Pleasure Me (8 page)

Sunlight dappled the road, the rays winking between the towering pines. A soft country ballad played on the radio, an artist unknown to her singing about a broken heart.

Wylder tapped his fingers in time with the low-thumping bass, not even trying to make conversation. He seemed content simply to be with her.

Any more of his kindness or patience and she was going to cave like a horny teenaged boy in a brothel. She pulled a candy bar out of her pocket. “Here.”

He grinned. “Thanks. Peel it for me? Don’t want to take my hands off the wheel.”

She not only peeled the damn thing, she slipped bite size pieces between his lips. He kept sucking her fingers rather than eating the treat.

By the time they delivered the artwork, she was relaxed enough to enjoy their comfortable silence. Aroused, too.

Outside the shop, he gestured to the quaint business district. “Would you like to have lunch?”

She wanted to feast on him. “Let’s get a couple of ham-and-cheese sandwiches, maybe some potato salad and cole slaw. Have a picnic.”

“You’re on.”

They stopped several miles outside of Los Lobos in a heavily wooded area off a dirt road. The kind of place no tourist or even the most dedicated nature buff would ever find. “Have you been here before?”

“Yeah. Discovered this place a couple of months ago. I think you’ll like it.”

Hand in hand, they strolled through the trees, nature the only witness to their presence. The air had never seemed fresher to her, though its scent had nothing on him. His clean skin and musk muddied her thoughts. At times, she could scarcely breathe.

He turned to the right, the trees so thick only a few threads of sunlight trickled through.

She lowered her face at a rustling sound she couldn’t quite place. “What is that?”

“You’ll see.”

The forest suddenly gave way to a thick carpet of grass and a waterfall. The slender stream of water poured past the rocks, a rainbow hovering above the mist. Her mouth fell open. “Wow.”

“You like?”

“Almost as much as your candy tree. This is too good to waste.” She tore off her clothes.

Took him a second to catch up. After dropping their bag of food on the grass, he got naked, too.

She ran to the back of the fall. The stone was cool and damp beneath her toes, the air charged. Before Wylder could grab her, she sank to her knees in front of him, cradling his cock in one hand, cupping his balls in the other.

He shot to his toes. Water pearled on his hairy thighs. She licked the beads away and buried her face in his thatch, moaning like a wild woman at his natural fragrance. Earthy. Virile. Wicked nice. Unable to resist, she took his thickened rod in her mouth, every blessed inch, the tip of her nose touching his dark curls.

“Fuck.” He wavered.

She followed, loving the slight saltiness of his skin, its striking heat. Depraved, wanting sounds poured from her. Him, too. Both of them beyond redemption and not caring. This was what mattered. The same as having someone you could trust by your side.

She slid her tongue down the length of his rod and flicked the uneven skin at the back of the head.

“Aw, crap, crap, crap.” His knees sagged. “I’m going to come.”

That was her plan.

She worked him in and out of her mouth, sucking, licking, loving. He howled like the wolf he was, his cum shooting on her tongue, rich and creamy. She savored the taste, wonderfully different from other guys. Pure man with a heady taste of beast.

Growling, she released his cock and sucked one of his balls into her mouth.

“Fuck, shit,
stop.
”

She didn’t want to.

“Please.” He panted. “You’re gonna kill me.”

He sounded like he was about to cry. She tongued his nut out of her mouth. “Sorry.”

“S’okay.” He wobbled down to his knees and hung his head. Water dripped off the ends of his hair.

She squeezed his damp shoulder. “Gonna make it?”

“Fuck yeah.” He whipped his arm around her waist and brought her down.

She grinned. “Bad boy. You were faking.”

He gulped more air. “Not entirely.” Settled between her legs, he slid his hands beneath her ass. “Don’t you dare move.”

Like she would, given what he was about to do? “Can I make noise?”

“Screech your lungs out. No one will hear you.”

True. The crashing water soundproofed their makeshift bedroom. “Go on. Pleasure me—ravage me.”

“I prefer to love you.”

Her throat constricted with emotion. She arched forward and pressed her lips to his shoulder then sank her teeth into his flesh. Pouring all of her love and need into claiming him. Peace filled her soul, a completeness she’d never thought to experience.

He stared, reverence and wonder on his face. And then he claimed her with his bite. What she’d craved for so long.

They loved each other as they hadn’t before, Wylder dazzling her with his tenderness and passion. Both equally important. After sweeping his tongue down the length of her cleft and sucking her puffy folds, he licked her clit.

A throaty moan tore from her, the familiar ache building between her legs. Threads of pleasure trailed past there to warm her chest and heat her cheeks.

He slipped two fingers into her channel, held her nub between his teeth, and licked relentlessly.

She gasped and shouted. The world seesawed so badly, she pressed her fingers against the slick stone for some measure of control. Impossible. Dazed, she rode the crest, soaring through space and time until nothing existed except the enchanting delight of his mouth, touch, presence, and love.

Chapter Five

Despite the creativity Wylder had shown in making his candy tree, he nixed the idea of being her mom’s protégé.

“All thumbs.” He held up his hands.

They were as magnificent as the rest of him, strong and masculine. Starr sucked each of his fingertips and nuzzled his palms. “No prob. Whether you have two thumbs or ten won’t matter a bit when you help me with Mom’s video and sales presentation.”

“Huh?”

“She needs an objective audience. I’m her daughter. She’ll think I’m biased.”

“You are. So am I. Toward you.”

“Then you’ll come—I mean, you’ll be there?”

“Do you even have to ask?”

No, she didn’t. His commitment to them and what she wanted was nicer than anything she’d known.

Over the next days, Starr called upon her years in modeling and the entertainment industry. She set the stage, so to speak, for her mom’s sales presentation to the university and her YouTube video. The workshop was tidy, tools lined up in the order Ethra would introduce them to students at the school or on the Net. Earlier, Starr had gone online purchasing the best video equipment. She’d had her purchases shipped to her mom’s post office box in Collins, a neighboring town.

Ready to roll, she adjusted the camera, along with the tripod, and fooled with the lighting.

Wylder leaned against one of the worktables, out of camera range. “You should make films of the town and the pack for posterity.”

“Gee’s the keeper of those memories or did you forget? I doubt he’d want anyone horning in on his territory.”

Wylder regarded a monitor showing the area she’d film. The angle made the room seem larger than the actual square footage, her mom’s art displayed in the background to pique interest, rather than coming off like a hard sell. “You’re so good at this.”

She made a dismissive sound. “I can’t even get my leading lady to show up.” She lifted her face and yelled, “Mom!”

“Coming, coming, coming. No need to make such a racket.” She rushed into the room.

Starr made a face. “What are you wearing?”

“Clothes.”

Her ensemble looked as if she’d plucked the garments off the set of the 1950s hit
Leave it To Beaver.
Her blouse was frilly, skirt voluminous. She’d even donned a string of pearls and heels. Apparently, she’d also been shopping on Amazon these last days. Starr gestured to the getup. “Those duds have to go.”

“No. I want to look good.”

“You’re not baking cookies here. You’re pounding metal, soldering stuff, spray painting. You need to wear jeans and a simple tee, along with your safety gear. Right?” She turned to Wylder.

He looked like the proverbial deer caught in headlights or in the ravenous stare of a wolf. “Uh.”

“He agrees.” She turned back to her mom. “Trust me. I know how these promo things work. Go on, change. We’ll wait.”

Muttering beneath her breath, Ethra stomped down the hall.

“No makeup either,” Starr called out. “You’re selling knowledge, not trying to fill your dance card with potential mates.”

Wylder groaned. Starr shot him a look.

Once her mom was back to looking as she usually did—naturally beautiful—Starr stood next to her and pointed at the camera. “See the red light? Talk to it, look at it, nowhere else.”

“Not even when I’m pounding or soldering?”

Jeez.
“You can look away to see what you’re doing, but occasionally glance at the camera as you talk, so you appear to be speaking to your audience. Ready?”

She clenched her teeth and nodded.

Starr patted her shoulder. “Relax. Smile. Look as if you’re enjoying this.” She got in place behind the equipment and pointed her finger. “Action.”

“What?”

“Go. Start talking.”

Her mom nodded, smoothed her tee then pulled a stray hair off her top.

“Cut.” Starr planted her hands on her hips. “What are you doing?”

Ethra arched one eyebrow. “I want to look good.”

“You’re as gorgeous as your daughter.” Wylder grinned.

Ethra ignored him. “Take a picture first. I want to see how I look.”

God.
“You’re perfect.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. Starr caved and did some test shots, directing her mother to act naturally, seem enthused, smile on occasion. Unfortunately, the woman’s acting skills were as bad as Starr’s had been.

Wylder rubbed his fingers over his mouth trying not to smile.

“This color’s awful on me.” Ethra fingered her blue top. “My pink one would be better. Be back in a sec.” She stopped in the doorway. “I did good, don’t you think?” She beamed.

Starr forced a smile. “Once you’re in pink, you’ll be perfect, but we should rehearse a lot before actually making the video.”

“Why?”

“Just part of the process. Every photographer and Hollywood director I met rehearses a lot.”

“If you say so.” She padded down the hall.

Wylder’s shoulders bobbed with suppressed laughter. Starr slapped his arm. “Control yourself.”

“No fucking way.” He pulled her into his arms and kissed her so deeply, she relaxed better than if she’d downed several slugs of booze. Too bad he couldn’t work his magic on her mom.

In front of the camera, Ethra was as stiff as a corpse, her movements unnatural and jerky, her voice an emotionless drone only a zombie could love. Rather than speak to the red light as Starr had directed, she kept glancing at the monitor to the side, stopping to ease back a wayward strand of her hair, lifting her chin at an impossible angle to reduce the slight sag in her jaws.

She was so worried about her looks, she didn’t watch what she was doing and burned her fingers twice. Soon, she was sweating as badly as Starr was.

Still, her mom smiled. “This is fun. It’s going much better than I thought.”

“You’re great.” Wylder applauded.

Giggling shyly, Ethra curtsied. “Thank you, sir.”

Starr sagged against one of the tables. “Let’s break for lunch.”

And a few acting lessons.

With the video to make and Starr accompanying Wylder to deliver the metal artwork, she’d never been busier or happier. The other pack members had finally stopped giving her the evil eye, accepting her as one of their own again. She and Wylder made love most days, always in the woods. She still wasn’t okay with the idea of anyone in the bar hearing them going at each other upstairs.

Eventually, she and Wylder would have to make a decision whether to get a place together. She wanted nothing more, but
despite their claiming bites, Starr didn’t rush, content with their current situation.

Summer wound down, the nights crisp, the days still delightfully warm. Her mom put the video and other promo aside in order to meet a huge order from a new store. The proprietor had been in one of the local towns, checking out shops, and had come upon her work. It was love at first sight. She emailed pictures of the pieces she wanted made for her shop and commissioned even more, these original designs just for her.

Starr brought a tray of burgers and chips into the workroom since her mom refused to break for meals. There was so much material lying around, projects started but not finished, she wasn’t certain how her mother would ever catch up. “Can I do something to help? Maybe paint? I couldn’t screw that up too badly.”

“I’m good.” She darted from one project to the other. “As long as I don’t sleep or eat, I should be finished in time.”

“Hey.” Starr rubbed her mom’s back. “Killing yourself won’t get this done. Come on.” She pushed her onto one of the stools and pulled the tray of food in front of her. “Eat. Do you want coffee or water?”

“Neither. I don’t have time for this.”

“Make it.” Suddenly, the daughter was the mother. “These pieces will get to where they’re supposed to be, on time, even if Wylder and I have to break every speed limit in the state to deliver them.”

Ethra bit into the burger. “Won’t help.” She pushed a piece of bun into her mouth. “They’re going to Wyoming.”

Starr’s belly fell, a wave of disquiet rushing over her. “Why there?”

“That’s where the shop is. What’s wrong?”

Kade’s pack was in Wyoming. He’d spoken often of his childhood there. When things had still been good, or at least normal, between them, she’d asked if he’d ever roamed the Black Hills Forest. She hadn’t mentioned the part in South Dakota, afraid she’d let something slip about Los Lobos. He’d told her he’d never strayed from Wyoming until he’d left for Hollywood.

“Sweetie?”