Heir To The Pack (The Cursed Pack Book 1) (23 page)

She lifted one hand to her
own face, shocked when it came away red. “I must have scared you half to death.
What happened?”

“It didn’t work,” he said
bluntly. “Your wolf is trapped by the curse. I’m so, so, sorry.”

“What for? I asked you to
try.” She patted his shoulder. “It’s okay, I’m here. It hurt. But it’s over.”

“Gods,” he said. “How can
you be so calm? I thought I’d lost you.”

“Well,” she said, aiming
for calm, although the two-pack-a-day voice wasn’t helping, “After an un-medicated
thirty hour labor, it really wasn’t that bad by comparison.”

He choked out a laugh. “You’re
tough.”

“I’m a control freak,” she
said. “But I have a high pain threshold.”

He laughed, properly this
time, and pulled her close again, rocking her to him. “I thought I’d lost you,”
he repeated.

Nonsense
, a voice said in her head.
I always knew she would be fine.

The room slipped and turned
on its axis. “What was that?” She turned her head from side to side, looking
for the speaker.

I
like you
, the voice
said.
We will keep you. I’m sorry that we
couldn’t bring your wolf out.

She leaped to her feet. “Dash,”
she whispered, “who the hell is that?”

“My wolf,” he said, a broad
smile crossing his face, and his eyes lighting up with what could only be joy. “I
think you met in the darkness there somewhere.”

“Is he going to do that
all the time?” she whispered..

I
can hear you perfectly well. But no. I’ll give you some privacy.

She had the oddest mental
image of a tail in front of her. It vanished in a flash, and the voice was
gone.

“Has he been there this
whole time?” she demanded.

“He’s been there since I
was born,” Dash said cheerfully. “He’s not really a separate person. But I sent
him out to look for your wolf. He’s back in here,” he thumped his chest, “now.”

“I’m a little freaked out,”
she admitted, her voice coming out in a husky squeak at the end of the
sentence.

“Don’t be. I’ve had a wolf
inside me since you’ve known me. And sometimes on the outside. Nothing’s
changed.” He held out his arms to her. “Come here,” he said. “I want to wash
the blood off your face.”

She acquiesced, her mind
spinning. He surprised her by lifting her against his chest and carrying her to
the spacious bathroom, where he set her down on a wooden chair. Efficiently, he
wet a white washcloth, and gently wiped the blood from her cheeks while
kneeling in front of her.

His touch brought her back
to earth. The last hour—two hours? The whole night?—felt like a
dream. His touch though, that was earthy, and real, and warm.

“May I run you a bath?” he
said, although she suspected from the tone that it wasn’t really a question.

“I think that would be
nice,” she said, too tired to argue. She’d given him her soul, earlier. Who was
she to argue with creature comforts being foisted upon her?

He put the plug in and
began filling the copper soaking tub. The sound of rushing water soothed her
senses, and she leaned her head back against the wall, drained.

Dash added a herbal-smelling
concoction to the water.

“What’s that?”

“Bubble bath,” he said. “Come.”
He took her hand and drew her to her feet, like they were about to dance. “I
can’t believe you’re still wearing that dress and cloak, Little Red Riding
Hood. Dinner was about a thousand hours ago.”

She shrugged. The motion
seemed to draw his eyes down, like a magnet.

“What a very fine dress it
is, though,” he said, lifting a hand to her shoulder. He slid his fingers down
the neckline, down across her collarbone, along the upper curve of her dress,
down her sternum, to her belly.

She trembled.

“I’ve wanted to do that
all night,” he murmured.

“I wanted you to.”

“Annie, sweet Annie,” he
said. “I need you.”

Her knees shook. The fears
and stresses of the day had left her beaten and exhausted. The idea of being
held, kissed, caressed, wanted, loved by Dash sounded like heaven. Even the far
away corner of her brain which usually argued loss of control and strong
emotions were nothing but irrationality, lay silent.

She wanted him. Oh, but
she wanted him.

“Yes,” she breathed, into
the steam of their private place.

CHAPTER
TWENTY

His fingers tugged at the
leather ties that held her cloak at her throat, undoing them, and dropping the
cloak in a red puddle at her feet.

“I like the dress,” he
said. “Show it to me.”

She stepped back, kicking
the cloak aside, and turned for him. As she turned her back to him, she heard
his intake of breath.

Good. Smug with pleasure,
she smiled. Part of the reason she’d worn the cloak tonight was to cover how much
of her skin the dress revealed. It tied behind her neck, leaving her back
completely bare. Nothing but skin all the way down, where it ended in a fold above
her buttocks. Her muscles tightened involuntarily, feeling his eyes following
down her spine.

“Stop there,” he growled. “I
want to look. And touch.”

Feeling naked already, she
stood still and tall, wanting him to touch her, feeling the echo and the memory
of his hands from their days in Cancun on her body.

She couldn’t help but arch
her back, waiting, waiting, for his touch.

It came, at the base of
her neck, brushing aside her hair. The touch of his fingers on her spine made
her shiver. He replaced it with the touch of his mouth, his lips caressing the
first vertebrae beneath the dress’s knot.

His mouth on her skin increased
the wanting between her legs. Annie shivered, feeling the warmth that awaited
him there. Soon.

He did not touch her again
with his fingers. Instead, his lips kissed each inch of her back in turn, dipping
ever lower. When he reached her waist, he stopped. She heard him moving, and
realized he was kneeling.

He continued to kiss her
spine, from her waist, each quarter inch growing closer to the end of the
dress, to the cleft of her buttocks. When he reached the material, he opened
his mouth on her, putting the warm wetness of it on her, and breathing his hot
breath on her damp skin.

His tongue flicked over
the tiny dimples that lay each side of her spine, making her gasp and shudder at
his touch.

Annie had forgotten how
good he was with his mouth. How he’d held her in ecstasy with that tongue.

Those warm hands left her
waist, although his tongue continued to flick at her dimples, each touch
sending bolts of sensation that seemed directly connected to her sex.

One hand landed on her
ankle, sliding its way up the inside of her calf, up through the slit in the
dress. He massaged her thigh again as he had in the car when they’d escaped
from their attackers.

The memory of that adrenaline
rush flowed through her body, and she clenched her toes as he suckled at her
back, massaging the inside of her thighs, only inches from their juncture. Her breath
came out in a hitch.

“Turn around,” he growled
against her body.

She turned, feeling the
brush of his hands and lips against the dress as she moved. Dash lifted his
gaze to her face.

“You are so sexy.” His
lips tickled over the front of her dress, his hands still massaging beneath her
skirt. Raising her hands to his head, she stroked his sleek black hair,
caressing his cheeks, and daring to hover her finger on his lips.

He sucked her finger into
his mouth. She closed her eyes, breathed, and swayed into him.

“Much as I love this
dress,” he said, “I want to see you out of it.”

Eyes still closed, she
nodded, and sensed him stand, the heat of his chest near her as his hands
reached behind her neck to undo the dress. She opened her eyes again, to see
his reaction as he lowered the top of the dress past her breasts.

He watched her face as he
let the dress go. It rustled to her feet in a heap, leaving her clad only in
black cotton panties. All the while he held her gaze as he stepped back, then
boldly lowered his heated gaze.

She arched her back again,
wanting him to like what he saw, but self-doubt intruded on her arousal. Last
time he’d seen her naked, she’d been younger, more confident, and she hadn’t
had a child.

His gaze went to her
belly, immediately, and she made to cover it with her hands.

“Don’t,” he said. “I
missed all of it. All of you, for the last few years. You’ve changed. But
you’re still the sexiest woman I have ever met. Sexier, now.” He took her hands,
drew them in a caress over the skin of her belly. “Much sexier. You’re ripe,
like a peach. I want to eat you all up.”

His words brushed away her
fears, and she relaxed again in his hands, let him explore her body with his
gaze.

One of his fingers caught
under the waistband of her panties. “May I take these off?”

Annie nodded. “You may.” It
came out breathless and she sighed as he tugged the panties down over one
hipbone.

“Hmm.” He knelt again. Leaning
in to her, he tugged the other side down, and kissed her above the line of her
panties. Her body ached for him to touch her lower.

Catching the waistband in
his teeth, he pulled her panties down to mid-thigh, revealing her sex to the
cool, moist air. She rocked her pelvis toward him, wanting, needing.

Dash’s hands grasped her
hips and pulled her into him, and he laid the lightest of kisses on the wisp of
hair on the front of her mound. She couldn’t take it any longer. She moaned her
desire for him.

He took that as his cue,
kissing lower, using his hands to spread her thighs apart, and kissing her
gently, wetly, with an open mouth, on the lips of her sex. She nearly came
apart.

Clutching at his head, she
shuddered at the sensation of his tongue stroking over, through, and inside her
lips. “Oh,” she said, her voice huskier than ever, “Oh, Dash.”

Despite her cries, he
continued that implacable rhythm, not faltering. She writhed in his hands,
thrusting herself against his face, feeling the rub of his stubble against the
sensitive inside of her thighs.

He slid one hand up the wetness
on her thigh, seeking its source. His finger stroked at her lips, teasing,
loving, re-learning the contours of her. Finally, as she was about to scream,
he slid it inside her.

Her head hung back and she
gasped, her legs shaking, her grip on his head the only thing that kept her
standing. He pushed a second finger inside her, in and out, relentlessly
thrusting while his tongue continued to dance, his lips nipping and pulling at
her clit.

She rode his mouth and his
hand with her sex, gasping, crying, as his fingers pushed deep, deep inside,
the friction from his fingers and his mouth and his chin, all so slick, all so
wet, rising into an incredible heat. Her thighs trembled.

She burst into orgasm with
a scream, feeling him in and on and around her, crying her pleasure to the
skies.

Spent, weak-kneed, she shook
all over. He lowered her to the ground, where she knelt eye to eye with him. He
touched the side of her face. “Gods, you’re sweet,” he murmured.

She leaned in and kissed
him, hard, open-mouthed, and wanting. His pupils grew huge with need, his lips
full from suckling at her, his body flushed.

His cock flexed against
her belly, and she realized belatedly his towel had fallen, and they were naked
together. She pressed herself against him, chest to chest, belly to belly,
thigh to thigh, and sighed at the sensations.

The dark hair on his chest
tickled at her nipples. He stroked her arm with one hand, then lifted it to
feel the curve of her breast. “Beautiful,” he said, lowering his head to suckle
there as well. She squirmed, aware of the heat between her legs, still wanting
him. She pushed against him once again, feeling his hardness against her belly.

He groaned. “I need you,
Annie. I can’t wait much longer.”

“Take me,” she said. “Now.”

“I wanted it to last, for
you. I don’t know how long I can.”

“Take me fast now,” she
commanded. “And later, again, slower. And again.”

“You don’t want much, do
you?” he said, smiling. He stood, pulling her up by the hand, and looked
around. “Here. Now.”

He picked her up and set
her on the marble vanity. It was cold against her butt, sending a delightful tremor
up her spine. “Open,” he said, nudging at her knees. She spread her thighs for
him, happy to assist.

He held her shoulder with
one hand, the other on his cock, guiding it between her legs. It nudged at her
sex, and she gasped once again. He stroked himself up and down at her entrance.
“Do you like that?” He growled.

“Yes,” she managed to get
out, and he pushed himself inside her willing body. Oh God, he was so big,
she’d forgotten how tightly they fit together. Their bodies seemed made for
each other, and she moaned out in pleasure as he slid himself home.

He stopped, looked deep into
her eyes, and stroked her face, as they stood there, locked together. “My
Annie,” he said. “I knew. All along, I knew.”

She did not have time or inclination
to ask him what he knew, as he withdrew himself to the full length, and plunged
back into her. She moaned and gasped, grabbing at his shoulders, as he did it
again.

Remembering Cancun, she
scratched her fingernails down his shoulder blades. Not hard enough to draw
blood, but hard enough to walk that fine line between pleasure and pain. He
shuddered and groaned, and buried himself even deeper in her sex.

He leaned back, pulling
out once again, looking down between them. She looked down, too, to where his
cock nudged at her hot wet opening, titillated by it, as he sheathed himself in
her once again. Her sex tightened around his cock.

He closed his eyes,
shuddering, and reached between them, stroking her clit with his thumb. She moaned.

“Again,” she said, and he
complied, rubbing his thumb in tight circles as he pounded into her, over and
over, mercilessly, ravaging her with his hard cock.

The tremors began again, ending
in a bolt of lightning that began in her clit and sent her entire sex into
rhythmic waves of sensation, milking him.

He roared out his
response, his body shaking as he emptied it into hers, his pelvis thrusting in,
and out, and in a final time, as he climaxed, and stood still.

He lowered his head to
rest it on her shoulder, gasping for air. She held him fiercely to her,
stroking his neck, his shoulders, his head, and scattering little kisses everywhere
that she could reach.

At last he looked up, and
smiled at her. “My darling,” he said. “I think your bath is ready.”

*
         
*
         
*

Annie opened her eyes. The
ceiling did not look familiar, and it took her a minute to get her bearings. She
turned her head. Dash slept on beside her, his face relaxed against the pillow,
his huge, lean body that seemed perpetually in motion, finally at rest.

The early morning light
fell across the bed. She shifted, and sighed, feeling the stretch of muscles
hard used and out of practice. It had been worth it.

He’d washed her from head
to toe in the bath, and they’d had several repeat performances here in his bed.
True to his word, he had been slow, and utterly thorough, in his worship of her
body. Never had she seen a man so focused on his task.

Smiling, she nestled into
the crook of his arm, enjoying the warmth of a morning cuddle.

No sex, she’d said. No
entanglements. It hadn’t quite turned out that way.

The entanglement had
started as soon as she’d arrived in Montana. When this was done, what would
happen? She had a job to get back to in Boston. Jack had pre-school. Daisy had
her knitting club. They had friends, a house, a life, that all seemed
incredibly distant from this wilderness, this bed, and most of all, this man. The
temptation to stay here forever pulled at her. But he hadn’t even asked her to.

She pushed thoughts of the
medium future from her mind. In the near future, she had a wolf-witch to find. And
to kill. Without the ability to change her shape, that was going to be hard. She
needed to focus all of her attention back on the goal. True, she’d needed time
to rest and recover. She was only human. Or only a failed werewolf. Whatever. Point
was, now, she needed to concentrate on her enemy.

The thought of that
unknown creature somewhere here at the ranch with them took the last of her
morning sleepiness.

She touched Dash’s lips,
gently, with one finger, and dared a kiss, knowing it meant the end of this
night that they’d had together. If they’d have another, she didn’t know. He
smiled in his sleep and reached for her, but she wriggled from his grasp,
needing to get going with the day.

Stretching, she headed for
the shower, where she carefully washed her aching body. There were few parts of
her that didn’t feel tired. Fortunately, her brain was one of them. For all the
lack of sleep, the night’s activities had invigorated her spirit. A hot shower
helped to remedy the physical tiredness, and a vigorous scrub with a nubby
towel helped, too. She was pleased he had rough towels. They were by far her
preference.