The movement was just what she needed and she cried out as her thighs squeezed the man’s head. She screamed out his name and moaned as he continued to suck all of her fluid up into his mouth. He slurped and tongued her hole until she was pushing him away. Releasing her legs, they fell splayed on either side of him. He crawled back over her and positioned himself at her tightness.
He nudged the head forward until he felt the skin holding him back. Pushing ahead with a growl, he felt her tight canal give way and he surged forward into her honey hole. He cursed at her suffocating tightness and moaned as she squeezed the new filling. He bent forward and captured her bottom lip with his teeth as he drove the rest of the way in. Aria squeaked and her body pulled him in deeper.
“Mmm Darryl, it feels so big inside of me. So right.”
He pulled out and slammed back into her, her whole body jerking forward on the bed with the powerful thrust. His eyes had turned completely back and the look on his face was predatory. The beast inside was begging to come out and she could see it held together by his control. He wanted to give her time to adjust, but he had a bigger need consuming him. He pulled back and pushed back in to her small sounds of pleasure. He could feel her body tightening around him and then there was a scream that pierced the air.
“Darryl, I am coming. Oh God!”
Aria thrashed and clamped around the man’s shaft so hard. Darryl watched his length pull out of her and the sight of her loss innocence drove him forward. She begged him to go harder and faster, knowing that there was a bigger orgasm on the horizon. Aria’s eyes closed as he sat back on his knees, her thighs being held together by his large, rough hands. He squeezed her thighs tightly together and rutted in and out of her.
“One more time baby, please come one more time for me Aria. I love watching you come.”
It was transfixing and the man could tell that the woman was primed for another one. His hand fell to the top of her slit and he pressed hard on her tiny nub. She squealed with the contact and gripped handfuls of his muscles as her insides collapsed around his thrusting shaft. He gritted his teeth, trying to hold back, but when their eyes met, he was lost in her. He felt himself explode inside of her, shaking as much as her pussy walls were.
Pulling out, he laid next to her on his back. Aria crawled over to his chest and laid her head over his steady beating heart. She mewled softly next to him, her leg hooked on top of his, holding him in a full body embraced. She felt like singing, her whole body throbbing with remembered pleasure.
Chapter 8
“So are we going to talk about what happened on the ice today?”
Darryl looked down at her and held her close. He was still afraid that his words would scare her, but he knew that they must come out. Darryl knew that it was a lot to take, though he hoped she would have an open mind because one was desperately needed.
“So you know what I am now.”
“I am not sure. I thought I saw you turn into a bear, but that doesn’t make much sense.”
“I am a lycanthrope, but instead of a wolf, my family turns into polar bears.”
“Your family?”
“Yea all those guys at work are my brothers.”
“Oh. So did Martha know about your little secret?”
“She did, but she knew that her family had their own secrets. I told you that our families are connected, I meant it. Your great aunt lived in the family house until a few years ago. It still does not feel the same without her there.”
“Why did she move here?”
“When Martha’s mate died, she no longer wanted to live in the big house. Her mate was my grandfather, so my father built her a small cottage down on the bottom of the mountain, so she was always close. It skips generations you see, so since Martha didn’t have any children, she must have known that you would be the one.”
“So what does that mean? I am confused.”
“Your blood ensures that my kind keeps going. You were mine before you were even born Aria, as I am yours. The birthmark on your chest marks you as the tattoo on my back marks me. I know this is hard to believe, but you will have our children and you probably already have some in your stomach.”
He held her, cradling her flat stomach. Aria noted the word some and she wondered if what he said was true.
“Why me?”
“Your family line was from here thousands of years ago. The legend says that there was a hard time that fell on this village and black bears killed many people. One of the medicine man imbued a man with special powers to fight the beasts and he would turn into a white bear at night to stalk out the dangerous foes. The white hid him in the snowy ice and they never saw him coming. This saved the village and he passed the ability on to his children. Your ancestor was the medicine woman and every other generation, our two families most converge, or the magic wears off.”
It all sounded like such a magical tale, one that you would tell your children and add in a moral at the end. If she had not seen him change once and then back again, she never would have believed such a fable. There were more questions that she wanted to know, but she was more interested in seeing her new home.
The man passed her small house and continued up the hill for another mile and a half in the truck. She had gotten dressed and followed him outside. He wanted to show her new home, but she still seemed to be taking it all quite well.
The road made the woman nervous and she tried not to look down off the edge. She already had doubts about the place and then the trees opened up, revealing the gem hidden behind them. The house was huge and beautiful. It was completely hidden from the main road. She never would have known it was up there
“Wow, I see your business does well.”
Darryl chuckled and kissed her on her lips.
“Our business. It will help with all of the children we will have. I have ten brothers.”
“Only brothers? And who says I am going to have that many children?”
“You cannot say no to me.”
Aria smirked, but she knew deep down that she would never say no to him. He was the man of her dreams and she was never going to let go. His eyes darkened as he put the truck in park and pulled her out with him towards the house. He opened the door and followed in behind her. In his home, he was excited to have her make it hers as well. It was a long time coming that the Alpha heard the pitter patter of his bloodline and he could not think of anyone else that was more suited to have them. His mouth came down on her surprised one and she was quickly winding her body around his.
“Now about our babies….”
Darryl grabbed her up and squeezed her sides as he dragged her up the winding staircase to their new bedroom. He barely made it through the threshold, before he threw her onto the bed and covered her with a skilled quickness. Aria was his for the taking.
THE END
A Twist of Secrets
A Victorian Mystery Romance
Jessica Savage
Copyright ©2016 by Jessica Savage. All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic of mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Chapter One
The grey clouds gathered over Highgate cemetery. Even the white stone angels looked forlorn against the thundery skies. It was a day of endings and beginnings. Lady Christabel Montgomery paused for a moment to look at her reflection in the dressing table mirror. A young, white face stared back at her - wide eyed and innocent. The black looked well against her pale skin; a widow’s weeds suited her. Only for a moment did she feel guilty.
A widow after only two months of marriage - they had been scarcely out of their honeymoon period before the unexpected death of her husband, the late Lord Charles Montgomery. He had been involved in an accident whilst traveling away on business and by the time she had been notified, it was too late even to say goodbye.
She could not say that her marriage had been built on love; maybe that would have happened eventually. It had, after all, only been early days and she was young. It had been a marriage of convenience and unexpected lust. Christabel had been a naive virgin on her wedding night but had learned quickly. Charles had been a skilled and energetic lover and she had been eager to please her generous benefactor. She had been an orphan with neither prospects nor money of her own; her natural beauty being her only saving grace. The middle aged Charles had been more than happy to take the lovely young woman under his wing and had ached to feel her firm young flesh beneath him. Even without love, they had made the ideal couple. And so, after their first introductions, the unlikely couple were married within two months of meeting, much to the alarm of the rest of the Montgomery family.
Christabel moved to the window and looked down from the window and onto the small park below. A few black-clothed nannies had ventured forth with their charges, wrapped snugly inside their iron wheeled perambulators; blissfully unaware of the weather outside or of life's constant cares. Black. The color of mourning, the color of nannies, the color of crows and the color of the chimney sweeps she occasionally saw rushing through the smoggy London air.
Several smart carriages waited outside the house, including the elaborately adorned funeral hearse. Four large black plumed horses wearing full funeral regalia snorted their steamy breath into the bitter morning air. They were all waiting downstairs for her – Charles’ family; impatient for the dreariness to be over so they could get on with their own lives once again.
She hardly knew them; they were strangers to her. Most of them had been against the marriage in the first place. Lord Charles Montgomery was a wealthy man, everyone knew that, and his family had presumed that they would eventually inherit all of the lands and fine houses he owned with no heir to speak of. Why he had suddenly decided to marry a young woman just old enough to be his daughter they could only guess, but many of the family members felt bitter towards the young interloper. At least now he was dead they could all breathe a sigh of relief – at least there would be no son and heir!
There was a firm knock and the door opened gently. It was Hannah, her maid. Hannah had been in Christabel’s family since she was just a baby and had looked after her for most of her young life. Christabel noticed that the hair around her old companion’s temple was now greying, but the eyes were still youthful and the face still attractive. She often wondered why the woman had never married.
She had asked her once, one evening just before she was due to be married to Charles. Returning from a local ball, Hannah had stood behind her, brushing the long black hair that fell luxuriously down to her waist. Hannah had laughed and said that she could never leave Christabel, and if she did who would brush the young girl’s hair each evening? Yet Christabel had noticed a sorrow in the woman’s eyes as she spoke and had never mentioned the subject again.
“They’re waiting downstairs for you Chrissy.”
The older woman walked up to Christabel and placed her arms around her young charge for comfort. Her dear mother had died when she was five years old, and ever since then Hannah had acted more as a surrogate mother than a maid, and the two women were close.
“How are you feeling?”
“I will be alright Hannah, but I will be glad when this day is over.”
“You better go down; I will be following on with the rest of the household to the church.”
Reaching for the hat that sat idly upon the bed, Hannah placed it on top of her mistress’s hair, pinning it in place with a jet encrusted pin, before pulling down the dark veil to hide the pretty features beneath. Two years of wearing black; it seemed a pity for one so young, but that was the requirements for a woman in her position according to Cassel’s manual, the last word on funeral and mourning etiquette.
Opening the door, Christabel inhaled deeply before walking across the landing and down the grand staircase to the awaiting group in the library. Glad for the veil to hide her emotions, or perhaps more importantly lack of them, she stepped slowly down towards the hall. Stephens, the butler was posted on duty, standing like a sentry against the front door, and as she approached he nodded his head gravely. He wore a black armband as a sign of respect. He had been with Charles for at least forty years and had been extremely loyal.
Christabel had the feeling he did not approve of her, a young chit of a girl playing at being mistress in the grand house, but if he had felt it, he had not shown it outwardly in any of his actions or words. Occasionally, she had caught him staring at her during dinner and the look had disturbed her, leaving her cold.
Opening the door to the library, Stephens led her into the room, the babble of voices almost ceasing as the group within stopped their conversations and turned to look at the young widow. Although it was only ten in the morning, the lamps in the room had been lit and the curtains closed, as was the custom. The dim light seemed appropriate. The silence seemed absolute, even the ticking clock had been stopped as a mark of respect for the late master of the house.
The casket containing his body was now closed and nailed down and lay on a table in the center of the room. She had been expecting to sit with the body, watching over him day and night until the burial, but it hadn’t seemed a fitting duty for such a young widow. The wake had been carried out by members of the household staff, all of whom had reveled in its morbid curiosity.
At first Christabel didn’t recognize anyone in the room and felt almost a stranger in her own home. The men in their mourning coats and hats, the woman in their crepe and silk, all stood like crows with their beady eyes shining; ready to devour the poor creature.
“My dear.”
A tall figure with a long, bushy beard stepped forward to take her hand. It was Edward Montgomery, Charles’ twin and younger brother by a matter of minutes. It was as if those few minutes had always come between them and caused a rift between the two siblings; vital minutes that had left Charles to inherit his father’s estate and leaving Edward with very little. Although identical in looks, Hannah could always tell the two men apart. She couldn't put her finger on it, but it was something in the eyes; a certain coldness in Edward that offset his brother’s warmth and generosity.
He and his wife Anne were the first to greet her. Like Stephens, they had never approved of her and she had only met them once, briefly at her wedding. Edward was a cold fish with beady, mud-colored eyes that reminded her of the sea at Brighton where she used to holiday with her father. The thought of her dear departed Papa brought a sudden tear to her eye. He had been dead for almost four years, but suddenly her grief seemed raw and recent. Perhaps the sight of the men and women in black had brought back the memory of her father’s funeral? She had been only fourteen-years-old at the time and had worn a plain white dress; a strange contrast to the blackened figures around her. At the funeral tea, served in his large study after the burial, she had felt like a spectra.
His palm was clammy as he held her black-gloved hand, the stickiness perceptible through the lace. Charles could be stern on occasion, but his eyes were warm, reflecting his generous spirit; nothing like his cold brother. Anne, in turn, grasped Christabel sharply by the arms in the pretence of a warm embrace, the effect convincing to no one. Christabel had the feeling that she had been the subject of the conversation before entering the room and a conversation that had not been very complimentary. The woman smiled with her mouth, yet her eyes, like her husband’s, remained cold.
She couldn’t blame them too much. They would have inherited everything if it had not been for her. The will was due to be read the following day and was the main topic of debate amongst the family. Not that she expected much; the lands and the country estate would fall to Edward, but the couple were avaricious and wanted it all
Arthur Chadwick was the next in line; a cousin of Charles and now serving in the army. He had seemed the most welcoming of the family at first, but had also been the most lascivious. On both of t
he occasions they had met, he had been drunk and suggestive; even on her wedding day. With his dark eyes and ruffled dark hair he was handsome enough, but too much of a rake; the wild card of the pack. He probably had a wife in every county. His breath was hot on the back of her hand as he pressed it to his lips and kissed it greedily. Hardly the etiquette for a funeral, but no one else seemed to notice or care.
Suddenly she felt vulnerable, a deer amongst a pack of wolves. Charles had made her aware of her own sexual attractions and now she seemed to see the same look in the eyes of every man she met.
Many of the people who shook her hand were strangers; she had never seen them before, or at least she did not think she had. The line seemed endless and just as she reached the end, the door opened and Mr. Williams was shown into the room. Englebert Williams was her late father’s second cousin and her only living blood relative. He had become her guardian when her father died and had been responsible for her welfare up to the time of marriage. He had always been kind, yet there was something about him that made her keep her distance. On her sixteenth birthday he had presented her with a gift; a row of exquisite pearls, but as he had placed them around her neck there had been something in his manner that unnerved her. Those warm fingers lingering for too long on her skin, his warm breath on the back of her neck; she had been wary of him ever since.
“My dear Christabel.” He stepped forward, and as he politely kissed her hand she immediately felt a pang of guilt. He was the only person in the room who genuinely seemed to care about her; her only friend. Perhaps she had been wrong about him after all? It was difficult to think properly on a day like today.
The pall bearers had entered the hallway and we're waiting patiently with their long and gaunt faces; a continuous expression of both grief and boredom. As they entered the room to remove the coffin, Christabel wondered if they normally looked this way, or if it were only a mask that they wore whilst on duty? Perhaps at home they were light hearted and gay? Somehow she doubted it.
Mated to the Highland Wolf Page 74
