Chasing Love (5 page)

Yet he didn’t want to tip his hand. If he revealed himself to her now, she would put the pieces together, realize her romantic, mysterious pirate was in fact her old friend, whom she refused to see sexually.

Much as it ached him to admit it, he wanted to keep their fantasy intact.

So for now he stalked her like the animal he was, biding his time, waiting to pounce.

He loved to play Chase and this game was far more exciting. He was chasing fantastic, rock-your-world sex, chasing the woman to whom no one else could measure up.

Chasing Love
, a small part of his mind insisted.

As Christiana turned around and loped back to the spot where she had left her clothes, Edward circled back himself. He didn’t know whether he was chasing love or not. But he certainly felt as if he were
chasing
Christiana and for now that was more than enough trouble on his plate.

Chapter Six

Christiana pulled her clothes back on more slowly this time. Her mind had settled remarkably well. The run had cleared her mind and soul. Her brain was still full and busy but her emotions were far more under control.

She hadn’t lost her independence, hadn’t lost the woman she had become, and so everything else could be worked out.

Strangely, she had felt…chased…during her run. Not in a bad sense, not that running-and-never-getting-anywhere-nightmare-style chased. Just…as if someone was chasing her, keeping pace behind her just out of sight.

She didn’t feel bad and didn’t feel pressured and so she refused to worry about it. No use fighting herself or chasing her tail. If she couldn’t see someone chasing her there was no use in worrying over it.

Besides, her instincts were sound. If she didn’t feel threatened more than likely nothing was wrong.

Christiana pondered all of her thoughts as she re-tied the laces on her sneakers and began to wander again back to the moonlit gardens. She was heading home the day after tomorrow and, while having unlimited access to the old woods would be a welcome relief, not to mention seeing her parents and family, a part of her would miss the freedom and independence she had found here at college.

Her father’s pack was largely spread out now, no longer the old feudal system of her Grandfather’s age, yet there were still businesses to take care of and control, huge chunks of wildlife to preserve and other necessary tasks.

Coming to a halt near one of her favorite old trees, she sat down on the damp grass and crossed her legs Indian-style. Slowly, deliberately, Christiana took a deep, calming breath.

Letting it
whoosh
out her lungs, she looked up to the half-full moon. Even half-full, it drew her, pulled at all her senses. More than most women Christiana felt sure she felt more constricted by society than other women. Also her unusually strong sense of morals and devotion to the Pack and its ways often made her feel constricted.

She knew changing out here in the open was, while not a hanging offense or anything, still wrong. Before she could feel even a spark of guilt her musings were interrupted.

“It
is
beautiful, isn’t it?” a husky voice intruded on her thoughts.

Whirling around, staining her jeans from the damp grass, she turned to see the pirate leaning against the tree behind her.

“Even only half-full, She draws one. Taunting us lesser creatures with how beautiful and full She
can
be, while keeping the rest of herself hidden from view. Much like you, Sweet One.”

Christiana frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean the manner you keep those enticing breasts secreted away, hidden from our male gazes, those long, lean legs encased in things like jeans and baggy sweatpants. Do you really think we can’t see through them to the slim, elegant legs you sometimes show off? Or hide those luscious breasts, make us not realize how full and round they are and how lovely they’d feel in the palms of our hands?”

Christiana stood up, feeling embarrassed and angry.

“I don’t hide, I simply dress to please myself. Jeans are
comfortable
, Pirate. Why should a woman have to dress up all the time simply to become eye candy for a man? This is not the Middle Ages. We women can dress as we please.”

The pirate grinned, a huge, delighted grin.

“Temper, temper, Sweet One. I was merely making a comparison between you and the moon. Most women would find that romantic.”

Despite herself, Christiana smiled. “I’m not most women.”

“I know,” he acknowledged. “Most women would not drive me to such desperate straights as dressing up as a pirate.”

For the first time since he appeared, Christiana noticed he had removed the bandana, though not the mask. His hair sprung out in all directions, black as the night and curly in a cute, but still masculine way. She noticed he wore a thick gold loop in one ear, a very piratical earring.

“Did you pierce your ear for the ball?” she queried, the earring tugging on her memory for some reason. There was some significance here but her muddled brain couldn’t bring it out. That earring meant something, reminded her of something…

“No, and for a wench, you ask far too many questions.”

Coming forward, he pulled her into his arms. Against her will, her hands rose up to run gently through his curls. They were soft to the touch, obviously well-cared for. As she tugged his curls, he bent his head and kissed her.

Christiana found herself holding her breath, hoping the electric feelings she felt last time were some sort of hormonal fluke. But they weren’t. A river of desire flooded her, drenching her pussy, making her nipples stand out and rub against her woolen sweater. She arched her back and moaned, lost in the flood of desire and ache to be possessed. She was losing her mind!

Tightening her hands, she felt the strong, silky curls twine with her fingers. She dimly noticed his hands were running under her sweater, touching her skin lightly. He had a feather touch.

She could feel his rough fingers tracing lines up and down her back but it was so gentle, so soft, she barely felt it.

He groaned and deepened the kiss, she opened her mouth to allow him in.

“Why aren’t you wearing a bra?” he murmured against her mouth as he licked her lips.

Christiana smiled.

“I wasn’t expecting to meet up with a pirate in my backyard. I don’t sleep in a bra and I simply pulled on jeans and a sweater.”

She smiled around their kiss as he bent her back further into the tree, arching her into his embrace.

“There should be a law,” he husked, palming her breasts and rubbing her straining nipples. “You must wear a bra at all times, except in bed. These luscious breasts would tempt a saint.”

“But you’re a pirate,” she laughed, “not a saint.”

“I know.”

With that, he pulled up her sweater, bunching it around her neck. He bent down and took a mouthful of breast. His wicked tongue licked her nipple, his mouth creating a warm, wet, sucking vacuum.

The electrical pleasure, the indescribable joy he made her feel, had her arching further in to him and crying out with the new and unexplored sensations. She had played with her own nipples, had even read of mammary orgasms, but never,
never
had she felt such pleasure radiating from her nipples.

Suddenly, she found her lips covered with her pirate’s, his hands were back to tweaking her nipples, playing with her breasts.

His mouth covering hers, he muttered, “Scream for me, Sweet One.”

When he did something with his fingers, creating an electric shaft of pleasure bolting through her, she cried out again and he swallowed her cry.

“Just like honey, sweet and seductive enough to snare a man forever.”

“What?” she breathed, her mind screaming at her in recognition and alarm. If only she could breathe for a second and
think
.

“Don’t think,” he said, as if replying to her internal monologue, “just feel
this
.”

Deftly, he unsnapped her jeans and slid a warm, strong hand inside her panties.

“Ahh,” he murmured against her cheek, “so you
do
sleep in panties. For the last five minutes I’d been wondering.”

Christiana knew she had made a sound but it was from deep inside her chest and sounded quite wild. Her pirate was stroking her, petting her
right
on her clit and driving her wild. Even through the silk of her panties she knew his fingers were getting damp. She was creaming, flowing like a river, and he was simply making her cream more.

He stroked and stroked, as if she was a cat or animal to be petted.

Christiana knew her body well enough to know very soon she would reach her climax and scream. Wanting to take him with her, she grabbed his pants, pulling him closer to her.

“Uh-uh, Sweet One, this one is for you.”

“But…”

Muddled with lust and unusual amounts of desire running through her system, she didn’t give much resistance to her Pirate. She let him grab both of her wrists, chaining them tightly together in one of his hands.

Christiana smiled, tried not to laugh. Here she was “going with the flow” as Maggie and a number of her girl-friends had urged her to do time and time again and her Pirate was getting all dominant on her.

Strange how she had been the dominant person in most of her relationships since she was a young teenager. Yet here she was, happily letting a man mould her to his wishes, and all it was doing to her was making her horny as hell.

She didn’t feel the least amount of panic or an urge to scream and run or bash his head in. She found it sexy and disturbingly
right
. She must need to get laid more than she had ever realized.

With one hand chaining both her much smaller ones together, her sexy pirate could no longer tweak her nipple. Christiana momentarily mourned the loss but her pirate more than made up for it by slowly, warmly, sexily replacing his hand back down her damp panties.

With a grin and an evil twinkle in his eye, he watched her flush and pant for breath, enjoyed every second of her and her body’s reaction to him as he continued to stroke her clit. As aroused as she was with their intimate play and sexual acts, her Pirate drew in a sharp breath and bent his head down to once more suck her breast.

Christiana writhed, wanting more of his caress, yet also wanting to pull away from the swamping pleasure. This somehow felt different from how she pleasured herself.

When she played with herself, learned how to use the toys and paraphernalia she had collected over her time here in college, she felt arousal, yes, but not to this degree. Not this drugging, mind-numbingly intense arousal.

The intensity of her reaction to this pirate scared her on some gut level. It felt almost as if he were made for her.

Christiana immediately shut the door on those sorts of thoughts and went back to analyzing her own reactions. She was panting, straining against him. It was a frustrating mockery of the sexual act, yet it was perfect at the same time.

The moon shone down on them both, bathing them in Her blessing, heating the wolf’s blood in her veins and making her want to nip at her pirate, claim him as her own.

Claim him
? her brain echoed in stunned shock.
She didn’t even know who he was!

As if in response, the moon came out from behind a thin cloud and the whole backyard was lit as bright as day for her. She turned her head to catch the profile of her almost-lover and gasped.

Her pirate continued sucking her breast and stroking her, assuming her gasp had been yet another sexual response, but Christiana was trying to marshal a few half-coherent thoughts together.

It couldn’t possibly be…?

Before she could even finish the thought that had entered her brain, she felt her whole body seize up. The reaction was familiar to her, yet the intensity of the orgasm crashing through her was not.

Her pussy clenched, her nipples tightening even more, Christiana threw her head back, not even knowing what her body was doing to her, and opened her mouth to scream her release at the moon.

Her body shuddered over and over again, her Pirate still gently stroking her through the orgasm. She felt the flood of moisture leaking out her body and covering her Pirate’s fingers and soaking her panties even more. In her own strange way, her brain registered that, as much as he had branded her, she had also branded him.

As she came down from her high, she shuddered at the sensitive way her body still picked up his fingers stroking her. Trying to wrestle her arms free, she struggled.

“Stop. Don’t…too sensitive,” she panted.

“Now, now, I’m a pirate, remember? I think we can pull one more orgasm from you before I head off to my ship. Just once more, Sweet One,” he coaxed her, the loss of his lips feeling incredibly cold in the night air, daring her with the twinkle in his eye to push herself further.

Christiana tried to squirm, to work out if his continued strokes were pleasurable or painful. Her sensitive skin and clit were throbbing heatedly, so she felt extra-sensitive to his strokes.

Christiana had tried a few times to push herself to a second release quickly on the heels of her first but the explosive release after her orgasms always made her so weak and tired, she could never keep up the pace necessary to push herself into another.