by Morgan Rae
Chapter 17
Jacob thrust into her until he seemed confident that she’d completely ridden out her orgasm and only then did he finally pull out and settle beside her. She felt cold without his warmth, empty, and she curled up next to him with her head on his chest. Her heart was jack-rabbiting inside her ribcage and she could hear his doing the same in his—low, heavy thumps. She wound her arm around him, listening to his heartbeat, and pressed a kiss to his chest.
“Is sex with you always that good?” she asked breathlessly.
He laughed. Loudly. It was a wonderful, rare sound and rattled around his chest like pinecones. “I could ask you the same.”
“Me?” she asked. “I barely did anything.”
He caught the side of her face in his hand and pressed a thumb to her bottom lip. “You’re everything, princess.”
Jacob seemed to be doing his best to remain stoic, but there was no hiding his obviously uncomfortable naked arousal. While his gesture warmed her to no end (he had told her that tonight was about her), there was still the matter of his ready-to-burst cock tenting his dark bedsheets. She wasn’t going to leave him hanging, not on their wedding night, at least.
She pressed forward and caught his thumb between her teeth with a smile, and then darted her tongue over the tip of it. She could taste herself on it. His eyes clouded over with renewed lust. It seemed so unbelievable to her that she could knock this strong alpha man over with a feather of affection and she felt a small thrill at that.
“Y’wanna try it again and make sure it wasn’t a fluke?” he asked.
Now it was Holly’s turn to laugh. She shook her head, popped his thumb out of her mouth and then leaned in to give him a small kiss. “You wore me out. Maybe tomorrow.”
“Mm,” he said, and she could see his frustration in the press of his lips. He reached over to the bed stand, lifted his watch, and then said, “It’s 2:05. It’s already tomorrow.”
Had they really spent all night fucking? She smirked, propped up her elbow, and said, “Well. In that case…”
Holly snaked her hand downward, over his chest, and followed the wild happy trail down the center of his body. She could feel the muscles of his abdomen tense as her fingers tiptoed over that wiry patch of hair and then grazed over the base of his cock.
Suddenly, she pulled back, sat up, and said, “Oh! Wait, one second—” She turned and asked, “Can you unzip me?”
“Of course.” His voice was dark and lustful, and he tugged her zipper down. Holly popped up off the bed, shimmied out of her dress, and hung it over the back of a chair.
When she turned around (had a good view of Jacob now—lounging on the bed, half-clothed still, shirt hanging open, dick leaning on his stomach), he wore a questioning expression.
“I don’t want to get…anything on it,” she said and felt her face blush heavily. His eyes were stuck on her face and—she swore—she saw his cock twitch visibly when her cheeks reddened. Was that a turn-on? She couldn’t recall how many times she’d turned crimson when they’d first met. The thought that he found something erotic in her humiliation just made her face grow hotter.
“Good idea,” he said. He began to peel off his jacket.
“Don’t,” she said quickly, and he stopped. She fumbled and tried again. “Let me undress you. Please.”
He looked amused—and pleased—and he nodded. “Alright.”
Holly unhooked her bra and climbed back into bed with him. His eyes devoured her naked figure hungrily and he wet his lips but didn’t budge. Instead, he let her take her time as she peeled his coat off first, then his shirt, pushing them over and off his shoulders. His chest was broad, covered in dark hair, but she could still catch traces of scars winding through the black forest. Holly drew her hands over his arms (so strong, the bulge of his biceps alone drew a residual, painful pulse from her exhausted pussy) and pressed her lips over the scars on his chest. They were his scars, yes, but they were hers too now. Everything he bore—all his past hurt and history—would follow the both of them now for the rest of their lives.
He didn’t once move away from her affections; instead, she felt his chest rise and fall more rapidly under her lips. Holly set his shirt and coat down on the floor (no place for them in the bed) and then mapped her fingers down his sides. She followed the lines of his muscles, the contour of his body, all the way down to his hips. My husband, she thought to herself. This is my husband. And she had to repeat that thought, over and over again, because it was still so hard to believe that she was married to this Adonis, this vibrant beast of a man.
Holly drew her lips down his body, suddenly overcome with the need to cover every inch of him in worshipping kisses. She could feel his composure start to crack as she got closer, closer, and when her hanging breasts brushed against his hard length, it drew a groan from him. Holly sat up and tugged his pants along with his briefs all the way down his legs and let them drop to the floor. Inspired, she pressed a small kiss to his foot. He grinned. “Y’look good down there.”
She grinned back. “Maybe I should stay down here.”
He shook his head and crooked his finger. “C’mere.”
She did and he grabbed her hair and kissed her hard. She let out a small muffled noise, sinking into his kiss. He then used his grip on her hair to urge her down, his patience spent. She went, willingly. She wrapped her hand around his cock and heard him hiss with pleasure. She wanted to know his body as well as he seemed to know her body and she traced her fingers over the protruding veins as she stroked his length. He was hard steel in her hand, warm to touch, and his cock shined lightly, still slick with her juice. She wasn’t thrilled about the idea of tasting herself on him but she licked his tip once and felt his fingers grip her hair tighter. Liked getting that reaction out of him, so she tried it again, lingering a little this time as she swirled her tongue over the head.
“Yeah, baby,” he cooed. “Like that.”
Giving head wasn’t exactly her thing. She had never really been good at it—at least, that’s what you-know-who had implied on more than one occasion—so she’d eventually just given up on it. But now, on her wedding night, she wanted to do it right this time. She wanted to learn how to please him.
Luckily, he was happy to teach. He let her play with him at her own pace for a bit, then leaned over and caught the side of her face in his hand. She looked up at him, expecting disappointment or frustration in his expression, but instead, she just saw trust and affection. He pressed his thumb to her lips again and said, “Open.”
She did and he slid his thumb between her teeth. Then he guided her head down to take his cock in her mouth. She did, swallowing it was far as she could, and started sucking. His fingers twitched in her hair and he growled, “Aw, hell…good girl…”
He was big and she couldn’t take him all the way down her throat without gagging, though she still tried. He tasted salty and felt velvet smooth between her lips as she tried sucking him hard, then gently, bobbing her head slowly, then quickly. She tasted the ridges of his cock, following the sound of his low moans to get a feel for what felt good and what didn’t.
She sneaked a glance up at him—he was leaning against the headboard now, his palms flat on the mattress. His muscles had tensed up, his breathing labored, and his eyes—those raw, dark eyes—stared straight at her. Watching. The sight shot a ripple of pleasure through her and she whimpered once around his cock. The vibrations from her lips seemed to have a good effect on him because he gasped, tightened his grip on the sheets, and murmured, “Ah…Holly.”
Her name sounded good on his lips. She wanted more of it. With her free hand, she reached down and cupped the soft skin around his balls. She rolled them in her fingers, coaxing him to that edge. Finally, she heard him growl, “Holly, you’re gonna make me cum.”
A warning. He probably expected her to pull back. Instead, she sucked harder, needy sucks, wanting to taste him, wanting it so bad—
And she did, finally, when he
came in her mouth with a moan, body tensing underneath her so he didn’t thrust down her throat. He filled her mouth—salty, him—and she swallowed it down quickly to take more, determined to suck down everything he had to give. Mine, mine, mine.
He finally shuddered and moved his hand to the back of her head to urge her off of him. “Alright, girl…that’s enough. You’re making me crazy.”
Holly reluctantly released him from her mouth, but not after one more swipe of her tongue. She then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and leaned in to press a small kiss to his lips. “I don’t do that often,” she said apologetically.
“You’re married to me.” He grinned. “You do now.”
She snorted a laugh, leaned against him. Then she saw it—on the sheets where his hands had gripped were five, long rips. Like claw marks. So the Beast hadn’t entirely left the room. It’d crept back in when she wasn’t looking. The thought was slightly unsettling, but the front of his body was warm and soft and she eventually succumbed to that instead, curling up against him.
She reached over for his watch, saw the time, and tucked her head against his chest with a sigh. “I have to get up soon,” she murmured, her limbs tangled in his. “Big day tomorrow.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s my first day at the new school.”
“So much for the honeymoon, huh?” He chuckled.
She looked up from her spot at his chest, anxiety suddenly tightening in her chest. “Oh—I’m sorry—I just thought…”
“Relax,” he said, like a demand, so she tried to. He tightened his arm around her. “I’m only teasing. You get settled in first. We’ll talk about a honeymoon and all that later.”
“Okay.” She settled back down with her head on his chest, and the butterflying nerves that had arrived in her chest at the thought of disappointing him slowly quieted.
“What d’you want for breakfast?” he murmured, as though he could sense she needed a distraction.
“Pancakes,” she said.
“Blueberry?”
She nodded. “And eggs.”
“Scrambled or sunny side up?”
“Scrambled. And cantaloupe.” She yawned. “Toast. Sausage. Mm…muffins…with the crumble top…”
Chapter 18
They didn’t get pancakes, or eggs, or any other sit-down breakfast the next morning. They slept through one alarm, and then another; each time one went off, Holly woke up just long enough to turn it off and then snuggled deeper into the warmth of Jacob’s chest. By time he finally muttered in her ear that she had to get up and kissed her awake, she was already running late. She had barely enough time to rinse off, throw on clothes, brush out her sex-swept hair, and jump in Jacob’s truck.
“You sure you don’t want me to bring you breakfast?” he asked, leaning out the window. His truck rattled loudly as though it resented being stalled, the equipment in the back clanging together. “I can grab something from the deli and be back in ten, fifteen tops.”
“I’ll be okay,” Holly said, adjusting her bag over her shoulder. “Thank you.”
“Alright.” Jacob leaned out the window and Holly pressed a kiss to his mouth. The scruff on his chin tickled her face and, in the sober light of day, this felt different. Alone, protected in the shadows of their bedroom, Holly felt at ease, completely herself. The sex was good, mind-blowing. She felt confident in bed with him, something she’d never felt with Chris. However, getting dropped off at school to teach her classes by a rancher bear-man in a pickup truck felt—
Different. Not bad, Holly reminded herself. Different.
“Take care of yourself,” Jacob told her and gave her a wink. “Don’t let those kids boss you around too much.”
“You too,” Holly said and then walked to the school and tried to hide her grin.
There were butterflies the first day. Always were, starting a new school. Didn’t matter that she was a teacher now, Holly would always get wracked with nerves the first time she stepped onto campus. And what a campus it was—Elmswood University was comprised of a smattering of one-story buildings with roofs the color of rust, all tucked away in the fishbowl curve underneath the looming Marble Mountains. She watched students filter in and out of the main buildings, not the beach-tanned, bleached-blond, sandals-all-year-around students she was used to teaching on her old campus. These wore durable clothes, fleece and plaid, hand-knitted scarves, pointed boots and worn jeans. A couple looked like they’d rolled right out of bed—probably had—and shuffled to the building still clad in their pajamas.
One stood out. Looked like he would have been much more at home at Sacramento U than he was at Elmswood’s working college. Ghostly white, unlike all the other sun-kissed students, with sharply blond hair to match, combed forward, deliberately wild. A black shirt to accentuate his sleek, toned form underneath, pre-ripped jeans. His eyes met Holly’s—ice blue—and Holly felt a shiver run down her spine, something repulsive about the conventionally handsome twenty-year-old.
Ignore it, Holly thought. Don’t judge a book by its cover.
She was projecting, and yet, the way he looked at her, she could have sworn—
“Dr. Holly Harper?” Holly twisted around and saw a seasoned professor smiling at her, the corners of her eyes crinkling.
“Holly Westmore,” she corrected and fumbled to stick her hand out for a handshake, but her papers slid to the ground. Humiliated, Holly felt her face grow hot as she scrambled for her papers. She chanced a glance over—the blond boy had vanished.
“I’m so sorry,” Holly said as the other teacher crouched down to help her scoop up her papers.
“First day jitters.” The woman smiled. “We all get them. We can make first impressions later. Let’s get you settled in.”
Chapter 19
The hammer thumped loudly as Jacob nailed the hardwood floors down. Westmore Works got all kinds of odd jobs—some days, it was drilling around a doghouse; other days, it was planting trees in someone’s backyard. Today, it was installing new hardwood floors into the MacLeans’ living room. Good people—Jacob knew them from on-and-off jobs and Sundays at church. He’d give them a discount.
Besides, he needed to do this job as much as they needed someone to do it. The swing of the hammer calmed his nerves and the act of lifting heavy planks one by one eased some of the tension off the energy bouncing around inside of him.
After Holly left for work, his hands started shaking again. Now, with a little elbow grease and pure, physical strain, he could push the Beast back again. Tame the moon sickness. Just until Holly got back, at least.
“Hey, boss!” Jacob glanced up and saw Brent—his brother and working partner for the day—step around the pile of wooden slabs to get to him. Brent crouched down and raked his fingers through his gelled-back hair. “Listen, might be we got a problem on our hands.”
Didn’t like the sound of that. “What is it?”
Brent perched his arms over his knees, hands dangling down. “There was a bear sighting yesterday in one of our spots. Hollow Creek.”
“One of ours?” Jacob asked.
Brent shook his head. “Nope. Sounds like we’re dealing with the Davos clan.”
“Alright.” Already, Jacob could feel that itch inside him, like a tickling cough. The Beast knocking on his insides. He cleared his throat and then said, “Let’s finish up here, then we’ll pay Davos a visit.”
Chapter 20
The Westmores were the strongest clan in Etna, but they weren’t the only clan. The Davos clan was a rough-and-tumble group that operated mostly out of the Weeping Willow Tavern, a rodeo bar not far from Red Moon Ranch. Too close for comfort, really, but Jacob was an inclusive Alpha. Territory boundaries just incited the Beast in everyone and caused conflict. So everyone got a piece of everything, as long they followed some basic ground rules. And—
“You got spotted,” Jacob explained. “That’s a violation.”
“Aw, c’mon now,” Major, the Alpha of the Davo
s clan, flashed Jacob a crooked grin. “Bears get spotted all the time on these mountains. It happens, right? Nothing to shed a tear about.”
They sat across from each other in the plush red booths of the Weeping Willow Tavern, Jacob and Brent on one side, Major and his Beta on the other side. The bar still had a couple hours before it opened, but country music crooned softly over the speakers. The tavern was a favorite for shifters in the area and the place was covered in animal smells, not to mention the scents of the Davos clan and Major’s Alpha aura. All of it roused Jacob’s Beast and he felt his hands begin to tremble once more.
“The bear was spotted in my territory,” Jacob said, voice low, trying to keep the growl out of it. “That puts eyes on my ranch.”
“Jacob,” Major coaxed with that same smile. “Red Moon Ranch has seen worse. They can handle one meager bear sighting every now and then. What’s the Sherriff gonna do, hire hunters, start a witch hunt?”
“Point is,” Brent interjected, “we don’t want it to get to that point.”
Major laughed, lifting his hands. “You’re all blowing this out of proportion—”
“That’s my family!” Jacob roared and slammed his hand down. The table shook and his claws made dents.
Claws. He realized before it was too late, and just then, Brent put his hands on Jacob’s shoulders. “Give us a second, yeah?”
Jacob felt Brent usher him to the back of the bar, out the door. Brent was trying to tell him something, but he couldn’t hear over the rush of blood in his ears, the gnawing pain in his muscles. Jacob doubled over with a groan; he could feel his gums stretching, his teeth lengthening to fangs, the Beast raging through him—
