Wolf Tales 12 (12 page)

She couldn’t meet his gaze. Instead, retreating to an instinctive pose of submission, she lowered her head, but when she looked down, all she could see was his huge cock, erect and glistening. A smear of white spread across the broad crown. She fought the impossible lure, the powerful desire to fall to her knees and take him in her mouth.

She couldn’t do it. Not now, not when he seemed so distant. Not when she felt unclean.

It wasn’t easy, holding on to the threads of control. She was always so damned aroused after a run—tonight Millie felt like she was going to explode.

She wasn’t alone.

It appeared Ric was in the same shape.

But he hadn’t mentioned sex. Hadn’t reached for her the way he always did the moment they slipped through the door. In fact, he’d not reached for her at all tonight. She hadn’t realized it until now—he’d not mounted her during their run, either. Always they had sex at least once, but she’d been so caught up in her own drama tonight that—

“Are you coming?”

Her head snapped up. Ric stood in the doorway to their bedroom, almost military straight with his hands planted on his hips. Naked and hard from their run, he was without a doubt the most beautiful man she’d ever seen, but tonight there was something about his stance that sent shivers down her spine.

Something that seemed to feed the very nightmares she’d been trying to work out of her head. This wasn’t Ric—not the Ric she knew and loved. He looked angry, and he reminded Millie of her uncle, the way he’d stood and waited for her to follow him when it was time for her punishment.

The tilt of his head, the glare in his eyes, the way he’d planted his hands on his lean hips—though Ric looked nothing at all like that man, everything about his stance and his attitude was so similar, the visual almost brought her to her knees.

Millie shivered, but at the same time her womb clenched with the stirrings of her arousal. Her nipples tightened, puckering into hard points. Ric raised his eyebrow, telling her with that simple expression he was fully aware of her growing desire. It was exactly the way her uncle used to look at her before he spanked her, as if he could read her mind and he knew she wanted exactly what he planned to do to her.

The similarity infuriated her.

How could Ric do this? Why would he duplicate the very nightmare she was trying to erase? And how did he know how to stand, how to look? It was almost as if he were bringing that bastard back to life. Why, damn it? Breathing hard, she clenched her fists, angry with Ric, angry with herself.

Her body thrummed, and the edginess, the sense of her skin wanting to crawl off the bones, the unbelievable arousal from their run, the heavy emotions of the night, the memories . . . all of it was just too much. Too damned much.

Not nearly enough.

She dug deep and found the alpha bitch cowering inside, pulled her out, and put her to work. Wearing her attitude like a cloak of armor, Millie held her head high and stalked past Ric, leading him into their room. Damn him! How could he do this?

He was telling her she was okay and then treating her like a kid about to be punished. What the hell was he up to? She clenched her jaw tight to keep from asking him anything. She wasn’t going to fold, and she was not about to give him the pleasure of watching her break.

She hadn’t done anything wrong. She never did. Why did he always punish her for every little thing? She was just being a kid. She didn’t know how else to act.

Except she wanted this, didn’t she? Wanted him to punish her. To pull down her panties and spank her bottom as hard as he could. She wanted it so much she could almost hear the sound of his palm hitting her smooth cheeks, feel the warmth as each slap reddened her skin. And the whole time her butt was stinging and getting hotter and hotter, his prick was getting just as hot.

Standing up, high and hard enough for her to trap him between her legs. Ride him and use him as much as she wanted. It was like a game now. He thought he was in charge, but Millie knew better. Uncle might be the one hitting her, but she was the one in control, she was the one using him to get rid of that horrible need that seemed to get stronger every day.

She hated being needy. Hated needing him. Hated him.

He grabbed her arm. Not as roughly as she recalled, the way he always had in the past, but his firm grasp was so tight she couldn’t break free. She glared at him, but he didn’t say a thing. He merely dragged her over to the edge of the bed, sat down, and pulled her over his knees.

He wasn’t wearing his jeans, and that was different, but she felt the rough hair on his legs rubbing against her belly as he slid her into the familiar position, felt the bulge of his penis beneath her. At first that big part of him had disgusted her, but not anymore. Now she split her legs, her adjustment so subtle he wouldn’t notice, separating them just enough to allow that hard thing to rise between her thighs. The moment she felt the heat against her pussy, she closed her legs and trapped him. Held him up close against her sex where he could do her some good.

She remembered the first time she did that. The first time when, instead of treating his erection like a big lump pressing against her belly, she’d taken control and held him with the strength of her thighs. He’d moaned the moment she caught him, and she remembered him cursing her, cursing himself. Cursing God.

She’d loved that, the fact she’d thrown him off enough that he’d curse the very god he claimed told him to hit her. It served him right. But then he’d spanked her hard and she’d bucked against his hand, careful to slide up and down that stiff rod of his until her pussy was slick and wet and he’d suddenly stopped hitting her. He’d cried out and cursed again and his body had gone rigid. She remembered the hot splash of something slimy and wet hitting her buttocks.

He’d shoved her away and she’d tumbled to the floor. He’d screamed at her. Called her every filthy name he could think of, but Millie had taken it without comment, because she knew then that she’d won. And she would continue to win—as long as she took control.

Now he brushed her buttocks with his palm and she trembled as arousal spiked from the soft touch of his hand to that needy spot between her legs. His cock flexed against her thigh muscles, and she loved the fact he was as turned on as she was. Loved that, even though he might hurt her, she still had that control, that power over him.

He’d never been this large before. This aroused. She couldn’t remember enjoying it this much, either—this prelude to a beating—the skin-prickly awareness of the rough hair on his thighs against her tender skin, or the pulse of his cock between her thighs.

There was no warning when the flat of his hand connected with her bottom. The sharp crack of flesh on flesh resounded in the small room. She jumped at the contact, but she didn’t cry out. That was giving up, giving in, letting him win. She wasn’t going to do that. Never again.

As long as she treated it like a game, there was a good chance she’d win. He swatted her again, just as hard. The sharp slap sent a shiver of excitement from her bottom to her clit to the hard points of her erect nipples. And again, and again, each measured slap heating her flesh, heating her entire body.

He rubbed her sore bottom after a few slaps, almost as if he wanted to soothe away the pain. That was new, but she liked it. Liked the soothing touch of his palm on her fiery butt, but as soon as he rubbed the sting away, he hit her again.

She realized she was rocking in time with his blows, rising to meet the palm of his hand, grasping his cock between her thighs so the hard length of it rode across her clit on every slide. They were in this together, the two of them doing this dark and sensual dance. She was so wet, her feminine lips soft, almost buttery with arousal. Her entire body was so sensitized that every touch was magnified, every slap resounded in more wet heat between her legs.

The sound of flesh connecting with flesh would reach her ears a split second before the pain registered, but she couldn’t really even call it pain. No, not when it felt this good, not when her body tightened in anticipation before each blow, not when her fluids soaked the tangle of his pubic hair beneath her and eased the slick girth of his cock over her engorged and sensitive labia, across her swollen clit.

Riding him, her muscles quivering, her sex contracting and pulsing with need, his hand connecting in that almost dreamlike rhythm, took her into another level of sensation, another state of being.

She wasn’t afraid and she wasn’t a slut. She was a woman—an alpha bitch with a powerful mind and a libido as strong as her mate’s. She had needs that only he could meet.

Just as he met them now.

His hand came down hard, again and again, and she realized she was grinning, anticipating the climax hovering so close she trembled, but the spanking wasn’t enough. No, not with this man, not with the one she loved. The one who understood what it was to need, to desire and want something that seemed so wrong, and yet, between two who loved, could only be right.

Fully aware and in the moment, Millie pushed herself up and off Ric’s knees, spun around in a tangle of arms and legs, and straddled him. Laughing now, with tears falling and her sex weeping her need, she impaled herself on that thick length and took him deep.

The absolute fullness, the sense she’d come home after wandering for far too long, swept through Millie the moment the broad crown of his penis slipped through her tight channel and touched the mouth of her womb. She locked her knees against his hips and arched her back, forcing him deep. Her vaginal muscles contracted, tightening along Ric’s full length, rippling over skin like silk, practically squeezing the climax out of him.

Ric laughed and held her. He bucked his hips and lifted Millie as orgasm claimed him, claimed Millie, took them both higher and harder than ever before. And this time, when she came down from the heights, she was laughing with Ric, kissing his face, his throat, his chest. Holding him close and wondering how he could possibly have known exactly what she’d needed, but had been too ashamed to request.

Without even thinking, Ric snapped Millie’s red bottom with the towel when she got out of the shower. She flipped him off—a perfect bird right under his nose. “Watch it, buster. I’m a little tender down there.”

“Oh, crap. I’m sorry!” He grabbed her shoulders and spun her around, knelt behind her, and planted a kiss on the fiery skin. “I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t mean to hurt you, m’love. You know that.”

She turned around and cupped his face in her hands. “What you did was perfect. Probably a bit perverted, but absolutely perfect.” She leaned over and kissed him. “But how did you know? Even I had no idea.”

“I asked Logan. I contacted him while we were running home after we’d gone up to your uncle’s old place.”

“Logan? Why would you ask him?”

“He’s a doctor, Millie. A damned good doctor, and you obviously had a problem I didn’t know how to deal with.”

“Oh.”

She sat on the edge of the bed. Ric sat beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “He said you needed to experience punishment without the perversion, something that would take you back to what happened when you were young, but still give you complete control.”

She sighed and leaned against his shoulder. “You were standing just like him. You even had the same expression on your face. It was eerie. All of a sudden I was a child again.”

“I picked his image out of your memories. You’ve been blocking me for weeks, but when you stood in front of that burned-out house, your mind was wide open, almost like you invited me in.”

“Maybe I did. You know, Ric . . . you’re the first man I’ve ever felt safe with. Safe enough to share my memories with. I’m sorry I blocked you, but I was embarrassed.”

She turned and wrapped her arms around Ric. He hugged her close and inhaled the sweet smell of her hair, the scent of her skin. He thought about what it felt like, spanking her—how her fair skin had glowed a deep red after only a few swats, how the scent of her arousal and the sharp sound of his hand hitting her bottom had him so hard he hurt.

He’d never imagined striking a woman. Never pictured himself doing anything like they’d done tonight—or dreamed how much it would turn him on. Thinking about it had blood rushing to his groin, his cock swelling and growing hard again. He wanted her. Now.

“Then we’ll have to do it again, won’t we?” Millie laughed at his raised eyebrows. “You’re broadcasting, love. Quite clearly, actually.” She wrapped her fingers around his erection and stroked it. The damned thing was already standing tall and ready between them. The soft clasp of her fingers made him even harder. When she rubbed her thumb over the sensitive crown, he groaned and thrust his hips forward, pushing his cock through her warm, tightly clasped hand.

She looked up at him with a twinkle in her beautiful amber eyes. “Of course, even if I weren’t reading your thoughts, I’d know something was going on.” She gave him a playful squeeze.

He rolled her to the bed and held her down. “I never could hide anything from you, could I?”

She snorted. “Not that thing, anyway.” Millie was still laughing when he filled her once again.