whisper, leaning up to kiss him.
He pushes into me slowly, as if he’s worried he might be too much. Must be a bear thing because my complaint is that he’s taking his time. That all mine thing definitely extends to the man’s dick. I arch my hips up and force the issue.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he grits out, his hands fisting the pillow on either side of my head. It’s a good plan, but he’s worrying about nothing.
