Roaring for Him (BBW Paranormal Shapeshifter Romance) (Wicked in Wilder Book 1) (12 page)

It’d been close, too. When she rubbed all over him and whimpered… Those sounds practically stroked his cock, pumped his dick with each panting breath. So fucking sexy.

And his. So. Fucking. His.

But not now, not while she was still aching from Seth’s injury. Later though… later it was
on
. He’d strip her bare, lick and kiss every inch of her body, and then slide inside her wet pussy.

He swallowed hard and reminded himself that was happening
later
. For now, he had to listen to her shower, moan, and whimper as the warm water soothed her aches. Then he would tuck her into bed and perhaps she’d be ready for him tomorrow.

He couldn’t fucking wait for tomorrow.

Tonight he’d torment himself by standing outside the bathroom door and listening to her every sound. Officially, he was keeping watch and ensuring he was nearby if she needed him. In reality, he was absorbing those sexy sounds and storing them in his spank bank. His cock was hard—Rock. Fucking. Hard.—and he ached to stroke himself. Maybe rub one out real quick to take the edge off.

He closed his eyes and imagined Tilly’s wet, soapy hands rubbing her skin, hair a fiery curtain trailing down her back. Her breasts would hang free, waiting for his touch. He’d kiss her, caress her, drop to his knees and lap at her cream.

Cats weren’t the only animals that liked cream. This wolf did, too.

All that shit sounded like the best idea ever.

Mitchell gripped the doorway, one hand clenching the wood on each side as he leaned his forehead against the panel. The one that locked him out and her in. Shit. An inch-and-a-half thick, hollow-core door was what stood between him and his mate. It might as well be ten feet of concrete block. Because deep down—
deep down
—he was a good guy, a good mate, who wouldn’t barge in and ogle Tilly.

If she invited him though…

Without warning, the door swung inward and he had to tighten his grip on the frame as he forced himself to remain in place. Less than three feet separated him and Tilly. Tilly with her abundant curves barely covered by a thin terrycloth towel. Water
did
glisten on her skin, her hair
did
fall in a fiery curtain over her shoulders, and her breasts… were covered by that towel, but he could
imagine
them hanging free. It was close enough to his vision that he was ready to call this heaven.

When the hell had she turned off the shower? He was
so
distracted by her.

Tilly gasped and took a small step back only to move forward once again. “Mitchell.”

He grinned, one corner of his mouth kicking up in a half smile. “Hey, baby. You okay?”

She licked her lips, that pink tongue darting out to lap at her lower lip. “Yeah. What are you…? Why are you standing there?”

“Just in case you needed me.”
Because if I can’t take a shower with you I can torture myself by staying near.

“Oh.” This time she nibbled her lip. “I was wondering if…”

“Anything.” He didn’t give a damn what it was, he’d do it. Fuck, he’d kill for her though he doubted his sweet mate was about to ask him to off someone.

“Can you get Phoebe? I think my stitches can come out and—”

“Oh, no, baby. If anyone does
anything
to that body, it’s gonna be me.” He stepped forward and she immediately eased back. It wasn’t long before her ass was snug against the counter. “You think I’d let anyone else touch you?”

Tilly narrowed her eyes. “She’s my sister and she’s done this—”

His wolf howled and snarled. It shouted its objection to Tilly’s words. There was no way young Phoebe was experienced with stitching—giving and removing. Furthermore, there was no reason for Tilly to be equally acquainted. “Don’t wanna hear it. Not another word.”

“But Mitchell—”

He leaned forward and placed his hands on the counter. He gripped the Formica and willed his wolf back. Otherwise it would be no time before his fingers were claws embedded in the flat surface. His new position allowed him to bracket Tilly, hold her captive without laying a hand on her. “Not. Another. Word.”

Her golden eyes bore into his amber orbs. “This isn’t new to our family, Mitchell.”

Mitchell fought for a calm that remained elusive. “Not anymore. Never again.” He lowered his head and pressed his lips to her forehead as he inhaled deeply.

He let her natural scents soothe him, wash through him in a calming wave. “If someone hurts you, I’ll kill ‘em, Tilly. No questions, no objections. And when you’re recovering, I’ll be the one who takes care of you. I’m more used to tearing stitches than removing them slowly, so you have to talk me through this.”

“Phee can—”

“Just walk me through it.” He wasn’t harsh, but he
was
firm. This was something they’d share.

When she finally slumped and rolled her eyes, he knew he’d won. “Fine,” she grumbled. “Grab the kit under the sink. You’ll needed the scissors and tweezers.”

“Okay. Turn around and let me see what I’m working with.”

He stepped away from her to gather what he’d need, but let his attention linger on her at the same time. Even after the hot shower, she was still stiff as she changed positions. When she finally turned all the way around, he gasped.

In his mind, he’d known what to expect when he finally got a look at her back.

His imaginings were
nothing
like reality. Hell, the wound, her “little cut” was easily seven inches long and a mere inch to the left of her spine. It was still angry and red, slightly swollen, and he had no doubt it hurt. How did she manage to remain upright? How could she
smile
when she was fucked up like that?

“Tilly,” her name came out with a hoarse wheeze.

Tilly turned her attention to him, small smile on her lips. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

Mitchell shook his head. “I can’t… How have you… Jesus, baby.”

He clutched the supplies in his right hand and held out his left as he padded forward. He didn’t touch the wound, didn’t trust himself not to hurt her, but he did take time to look at it more closely. The tear was a clean line, smooth and obviously made with one of Seth’s front claws. It was created with foresight and planning. Accidental clawing didn’t leave such tidy wounds. And based on its location and Seth’s fury, it was probably in the wrong spot. With its proximity to her spine, he had no doubt the wolf was looking to kill Tilly.

“I’m fine now. Better, really.” She grinned. “I have you to thank for that. The cat wants to heal so she can pounce on you.” Tilly paled. “If you, you know, want to. I’m not rushing or anything. You might not—”

“Tilly?” She snapped her teeth together and swallowed hard. “You’re mine. The second I can get my dick inside you—without feeling guilty as hell about it—I will.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Guilty?”

“Guilty.” He jerked his head in a brisk nod. “I won’t fuck you until I know I won’t hurt you.”

The wrinkles on her nose deepened. “Fuck?”

“Want me to call it making love?” He shook his head at her nod. “No, baby. The first time, the first few times, it’ll be fucking.” He leaned into her, crowding her space as he slid behind her, and he didn’t miss the hitch in her breathing. “It’ll be our animals. It’ll be rough and hard and you’ll be too tired to continue, but you’ll beg me for more. I’ll take you, Tilly. Make you mine.”

She whimpered and swayed backward. He captured her gaze with his, gold meeting amber once again. His fangs pulsed within his gums and he knew he could bite her and make her come. “When I’m done—when we’re both coated in blood and cum—I’ll make love to you.”

Tilly trembled, knees going weak, and he wrapped an arm around her waist to keep her upright. His new grip brought her snugly against his front, the curve of her ass cradling his cock. It’d be so fucking easy right now. So. Fucking. Easy. He formed a fist with his free hand and the scissors and tweezers dug into his palm, the slight sting reminding him of his task.

Mitchell forced himself to take a step back while he also nudged Tilly forward. He needed space between them. Not only because he needed room to remove her stitches, but also because if he didn’t have room to breathe, he’d…

He shouldn’t think about it. Running scenarios through his mind would only push him further. He needed to focus on Tilly and
not
his dick.

His dick didn’t agree with him.

Well, fuck it, he didn’t care.

His dick complained that its problem was the
lack
of fucking.

Was he seriously having an imaginary conversation with his cock?

Yes.

“Lower your towel a little more, baby,” he murmured and allowed her to adjust the fabric as she desired. It dipped down her back, heading farther south until he got a look at the top of her ass, that little crack just begging for him.

He was so fucked.

His dick reminded him he wasn’t.

Mitchell held up the tiny scissors and tweezers. “Walk me through it.”

“Sure.” She nodded. “First…”

There was a first, and a second, and a third, and a few winces and hisses that escaped Tilly’s mouth by the time they were done. A droplet or two of blood escaped the holes the stitches left behind, but her cat healed those quickly. Hell, the moment they were free of her flesh, her lioness worked double time on shedding the redness staining her skin.

Tilly sighed and her eyes drifted closed. “That’s better.”

“Why was she taking so long?” He ghosted his fingers over the vanishing gash.

She shrugged. “It always takes a while because I’m a half shifter and she
really
hates stitches. Even though, in the past, without stitches I would have been in real trouble.” Tilly turned around—hugging her towel to keep it in place—and her lionesses eyes met his. “But with you here, with your strength, she’s pretty damned motivated to get better.”

Mitchell winked at her, smirking once again. “Yeah? Why’s that?”

“Because if I don’t heal, you won’t touch me.”

“She’s right about that.”

Tilly nodded. “So there ya go.”

“There we go.” He couldn’t resist her—her scent and body—and he lowered his head and lapped her shoulder. The flavors of her skin slid over his tongue and his wolf—his lupine beast—purred.

“What about now?” She tilted her head to the side, giving him more room.

“What about now?” He echoed her, lips against her ear, wondering what she was getting at.

“Now that you know I’m healing.”

“Oh, baby, you’re healing, but you’re not
healed
. I’m still not gonna touch you…” He didn’t miss the way her shoulders slumped and arousal deflated. “With my
hands
. My mouth is another story. How does that sound?” The scent of her arousal filled the air once again, the rush of the flavors coating him from inside out and her need sank into his every pore. His dick was already hard, but now he felt as if he could cut wood. “Baby?”

“Yes, please.”

That was his mate, pure southern manners.

* * *

Oh dear God, yes, please lick me right now.
That’s what she was thinking, but managed to refrain from making the demand.

Barely.

“If I’m going to taste you, then I want to see all of you.” Mitchell’s lips still teased her ear, but his hands didn’t remain idle. “So I can figure out where to start.” He softly caressed her shoulder. “And where I’ll end.” His fingers danced down her arm, brushed her towel-covered hip, and then hovered at the juncture of her thighs. He pressed against her hidden mound; not enough to pleasure her, but merely a statement of intent.

She was onboard with his intentions. All of them. All of the intentions everywhere.

“Mitchell… Yes…”

He increased his pressure, palm sliding up and down, fingers curling against her hidden pussy. She instinctively widened her stance and opened for him.

“I can feel your heat, baby. You want me there?”

Tilly nodded, almost beyond words. Between his nearness and his touch, she was slowly being enveloped in a sensual haze of wanting.

“Say it,” he demanded.

The gently growing pleasure stole her voice and she whined in response.

“Nope, words.” Another demand.

“I want you.”

He dug his fingers in, tips reaching back to her center and she gasped with the more insistent press.

“Where? Here?” he growled, warm moist breath fanning her neck.

“Yes. There.”

“Say it,” this time the demand came with a snarl. “Say you want me to touch your pussy.”

He should have frightened her—a massive werewolf threatening her—but he didn’t. No, it made her desire him all the more. Her lioness was pleased with his dominance. Kinky bitch.

“I want you to touch my pussy.” She shuddered at hearing her desires aloud and she pushed on, telling him
exactly
what she wanted. She couldn’t hold back the words, couldn’t have suppressed them had she tried. “I want you to lick my pussy. I want you to shove your fingers inside me. I want to come on your mouth.”

She rocked her hips and ground against him, searching for more sensations. Her pussy—her needy pussy—clenched in anticipation.

Mitchell chuckled and more of his scent—the aromas of his arousal—blanketed her. “No.” He immediately removed his hand and stepped back. “Not happening.”

Tilly panted and fought for air as she stared at him in shock. Her mouth hung open and she tried to process what he’d just said. “Wait,
what
? I… You said… And then I said…”

That grin—that sexy as fuck grin—tilted his lips. His eyes were full amber now, the wolf no longer backing down, but lurking beneath the surface. And she realized the white tips of his fangs peeked just past his upper lip. Yes, the beast was out.

And Tilly fucking loved it. Loved. It. Her lioness did as well, the cat purring and preening with his animal’s nearness. The feline wanted to roll onto her back, submit to Mitchell, and promise to do whatever he wanted. As long as he made her come. That was the super big, most important caveat.

He reached for the counter, gripped the edge, and bracketed her with his arms. “No hands, baby.” He licked his lower lip, giving her a glimpse of his tongue, and she prayed he was talented. With one swift movement, he grasped her waist and lifted her onto the counter. Her feet dangled and she rested her heels against the cabinets. “No hands.”