Werewulf Journals 4: Sated Pleasures (21 page)

Brandon frowned, noting her hands were shaking. Confused, unwilling to believe what his eyes were reporting, he glanced about the room, seeing the empty closet and the dresser cleared of all her personal belongings. “Why are all your clothes out of the closet? What are you doing?”

“I’m packing, Brandon. Why are you back so early? They told me you were out on special assignment and would be awhile. I was hoping to be finished before you returned.”

He couldn’t breathe for the pain ripping through his heart. “Why?”

“I’ve made arrangements to leave. There’ll be a seat for me on the helicopter when it returns in the morning.”

“No,” he said impatiently. “Not why are you packing, but why are you leaving? What have I done to make you do this, Rosemary? How could you plot to leave me like this, sneaking away behind my back?”

She didn’t look up, just kept picking up items and tidying them away into the gaping suitcases. “It’s not like that at all. I just felt it was time this fairy tale came to an end, is all.

I’m too old for all this constant folderol and high drama. I’m…” Her voice faltered, and then firmed. “I’m tired of it. I’m tired of you. You’re a handsome young man and I enjoyed you for a while, but we are worlds apart. Frankly, Brandon, you’ve begun to bore me.”

He couldn’t stop a pained gasp, her words destroying his self-confidence.

Rosemary raised her eyebrows, an expression of chilly hauteur on her heart-shaped face. “Honestly, you didn’t really think you could hold my attention for long, did you? Why, you’ve barely lived a quarter century while I have seen twice that and more. We’re April and December, Brandon. What could I possibly find to do with a baby like you, long term?”

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Brandon burned inside as she castigated him, her words napalm to his soul. From his hurt he attacked. “You didn’t have any trouble finding something to do with me last night, or the night before, and certainly not the morning and afternoon before that.”

Rosemary tittered, the sound shrill and brittle. “Oh, there’s no denying the sex was good, but my boy, it was just sex. It’s fine for a snack now and then, but you must always try to make a meal of it.”

Brandon flinched. He had no defense against that barb because it was true. He had thought she reveled in his high sex drive, enjoyed their frequent lovemaking as much as he did. To hear her saying she had only tolerated, but was no longer willing to tolerate him, cut him into pieces. He stuttered an apology. “I’m sorry, Rosemary. I wouldn’t hurt you for the world. I didn’t realize I was asking too much of you. I guess it won’t kill me to cut back.” He attempted a laugh that came off badly. “You should have told me I was being too greedy.”

She gave a long suffering sigh. “A real man wouldn’t need telling, but I suppose there are always a few negatives one must put up with when engaging a gigolo.”

“Gigolo?” Brandon was young but he wasn’t ignorant. He knew an insult when he heard one. “I’m no gigolo. You insult yourself when you imply that I only made love to you for payment.”

“But that’s exactly what you did, Brandon,” Rosemary pointed out quietly. She dropped the pair of pants she was holding to fold her hands over her stomach. “Did you really believe the clients here shelled out half a million dollars to lose weight?” She snorted inelegantly.

“My dear, we could do that on Jenny Craig. No, we paid that much money for the promise of clean sex in unlimited quantity and the anonymity to indulge unconditionally. This isn’t a fat farm. It’s a sex farm and you are just the prime bull that caught my eye. Well worth the price, if it’s any consolation. I hope they’re paying you a handsome salary for services rendered. If not, I’ll make sure and leave a tip.”

“Why are you talking like this Rosemary? I love you. You told me you loved me, also.

You said being with me had renewed your interest in life and love.”

“There, you see? Your naiveté is showing. A man of the world, a ma u

t re man would

understand that I was flirting with him. He’d know those words didn’t mean a thing.”

That last hurt more than all her other words combined. His eyes stinging, Brandon blinked rapidly, desperate to stop the tears filling his eyes. He would shrivel with shame if he cried in front of her, gave her one more example of his immaturity. Voice croaking, he whispered, “This morning you said --”

“This morning was me saying, farewell.” Her laugh this time was an ugly caricature of her usual twinkling tones. “If it helps, don’t think of it as good-bye. Think of it as me putting you back out to pasture.”

Please God, make him go away angry now. The look on his face is so sad, and I can’t bear to see him hurting.

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Her true feelings flooded the link as Rosemary’s thoughts seared his mind. The scent of bitter hyssop -- sadness -- permeated the small room, irritating his ultrasensitive nostrils.

Thank the goddess Moon, what he sniffed wasn’t fear or anger, but an entirely different emotion. Besides the strong lust-inspiring olfactory mix of breed hormones, sweet talcum, and fresh linen aroma that made up Rosemary’s signature scent, deep despair…black and encompassing, hung in an almost visible cloud about her.

She didn’t mean it!

Brandon’s heart leapt in his chest. Glad tears flowed, and he felt no shame, allowing them to fall openly down his face. His poor battered heart revived, pounded in his chest like a demented metronome. His cock rose with his spirits.

Silent in the face of her continuing tirade, Brandon walked to the door, shut it gently, turned the lock with a deliberateness that caught her attention and had her words stumbling into silence. Stretching, he placed the key on the lintel above the door, out of Rosemary’s reach.

She watched him, a wary expression growing on her face. “What are you doing?”

He moved to stand by the dresser and, still without a word, began emptying his pockets, strewing the contents on the walnut surface. He toed off his shoes and set them, socks tucked inside, over by the door.

“Brandon?”

He plucked up his walkie-talkie, thumbed the receiver and spoke into the mike. “Cub to Alpha One, do you copy?”

The screech of the radio sounded and then, “Alpha One, Cub…go.”

“Alpha, I have a priority level situation pending in client Rosemary’s quarters. Over.”

The tension in the voice on the other end of the communication device elevated.

“What’s your situation? Go!”

“I have a level Red Henhouse in progress, sir. Over and out!”

Brandon clicked the power button on the unit and then strolled to the window and tossed it out, shutting and locking the window when he’d done so. From the corner of his eye, he caught Rosemary’s startled reaction.

She backed up, scuttling out of his path as he returned from the window, hurrying into speech. “I don’t know what all that was about, but you can’t stop me from leaving!”

Ignoring her, he began taking off his clothes, his motions calm and controlled. Inside, he was anything but. She should have stopped before that last devastating volley that hurt her as much as it hurt him. If she had, he would have done just what she wanted -- stormed out, never realizing until too late, what she had done. She’d have been gone, out of his reach, but never out of his heart.

She had no idea what impact her leaving would have on not only her, but on him, since he had been the one to activate her breed DNA. His poor baby would have pined for 126

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him, hurting and starving more every day until she crossed the path of another wulf who wouldn’t recognize her for the prize she was, only see her as a tool for sexual relief and snatched her forcibly.

The thought of what she could have been forced to endure as an activated breed without a bonded mate -- being kidnapped, taken to a pack enclave and kept in virtual sexual slavery -- terrified Brandon. His anger kindled a conflagration as intense as his relief and terror had been.

His hands trembled as he drew his belt through the loops and laid it across the bed. He had a hard time unfastening his pants, but finally the button and zipper gave way and he shucked them off, not bothering to fold them.

Once he was completely naked, Brandon picked up the belt, doubled it in half, slapping the heavy leather across the palm of his hand. Mouth tight, he glanced over at Rosemary, his eyes no longer stinging with tears, but with the heated promise of retribution.

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911

“Damn it to hell, Brandon, what the fuck are you doing?” Pavel cursed, shaking the unresponsive walkie-talkie. He couldn’t believe the cub had actually reported he was in the process of committing a Red Henhouse -- their code for a forced bonding on an unwilling breed.

What the hell could have happened? Only this morning the cub had been talking about getting permission to bind Rosemary in an official pack ceremony.

Oh shit, could this behavior be the result of Brandon’s interaction with Aricles? Pavel hoped not. That’s all he needed, another fuckup on his plate. He was still trying to come to grips with his guilt over the murdered woman.

Kaila came out of the bedroom, clad in happy smiles and…and happy smiles. Her nipples looked really happy. “Hey, I didn’t spend all this time getting you to mellow out and accept your inner beast to have you agitated and upset. What’s got you all snarly?”

Despite his cock instantly heading north, Pavel knew he couldn’t ignore this situation.

It could have serious consequences. “The thought of you under me is never a mellowing thought. More like a raging hormone gone wild sort of mentality. Much as I hate passing up the opportunity to explore that with you” -- he eyed her plush body with loving lust --

“especially as you’re dressed so appropriately, I have a crisis developing.”

He appreciated how she instantly became serious. “How can I help?”

“Well, first, hurry up and throw some clothes on. I need you to come with me. I’ll explain on the way, but I think we might have your first client advocate intervention job for you.”

She was already moving. “Is it inappropriate to be excited?”

“Yes.”

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Interruptions

Rickard lay flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling, chest heaving from his second dry orgasm. He decided the only thing more glorious than being fucked by a lover armed with a big cock and the knowledge of how to use it was fucking the lady he was falling in love with -- in any guise she chose.

“Welcome back, sleeping beauty.” Indigo leaned up over him, her small hand lazily pumping his still rigid cock. Her eyes sparkled, and her full mouth sported a sated grin that was sexy as hell. “How are you feeling?”

“I feel like a free man. I know I was angry at first for what you did, but you were right.

I needed that with Pavel. It was a fitting farewell.” His eyes stung and he reached for her unoccupied hand, squeezed it. “I don’t know how I’ll ever thank you.”

“You used it to heal your hurt and you enjoyed it. That’s thanks enough. Besides, I loved every minute of it. However, my question was about your physical body, not your spiritual and mental wellbeing. I was worried when you passed out after that second orgasm.”

“God, Indigo, I’ve never been fucked like that, didn’t know a person could survive that much pleasure…” Rickard sighed, his body coming alive under her hand.

He’d thought he was done, but just the sight of her had him laboring to catch his breath. Her soft touch sent renewed spikes of ecstasy zinging through his body. His skin tingled, cock threatened to explode as she brought him back to readiness.

He groaned. “I need to come.”

She clicked her teeth. “You’ve come twice already, greedy one.”

He’d come but he hadn’t ejaculated, thanks to the cock ring she’d fitted on him.

Though he’d worn one before, this was the first time he’d experienced multiple orgasms while still confined. Each consecutive dry climax had grown in strength, building Werewulf Journals 4: Sated Pleasures

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exponentially until the pleasure tipped over into a pain so sublime, intense didn’t begin to describe the sensations.

“My sperm is backed up so high my teeth are floating. When you take the ring off, I’ll probably spew like a geyser.”

“Okaaay.” She chuckled. “That was a different visual.” He felt the wind of her soft laughter bathing his ears as she leaned down and kissed his lips, her tongue darting between to flick his teeth. “We’ll have to check that out. Next time I come in your mouth, remind me to see if these pearly whites can swim.”

His cock twitched in helpless response to his lover’s promise of a next time. “Please, Indigo, take it off and let me come.”

She hadn’t tied his hands. They both knew he could release himself. They both knew he wouldn’t. She was in charge for now. Her fingers tested his balls, gingerly rolling them, weighing them in the palm of her hand. Her touch, though gentle, sent agony lancing through his balls, which were swollen to almost twice their normal size, the skin hot and tender, so full of seed he feared they’d burst.

“These poor babies do seem pretty full, and you have been a very good boy.” Indigo rolled up and straddled him, bracing on her hands and knees so no part of her body touched his. She slanted her head, leaning in to share a sweet, slow merging of lips, making sure only their mouths brushed. Her tongue slipped in to tease and tangle with his, the kiss so tender and brimming with emotion, Rickard shuddered beneath her.

She pulled away, sitting up. He lifted his knees to make a backrest for her and she settled her bottom lightly on his groin, being careful not to sit back and press against his balls.

“Watch me morph,” she ordered.

He did, and saw her cock diminishing, dissolving back into her body. Her balls retracted, making way for a pair of dainty pink labia rivaling the beauty of a Georgia O’Keefe. Her vaginal lips filled in, grew pouty and plump, the bit of flesh that had been her cock dwindling to a slightly oversized clit protruding from its nest.