Wolf and Punishment (The Alaska Princesses Trilogy, Book 1) (8 page)

“It’s okay,” she said, loving the rush of power that came with the possibility of making a wolf as experienced as Mag come in this new position before she did.

However, she didn’t outlast him. At first she thought she might as his groans increased in size and became louder. But at the last minute, he reached down and covered her clit with his fingertips, and suddenly it was the Bad Princess show all over again as she climaxed with crazed moans. Only then did he start pounding into her.

“Don’t! Don’t! Don’t!” she heard him whispering behind her.

And then he came, his fingers digging into her hips as he released. She could feel him shuddering as he emptied into her, and he was still shaking a little when he collapsed beside her and pulled her into his large arms. Her arms were nowhere near as large as his, but they were long and she wrapped them around him as best she could, all but gluing herself to his wide chest.

They lay there like that, coming down, enjoying the feel of each other as they did so. And when everything was quiet again, she asked, “Why did you say ‘don’t?’”

“Hmm?”

“This morning and just now, you kept saying ‘don’t’ when you were getting close to coming. Why?”

He was quiet for a long time, and she wondered if he would actually answer, but then he admitted, “I was telling myself not to bite you.”

“You wanted to bite me?” she asked.

“Yeah, but in Freedom Town we have rules about that kind of stuff. Not like laws or anything, more like a code everybody sticks to. You don’t bite an unheated she-wolf. You save that for your mate.”

And there came that shiver again, the one only Mag gave her. It would be a disaster if she went into heat in Denver. In a city she didn’t really know. In a hotel room with a wolf to whom she hadn’t been pledged. She knew that. Yet she’d never wanted anything so much as she wanted to go into heat at that moment. She wanted his teeth on her shoulder, she wanted him to feel safe to lose control with her, to do with her as he pleased. She wanted his every dream to come true, getting onto a professional football team, becoming rich. All of it.

“I want to go down on you,” she said.

He jerked away from her. “Whoa, what?”

“I want to put you in my mouth.” She sat up. “I want to make you feel the way you make me feel. Can you tell me how?”

He seemed to be both amused and perplexed. “Janelle, you don’t have to do that.”

“I want to.” She kissed down his stomach, just like he had kissed down hers that afternoon during their pre-movie round of sex.

Then she took his member in her hand, wrapping her fingers around it on pure instinct. Apparently, she’d gotten the touching part right, because it swelled in her hand, rising to stand at attention, the hood stopping just an inch from her mouth.

“Now what do I do?” she asked him.

She could see the hesitation on his face. He felt guilty about letting her do this for some reason, but he also wanted her to pleasure him. He needed this after the argument they’d just had.

“Okay, just move your hand up and down.”

“Like this?” She stroked his cock and quickly became mesmerized by how easily it slid up and down on his shaft, thanks to the copious amounts of lubricant their combined lovemaking had left behind.

“Yeah, like that. Faster though.”

She moved her hand faster. “And does the next step involve me putting my mouth here?”

She took the tip of him into her mouth, marveling at the feel of the bulbous head. Her tongue explored it, and she must have hit a nerve, because when she ran it around the ridge where the head met the shaft, he seized up. “Fuck, Janelle!”

It wasn’t an admonishment.

His hand found the back of her head and despite his earlier hesitation, he guided her, bobbing her head up and down on his length. “Yeah, just like that baby,
fuck
!”

She knew she’d found the right rhythm when the hand that had been guiding her head reached over to pull her hair back, pony-tailing it behind her neck. She peeped up at him, and found she couldn’t look away.

He was watching her. Watching her service him. And the look on his face was… she could tell he was nearly overwhelmed by the sight. But like her, he couldn’t look away.

For a long time their eyes stayed locked, her watching him watch her: a circle of reverence so captivating that when he came, it seemed to surprise him. He yelled out and his warm ejaculate shot into her mouth and down her throat without warning.

She didn’t stop stroking, though. She remembered how good his thumb had felt rubbing her clit as she came, and she swallowed as much as she could, appreciating the salty taste of him. But it kept coming and coming and eventually she had to take him out of her mouth. They both watched him geyser, load after load spilling onto his stomach.

It was the sexiest thing she had ever seen, and it made her clench below, the instinct to touch herself while she watched him cum appearing in her mind like a thought that had always been there, even though she had never masturbated in her life. She rubbed at her sex helplessly, unable to believe what she was doing.

And that only seemed to make it worse for Mag. “Oh, Janelle…” he said, shoving both his hands into his hair, his biceps bulging out as he watched her doing exactly what he’d done countless times that weekend to her. His cock spasmed in her hand, and yet another load roped out of him, joining the rest on his belly, just as her own climax arced through her.

She had to let go of him then, her forehead falling to his thigh, her back curving up like a cat’s as she came against her hand.

After that, she had nothing left. She collapsed unto her side, feeling like a mold of unset gelatin. Would she ever be able to talk again or even move? She had no idea, and she only vaguely registered Mag getting out of bed.

The sound of water running came from the bathroom, and a few minutes later, he returned with a washcloth. She could feel it between her legs, warm and gentle, as he cleaned her up, like he must have already cleaned himself up in the bathroom. Then she was being lifted and resettled under the covers before he got into bed himself and pulled her into his arms, his body once again a cocoon around hers, his beating heart now a tender pattern against her ear.

8

M
AG had to work hard to leave Janelle alone as she brushed her hair into a ponytail before wrapping it around into a soft bun.

She’d already showered, and he couldn’t send her home to her parents smelling like him. Not if he wanted her to keep her promise to come back the next month after she went to Detroit to judge another pageant. But he hated that she now smelled like her expensive perfume, instead of him. Hated that even though she’d be hugged up on him when he took her back to the airport, between their jackets and the time it would take to get back to Alaska, every trace of him would be gone from her by the time he called her tonight.

He thought of his parents, who always smelled of each other, even when they were apart, and he wished with a fervency he had no right to that he and Janelle were mated, that his scent was strong enough to be left on her, even after she showered. He wished for what they’d just done over the past two days to be legal in the eyes of Lupine law.

Then he berated himself for feeling this way. Not only for that, but also for wanting to tell her how he felt when the only thing of value he had to his name at the moment was his football scholarship.

So to keep from fucking her against the bathroom counter, and also to keep himself from telling her how deeply he felt about her despite having only known her for less than a month, he told her something else. “I’m a prince, too. Like Rafe.”

She went very still, before turning to look at him, her eyes wide with astonishment. “Are you… um… trying to say you’re part of the Alaska royal family?”

He shook his head. “Naw, nothing like that. If I was the official king’s son, you’d probably know about it since you live in the kingdom town, right?”

“Uh… right,” she said, even though her expression remained on wobble effect.

“I’m just saying my dad used to head up my pack, and when he died, my brother took over. We call him the Freedom Alpha, but since we’re our own pack, that makes him the king, right? So technically, I’m a prince.”

Janelle continued to stare at him, saying nothing, as if she were waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“I mean, we don’t have major dough or even any dough. We all live in trailers and we hunt to survive, but I’m still the prince, yeah? After my dad died, I should have stayed in Alaska and served as my brother’s beta, like my uncle used to do for my dad. But I stayed here because I didn’t want to live my uncle’s life. I wanted the chance to make something out myself, and my pack was pissed when I left. My brother’s the only one from Freedom Town still talking to me. That’s why I don’t go back there for breaks anymore. Not just because it’d be a hassle to fly up there.”

Janelle had stayed so quiet through the entire story, he became worried she felt the same way about his situation as his pack did.

But when he glanced up, he saw nothing but understanding in her eyes. “I’m glad you followed your dreams, Mag. So few of us get the opportunity to and I’m really glad you took yours.”

A knock on the room’s door saved Mag from having to answer.

“Do you mind getting that?” she asked him. “I still have to put on my mascara.”

Of course he didn’t mind, but he was a little confused when the uniformed clerk outside the door handed him a medium-sized square box with a FedEx logo on it.

“This arrived yesterday, but you weren’t here when we came up to deliver it the first time. We wanted to make sure you got it before you left.”

“Thanks,” Mag said, frowning down at the shipping label. It was from Erico Motorsports and addressed to him, but he’d never been to that motorcycle shop in his life, much less ordered anything from them.

“Open it.”

He looked up. Janelle was standing in the bathroom doorway, watching him with a small smile on her face.

So he opened it… and pulled out a helmet. Sleek and matte black with the name Ducati racing up its jawline. The helmet was so well designed, it seemed to have an engine of its own underneath its triangular red logo, one smoother and much quieter than his Ninja’s. He stared at it, speechless.

“I thought you might be more open to wearing a helmet if you had a nicer one,” she said.

“I don’t…” He had to struggle a few times to finish the sentence. “I don’t know how to thank you for this.”

She bent her chin down and looked up at him with a sweet smile. “The only thank you I need is you actually wearing it. I know you’re tough, but I really don’t want anything bad to happen to you, so I need to know you’re safe when you’re on that monster bike of yours. I need you to always wear a helmet. Can you promise me that?”

What she didn’t understand was that a Ducati helmet, especially one this slick, cost more than his used Kawasaki Ninja had. It would be like putting Asanti rims on his family’s shitty two-bedroom RV. He’d look like a wannabe douche to anyone who saw him if they knew anything at all about motorcycles.

But he didn’t tell her any of that. He just said, “Yeah, I can promise you that.” Then he promised himself that one day he’d buy a motorcycle to match the helmet she’d gifted him. If he had to kill himself at practice, kiss the Lupine Council’s ass, tackle every quarterback who tried to get past him, he’d do it if it meant getting a multi-million dollar contract. He do it with a big-ass smile on his face if it meant he could one day wear the helmet she’d given him without embarrassing the shit out of himself. And until that day, he’d just wear the scratched up Bell helmet that had come with the bike when he bought it on Craigslist.

“Good,” she said, smiling up at him like he’d made all her dreams come true.

It made his heart ache. She made his heart ache. This whole situation made his heart ache. And he suddenly wished he’d thought to put her on top that weekend. Girls with as little experience as her usually found it hard to steer when they got on top, especially with him being as big as he was. But he wished he had taught her, that he’d been able to feel her hands warm on his chest as he watched her riding him, taking pleasure in him.

Next time,
he told himself. Then he said to her. “We better get going.”

There was traffic on I-70 and they got to the airport with only forty minutes to spare. They both removed their helmets when they got off his bike, and he had every intention of just giving her a quick hug and a kiss.

But when she looked up at him with a sad smile in her eyes, the words he’d been trying not to say all morning fell out of his mouth. “I love you, baby.”

She stared up at him, her mouth o-ing in surprise.

“I know it’s a real pussy move on my part, but I couldn’t let you leave here without telling you that.”

The most tragic look of sadness came over her face then, like he’d just confessed to running over her puppy with his motorcycle. So it was a surprise when she answered, “I love you, too. And when I go home, I’m going to figure out a way to tell my parents about us. I thought I could go along with their plan—but I can’t. I don’t want to. I want to be with you.”

The feeling that came over him when she spoke was like every good thing that had ever not happened to him in Freedom Town arriving in the mail, like a debt owed for a life of hard scrabble.

“I want to be with you, too,” he said, pulling her into his arms and holding her so tight, there just might be a chance of his smell staying on her long enough for her to make it back to Alaska and tell her parents she was with him now. “I love you, baby. I want you to be my girl, and I want to be your boyfriend, okay? Can you let me be your boyfriend? I want us to be together so bad. You don’t even know…”

But maybe she did know. The way she kissed him then, strong and hard, like she wasn’t ever going to back down from the decision to love him back—it left no doubt in his mind she’d meant every word she said and wanted to be with him as badly as he wanted to be with her.