Wolf Frenzy (10 page)

Shushing her gently, Donovan ran his hand down her back.  She pressed against his palm, aching for genuine contact from this man she didn’t even know personally.  Quite suddenly, she didn’t want to think anymore.  She just lay against him, feeling grubby in comparison to his clean masculinity, breathing in the scent of cologne and something much deeper, wilder.  Primal.  Unbidden, her tongue flicked out to lick his skin.

Don’t do it,
he warned himself. 
Don’t do it.  Don’t pressure her.  Don’t take advantage of her.

For some reason, the wolf in him wanted to follow this pretty, sorrowful woman to the end of the earth, padding loyally at her feet.  He wanted to collect the desert flowers for her and drop them in her hair so they could tumble down her head and along her curves.  Never before had he felt this way about anyone, and certainly not so soon.  What was going on?

And then her hot little tongue seared across his neck, a dainty lap of wetness, and the erection he’d been struggling to combat could be contained no longer.  His length pressed against her thigh from within his shorts, bulging against the fabric.  Kori made a soft sound against his neck, igniting fire in his loins, and her hand roamed eagerly downward.

He caught her wrist quickly and looked into her eyes, knowing the fight was lost if she touched him there.  “I can’t do this, Kori,” he said very softly, gently.  “That’s not fair to you.”

And then her plump lips caught his.  She tasted very faintly of sweet apples, her breath the finest perfume to ever fill his lungs.  He held the back of her head in his hand as they kissed, sliding his tongue between her parted lips to begin exploring the warm, dark recesses of her mouth.  Her tongue sought his and they entered into a give and take of lovemaking, taking pleasure from thrusts and being thrust upon; she whimpered and wrapped her arms around his neck to hold on more firmly, settling their lips together harder than before.

He slid his hands down her back, and then brought them around to the front where the hem overlapped with her jeans; slowly enough to give her time to stop him, he unbuttoned her and slid her zipper done.  She wiggled, rubbing her hip against his hard manhood, and he gasped into her mouth.  A smile lit up in her sky-blue eyes, brightening her whole demeanor.  He kissed the upward-quirked corner of her mouth, and then pressed her onto her back in bed. 

He throbbed impatiently, his whole body tight with anticipation as he fought to keep himself from plunging straight into her depths.  She was beautiful.  Just so beautiful.  He didn’t know how it hid from him so long when he spent hours with her sleeping form in the truck while light and shadow played with the contours of her face, but here it was.  Her eyes were bright, her skin was creamy, and her body molded softly to his as though they were made for this moment.

Kori lay back willingly, pressing her hands onto the mattress to support herself while he pulled down her jeans and panties to reveal the small depth between her legs.  Taking a breath to try and keep himself under control for just a little longer, he let her return the favor and tug his shorts out of the way.  The girth of his erection sprang free, swollen and rigid, burning for attention; she touched him softly, wonderingly.  Unbidden, his hips thrust forward, rubbing himself in her hand.

They kissed again, no longer exploring but coming together again and again, a ritual of meeting and parting.  Her hand wrapped around him, soft and tempting.  He growled softly into her mouth, rewarded with a soft purring sound that hit him straight in the heart.  Pressing closer together, their bodies molding as one, she wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled his hips closer.  He smelled the musk of her desire, intoxicating and womanly, and brought the tip of himself forward just between her warm folds; she was swollen and slick with want, blossomed like one of the flowers beyond the window. 

“Oh,” she said softly.  He would have stopped, but she reached around to grab him and pulled him deep inside.

Warmth enveloped him, drawing him in deep.  Silken heat and softness he never felt before, tight muscles molded to perfectly fit him as he sank up to his hilt.  She was the scabbard to his blade, taking him completely as he groaned and shuddered.  Her nails dug into him.

All thought ceased as instinct took over.  He pursued her the way he chased everything else as man or wolf, with wild abandon and confidence; he pierced her deeper with a thrust, drawing back to pounce forward and claim her again and again.  She cried out with each powerful thrust, her whole body moved from the force of it.  Her back arched, her head tossing, unable to be still any longer as she arched her back and moved to meet him.  Locked in pleasure, lost to time, only the faintest shift of the sun further along the clock of the sky gave any hint to how long they spent tangled together there on the small bed.

Donovan shoved her shirt up high, slid his hands beneath the cups of her bra.  His fingers met sensitive flower buds, turgid under his touch as he stroked and caressed.  He would have taken one in his mouth and made love to it but her inner thighs trembled, every muscle in her body tensing as she tossed her head back and let out a cry to rival his howl.

Tight muscle gripped him, sending him spiraling away from the desert and up toward the sun on broad buzzard wings.  Fire poured from deep inside as the grasp of his pleasure billowed up beneath those wings of sensation, raising him higher and higher to the place where consciousness blinked away into rapture.

And then it was over.  He plummeted back to earth and only just caught himself from dropping his full weight onto her; turning aside, he fell onto his side on the mattress and gently drew her back to his stomach.  Her head rested on his chest, both of them breathless and shaken by what just occurred between them.

What is it about you?  Why are you so different?

Almost as if she heard his thoughts, Kori spoke in a faint, wondering voice.  “And now I’ve become a statistic.”

He let out a startled laugh, not sure how to react.  “Excuse me?  Most women would tell me if it was good or bad.”

“Would they?”  She rolled over, unpleasantly squashing his arm as she did so.  He held back his wince of pain, knowing somehow she might withdraw back inside herself if she caught herself having done something wrong.

“It’s always good,” Donovan told her.

Kori let her cheek rest on him.  “Huh.  It was okay, I guess.”

And this is what’s different.  I get it now.

He laughed again, genuinely amused this time.

Her hands wandered around under his shirt, nonsexual but explorative and teasing nonetheless.  He wondered if she had only ever known that one boyfriend, that asshole Jason; his chest ached for her, with bitterness for the pleasure and happiness such a special creature like herself could be robbed of, but also with sweetness for being able to show her something new.  Obviously delighting in the ability to touch as much as she wanted, she kept her pretty eyes hidden from his.  Not the only reason as he soon found out, when she shyly asked, “Doesn’t this make it your turn?”

Lightly stroking his fingers in her silken hair, Donovan smiled wryly.  With her face downcast, she couldn’t see.  He was glad for that.  It had been so long since he thought of this he almost had to struggle to remember.

As softly as the sound of sand grains singing together in the wind, he shared his story.  No dramatics, no fairytales of sworn enemies or sacred oaths, the tale of his life was simple and sordid.  While popular culture brought awareness of his kind into a welcome, yet distinctly false, spotlight, his was a sketch of reality rather than a novel of suspense and unrequited love.  He felt her mind churning, trying to reconcile this with all the preconceptions tucked away inside her mind.  They were there, no matter whether she knew it or not.

At five years old, he was bitten by a malamute dog.  The sweetest mutt who roamed a chain in his neighbor’s backyard, she only lashed out because he was too young to understand he was in her face and threatening.  That was all, the all and every of the story.  Nothing else.  No pack, no enemies but for the ones he made on his own later in life, no sudden rush of emotion towards the appearance of a soulmate.  He was a werewolf, and that was it.  A slight fever and chills bothered him for several days before clearing up.  Almost immediately after, he could change.

And change at will, at that.  No summons from the moon, no uncontrollable explosions into an animal just from emotion.  Every second of every day, he was in control.

He spared her the grittier details of exploring his second body, simply because he doubted she would be interested. 

“All that matters now is I have people who would want to hurt me and ruin my reputation.  They know I have secrets.  They just don’t know what kind.  But they want to find out.”

Kori hummed thoughtfully, still swaddled against him.  “You’re not the best guy in the world.”

Ouch. 
Her honesty was refreshing, but painful.

“I guess not.  But have I ever done anything wrong?”

“You’ve bent a lot of rules.”

“Rules, laws, but have I done anything wrong?” 
That you know of. 
The line between truth and lie blurred as he remembered contemplating killing her, as he’d been forced to with several individuals, though the situations were far too complex for such easy judgments he hoped she would never go for anyway.  “I saved you.  I couldn’t let them hurt you.

“But there are people who watch me, Kori.  They’ll know you were here and I won’t be able to do anything about it, if they try to…”

“Get information out of me,” she whispered.

Donovan refused to lie to her.  “Yes.  I’m sorry.  I have my people on the problem as we speak but I thought it would be best if…if you stayed here until everything can be sorted out.  I shoved away most of my work for this week onto other people, anyway.”

“You want to spend time together?”  She looked at him like he was crazy, and he felt it.  But he also felt something else entirely new to him, and realized for the first time in his life he was thinking with neither of his heads.

He was thinking with his heart.

“Actually, yes.  Would that be alright?”

“Okay,” she murmured.  And it was good enough for him.

Enormous counters flanked the kitchen, wide shelves and cabinets tucked in every imaginable corner.  A chef’s kitchen, really.  And Donovan crossed straight to the fridge and rummaged inside for a quick moment before turning back and blinking at her.  “Eggs?”

Suddenly remembering how her last meal was a measly apple, Kori nodded.  She leaned her hip against the kitchen table, sliding the tablecloth between her fingers.  “What can I do to help?”

Arms full of eggs and pre-shredded cheese, he grabbed a pan between his teeth as though he did it every time even if his hands were free.  “Can you make coffee?  Thirteen scoops.”

“Excuse me?”

“Thirteen scoops of coffee.”

She shuddered.  Damp strands of hair fell against her cheeks when she stopped.  Donovan showered with her in the massive tub, tenderly caressing every part of her as he washed and dried her.  She throbbed sorely between her legs, unused to sex after so long, but pleasure tingling faintly even deeper inside her overrode the pain.  “You have to be kidding me.  That sounds awful.”

“It
is
awful.  But I need it.  I’m hopelessly addicted.”  He flashed her an arrogant grin, flipping aimlessly at a dial on the stove.  Way too high for eggs, she noticed. 

“Guess I’ll just have tea, then.”

“Tea is not welcome in this house.  Not nearly enough caffeine.”

She laughed.  “Okay, milk?”

“Walk-in fridge.  Might be frozen.”

And it was.  And Donovan’s eggs were dry and overcooked while also managing to be rubbery at the same time, with half-melted clumps of cold cheese in every mouthful.  She studied the pattern on the tablecloth while eating, too shy to see her own appearance in his eyes.  None of the clothes leftover from his past “visitors” would fit her; shame crawled up and down her spine as she recalled how he dressed her in his own clothes.  And she had no extra bra to her name.  Her breasts heaved nervously with every breath, all too visibly molded to the shape of the t-shirt that was too tight around her chest but flared out around her hips like a dress.

Despite everything, despite barely being able to taste anything, food in her stomach felt amazing after days of half-starvation.

And she couldn’t deny how sexy Donovan looked, surrounded by steam and the overpowering scent of coffee.  His hair mussed and untamed, wearing only a white undershirt and a pair of boxes, she saw now how millions of women fell for him just by seeing his picture.

She wasn’t like those other women, though.  Not at all.

Who could love a werewolf?  And not just the superficial worshipping sort of love, but actual, true love?

It was impossible.

Yet, by the end of that first day together, maybe not so impossible after all.

He showed her the interior of the entire three-story house, from the grand entrance with its split staircases to a single room set aside just for sound systems.  Everything between was an eclectic mash-up somewhere in the realm of material desires and frivolity.  Of course there was a living room and an office, but also three more offices in various decoration, at least six different bedrooms, a more formal dining room she saw instantly as one which never saw any use, and so many more.

All that and with a duplicate guest house not ten feet away.

And two barns behind, one of which was heated with a working television, and a smaller house for nonexistent farmhands.  All for two horses.

A tractor, a jet, and a yacht; she had to draw the line at the yacht.

“That’s just ridiculous.  A boat?  What the hell do you need a boat for in the desert?”

Bilge supported snugly on either side by two weathered stones, the black yacht stood out like a sore thumb against the modest colors of the desert.