Treeland Pack Tales 3: A Trace of Ivy (13 page)

The near purr of pleasure he made deep in his throat calmed
her jittering nerves.

“You’re so fucking beautiful my heart hurts just looking at
you.” His words rasped with raw need, pleasing her more than a thousand glib
compliments.

Her wolf stretched and preened. A wild, sweet yearning
flowed through her, making her brave enough to bring out some sultry. She aimed
what she hoped was a smoky look over her shoulder on the way to the master
suite and his luxurious shower. “And you, sir, are still dressed.”

CHET’S CLOTHES MADE a trail behind Ivy. His wolf wasn’t
usually keen on water sports. Both the beast and he wanted Ivy enough to make
the old dog eager to get wet.

The rain shower fitting was doing an excellent job of
soaking Ivy. Long lashes were glossy spikes against her pale skin. The water
glistened slender curves of pure temptation.

She reached for the body soap.

He intercepted, snagging the bottle. “Washing you is my
job.”

“What do I get to do?”

Water sluiced down her shoulders, lucky drops clinging to
puckered coral nipples. He dragged his attention back to her beautiful eyes.
“Wash me when I’m done.”

Ivy’s attention lowered to his mouth and continued south.
After a long perusal that had him nervous as a virgin pup, she returned to meet
his eyes. Her pupils expanded until only a ring of green showed. She liked what
she had seen. His chest puffed from her regard. Her lashes lowered, and the
sweet musk of her desire drifted into his nostrils. His cock gave an
enthusiastic tap against his abs.

She started to lower an arm with the clear intention of
touching his erection. Too close to losing control, he caught her wrist firmly.
“Arms behind your head and lock them.”

He released her, treading a narrow path between dominance
and abuse. She’d been tortured, but she was Beta. Therefore, she needed
firmness as much as any other sexual submissive. In fact she wouldn’t be able
to tolerate intimacy without the comfort of his discipline. He held his breath,
waiting for her decision. After a few blinks, she obeyed.

The position thrust her breasts closer. He resisted the urge
to fall on her like a starving man who’d been allowed a seat at a laden banquet
table.

“Lift one hand.” He lathered a squirt of soap between his
palms and stroked the bubbles over the back of her hand and between each
finger, allowing himself to enjoy her smooth, smooth skin and the contact every
wolf craved.

She made a sexy noise, part moan, part whimper. Her arm
stayed pliant in his grasp as he cleaned her delicate wrist and slender
forearm. She squeaked when his soapy fingers slid over her armpit.

“Ticklish?” He used a hand sprayer to wash away the foam.

“A little.”

“Put that arm back behind your head and lift the other one.”

She followed his order without hesitation this time—a big
turn-on for him. He didn’t need extra excitement, but her obedience warmed
something more than his cock. With both commands the scent of her arousal
deepened.

Most Betas were naturally submissive, but attraction
followed no understandable rules, and trust still had to be earned. He silently
vowed to do anything and everything to be worthy of her love, because he was
bonded to her no matter what. Even more than his unbreakable commitment, she
deserved a mate who would protect her, cherish her, and merit her trust.

She was so courageous and sweetly responsive his balls
tightened into heavy knots, and his cockhead leaked precum. He ignored the
enthusiastic erection and concentrated on taking care of Ivy.

Tension stiffened her neck and shoulders. After cleaning the
second arm, he worked shampoo through her thick mane, paying special attention
to the tense areas. While he rubbed, his wolf wondered if she would ever shift.
Would she have the same tawny coat in animal form? A true mating might wake her
dormant wolf. His beast hungered to mount her.

She groaned blissfully. “That feels wonderful.”

“Then I’m doing it right.”

Her fine muscles continued to loosen under his tender
massage. He applied conditioner, rinsed, and then speared his fingers through
the wet locks, making certain her mane was thoroughly clean.

He moved the mass of wet hair aside to soap the rest of her
back. Her butt was small but round and firm. He took care to clean her with
light touches, deliberately avoiding any overtly sexual caresses. In spite of
his restraint, she stilled when he neared her butt seam and went up on tiptoe
as he washed between her cheeks.

His wolf stirred with a snarl at her obvious fear—as good as
a billboard announcement the rogues had sodomized her. Chet forced himself to
speak evenly. “Relax for me. I’ll be gentle, but I need to check your anus to
be certain there’s no damage.”

“I’m fine.”

He tightened his hold on her hip. “Don’t lie to me. It hurts
my nose.”

“I’m physically healed—everywhere.” A hint of irritation
tinged her response.

“Then there’s no problem with me checking is there?”

She let out a shaky sigh and bent over. “Just do it.”

He rinsed the puckered rosette guarding her rear entry,
examining the area carefully, and then helped her straighten. “You’re a brave Beta,
sweet torment.”

She leaned against his chest. “I still have a few emotional
tender spots.”

“Everyone does.” He went back to soaping her long legs.

“Even you?”

“Absolutely,” he assured her.

“Nothing seems to frighten you.”

He rinsed her off, turned her around, and began washing her
front. “You scare the hell out of me.”

“Me?” she squeaked.

He snorted. “You didn’t notice the thundering heartbeat and
heaving lungs when I finally caught up with you in the mall?”

“Your ex gave a convincing imitation of your perfect mate.
Combined with your bonding scent… I didn’t trust myself to talk. But it was
wrong for me to leave without telling you.”

He skimmed over her breasts. Her nipples tightened, poking
his palms and pleasing him greatly. “If she had been the one for me, then I
would’ve known a long time ago.”

“She didn’t seem to understand that.”

He rinsed her torso and resumed soaping her stomach,
skirting the delicate slit between her legs. “She knows. It’s rare for a male
to find his true mate. Most of us settle for a comfortable pairing. So she
wasn’t entirely crazy to hope for an exchange of collars. I was too damn slow
catching on to her expectations.”

“Comfortable is such a disappointing word when you long for
love. Was that how your relationship with Amanda was?”

He shrugged, wishing they were done talking about Amanda,
and chose his words with extra care. “Maybe it was on her side. There were
times I enjoyed her company. However, there was never a possibility that I
would mate with her, and I am not big on settling for comfortable when
absolutely wonderful is still a possibility. I should have made that plain to
her a lot sooner. She understands now. I made certain.”

“That must’ve been hard.”

“She was disappointed.”
An
understatement. I’m not going to lie to Ivy, but there is no need to upset her
by detailing Amanda’s bitterness
. “Next time you doubt my commitment to
you, promise you’ll talk to me before you run away?”

“I promise.” A blush warmed her cheeks. “How can you be so
sure about us?”

“I’ve bonded to you—I’m yours for the rest of my life. The
phenomenon doesn’t leave room for doubts.” He finished soaping and rinsed her
again.

She bowed her neck. “You don’t really know me.”

Chet straightened, tilted her chin, and waited until she met
his eyes again. “You’re forgetting I’m a strong Alpha werewolf with
preternatural senses. I know a great deal about you. And what I know, I love.”

He squirted more soap into his palm. “Spread your legs.”

Ivy hesitated, so he gave her added incentive. “Then it’s
your turn to wash me.”

Her legs trembled as she obeyed. He steadied her with a hand
at her hip and cupped her small mound, letting the narrow strip of her silky
pelt tickle his palm, and waited. It didn’t take long for her trembling legs to
firm, but her pulse was still rapid. Fear stung his nostrils. “In a few
seconds, I’m going to part you and clean your sex. Then I’ll rinse off all the
soap with warm water. If anything hurts or frightens you too much, I want you
to tell me. Can you do that?”

She bobbed her head.

“Are you frightened now?” He already knew she was, but he
wanted her to recognize what she was feeling. Naming the emotion was part of
the process of working through the trauma still haunting her.

She nodded again.

He tightened his hold on her hip. “I need to hear the
words.”

“I’m scared.”

“Of me?”

She started to shake her head, then caught herself. “Not
exactly, I trust you…”

“Not completely?”

“No, not completely. I want to, but… I’m sorry.” She sighed.

He needed her honesty, but the admission hurt. He would
rather cut off his dick than cause her pain, and he was damn fond of that part
of his anatomy. He made an effort to hide his disappointment. This wasn’t about
him. Ivy didn’t need more stress. “How much fear are you experiencing right
now—panic, strong, medium, low, or mild?”

She considered his question and seemed to take some comfort
in using quantifiers to describe her terror. “Sort of medium-low.”

“I want you to tell me if it worsens. I promise I will stop
if it is too much for you to bear.”

“Okay.” Her voice grew firmer.

With slow care, he parted her outer lips and gently cleaned
her tender sex. Her legs still quivered, but the scent of her fear didn’t
sharpen. When he was satisfied every dip and furl had been bathed, he rinsed
away the soap. “Taking care of you is my duty and my pleasure. You were very
brave. Thank you for your trust.”

She met his gaze with a shaky smile. “You are an amazing
male.”

Chet stared right through Ivy as if he saw every fear and
doubt. Uncomfortable under his scrutiny, she tried deflection. “Don’t you ever
run out of hot water?”

“An on-demand system prevents the inconvenience of an
unplanned cold shower.” He handed her the liquid soap. “Distracting me won’t
work. Don’t bother trying. It’s your turn to wash me.”

Apparently he read minds too. She squared her shoulders.
She’d agreed to this, insisting she was ready to handle sex. God knew she
wasn’t a virgin. She had healed from the rogues’ abuse. Mostly. At least her
outside had recovered. Chet was nothing like them, except for that one most
masculine part of his anatomy, which was in perfect proportion to the rest of
the male. This made his rigid penis bigger and scarier than any of the
monsters’ erections.

Ivy wrapped numb fingers around the bottle he handed her,
accepting the body wash and pouring some into her palm before returning the
container to the built-in shelf. She drew a deep breath and let it out slow,
hoping for an infusion of courage. Nothing happened, so she scooted around to
his backside like a coward.

“I appreciate your being so patient with me.” She chattered
to cover her nervousness and began soaping Chet’s back, working her fingers
into the tight muscles of his neck and shoulders.

“Keep going, please. That feels wonderful.”

Encouraged, she continued the massage. Her bravery grew when
he groaned with pleasure. She foolishly angled to dart a peek. The rope of
arousal hanging from his hips seemed to have grown impossibly larger.

“What’s going on in your head?”

“Sorry?” The word caught in her throat.

“You agreed to tell me when your fear level rose.” His tone
stayed even, yet she sensed his disappointment as clearly as if he’d yelled.

He’d been terrific, and she’d let him down, again. “Yes, I
did.”

“Is there something we need to talk about?”

His werewolf supernose ensured he would catch the scent of
any deceit the same way he knew when she was afraid. She dreaded his reaction,
and she hadn’t grown any braver, but lying wasn’t a practical option. So she
gave him the honesty he deserved. “B-Back before the monsters grabbed me, I
didn’t like sex all that much. I’m just not all that sexy. I was more the
kid-sister type, funny, sweet, cheerful—at least that’s what people said about
me. After being captured…the beasts stole everything that made me likable.” She
raced on to reassure him that her reaction wasn’t anything to do with him. “It
isn’t you. You’ve been beyond patient, and I appreciate the consideration. But
can’t we just get the sex part over with, please?”

He shook his head. “Intimacy hurts if you’re not aroused.”

“Fear and excitement don’t go well together.” Her mouth was
so parched from tension the smooth rush of words amazed her.

“Not usually,” he agreed, sounding way too calm and
reasonable, “Which is why you need to trust me to make this good for you.”

There was such surety in that deep rumble, she nearly
believed him. She wanted to. She owed him so much that a little honesty seemed
the least she could offer. “When we kissed, I felt something unfurling.
Sometimes my wolf comes to life. I think, sort of, in my belly. When that
happens I’m not so afraid. I want you.”
The
wild thing inside me wants you.

He caught her hand and brought it to his mouth, sucking and nibbling
on her fingers. “I love kissing you.”

Chet pulled her into his arms.

“I’m not done with your backside.” She wriggled in his iron
hold.

He shushed her protest with a hard kiss.

She parted her lips to argue, and his tongue thrust in,
dancing with hers in a whole new rhythm. Her inner wolfie nearly purred while
her human heart stuttered and accelerated to keep up with the frantic demand.
Desperate for more of the sweet yearning she sucked on his invading probe.