Werecats and Werelocks (Collection) (12 page)

Her hands reached between them, grasping his thick cock between her fingers and stroking the silken, hot flesh. Sam groaned into her mouth and she absorbed his pleasure by lifting her hips, sliding low on the ottoman and inviting him to take her.

Sam pushed her hands away, gripping his shaft and placing it at her entrance. The urgency of his gesture made Frankie squirm beneath him but he waited, driving her to the brink of insanity with anticipation.

He let the head of his cock dip into her, leaving her clenching desperately at his shoulders for more, whimpering with need. His chuckle against her mouth was seductively sinister, wickedly letting her know he was in charge.

And then without warning, his large hands forcefully grabbed her hips and he plunged into her, driving the heat of his shaft balls deep.

Frankie screamed, not even bothering to hide the relief he brought as he entered her with such force they both jolted. Her legs lifted higher around his hips, angling them so his cock touched the deepest part of her. Sam drove deeper and deeper, harder and harder until she could only helplessly hang in his arms as he took sweet, measured plunges, leaving her breathless.

The fire that swept along her spine, the gut clenching intensity of his strokes made her thrash her head, clench her jaw, beg for release from this agonizingly, delicious spiral of pleasure.

Their flesh slapped against each other's, carnal to her ears. And then she was overwhelmed by sensation. The delicious friction his pubic hair rubbing against her swollen clit caused, the stretch of her pussy as it took him deeper and deeper and the slippery slide of sweat on their skin sent her over the edge.

She screamed again as the electric wave of orgasm assaulted her. Her chest crashed against his, her head swam, colored lights flashed behind her eyelids and then, sweet relief. Sweet, blessed relief washed over her.

Sam's last stroke made her limp body buck helplessly against him as he came too.

Their heavy, rasping gasps for air filled the room. Sweat glistened under the Christmas lights on Sam's forehead. “Wow, those hormones,” he muttered with a chuckle thick like gravy.

"Yeaaahhhhhh,” she sighed, leaning into his broad chest and focusing on breathing properly as they slid to the floor.

When their lungs had filled with air again, she whispered, “I think we'd better get dressed before Renaldo comes home."

Sam's smile was lascivious when he wiggled his eyebrows at her. “I think we should go back to my house and do this again before Renaldo comes home."

Frankie mocked horror. “And you called
me
loose?"

"Didn't I apologize for that?"

Rolling over to straddle him, she giggled, planting her hands on his chest. “Yep, but a reminder about the error of your ways will keep you on your toes, don't you think?” she smiled with a saucy grin.

He returned her smile with an equally cocky one. “I think you'll always keep me on my toes."

"I think you'd be lucky if I did."

"I think you might be one cocky cat."

"I think you should thank your lucky stars you got
me
as a Christmas gift. Do you have any clue how sorry you'd be if I were Siamese? God, they're such snooty, tired bitches."

"I'll send out a thank you card to Glynice post haste. So how do we tell icky Harry you're seeing me now?"

Poor Harry. He hadn't taken the news well. “I already took care of that. Well, not the part about seeing you, but about how I wasn't going to be mating with him."

Sam's smile was filled with self-assurance. “Did you now? And what about your parents? How're they going to feel about a human dating their daughter? Is there some bylaw about that too?"

"Nope. But you'll be our first human ever. We don't travel very far out of our social circles for reasons I think I've shown you. You have a bunch of stuff to learn about me. You might regret asking to get to know me better."

Sam caressed her spine with long fingers. “I'm all in, but let me be sure I completely understand before I get in any deeper. You and me, we have to mate to keep you in human form."

Frankie walked her fingers along his chest and toyed with the hair between his pecs. “Yep.
A lot
. Bet you're sorry now, huh?"

His grin widened and his arms, strong, secure, encompassed her. “This is my sad face."

Her lips grazed his. “So you turned on the Christmas lights on your tree just for me, huh?"

Sam nodded. “Just for you."

"Wow, who's all in the Christmas spirit, eh, Scrooge?” she teased, planting a kiss on his luscious lips.

"The guy who got a cat for Christmas,” he answered.

"Beats getting a tie."

"And then some,” he joked.

"The
uber lucky
guy who got a cat for Christmas and don't you forget it."

His voice grew husky as he pulled her to a standing position, trickling a finger between her breasts. “That's me. So I say we go back to my place and I can practice unwrapping my Christmas gift—over and over."

Frankie giggled again, light and fluttering. “You know what I say to that?"

"What do you say to that?"

She winked. “I say, woo and hoo. Merry Christmas to me."

His laughter filled her ears, his kiss seductively inviting. “I think I'm going to like this getting to know you thing. Merry Christmas, Frankie."

Her sigh was one of contentment, her smile warm. “Merry Christmas, Sam."

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To keep her tired cooped up sister from annihilating her niece and nephew and to appease their taunts that “Auntie Addison needs to get a life,” Addison Ross agrees to go on a pumpkin picking expedition with them.

And, hoo boy does she ever pick a winner.

Beneath the pumpkin she chooses, a talisman is buried. A talisman that brings the delish Caleb Marsden to her door and into her life.

Caleb Marsden the werelock.

Half werewolf, half warlock, the scrumptious Caleb holds the key to keeping the talisman safe, but he also unlocks something in Addison. Something long tucked away, wanton and wicked. Something she doesn't want to risk losing.

He's come to protect Addison until All Hallows Eve when a demon will try to wrest the talisman from her and take over the world. If the demon, Volac, gets his hands on the talisman, not only will the world know devastating destruction, but Caleb's life may come to a devastating end...

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Dear Nathan,

So I went pumpkin picking with my sister and her kids like three weeks before Halloween. I said it was much too early in the month. But my sister, Tricia, said that if those two spawn of Beelzebub spent one more second driving her out of her mind, she was going to hang a noose on her tree in the backyard, stick her head in it, and jump from the highest branch.

I told her that I didn't think her husband, Griffon, looked at all like Beelzebub, but she kinda did.

I also thought that was sorta extreme and the visual was kinda ugly in my mind's eye, but well, Joel and Sophia are spirited. Spirited is the polite word that stressed out, glazed-eyed parents use when they're describing their little heathens. Heathens that constantly move and chatter. I say, bring on the valium and slip it in their Kool-Aid.

Hoorah for whatever helps you preserve your sanity.

Plus, to make matters worse, lately Sophie has been driving Tricia nuts about getting a dog. At the ripe old age of six, she's decided—after watching far too much Animal Planet in my opinion—to become a veterinarian and she'd told us all quite proudly she needed a puppy to practice on.

According to Tricia, if Sophie mentioned getting a dog one more Jesus effin’ time, she'd simply end it all.

Anyway, we've had a cold snap and the kids had been stuck inside for a week. So they were driving her insane. Clearly Tricia needed respite. And a reason to razz the shit out of me for doing nothing but work. They take me pumpkin picking and Christmas tree hunting every year, under protest, while they nag me about my social life.

Er, non-social life, that is.

They make me go because they think that Auntie Addison needs to get out more. I say bullshit. Well, I didn't say bullshit to the kids. Just so we're straight. They're only six and eight. I'd never do that. I said bullshit to Tricia about the theory of me getting out more.

I get out. I do. I go from my townhouse to my car to my office, and then do that all in reverse at like six o'clock at night. Okay, maybe more like nine if I'm honest. Sometimes I get all crazy and make a trip to the grocery store for milk that never fails to end up sour because I'm always working and forget it's in the fridge.

My sister (and her kids too—they've learned well from the master nagger) calls me driven and ambitious. Like the little shits even know what those words mean. I call my sister crazy for so purposely and intentionally having nose pickers with big mouths just like their mother's.

I mean, they're cute and all, and, yeah, I love ‘em but, Jesus, they have way too much to say. Just like their mother.

Big mouths aside, I went anyway just to shut them all up and keep the peace. I hadn't seen them in a month and I was long overdue for a visit. I figured I could be in and out of that pumpkin patch in an hour flat and back home with the glow of my computer warming my face in an hour and a half tops given mini-van travel time. Well, maybe not an hour. I'd forgotten to include time for the apple cider and donuts.

They're a must, according to nose picker number one, er, my nephew Joel, and when you're eight, it's an experience you don't wanna miss.

I'd soon come to find there were several experiences at the pumpkin patch I didn't want to miss and it wasn't just the apple cider and donuts. I just didn't know I didn't want to miss them until I almost did, ya know?

I know. You're confused. I was too. Bear with me.

Here's the thing. I skipped along behind those two little buggers and Tricia, between those rows of that damned pumpkin patch for like forevah until we finally found suitable pumpkins for them.

Little Sophie's pumpkin coup was the hardest of all. Christ, you'd think we were shopping for friggin’ life support machines rather than a pumpkin. Sophie took choosing one to a whole new level. It had to be round, perfectly so. It had to be
reallllly
orange. “Cuz that's how punkins should be, Auntie Addison,” she'd reminded me in all of her six-year old wisdom. It had to be
reallllly
big. Big enough that she could fit three candles in the base so it would be
reallllly
spooky at night after it was carved. I remember smiling down at the top of her chestnut brown head and saying, “
Reallllly
?” and making her giggle.

Everything was
reallllly
something or other with Sophie. That word was synonymous for Sophie with anything needing solemn description or anything seriously cool.

When we'd finally settled on one for each of the kids, they decided I needed one too. I didn't want to tell them it would most likely rot away, sitting on my kitchen counter because I'd forget about it. Not to mention, I turned off all my lights and locked my doors come Halloween night. Trick-or-treaters are a persnickety, snobbish bunch these days. They want the big candy bars and they call you crappy names if you don't cough up the good stuff.

Shit on that. I don't need a bunch of ten year olds in Darth Vader costumes calling me cheap. I have my niece and nephew around to abuse me plenty, thanks.

Fine, I said. Auntie Addison needs a pumpkin like she needs a spiral perm, but sure, let's blow twenty bucks so I can see just how long it really does take a pumpkin to rot. It'll be like a science project.

My sister nudged me hard in the ribs and gave me the “mommy” look. The one that says I was being a mean, cranky, old auntie, spoiling all the fun—who was going to end up all alone in a nursing home someday because she wasn't nicer to her sister's demons.

I rolled my eyes and grudgingly agreed. Auntie Addison did indeed need a pumpkin.

I guess that's where the trouble all began for me.

That fucking pumpkin.

And what was under it.

I should have stuck to my guns and refused to buy one, but I honestly do love the little heathens and I sure would like someone to visit me come my twilight years if my life keeps going on the path it's on. I really am absorbed in my work and I haven't dated in well over three years.

So I picked a pumpkin.

A humdinger of one.

Joel began jumping around like he always does. He's prone to constant motion. It's as if he's had an overdose of his daily gummy worm intake and the sugar was rushing to his skinny, little legs. Thus, creating a River Dance-like effect. He makes me dizzy and my head swirls from his endless chatter.

So I didn't pay attention to all the noise he was making after I'd yanked my pumpkin up.

When I saw him pointing to the soft dirt where the pumpkin had been and realized he wasn't just jumping around for the sake of making us all bonkers, I stooped to check it out.

And there it was. A little statue on a rope imbedded in the dirt. It looked like a totem pole to me.

Joel thought it was uber cool and Sophie thought it was
reallllly
weird. Imagine that, eh? Very predictable my Sophie is.

So since we found this—this—er, talisman is what I'm told it is—shit's been a little crazy around here.

That brings me to why I'm writing this letter. I mean, in case I don't come back, I'm going to assume that eventually my sister will come looking for me. Damn, I hope she doesn't bring the nose pickers here to my house before you can contact her. They might get upset if Auntie Addison is dead.

I really do love them. In fact, part of the reason I'm doing this is because I love them. Well, it's not the only reason, if I'm honest. I kinda like the guy that started this whole talisman thing. No, I mean I really like him and if I don't help him, he might not come back either. I think the world won't much miss me if I end up dead trying to help him. My sister has her family and husband to keep her busy. They all have each other.