Hard Landing

by Ophelia Sexton

  His hot breath caressed her needy pussy, startling her out of her daze of pleasure.

  "Wait," she managed, pushing herself up on her elbows. "You don’t have to do that."

  He looked puzzled, but he stopped. She was acutely aware of his hands firmly holding her thighs apart. "You don't like oral?"

  "Uh," she stammered, suddenly self-conscious. "It's only that…I mean, you don’t have to if you don't want to. If you don’t really like—"

  "I like," he said definitively, looking hungry and predatory with his blazing golden eyes. Then his expression softened. His grip on her thighs loosened, but only a little. "Michelle, what's the issue here? Be honest."

  "Well Austin—my ex—he said that he didn't like how I, um, smelled down there." Michelle squirmed in embarrassment. She had to force out the remaining words, the humiliation accompanying that memory just as fresh as the night it happened. "And that I, um, took too long. To come."

  In retrospect, she should have seen that for the big red flag it had been. Instead, she'd gone ahead with the engagement, and then the wedding.

  "I beg to disagree." Carl dipped his head and inhaled deeply. "I've got a great nose, and I think you smell absolutely delicious."

  "Really?" she asked.

  He nodded. "My wolf wants to drench himself in your scent, and I'm totally on board with that. As for the other thing—" He bent and kissed the tender skin on the inside of her right thigh, making her shiver. "I really enjoy doing this, and we've got all night. I'm not in a hurry. Are you?"

  "No," she breathed, on fire for him. "I just want to make sure that you're getting what you want. I mean, how you like to do it."

  That got her one of his devastating smiles. "I like to do it any way that makes you scream my name."

  "Sorry to disappoint you, but I'm not a screamer."

  Though the last few minutes have made me wonder about that, she thought.

  "Challenge accepted," he informed her. "There's a first time for everything."

  He lowered his face to the apex of her thighs.

  Despite his reassurances, she stiffened up, still worried that she was going to take too long to come.

  But true to his word, he took his sweet time, lapping at her clit and teasing it with nibbling kisses before going lower and fucking her with the slippery length of his tongue.

  In between caresses, he growled out a stream of compliments. Her performance anxiety eased when she realized that he'd been serious about enjoying himself, and her arousal came roaring back.

  Maybe it was because she had already been more turned on than she'd ever been, or because he seemed to know exactly what to do, but it didn't take long for him to bring her to the brink of climax.

  Then he kept her teetering on the edge for a while. She squirmed and gasped and quivered beneath his wickedly skilled mouth. His iron grip kept her pinned to the bed when she frantically tried to grind herself against the exquisite torture he was inflicting on her.

  "P-please," she begged. "I need—I can't take this any longer—I need—"

  What she needed was his thick, hard cock, pounding into her. Giving her the relief she desperately craved.

  What she got was a single, slow finger, sliding teasingly into her.

  "Carl," she begged. "Fuck me. Please."

  "No. Not tonight," he said firmly.

  "What?" She couldn't believe her ears. If he doesn’t want me, then why lead me on like this!

  "I want you," he continued hoarsely. He pulled his finger out of her in a soft caress that lingered over her folds. "More than you can imagine. But we're going to have to wait."

  She looked at him in disbelief. His swollen cock was so hard that its stiff length was pressing against his belly.

  What the hell is he talking about? He's ready. More than ready!

  Then it hit her. Birth control. She had stopped using it post-divorce, after swearing off dating and men. "I'm sorry. I didn't think about condoms—"

  "It's not only that. Things work differently for shapeshifters, and that means we can't go all the way right now." Carl leaned down and gave her a lingering kiss. "But don't worry, gorgeous. I'm going to make you scream now. In fact, I want to see if I can make you scream all night."

  Chapter 11

  Change of Heart

  "Tell me if I'm hurting you," Carl said.

  Then he slipped his hand between Michelle's legs and penetrated her needy pussy with three fingers.

  They stretched her and rubbed against the slick, swollen tissues of her entrance in a most satisfying way. His fingers were dry at first but quickly became wet as he started pumping them in and out of her.

  "Oh, God, that feels wonderful," she moaned, rocking her hips up and down. "Don't stop!"

  Then his callused thumb found her clit and circled it. The friction sent waves of dizzying sensation rippling out over her entire body.

  "You feel wonderful. Now, scream for me, Michelle," he ordered, just before his lips closed over the tip of her breast.

  He bit down on her erect nipple.

  The sharp pleasure, mixed with a delicious hint of pain, sent her over the edge.

  She arched with a choked scream, pulsing around the hard pressure of his fingers. Her long-delayed climax sent her soaring, weightless, into a dark sky dotted with fiery stars.

  After an endless, throbbing journey through heaven, she floated gently back down to the mattress, still buoyed on waves of dizzying pleasure that continued to move through her.

  To her surprise, she found she needed more. As satisfying as that climax had been, it had barely taken the edge off her arousal.

  And he gave it to her, his mouth teasing her breasts, his fingers moving relentlessly between her legs. It didn't take long before she was arching and crying out again.

  This time, when she came back to earth, she realized that this had been all about her so far.

  She slid her fingers into his blond hair and tugged gently, urging him up until he lay at her side. Then she ran a greedy hand over the hard planes of his chest and down his taut, muscled stomach.

  "Is it okay if I…?" Michelle traced a fingertip lightly down the length of his cock.

  Carl lifted his hips, pressing himself eagerly her teasing touch. "Oh God, yes," he said fervently.

  "Good." She closed her fingers around his rigid shaft. "I'd hate to think I was the only one having a good time here."

  His chuckle turned into a gasp as she drew her fist slowly up his length, then skated her thumb over the broad tip.

  She spent the next few minutes experimenting with different speeds and pressure, observing his responses closely. Then she set to work in earnest, wanting to give him as much pleasure as he'd just given her.

  It was only fair.

  The renewed throb of arousal pulsing through her as he panted and shook under her hands surprised her. There was something unexpectedly hot about the way he responded to her that made her feel powerful and deeply tender at the same time.

  She lowered her head, letting her hair brush his torso, and took him into her mouth.

  His fingers clenched, bunching her comforter, and his groan vibrated through her, caressing her pussy.

  And it only got better from there. As she applied everything she had learned about giving blow jobs, his responses let her know that she was driving him crazy.

  She couldn't believe how incredibly turned on she was, even though he hadn't touched her. Pleasuring him felt good. Really good.

  And when he came in a deep shudder and a rush of salt and musk over her tongue, she felt triumphant.

  She milked him with gentle suction until his climax subsided. To her astonishment, his cock remained hard in the aftermath.

  It was all she could to restrain herself from swinging her leg over his hips and riding him until they both came again.

  "Your turn," he said, panting.

  An instant later, she was on her back, and his face was between her legs as his mouth worked magic on her, h
arder and more urgently this time.

  She came in seconds this time, writhing and crying out under the merciless demands of his lips and tongue.

  He gentled his touch after she fell over the edge and her climax subsided slowly in a series of long, gentle ripples of pleasure.

  Afterwards, he drew her against his side. She pillowed her head on his shoulder and draped her arm across his stomach to cuddle with him.

  "So tell me," she murmured, floating on a warm, golden cloud of satisfaction. "Why doesn't a hot guy like you have a girlfriend?"

  He turned his head to give her the sweetest smile. "You think I'm hot?"

  "You know I do." She considered his non-answer, which was probably an answer after all.

  And was surprised to find that she really wanted to know for sure. "Well, do you have a girlfriend?"

  To her relief, he shook his head. "Nope. Though my family is pressuring me to get myself hitched to another wolf shifter." He paused for a long moment, and she thought he was done speaking. Then he added, "They even, uh, picked one out for me. I'm supposed to go home for Thanksgiving and meet her."

  Michelle controlled her impulse to withdraw her arm and roll away from him. She told herself that the unexpected hurt and jealousy that constricted her chest wasn't rational.

  Was I really thinking that this might be something more than a quick fling with a hot firefighter? she chided herself. I’ve known Carl for less than twenty-four hours. I can't believe I hopped into bed with him right away!

  "I see." She tried her best to keep her tone unemotional. Her sudden crush on him was her problem. The last thing she wanted was to come across as needy and clingy.

  But some of her internal turmoil must have seeped through, because he sounded apologetic. "I haven't actually met her yet. I guess because shifters lived in these secret, isolated groups for such a long time, arranged matings with shifters from other packs were a necessity in the old days. And shifters are pretty tied to tradition."

  He sighed.

  "How did you—I mean, how does that work?"

  "Would you believe that there's an online matchmaking service for shifters? My, uh, pack's leadership does the research and picks a suitable candidate. Then you meet in person with the one they picked. If you don't hate each other, and if your wolf spirit agrees, there's a mating ceremony witnessed by all the pack members. These days, it's pretty much identical to a regular wedding." He paused again. "Wolf shifters form a lifetime bond with their mates. But I'm not sure if happens immediately with an arranged mating, or if it's something that takes some time, and occurs once you've gotten to know each other."

  "That sounds…very different," Michelle ventured. She couldn't imagine what it would be like to marry a stranger and then be expected to form a lifetime bond with that stranger. She remembered her abuela telling her stories about her girlhood in Mexico and how the rich families frequently arranged marriages for their children. "And really old-fashioned."

  "Shifters are pretty old-fashioned in a lot of ways. I've butted heads plenty with my pack over that."

  "What happens if you fall in love with someone that you just, uh, happen to meet?"

  He stroked her bare shoulder. "There are love matches too. And matings between shifters and non-shifters. But whether those matings are accepted or not depends on the pack leadership."

  She tried to quell a tiny, irrational burst of hope at hearing that. Remember, he told you he's planning to leave as soon as he's healed up.

  He added, "In any case, I probably need all the help I can get." He sounded like he meant it as a joke, but Michelle heard echoes of pain beneath his words

  "But you don't seem like the kind of guy who needs any help in finding a girlfriend!" she protested. "Or even a wife."

  And I'd cut to the front of the line in a heartbeat, said the little voice inside her head. She tried to ignore it.

  "Thanks for the vote of confidence, but smokejumping is hell on relationships," Carl said. His fingers trailed from her shoulder to the curve of her breast. "You never know when you're going to be sent out on a fire call and how long you're going to be gone. Heck, this summer, I've spent time in Washington, California, Idaho, New Mexico, and Alaska."

  "Is that when your pack told you about the arranged marriage?" Michelle asked, trying to convince herself that she shouldn't care so much.

  "No." He paused. "My mom was disappointed that I didn't swing by the ranch to visit on that trip. Truth is, I spent a week out at Caribou Mountain, which is way north of Fairbanks and pretty much in the dead center of the state, fighting a big fire while being eaten alive by swarms of mosquitoes." He shrugged. "Anyhow, that's pretty much what my life is like during fire season. Not many women want a boyfriend who's never around."

  "Oh, I don't know about that," Michelle said. "The first couple of years that I was married, my ex-husband used to drive me crazy because he was always underfoot. He used to follow me from room to room in our old house and hover just behind me while I cooked." She shuddered. "Maybe I'm weird, but apparently I need lots of personal space."

  Which sounded funny when she was plastered right up against his side and enjoying the skin-to-skin contact. But somehow, he didn't make her feel crowded, even when there wasn't a millimeter of space between them.

  "I get it," Carl assured her. His hand curved under her breast, cupping it, and he began stroking the tip with his thumb, sending a shiver of arousal straight down to the pit of her belly.

  Michelle laughed. "Would you believe that one of my friends told me that I might be happier marrying a sailor or long-distance trucker?" She looked around her snug, comfortable bedroom. "It gets a little lonely here sometimes, especially during winter, when I'm snowed in, but I like being by myself. Is that weird?"

  "I don't think so. And for the record, my sisters say the same thing about me. That I'm a lone wolf at heart, and that's why I picked a job that lets me spend half the year fighting fires out in wilderness areas." He rolled onto his side and leaned in to kiss her. "But since we're both here together right now, let's make the most of our time together."

  "Sounds good to me," Michelle murmured against his lips.

  As he began to kiss his way down her body, she tried to ignore the voice inside her that warned her that she was heading for another heartbreak.

  ◆◆◆

  The next morning, Carl stood at the stove, making pancakes while Michelle was out doing her morning chores.

  Her two dogs, which had spent the night sleeping in front of the door outside her bed, had followed her to the barn, where they helped herd her goats and alpacas out to graze in the pasture.

  It had stopped raining sometime before dawn when he and Michelle had finally fallen asleep, curled together.

  Through the kitchen window, he saw the sun alternately vanishing and reappearing as clouds scudded across the sky, forerunners of the next storm, which his phone's weather service predicted would come in around lunchtime.

  He realized he was humming as he broke eggs into a bowl and kept an eye on the neat circles of batter on the griddle.

  He felt…good. And not just because he'd gotten laid last night. His leg was doing a lot better, too. When he checked it before getting dressed, the edges of the wound were still tender but knitting together under the butterfly bandages that Michelle had applied.

  This place feels like home, his wolf said. You could be happy here.

  Carl realized that it was true. And that a lot of his sense of well-being right now stemmed from the fact that he was currently covered in Michelle's scent.

  Oh, no you don't, you tricky dog, he thought. I know what you're trying to do.

  She is our mate. Why are you trying so hard to deny it? His wolf sounded querulous.

  "Because she's not our fucking mate!" he snarled. "In case, you've forgotten, our mate is waiting for us in Alaska."

  But even as he spoke the words out loud, he realized that every part of him recoiled from the prospect of meeting the str
anger that his pack had chosen for him, never mind actually mating her.

  Shit. Not good. He tried to picture himself cooking breakfast for his mate in the kitchen of his Alaska cabin, but it felt wrong…until his imagination supplied Michelle sitting at the table.

  No. No, no, no, no. What have you done?

  This was all his wolf's fault. It was the one who had engineered this little idyll by insisting that they stay here. Now it was trying to push him down a dangerous path.