McQuade: The Lone Wolf Takes a Mate

by Lynn Richards

  Good, his wolf growled. That meant she hadn’t brought home any men and cooked for them. Or invited them to spend the night in her queen-size bed.

  From the quick view he’d had of her cabinets, he had a feeling she didn’t cook very often which meant she wasn’t eating enough—or getting enough sleep. She worked too hard. From now on, he’d make sure she got three meals a day. Letting her get enough sleep might prove a more difficult task.

  He could let her rest tonight. With the threat of the lion shifter, he’d talked to his alpha and they’d agreed the patrols should be doubled for a while. Which meant he needed to go on night patrol. He’d arranged everyone’s schedule so he could stay close to Rose during the evenings this past week, but now the others needed a break.

  Rose’s even white teeth took a bite out of her chicken and he shuddered, visualizing those pearly whites sinking into his flesh as she marked him. Marking between a wolf and his mate was not a one-time thing as the enzymes in the wolf’s salvia gave the human mate their longevity. It was a continuous process.

  “I need to go out on patrol tonight.”

  Wolves protected their own and now he had more reason than ever to be protective.

  She dropped the half eaten piece of chicken in her plate. “Are you having to work more because of me?”

  “No, darling. Someone patrols every night.” Just not in double shifts. What she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. She had such a giving nature she’d be upset if she knew all the enforcers were working double time. “Not everyone is as open minded as you. To a few humans, shifters are the dregs of society, fit for nothing but hard labor and a good fuck.”

  “McQuade!”

  His eyes crinkled up at the corners as her cheeks scalded pink. He couldn’t help but tease her further. “Don’t you agree I’m a good fuck, baby?”

  Rose’s eyes narrowed. “And how many other women could answer that question, Mr. Jenner?”

  His expression turned serious. “I’m not going to lie to you Rose, I’ve been around a long time and as you know by now, a wolf’s sex drive is over the top. But I can assure you as long as you’re with me, there will be no one else in my bed.”

  Or my heart, his wolf whispered happily.

  Rose nodded, seeming to take his declaration at face value. “Do you patrol as a wolf?”

  “Most of the time. Except when it rains. My wolf hates the rain.”

  He took the second to last piece of chicken from the platter.

  Rose frowned. When had it all disappeared? She looked at the few bones in her plate and knew she hadn’t eaten more than one piece. Had McQuade really eaten the rest of it by himself? His grocery bill must be astronomical.

  Once they were done, he helped her clear the table and do the dishes. Not many leftovers remained thanks to McQuade’s ferocious appetite. “Now where’s that cake I keep smelling?”

  Rose pulled a large cake container from the pantry. McQuade’s house had everything. Large, beautifully decorated rooms, spa like bathrooms, and a gourmet kitchen with all the latest high-tech gadgets. She’d wondered about that but hadn’t had the courage to ask. Why did a lone wolf have such a family oriented house? She didn’t want to know if there had been someone special in his life before.

  She handed him the cake pan, trying not to smile. A large piece of cake was missing.

  McQuade lifted the lid. “What the hell?”

  Her smile turned into a full-blown laugh. “I told you Briggs had been paid.”

  Thankfully he laughed with her. “Well, get a fork before the big mooch comes back.”

  They sat the kitchen breakfast bar, not bothering with plates and using only one fork. Rose had never had anyone feed her before and taking the proffered cake from the end of a fork was one of the most erotic things she’d ever experienced. Well, besides taking the end of McQuade’s cock into her mouth. She’d been fantasizing about doing that for days. Deciding she need a diversion and fast, she asked, “Can I…um…see your wolf?”

  Rose was shy about asking, never having spent time with a shifter. She wasn’t certain what the etiquette was for asking to see someone shift. It almost felt like she was asking him to get naked. Which she was. His body was the stuff dreams were made of and she wasn’t likely to forget the vision of his naked form anytime soon.

  “You want to see my wolf?”

  “Yes, please.” She sounded as eager as a child wanting a treat from Santa, but she couldn’t help it. She’d learned a lot about shifters during the last week she’d been staying with McQuade, but she hadn’t seen him shift. Or seen his wolf. The wolf spirit living inside him was as much a part of him as his human soul.

  Living with McQuade. It had been a dream come true and in a way she was grateful for the lion shifter. Without him, they would never have met in the bar and McQuade would never have had a reason to ask her to move in. Oh, she wasn’t naïve enough to read anything into this relationship other than the fact that McQuade wanted her. The novelty of her at least. A big chick with a big crush on the handsome wolf.

  He bent to take off his shit-kickers and socks then moved away from the table to pull off the muscle-hugging t-shirt he wore. Black. Again. Of course, she doubted a color existed that wouldn’t flatter his dark skin and eyes.

  Oh, to be that to-die-for gorgeous.

  He was broad-shouldered and lean-hipped, raw male with not a spare ounce of fat anywhere, even though he’d just consumed almost an entire chicken. His sculpted chest sported curly black hair, trailing downward to taper off as it reached the waistband of his jeans where it disappeared. He reached for the snap of his jeans and Rose held her breath. The sound of the zipper being lowered was loud in the quiet room. Hooking his thumbs beneath the waistband, he pulled them down as nonchalantly as if he were undressing alone in his bedroom. He wore no underwear and his incredibly impressive member sprang forward like a loaded jack-in-the-box. He was heavy with arousal, apparently turned on by having her watch his little strip-tease. Or by her arousal which she was sure he could smell. She squeezed her legs together trying to find relief she know only he could give her. Him and his cock. She moaned softly as she remembered the feel of him sliding inside her, filling her completely.

  “Watch, baby.”

  The transformation was magical, like something from a Disney movie. In less than a minute, a huge black wolf appeared where McQuade had stood.

  The wolf padded silently to her side, its sleek fur shimmering in the light. Rose was almost afraid to touch him, but a nudge on her hand unfroze her. His thick, black coat was lighter than McQuade’s hair but it was just as silky and soft.

  “You’re beautiful.” She knew she’d never have the nerve to say that to the man.

  The wolf butted her hand again when she stopped petting him, wanting more of her touch. She trailed her hand across his massive head and down his strong back. His hindquarters quivered. Rose wished she knew what McQuade, the man, wanted from her. Was it just a few fucks and then sayonara? Was there a relationship at all or was that just her wishful thinking?

  She jumped as he transformed back into human form. “What put the sad look on your face?”

  “Nothing.”

  In one smooth movement, McQuade pulled her into his arms and kissed her, and Rose filled her hungry arms with him.

  His mouth was warm and coaxing, his tongue tender and seeking. Rose inhaled deeply, pulling his masculine fragrance straight into her belly. She stroked his bare back, then reached up to tangle her fingers in the silky strands of hair at his nape. Returning his kiss with all the passion she held in her heart, she let his scent, his taste and his strength wash away all of her reservations and confusion.

  She trembled as he cupped the curve of her ass and brought her closer. A low brutal sound escaped from deep in his throat and she flooded her panties at the guttural sound. He seemed wilder, more primal. Maybe it was because she’d just witnessed his transformation from man to wolf back to man. Whatever the reason, it brought her n
eed to a whole new level.

  Wedging one hairy leg between hers, he ground her cunt against his hard thigh. The eroticism of being fully clothed while he was naked, built the pressure on her pounding clit, and had her coming in her jeans. The seductive friction along her nerve endings was too powerful a force to refuse.

  With her nerves still quivering, she let herself be pulled tightly against his hard chest, her head resting in the crook of his strong neck. Needing to touch him, she pulled back slightly, running her hands over him, her palms scraping the aroused nubs of his male nipples. She wanted to touch all of him, to caress his body and feel his strength. She wanted to make him all hot and hard. She wanted to taste him. To get down on her knees and run her tongue up and down his hard cock the way he had done to her pussy. She wanted to take the engorged purplish head inside her warm mouth, to tease him, torment him the way he’d done to her. And then she wanted to suck him until he came in her mouth.

  She slid her hand down, across his stomach, through the ribbon of hair narrowing down past his navel. When he didn’t stop her, her touch grew more confident, tracking downward until she cradled his hardness in the palm of her hand. Closing her fingers around him, she stroked upward. Her sexual experience before McQuade had been limited to French kissing and heavy petting. She’d known the mechanics of sex, but no book or classroom lecture could have ever described the sensations that raced through her whenever she was in McQuade’s arms.

  With a savage growl, he lifted her, his face carved with a need so intense it blazed from his golden eyes. Taking her into the bedroom, he laid her down, then climbed in beside her. “Touch me,” he growled. This time, the expression of unmitigated desire on his face unlocked something equally voracious inside of her, allowing her to shed her remaining inhibitions and embrace the moment and enjoy the man.

  He lay still under her administrations, allowing her to learn the sloping contours of his body from his chest to his feet. For now, she ignored the rising flesh between his legs, allowing only her hair to brush against his swollen cock. When she started to bypass his rigid member a second time he stopped her. “Suck me.”

  To emphasize his need, he took his cock in his hand and held it at its base. “Please baby, suck me with that pretty mouth.”

  Had he read her mind?

  With his other hand he guided her head down until her lips touched the swollen head. She thought about refusing, at least for a little longer, just to drive him to the brink, but the firm pressure on the back of her head told her that wasn’t an option. Besides, it was what she wanted. Too bad the icing from the chocolate cake was in the kitchen. She opened her mouth and took him inside.

  She was a nurse, she’d studied the male body but nothing prepared her for the feel and taste of him. Like velvet over hard steel. With a skill born of love rather than practice, she feasted on him, licking from base to tip before encircling the massive head with her mouth. Drawing him as deeply as she could, she tasted him with her tongue while sucking forcefully.

  “Baby, you’re killing me.”

  His hips belied his words as McQuade lifted his hips, seeking to feed her more of his impressive length. She obliged willingly, wanting only to please him. As she took him further down her throat, his body stiffened, his hands clenching the sheets. His nails ripped the fragile silk as he poured himself into her mouth.

  Licking the last drop of cum from his still partially erect dick, Rose crawled up his body to rest against his side. Her body was on fire. Touching him, bringing him to orgasm had affected her as much as it had him, except she hadn’t found any release. She was hot and aching and she needed him. But she didn’t know how to ask, how to convey her need.

  But McQuade knew. He knew exactly what she needed.

  His mouth brushed her cheek, the corner of her eye. He kissed her lashes, her brow, her chin. He kissed her as if they had all the time in the world. His mouth moved over hers, exploring the corner of her mouth, the fullness of her lower lip and finally, the moist recesses of her mouth. She opened for him immediately. With languid, but not-quite-so-gentle kisses, he explored her mouth thoroughly. His tongue grazed over her teeth and he stroked her body. Sure, strong and knowing caresses that had her squirming against him. Rose cried out when his mouth left hers but before she could protest, he was sliding kisses down her throat. His tongue nuzzled the place where he’d bitten her at the bar. No visual reminder remained but she shivered as she recalled the burning sensation of his sharp teeth sinking into her skin. As if he knew what she was feeling, he nipped her throat, barely brushing the skin with the edges of his teeth as he tasted the creamy skin of her shoulder.

  Next his mouth trailed down to the rising swell of her breasts.

  “This has got to go, honey,” he growled when he reached the neck of her knit top. One slight tug and the fabric gave way, split down the middle to reveal the swollen mounds of her breasts. She’d always been somewhat self-conscious about her size, especially her breasts. They just made men look, but few glances lingered when they saw the rest of her.

  “Damn, you are beautiful,” he groaned as his hands cupped her breasts, the size too much even for his large hands.

  Her nipples were a dark pink, almost brown and bigger than the ends of his little finger. His mouth closed around her, drawing the aching flesh inside. She cried out his name as she buried her hands in his hair, holding him to her. If he left her now she would die. Simply wither away with unfulfilled need.

  The burning inside her grew, beginning low in her belly and spreading out to each limb with every tug of his mouth. His mouth increased its pace, lathing and sucking each nipple in turn then nipping the hardened nubs with his sharp teeth. The pleasure and the pain combined to take her closer and closer to the edge. She needed to come.

  “Fuck me, McQuade.” Her hands pulled at him. Her earthy words should have shocked her. His harsh laugh at her crude words excited her even more. “I need you inside of me now.”

  He entered her in a single, deep thrust. “I could fuck you for an eternity and not get enough.”

  Her heart tripped at his words and she wrapped her legs around his waist, silently asking for everything he had to give. It was a heady feeling to know his fever burned as hot as hers.

  Their joining was not leisurely as his kisses had been. Instead, it was dominating, almost brutal as he banged her relentlessly. The wildness in him, the out-of-control animalist taking called to something primitive in her. She rose to meet each thrust, relishing every stroke, each brush of his hard body against her softness. With a mewling cry, she fell over the edge, clinging to him, riding his dick as her orgasm went on and on.

  “Yeah, baby, oh yeah. Fuck my big dick.” McQuade rammed himself into her several more times, spurting his seed in a jaw-clenching climax.

  They lay together, spent, their breathing heavy and limbs shaking. After several minutes, McQuade kissed the top of her head, moving away from her reluctantly. “I’ve got to get up, baby. I need to get a shower. I’d ask you to join me but then I’d be even later than I already am.”

  When she heard the shower come on, Rose got up too, even though she wanted nothing more than to lie in the big bed, snuggling in the torn sheets that held McQuade’s scent. Their scent. Since the amount of sexy underwear she owned was limited–try didn’t have any at all– she opted to borrow one of McQuade’s many t-shirts. Even though she was big, his shirt covered her ample curves with room to spare.

  Padding barefoot to the window, she looked out at the scene below. She couldn’t imagine a lovelier setting. The same granite topped mountain peaks she’d seen on the way here seemed closer viewed from McQuade’s second story bedroom. They’d be beautiful in the winter, capped with a layer of snow. Straggly pines crept up the lower ridges to form a thick timberline below the jutting peaks. She thought she saw a ribbon of water winking in the fading light of the sun but it could be just a reflection. There was a small clearing around the house, but not much. The rest of the area was
thick forest with a mixture of several species of trees, maple, oak, and pine being the most abundant. What would it feel like to be able to run through the dense forest as fast as McQuade and Briggs? To lose yourself in the wildness of your surroundings yet know you could always find your way home?

  “Why didn’t you stay in bed?”

  Again, he’d managed to come up behind her silently. She could feel his heat against her back even though several inches separated them. She knew it was a wolf thing. When she’d been chilled to the bone from the drenching rain the night he rescued her from the bar, he’d proven better than an electric blanket at warming her up.

  Of course, from the moment she’d laid eyes on him, she’d known he was one hot wolf.

  A grin curled up the corners of her mouth. He was hot in so many ways.

  His large calloused hands settled on her shoulders pulling her back against him. Even though they had just had sex—and great sex it had been—his shaft was still semi-hard. Could he possibly want her that much? That often?

  “I’ve called Briggs and he’ll be over as soon as he can.” He rested his chin on top of her head. “I would stay, love, but I really need to go.”

  Rose could tell he was torn between fulfilling his responsibilities and staying here with her. It warmed her heart to know he was concerned about her safety. No one had looked after her since her parents had passed away. She turned around in his arms, snaking her hands up his bare chest, his well-formed pectoral muscles, trailing her fingers across the tattoo that started on his left shoulder and ended right above his elbow. She’d never been attracted to men with tattoos, but the spiraling ink that formed the wolf pack chasing up his arm only made him hotter.

  The towel-dried hair on his head was still damp, falling in thick strands over his forehead. The sides were cut short, high and tight she’d heard someone once describe the military cut. She brushed the longer strands away from his eyes, breathing in the clean, fresh scent of the man and the heavier, woodsy scent of the wolf. Under both was the faint essence of pure, basic lust. A scent no doubt rolling off her in waves. She wanted him again. Oh, how she wanted.