McQuade: The Lone Wolf Takes a Mate

by Lynn Richards

  “I know what you mean, hon. Changing schedules just make me feel horrible.”

  Right now Rose didn’t think anything would make her feel better, or safer, except McQuade’s arms holding her close.

  And that was never going to happen.

  *****

  A week later after a particularly hard day, Rose kicked off her shoes and sighed in relief. Even though Alice often made fun of her old maid shoes, Rose didn’t know if she could do her twelve hour shifts at the hospital without them. Just thinking of Alice and the few insincere apologies she’d offered for causing Rose so much trouble, had Rose heading for the doldrums. In typical Alice fashion, she’d told Rose she was going to call McQuade and ask him out. She hadn’t been asking for permission—more like she was rubbing salt into a wound since he would be a fool to turn down the opportunity to party with Alice. The conversation had ended abruptly when Rose had refused to respond to her sister’s baiting.

  Tomorrow was the end of another four-day shift. Maybe she should have asked to work an extra shift or two, since there had been no more run-ins with the lion shifter. Now that so much time had passed, Rose had convinced herself he’d simply been playing mind games with her. She’d decided he had sensed her fear and hadn’t been able to resist scaring the wits out of her. Maybe scaring the shit out of her got him off somehow.

  Of course, there’d been no further contact with McQuade either. Even though she had his number on her phone—and the ingredients for the cake in her cupboards—there was no way she’d ever get the courage to call him. He’d only been kind when he’d given the number to her, probably trying to reassure her nothing bad would happen.

  Sinking back against the overstuffed pillows on her small loveseat, she tucked her bare feet under her. The apartment was dark and empty. And lonely. Maybe she should quit fighting the inevitable and get a cat. Briefly she wondered if the humane society would allow her to keep a wolf puppy. Probably not.

  Here she was, finally out of nursing school, with a decent paying job, but still all alone on a Friday night. Could her life get any more pathetic? She sighed, telling herself she shouldn’t feel so bad. She was used to being alone. She did everything alone. She went shopping alone. When she could afford to go to the movies, she went alone. Not comfortable eating by herself in a restaurant, she ordered take out and ate her food alone.

  Not that she wanted a repeat of that Friday night two weeks ago. That wasn’t the kind of life she wanted. She shuddered. No, she wanted something…safe? On the heels of that thought was the memory of McQuade’s strength and the reckless feelings he so easily aroused in her.

  On second thought, scratch that. She was tired of playing it safe. She wanted excitement—in the form of wild sex with a certain gorgeous wolf shifter. Just the memory of McQuade’s lips on her neck sent a tingle all the way to her pussy. She rubbed her finger along the curve where her neck met her shoulder, lingering on the spot where he’d bitten her. There was nothing there to show that his sharp incisors had ever broken her skin—not even a scar. The bite mark had disappeared as if it had never been. But Rose knew. She remembered the feel of his teeth sinking into her flesh, of his aroused flesh pressing against her. What would it feel like to have him explode inside of her as he marked her?

  It was a good fantasy. Of course, Rose knew McQuade hadn’t actually been attracted to her. Shuddering, she remembered the lion shifter and his obvious arousal when he’d terrorized her at the hospital. Obviously the thought of marking a female had that effect on male shifters no matter the woman in their arms.

  Shaking off thoughts that were definitely going to get her down, Rose stood, stretching the kinks out of her back. Maybe she’d change up her routine tonight. Instead of eating a microwaveable boxed dinner, watching reruns on television and going to bed early, she’d take a bubble bath, light a few aromatherapy candles, fire up the old boom box and listen to some 1980s rock and roll. After a long, relaxing soak, she’d take care of the ache between her legs.

  Walking into her bedroom she stripped off her uniform, fantasies involving McQuade and the things she’d like to do with him–to him–growing more vivid with each piece of clothing that came off. The fantasies were safe, with no fear of rejection. She’d like to do the things she was thinking with the flesh and blood man but, even if she had the courage to look, she’d never be able to find him. She knew nothing about him except his first name, that he rode a Harley, and hung out in bars.

  And made her feel more wanton than she’d ever felt in her life.

  She’d never had such an instant attraction to a man. She’d always thought there was something wrong with her in the womanly, sexual cravings, department. After hearing other women talk, she’d come to the conclusion that her weak body image kept those type of cravings abated.

  Now, having felt what her body was capable of from just a few sexual fantasies about McQuade, she was determined to stop seeing herself as the nondescript, overweight woman who faded into the background wherever she went. She needed to stop wishing her life away, waiting for the day she would be intriguing and vibrant and attractive. That day would never come and sooner rather than later, she’d find herself a true old maid living all alone. Or even worse, living with a houseful of cats.

  She needed to make a distinctive change.

  And there was no time like the present. As the tub filled with hot water, the spicy scent of the bath oil she’d received from Wanda at Christmas filled the air. It was the total opposite of her usual fragrance. Deciding if she was going to do this, she might as well do it right, she rummaged through her drawers until she found the silky boxer and a chemise sleep set—a birthday gift this year from the nurses in the emergency room. Maybe her friends had been trying to tell her something.

  The water was the perfect temperature when she stepped in. The candles infused the air with a relaxing scent, blending perfectly with the bath oil. A glass of wine in her hand would have made the moment perfectly decadent, but she didn’t drink. Of course, there were other things she’d like to fill her hands with. The memory of McQuade’s arousal sent a shiver through her.

  He had given a face to the mystery lover she visualized while relieving her pent-up longings. As her fingers rubbed her aching clit, she thought about the feel of his mouth on her neck, her nipples growing painfully hard as her body imagined his mouth on other places. Hot pinpricks of awareness shot like fire-tipped arrows from her stomach downward, igniting a fever. Within seconds her legs were trembling. She used both hands to bring the much needed relief. As she climaxed, it was the remembered feel of McQuade’s teeth seeking into her flesh that sent her over the edge.

  *****

  McQuade sat in the alley, letting the motorcycle idle, and having an internal struggle with his wolf and his conscience. Just a week ago, he hadn’t thought about how alone he was. He’d been that way so long it had come to feel natural. He’d even told himself it was the way he preferred it.

  He’d lost his parents years ago to a rogue pack. Even though his alpha at the time had promised to find them and bring them to justice for the crime, McQuade had left his home pack and spent the next several years tracking down the wolves responsible. Thinking that taking their lives would bring him satisfaction, he’d taken grim pleasure in killing them. Sadly, their deaths hadn’t done anything to ease the sorrow in his soul nor had it brought his family back. He’d wondered for more years than he cared to remember in a feral mood, trying to come to terms with what his life had become.

  When he’d made it to the small town of Crater Moon, he’d been half-wild. The local alpha had been having almost the same problems with rouges and McQuade had stepped in to help. Afterwards, he’d convinced the man to form a security team. The alpha had taken his advice and put McQuade in charge. He’d recruited Briggs and two more single wolves who shared the daily patrols. He’d been accepted into a pack again and made to feel a part of something. A part of a family. Wolves could survive alone, but it was instinctual
to be part of a pack, to protect the weak and helpless.

  To mate.

  He shouldn’t be here. He should be at another bar picking up a biker bunny to fuck and then send on her way.

  He shouldn’t be watching Rose’s apartment window hoping to catch a glimpse of her tantalizing figure.

  He shouldn’t be parking the bike and cutting the engine.

  He shouldn’t be climbing the rickety stairs to her second story apartment.

  And he certainly shouldn’t be knocking on her door.

  When minutes passed with no answer, he raised his hand and rapped sharply again.

  He was a second away from twisting the handle, breaking it off, and going inside to see where the hell she was, when he heard the lock click. When the door swung open, he knew exactly why he was here.

  He needed one night. One night to burn this fire out of his veins. One night to taste and touch and conquer.

  She’d obviously already taken a shower. Her face was free of makeup and her hair was still a little damp. No doubt the sound of her dryer had prevented her from hearing his first knock.

  Damn if she didn’t look pretty.

  And sexy.

  She was wearing something sleek and satiny held up by two thin strings. His claws came out, his wolf urging him to slice them away and allow the silky top to slide down her body. She would be gloriously naked underneath. She looked sensual and innocent and vulnerable and he knew if he touched her now, there would be no going back this time. His wolf would take over and the animal would take this woman and the man would go along gladly.

  Even knowing that, knowing the implications, he reached out.

  And touched her soft skin.

  At the light brush of McQuade’s fingers on her bare arm, Rose’s belly contracted and her breath left her body in a quiet whoosh. A sharp awareness prickled up her arms and over her shoulders. She could feel his desire, his lust. Even in this insanely unbelievable instance, she had no illusion it was anything more.

  “Make love to me, McQuade.” She pressed herself closer and closed her eyes, praying he wouldn’t reject her soft plea, reject her. He was here, a flesh and blood man and she’d be damned if she’d pass up this heaven-sent opportunity even though she was angry at herself for wanting what she couldn’t have, and angry at fate for bringing this beautiful man into her life—and heart—when she had no chance of keeping him.

  His jaw appeared to be carved from granite, strong, square and absolutely unrelenting, just like the man. Only a tiny tick along in his cheek gave any indication his emotions were affected at all. She brushed her fingers across his full lips.

  “Kiss me,” she pleaded.

  At the first touch of his lips, she wanted to cry. The feelings rushing through her were too many and too wild to comprehend. His touch had her body as chaotic as her mind. Winding her arms around his neck, she leaned into him and into his kiss. His tongue pressed against her lips and she opened for him willingly. His kiss held more experience than Rose had gleaned in her short life, along with the knowledge of how to guide a woman where he wanted her to go.

  He murmured soft words and angled her head to deepen the kiss. Fire exploded in her belly, streaking a path downward to her hungry pussy. With each pass of his lips her juices flowed faster, her body softening, readying itself for him. She feasted on his tongue, making up with eagerness what she lacked in experience. Her hands gripped his shirt. She wanted to draw him deeply inside herself, to become one with him. She wanted him to be a part of her, to fill her. To not only want her, but to need her. And in the emptiest part of her heart, love her.

  When his hands tugged the chemise over her head, Rose forgot to be embarrassed. The look on his face told her she had nothing to be ashamed of. When his hands cupped her fullness, she groaned, arching her willing flesh into his calloused palms.

  His touch rammed into her with the impact of a runaway train. He took control before she could even offer a protest. Not that she wanted to. She felt as if she’d known this man forever. She would have given herself to him the first night she’d met him if he’d asked. She was going to give herself to him tonight. She’d spent twenty some years waiting—waiting for something she couldn’t name. Now with his touch turning her bones to liquid, she knew what she’d waited for. Or, rather, who she had waited for.

  McQuade, her lone wolf.

  He kissed her again, his hands at her waist guiding her backward until she was against the wall, his big body pressing so close she felt every ridge and sinew. Taking one of her hands, he guided her to his impressive erection. “I’m going to fuck you, Rose. All night long.”

  Rose had never held a man’s dick in her hand before and certainly not one as impressive as McQuade’s. She didn’t think her hand would close all the way around him. What if she couldn’t take all of him? What if he was disappointed in her?

  What had she been thinking? She still wanted him, but she had to try and lower his expectations. Thinking he would find her lacking as lover had Rose losing some of her nerve. “I should warn you, I’m not very good at this.”

  He smiled against her lips and thrust against her hand. “Okay.”

  “And, um, can we do it with the lights off?”

  That got his attention. He pulled away looking her straight in the eye. “What does that mean?”

  “I’d, ah, rather do it in the dark.” The darker the better as far as Rose was concerned. In the dark she knew he could pretend, allowing her to be any woman he wanted.

  As if he knew exactly what she was thinking, he cursed, moving back so she could see the determined gleam in his golden eyes. “Damn it, Rose, no more put downs. Does this feel like a man who doesn’t want you? Who doesn’t want to love you?” He tugged her hips against his, letting her feel the hard ridge she’d held in her palm.

  Don’t believe him, her heart warned. Every taunt and put-down she’d ever heard played back in her mind. Don’t you dare believe him, her heart warned again. She had no doubt he meant what he was saying at this moment, but once every barrier was removed, he’d change his mind.

  Wouldn’t he?

  She wanted him so much. Just one night, a taste she could live on forever.

  “Rose,” he urged, his breathing rapid, “let me have you, sweetheart.”

  His stare was piercing, yet filled with admiration, as if he knew what a huge step this was for her. As if he were awed by what she was offering him.

  His arms tightened around her and his lips met hers again, kissing her as if she truly mattered. Rose quit thinking about all the reasons why she shouldn’t and gave herself over to her feelings for the man holding her so protectively.

  His skin was warm and vibrant, the heat of him scorching her where they touched. He’d come to her wearing nothing more than a thin t-shirt and a well-washed pair of jeans. Her fingers dug into his chest, an unyielding wall of muscle. His legs spread wide, moving her into the cradle of his thighs. He was incredibly aroused. His cock was a ridge between them. Just the feel of him pressing into her stomach made her wet. His kiss, his every touch, filled her with a wild and reckless passion and had her grinding against him, melding her softness into his hardness.

  She swore she could hear his heartbeat—thump, thump, thump—fast and even. She had no doubt he could hear hers as well—or that he could smell her arousal. She’d never wanted anything as much in her life as she did this man, this moment.

  As his mouth took hers, sucking her lower lip into the warm cavern and ravishing the tender flesh, she was no longer thinking of the loneliness in her life until this moment or the moments she knew were in her future. She was no longer thinking of the kind of woman she was or the kind of woman she should be. She simply responded to him, woman to man. Woman to wolf. She accepted all of him. She recognized she’d been capable of this all along. With this man, in this moment.

  With one hand fisted in her hair, he dragged her head back until he could see her eyes. His roughness caused her pussy to plump and m
oisten, preparing–she hoped, prayed–for the feel of his cock inside her. She didn’t want gentle. Not now when her emotions were so raw. She wanted a lot of things from him, and right now she wanted, needed, to know how much he wanted her.

  She was dazed and hungry. Oh, dear God she was hungry. Hungry for his touch, his taste. Hungry for the feel of him deep inside of her, taking her as no man ever had, or would ever again. But that was her secret. His eyes were bright and compelling and she swore she saw the flicker of something, some indescribable something that seemed to travel through her body and burn all the way to her wildly beating heart.

  “I want to make sure you understand what you’re doing Rose.” When she didn’t respond, he shook her lightly. “Do you?”

  “Yes.” She rubbed herself against his cock and he groaned.

  “Do you understand that I have nothing to give you? That I’ll never see you again once this night is finished and I walk out that door?”

  She didn’t want to think about afterwards. “Yes, McQuade, I understand all of it.”

  His nostrils flared and some of his iron control slipped. “I won’t…If you want to stop, Rose, it has to be now. If we go any further, I won’t be able to stop.”

  Licking her lips, she took a leap of faith. Her body shook with a bone-deep desire. A desire so strong she knew she’d never feel it again. Not with anyone else. “I don’t want to stop.”

  McQuade tried once more. The wolf just wanted him to shut up and take her, but the man had to be sure. The two were at odds—again. He didn’t understand what Rose was doing to him. He’d never felt this torn. “I’m a shifter, Rose, and shifters have a ferocious appetite,” he warned, his voice raw and husky.

  “Yay, me,” she whispered, going up on her tiptoes to wrap her arms around his neck, letting her curves press into his hardness.

  The force and intimacy of her body aligning with his brought a hungry growl. His arms came around her, almost crushing her with his strength. When he nipped at her lip, she nipped him back. When he thrust his tongue deep into her mouth, she drew him deeper.