Taming the Lone Wolff (13 page)

She nodded jerkily, reached for the lamp switch and plunged the room into darkness. Moments later he felt the mattress dip when she climbed into their nest. Then he heard the rasp of rings on a metal rod as she pulled the final set of drapes shut, enclosing them in complete intimacy.

His eyes strained against the darkness. But it was as if he were blind. Only his imagination worked overtime, painting images of Winnie in his brain.

Her whisper broke the tension that held him. “Don’t move your hands unless I say so. I can’t concentrate when you’re touching me.”

“I’ll try.” He wondered if she realized what she was saying. Apparently he wasn’t the only one subject to this madness.

When she first made contact, he wasn’t expecting it. He flinched so hard that Winnie laughed softly. “Relax, Larkin. You can trust me.”

The same words he’d said to her on more than one occasion. Had she phrased it that way with intent, or was she merely responding to his jumpiness? He inhaled sharply, unable to stifle a moan when her small hands gathered his balls and caressed them.

He worried that he might embarrass himself. She avoided his quivering shaft and ran her hands down his flanks, his calves. One at a time, she massaged his feet, pressing her fingers deeply into the arches, separating his toes and kissing them one by one.

Sweet Jesus.
When had he become so damned susceptible to an innocent massage? He felt her test the tendon at the back of his heel, recognized the brush of her hair as it trailed across his ankle. He gripped his own wrists beneath his neck and held on, feeling like a prisoner drawn on a rack.

Finally, she abandoned his lower extremities and moved to the head of the bed. Leaning over him, she ran her hands from his shoulders to his waist. “You’re so strong,” she whispered. “I love that about you.”

He sensed that her breasts swayed above his face. When she leaned forward an extra inch, he captured a nipple with his lips and teeth and sucked violently, dragging a cry from his temptress.

“The other one,” he demanded, chivalry lost in guttural command.

Without protest she complied, her hands now braced on his pecs. Her flesh was firm and sweet, like the perfect summer peach. This time, he backed off, swirling his tongue around the areola with teasing, light touches. He wanted more, but he had made a promise, and he would keep it as long as he could.

Moments later she withdrew. The muscles in his shoulders ached. His erection had been tight and full for so long that the pain of arousal had muted to a burning fire that engulfed his entire lower body. He tried to regulate his breathing. Used an old relaxation technique from his college days when he’d been constantly horny and unable to sleep. Nothing worked.

The agony of his need for her surpassed his self-control. He was ready to cry uncle when, suddenly, he felt the brush of her lips on his sex and she took him in her mouth all the way to the root.

“Damn it, damn it…” He pumped wildly, his hands grabbing at her head, anchoring in her hair, as he exploded. His release went on and on for seconds, minutes, aeons. Winnie, instinctive in her innocence, sucked him gently, even as he came, turning him inside out and leaving him weak as a baby with her head lying on his chest.

“Turn on the light,” he croaked.

She traced a fingernail on his flat belly. “No.” She had yet to touch him with her hands. Not where he wanted it the most.

“This isn’t up for debate. I want the lights on. Now.”

Her fist closed around his limp shaft, shocking it to life with a million volts of power. He groaned, insanely out of control. “I’ll do it myself.” It was an empty threat.

The humor in her voice called his bluff. “No, you won’t.” Gently she learned the rhythm that hardened him, that made his aching flesh ready for more. He wanted to grab her and take what was his. But he had promised her the driver’s seat, and some last thread of honor kept him docile beneath her torture.

Nothing she had done so far was out of the ordinary. Only her shy enthusiasm and his growing hunger for intimacy with her transformed the night into a fantasy. He was resigned now to being blind. Lord help him when he made love to her with the lights on. The sensory overload might turn him into a slobbering maniac.

Gradually, his shaft returned to full attention. His recent release had only taken the edge off his hunger. When Winnie ran her finger across the drop of fluid that signaled his readiness, he sensed her leaning back on her haunches. “Okay,” she said, her voice breathless. “You can do it now.”

“Do what?” In his current state, he couldn’t decipher the riddle.

“You know…make love to me.” Even in the dark he could detect her embarrassment at having to say it out loud.

He chuckled hoarsely, winded and panting. “Oh, no, baby. You’ve done everything right so far. Climb on top of me and take what you want.”

Thirteen

W
innie barely recognized herself. Begging for darkness had been a stroke of genius on her part, because it had allowed her to explore without Larkin’s knowing gaze tracking her every movement. But now he’d laid out the ultimate challenge.

She thought of the size of him and her long dry spell. A technical loss of virginity a decade ago hadn’t prepared her for sexual acrobatics with Larkin Wolff. He was big and hungry and nowhere close to being satisfied if the thickness of his sex was any indication.

The silence lengthened. With the bed hangings pulled shut, the air had grown moist with their breathing, almost uncomfortably warm. But turning on the light was something she couldn’t manage. Not yet.
Climb on top of me and take what you want.
Larkin’s arrogant demand sparked her indignation. Did he really think she wouldn’t have the guts?

“Where are the condoms?” she asked, proud of her steady voice.

“On the bedside table.”

She reached out through the curtains, located one and laid it on his chest. “You take care of this. Then put your hands behind your head again.”

He didn’t respond verbally, but she heard the rustle of a packet and the sound of latex being rolled into place. Even in the dark, she blushed.

After a moment of silence, she knew he was ready. Gingerly, she slid a leg across his waist and wriggled until she sat on his chest.

Amazingly, Larkin remained still and compliant, though he wheezed. “You’re a tiny thing, but I need to breathe, love.”

His careless use of the four-letter word made her heart contract. He didn’t mean anything by it. Just something a guy said to make a woman feel special. Well, heck…it worked.

In response to his plea, she scooted lower, now with Larkin’s impressive equipment bumping up against her butt. The need to feel him inside her overrode the last of her inhibitions. Carefully, she lifted onto her knees, guided him with her hand and positioned the broad blunt head of his sex against her opening.

The vulnerability of the position gave her pause, but Larkin remained silent and unmoving, shoring up her confidence. Slowly, her breathing jumping all over the map, she forced herself downward, filling her emptiness with Larkin’s life and power. There was some discomfort, but no actual pain. He was big and fully erect. Somehow, the fit was perfect.

She lay forward, finding his lips with hers and kissing him wildly. Without her noticing, he had released his hands and now sifted his fingers through her hair.

“Why are you crying, baby?” he asked, the words tender and soft.

“It’s so wonderful. Why didn’t I know how good it could be?” Her entire world had shifted on its axis, gravity no longer a certain force.

“Because you hadn’t met me yet.”

She slapped his cheek halfheartedly, wanting to deflate his ego, but knowing he had good cause for his arrogance. “Feel free to take over anytime you want,” she muttered. “I think I’ve exhausted my limited repertoire.”

In truth, she didn’t want to move. At this angle, she felt deliciously possessed, completely at his mercy with his muscular arms wrapped tightly around her waist.

Apparently she’d had no concept of how her “no touching” rule had constrained him. Scarcely had the words
take over
left her mouth before he had flipped them, placing her beneath him with her arms outstretched over her head and her wrists manacled in one of his big hands.

He nuzzled her nose with his. “You surprised the hell out of me, Winifred Bellamy. To hell with inexperience—you’re a natural.”

She caught her breath when he flexed his hips, driving himself even deeper. Any moment now, she expected him to move, to climax, to do
something.
Desire curled low in her belly, dancing along her nerve endings and demanding to be sated.

“Shouldn’t you be getting started?” She lifted her butt off the bed a millimeter, trying to give him the idea. But Larkin was heavy. And not willing to be pushed.

He braced himself on one hand and toyed with her breasts, plucking and twisting the nipples until he forced a groan from deep in her chest. The sound of her own pleasure startled her. She was lost. Larkin wasn’t hers to keep, but after tonight, how could she ever let him go?

Wrapping her legs around his thighs, she begged. “I can’t bear it, Larkin. Do something. Say something. Please. I need you.”

Perhaps he had been waiting for a sign. Or the white flag of surrender. Whatever the reason, he finally snapped. Withdrawing almost completely, he slammed into her, shaking the bed and shouting hoarsely as he repeated the rhythm again and again. Reality blurred. The lack of light was disorienting. Only the connection forged by his determined thrusts kept her grounded.

Something frightening in intensity built at the spot where he entered her. She’d climaxed earlier, but this was different. That had been an ecstatic relief. This climb to orgasm was darker, more erotic, infinitely terrifying. Everything inside her clamored for more and more.

Larkin’s skin was hot and damp against her breasts. His mighty legs parted hers inexorably, giving no quarter. She wanted to wait for him, wanted to feel the dual explosions of release. But her body betrayed her.

Fingernails digging into his back, she cried out and hung on as everything around her incinerated, flared to a white-hot heat and vaporized. Vaguely she heard Larkin’s growling shout as he followed her. He rode the final wave endlessly, his body claiming hers again and again until her world went dark as exhaustion rolled over her.

* * *

Hours later, Larkin woke up. Even with the bed hangings closed, the faint light of dawn peeked in through cracks. He cataloged the current situation with bemusement. Winnie lay sprawled beside him, facedown, her cute little ass only half covered by the sheet. Larkin was hard. And he wanted her again. But he also didn’t want Winnie to be embarrassed by someone discovering that they had slept together.

Later he would sneak away with her somewhere on the property and tell her what last night meant to him, but for now, he had to protect her privacy.

His hand hovered above her head, wanting to touch her hair. But it might wake her. Though it pained him both mentally and physically, he eased from the cozy nest they had created, found his boxers and stepped into them. With the robe in his hand, he opened the bedroom door an inch and peered into the hall. No sign of movement.

With a sigh of relief, he made it to his room undetected. It was the custom, when all the cousins were in residence, to take an early-morning hike together. Annalise was still nursing the baby, but the guys would be expecting him. Maybe if he walked hard enough and fast enough, he could ignore the giddy feeling in his chest that made him want to stay in bed all day. Winnie Bellamy was dangerous. What in God’s name had he done? He had crossed his own line in the sand, but somehow he had to maintain a degree of separation. He needed some space to make sense of this.

* * *

Winnie was having the most wonderful dream. Larkin Wolff was making love to her. And his eyes were telling her she was the most beautiful, desirable woman in the world.

Then her alarm started beeping. Groaning at her own stupidity, she reached for her phone and realized she wasn’t in her bedroom at home. It took her three swipes at the bed hangings to poke an arm out, locate her phone and silence the alarm she’d forgotten to turn off before she went to bed.

Only then did she fully realize where she was. Memories of the night came flooding back. Her head snapped around. The other side of the bed was empty. The pillow was still dented, but Larkin was gone.

Humiliation made her tremble, but she shoved back the negative emotion. There could be a million reasons Larkin hadn’t lingered to say good morning.

Her hand over her mouth and her chest heaving with nausea, hateful words from the past echoed inside her head.
You’re a naive fool, Winifred. No man will ever want you for the long haul. You’re ridiculously clumsy in bed, you look like a scarecrow half the time and you haven’t got an ounce of feminine allure. No one cares about you. Do yourself a favor. Find the nearest nunnery and sign up, ’cause you’re a disaster as a woman.

It wasn’t true. She knew it wasn’t true. At least not all of it. It had taken several expensive years of therapy and the clarity of hindsight and growing maturity, but eventually she had recovered from the physical and mental trauma of her first sexual experience. The mere fact that she wanted Larkin so desperately and had embarked on an affair with him proved that she had healed.

The scars, however, ran deep. She had buried herself in her causes and closed herself off from emotional engagement. Her money had always isolated her to some extent. And having a vicious, amoral man destroy her self-esteem had made her withdraw from the world. In the aftermath she’d had to rebuild herself from the ground up. At twenty-three she’d stumbled upon a dire need in the social services network, and she had known almost from the beginning that it would be her calling, her passion to help.

She had confidence in herself as a person of worth and as someone who could achieve any goal. But despite her progress in every other arena, she’d still been unable completely to shake the notion that she was an asexual being. A female, but not the kind of
woman
who could hold a man’s interest.

Meeting Larkin Wolff had changed all that. In fact, what had happened in this room last night was pretty much a miracle. But the fact that he had left without waking her spoke volumes. She wasn’t stupid. She had given him pleasure. For a man like Larkin, though, pleasure was readily available in an infinite number of beds.

Winnie was grateful to him for showing her that she had more to offer than she had realized. Now it would be up to her to keep things comfortable between them. One night of amazing sex was a gift to her, an experience she would never forget. Not in a million years, however, would she let him think she misunderstood what it meant.

They had come to Wolff Mountain to draw attention away from her home. And to let Larkin enjoy time with his extended family. Already, both of those purposes were being fulfilled.

She would not cry, but there was nothing she could do about the ache in her chest that made breathing difficult. As she selected clothing for the day, she was infinitely glad she had forced herself to go shopping before leaving Nashville. The Wolffs were elegant, sophisticated people—at least what she had seen of them at dinner last night. Winnie needed the reassurance of knowing she looked her best.

The outfit she chose was one she particularly liked. Beige linen slacks with a thin, lilac cashmere sweater. The top was short-sleeved and V-necked. She added pearl studs and a platinum chain with a single pearl attached. Her breasts were a bit more noticeable than she liked, but in the mirror she saw a woman whose visage was serene and dignified.

It took only moments to brush out her hair, secure it high on the back of her head and French-braid the ponytail. Sliding her feet into low-heeled calfskin pumps, she went in search of breakfast.

Wolff Castle—and yes, she was going to refer to it that way in her head, because the appellation fit—was quiet as a tomb. Fortunately, she had a good sense of direction and was able to find her way back to the dining room. She didn’t expect to be served there, but as she had suspected, one of the doorways connected to an amazing kitchen and a much smaller breakfast nook.

Annalise was in residence, reading the morning paper with one hand and juggling a small child on the opposite knee. She looked up when Winnie walked in. “Good morning, Ms. Bellamy.”

“Call me Winnie…please.” Winnie took the seat on the opposite side of the table, and in moments, a plump woman in a traditional gray dress and apron brought a carafe of steaming coffee.

Annalise waved a hand. “The coffee is South American. I’d mainline it if I could. Enjoy yourself.”

The older woman took Winnie’s request for eggs and toast and disappeared.

Annalise’s quick visual assessment of Winnie was a bit disconcerting, though her expression was more curious than critical. Larkin’s baby sister was an incredibly beautiful woman, with a fall of jet-black hair and dramatic cheekbones. Winnie knew Annalise had grown up in a house full of men, but with a baby in her lap, she was the epitome of a peaceful Madonna.

While Winnie drank her morning jolt of caffeine, Annalise filled the silence. “Larkin headed out early with the guys. The five of them love tramping across the mountain together. It doesn’t happen all that often anymore. I usually go, as well, but I’m nursing and can’t leave the baby that long.”

“What is his name?”

“Sam and I battled over that, but in the end, we settled for Phoenix. I know it’s pretentious, but our family rose from the ashes, so it fits.”

“I’ve read about the tragedy, of course. I lost my mother, as well, but I was much older. It must have been unspeakable.”

Annalise shrugged. “I was the youngest. I barely remember any of it. So I guess you could say I’m lucky.”

At that moment, Sam Ely walked through the door. “I wondered where you’d gotten to.” The tall, sleepy-eyed man with chestnut hair took the chair beside his wife.

She leaned in for a kiss. The casual domesticity of parents and child stabbed Winnie’s heart.

Annalise passed the baby to her husband and buttered a muffin. “I thought the guys invited you along.”

He yawned. “They did. But I had a conference call at six about the London project, and we just now finished.”

“London?” Winnie had been there many times and knew the city well.

Annalise’s face glowed with excitement. “We’re going there for three months. I can’t wait.”

The server brought Winnie’s breakfast and also handed Sam an enormous plate of food without asking. Apparently his preferences were well-known, because he dug into it without missing a beat.

His wife scowled. “It drives me nuts that he can eat like that and never gain a pound.”

Sam grinned. “Gain all the weight you want, darlin’. There will just be more of you to love.”