White Wolf 2: The Call of a Soul (32 page)

Chapter Eighteen

They made it to the cabin before the full moon claimed her dominance of the night. From the first time he recognized Melanie as his mate in the fanciful gazebo at the head of the cabin’s lake, Mike had known he’d sire his first cub there. “What were you doing at the cabin five months ago?”

Melanie blinked up at him. “It was my birthday, your mother had come back to live in town, I found that first bear cub, and it was all just too overwhelming. I had decided to give up on you. To wipe you clean out of my mind.”

“Never going to happen, babe. You looked like an ethereal fairy. I watched you trail your finger down the ivy on one post. You wrinkled your nose and hummed this melody that I couldn’t get out of my head for weeks. Every single time I’ve jacked off over the last five months, I saw your face in the moonlight. The way your lashes cast these tiny shadows on your cheeks.”

Her throat worked. “I’ve loved you forever, Michael David Dorland. And you are not to mind if I cry often during the next few days.”

“Why would you want to cry?” For the life of him, he’d never understand the workings of the female mind.

“Because I’m so happy I could burst.” And sure enough, tears rolled down her cheeks.

“How about we substitute orgasm happiness for tear happiness?” Mike did his eyebrow wiggle.

“Works for me.”

She gasped when the gazebo came into view. “It’s beautiful. How did you manage this? After all that happened the last few days?”

Mike decided the explanation could wait for later. And he owed Brinda big-time. She’d covered the gazebo in a diaphanous gauze that looked like a magical mist. The rose petals he’d insisted on lined the gazebo’s wooden floor. Little sprigs of clustered rowan flowers were tied to the ivy curling around the birch posts.

“I wanted to make love to you here in the moonlight. And I was worried about you being cold.”

Melanie giggled.

It made him smile. “What?”

“Like I could be cold around you? I get hot all over just thinking of you. Since that first night, there are times when I think spontaneous combustion might be possible.”

“It is.” And then he set about verifying his statement.

The jersey dress she wore proved fortuitous. For she was gloriously naked beneath. “You have the most incredible skin. So soft and sensuous. For the past few days, all I could think about is your skin. Licking it. Here.” He lapped the side of her neck.

“Here.” He tasted the cusp of her shoulder.

She drew him to the other side.

“Here.” The ridge of her collarbone enchanted him.

She ducked her head and nipped his bottom lip.

“Here.” He rested his tongue on her throbbing pulse.

She muttered something and knotted her fingers in his hair.

“Here.” He clamped his teeth on her claim spot.

She dragged his head up, and their eyes, the windows to their souls, connected.

His toes curled.

“I think we need to come to an agreement.” She seemed to be speaking through clenched teeth.

Mike frowned. “You want to negotiate?
Now
?”

“No negotiation. More a condition.” Did she actually growl on the last word?

“What?”

“The first time is going to go down with a bang. You can do all the lingering you want after that. Bite me. And fuck me.” She hooked her legs around his back. “Now, Mike David Dorland.”

Mike grinned and obeyed. Who was he to argue with certain paradise?

He entered her slowly, watching her eyes become slightly glazed, her lids grow hooded, and her reddened lips curve as he flexed and thickened. She was so hot, so tight; the way her muscles spasmed and coiled around his dick had his stones firing high against the throbbing base of his ready-to-erupt erection.

“I love it when you first come inside.” She slipped her tongue along the seam of his mouth. “I love the way you stretch me. The way your cock thickens and grows and fills me so I can feel you all the way up to my throat.”

“Mercy.” Mike tried to hold on, tried not to let the wolf in him take control, tried to stop the climax. But it came on fast and furious. He surrendered to the ecstasy and pounded into her.

“Bite me.” She arched her neck and shot him a heavy-lidded, sexy, come-hither look that threatened to unman him.

The scent of her heat blossomed and intertwined with the petals and rowan flowers. Her pussy creamed and tightened, locking over his cock. Her walls gripped his dick, released and contracted in waves from the base to the crown.

Mike shuddered. His balls went into overdrive, and he could’ve sworn her folds grabbed at his stones and sucked them into her slickened heat. Heat. She was an inferno. Flames licked him from head to toe.

She grabbed his ass, and her nails dug into his cheeks.

His entire groin clenched. The orgasm pushed up from his curled toes, threaded his calves taut to the point of pain, fired his loins, and sucked the air from his lungs. Her pussy churned around him. Contracted in an impossible, irregular rhythm that alternated between milking and vacuuming. His eyes rolled back in his head.

He came to in a start. His face plastered between the most beautiful breasts in the universe. The galaxy. A zillion black holes.

She patted his back. “Are you okay?”

Mike shook his head. But that brought a bitter taste into his mouth. “I’m fine. What happened back there?”

“Promise you won’t get upset?” She cupped his chin and peered at him. “I think you fainted.”

Mike’s whole body flinched. “I’m part wolf, woman. Wolves don’t faint.”

“Mike?” She traced a figure-eight pattern on his shoulder.

Her hesitant, uncertain tone alleviated the sting of his bruised ego. “Yes?”

“How long does the locking last?”

“Locking?” Shocked, he rose on his elbows and glance down their joined bodies. “Locking. I never guessed. Holy damn. I don’t know. I wonder why it didn’t happen before.”

“Maybe it’s because I’m in heat?”

Her pussy squeezed his dick, and he jetted into her.

An hour later, Mike couldn’t move a muscle. Delirium had him in a constant state of orgasm. Coming for hours wrung a wolf dry. Emptied every ounce of energy. Reduced him to reflexive reaction.

They mated for three days straight. Melanie was insatiable. Curious about every sexual position invented in the history of the planet. Bookmarked the Kama Sutra on his laptop. Made amazing chocolate confections and experimented with what body part better suited a fudgy texture as opposed to a thinner, orange-flavored sauce.

Spent hours studying his cock and testicles. Counted the hairs around his dick. With her teeth. On the last day, she said it was her turn to tie him up, and Mike agreed, positive he’d plumb tuckered her out.

“I’ve had this fantasy about marshmallows and chocolate and your cock forever.”

He loved it when she pinked all over. With all they’d done these last few days, Mike figured his mate would’ve left her blushes behind long ago. But though she’d shed inhibitions in a free-for-all, color rioted over her beautiful skin at the sweetest times. Like now.

“Marshmallows?” Sticky and creamy and warm—worked for him. “Don’t chicken out now.”

“It’ll get sticky.” She gave him her signature up-from-under peek, her brown eyes twinkling wicked, sexy fun.

“You forget, I love you sticky.”

“I had a feeling you’d be game.” Scooting off the bed, she halted before her feet touched the floor, tossed her mane of luscious curls over one shoulder, and slid a side glance at him. “Where did you put that blindfold? And the rest of the toys?”

“Lust stupid I may be, but I made my fortune as a gambler, babe. You didn’t really think I’d just hand over the odds to you when I agreed to be hog-tied to the bed?” Mike winked. No way would she find all the toys. Too short.

Man, she looked like a sexpot wearing his blue and red lumberjack checkered shirt. Earlier he’d prepped the cabin, removing every single garment save for a few of his shirts. He’d ripped off all the buttons. To his surprise, she hadn’t uttered a word of protest and, after the first few hours of being a tad self-conscious, pattered around happy and half-naked, for he’d tossed her underwear out the window the second she fell asleep on their first go-round.

“Hmmm.” She tapped a finger against red, swollen, luscious lips. “Now where would you hide something from me?”

Lips that he longed to feel on his dick but hadn’t given into that indulgence, too avaricious and needy to have her pussy fisting his cock these last seventy-two hours. Though he’d figured the primordial desire to be inside her would lessen, it had intensified with each session of lovemaking.

“Got it.” She snapped her fingers and disappeared into the bathroom.

No way. She’d never find his stash. He heard a crash. Alarm pummeled through him. He tugged at his bonds.

“I’m fine,” she yelled. “Don’t you dare get out of those bonds. It’s my turn.”

Three minutes later, she entered carrying the poker case he’d stashed on top the bathroom cabinet. What the fuck? They’d actually used it when he’d taught her strip poker the first day. So how did she guess he’d emptied it and tossed the contents into the cabinet under the sink?

The smirk she wore had his balls slamming up hard and fast. Melanie did this little hop-skip to the bed, and her breasts bounced in the most mouthwatering manner.

“How’d you know?” He studied her face. “And when did you learn to blank your expression?”

She rubbed her nails on the shirt and then blew them. “I’m a fast learner. Ask anyone. First the blindfold.”

“I want to see. It’s half the fun.” He couldn’t repress the whiny grumble in his tone.

“I seem to recall saying that on a number of occasions. There.” She smoothed the black silk around his eyes and checked the tightness of the elastic. “That should work. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Mike twisted on the bed.
Damn
. He’d outsmarted himself and ordered the best sex-play blindfold on the market. The fabric blocked out all light and wouldn’t slide an inch. Time to concentrate on his other senses.

Her bare feet pattered on the floor. She hummed. A pot dinged. The fridge opened.

“Did I tell you that I used your credit card? I found this site on the Net that sold edible body paint. Very interesting flavors.”

Body paint?
The words hammered his dick turgid. “Chocolate flavors?”

Mike didn’t recognize his own voice; passion hunger wrote the words into a feral growl. He pictured her little clit covered in a puff of almond-laced chocolate, and his tongue thickened.

The room began to smell scrumptious.

Music, classical music, swarmed around the cabin. Melanie turned up the radio’s volume, and the familiar rhythm from
Boléro
surged to such proportions that the clarinet, drums, and the violins drowned all other noises. Little witch. She’d changed the odds with that tactical move. Inordinate pride had him grinning like a fool.

“What the—” He arched off the mattress as high as the silken scarves tying his feet and arms to the bedposts allowed. Her small hands gripped his balls lightly, her palms slick and hot and…sticky. She firmed her hold, and he held his breath.

“Down, boy.” She tugged once, twice.

“Melanie?”

“I only give a command once, Michael David Dorland. And I always mean exactly what I say.” Another tug.

Groaning, he lowered his hips to the mattress. “Why do I have the feeling I’m going to be eating a ton of what I’ve said over the last few days?”

“Smart man.” She loosened her grasp, and he bit his lip to stop from begging for the return of her touch.

“You have the most magnificent cock in the world. No, the universe.” She sighed. “Maybe even the galaxy.”

Touch it; touch it
. He gritted his teeth so hard the enamel squeaked. His canines throbbed.

“The body paint didn’t come in.” He sagged, disappointment threading needles across his aching dick and stones.

“So I looked up the ingredients.” Hopeful lust swelled his genitals to bursting through the flesh girding them.

The first drizzle of hot, creamy liquid made him howl. The concoction dribbled in a slow, snail-paced tease from the crown, sizzling every inch of flesh. He fisted his hands. He inhaled. Fuck a duck. The scent had super aphrodisiac power—her musk, chocolate, coconut, and his precum.

“Suck me. Suck me.” He tried to make the plea sound like a command.

“Pretty please, and I’ll put as many cherries as will fit right here.” She fingered his slit. “They’re maraschino cherries and they have nice long stems. Have I ever told you that there’s nothing I love more than sucking on maraschino cherries?”

“Gonna come, Mel. Please, please.” He dug his heels into the mattress. Chewed the insides of his cheeks and, when she didn’t respond, twisted his head to bite through the silk.

Her mouth covered the head of his cock loosely. “I said pretty please.”

A whisper of scorching air singed his dick.

“Pretty please. Damn it. Can’t—” He couldn’t focus, couldn’t control it as his balls rammed into his perineum.

She clamped down on him, lips tight, tongue stroking, and hot, moist mouth sucking like a wind tunnel of epic proportions. He howled and threw his head back on the pillow. She tongued his slit, and any semblance of control evaporated like spit under a tropical heat-wave blast. The orgasm blew through him like a firestorm, blazing a flaming trail from his soles to his scalp. His dick spurted sperm in a machine-gun rapidfire. His hips jerked and twitched to the rhythm, and her mouth fastened around his shaft, vacuuming him in short, furious bursts.

Turned out that was just a preview of the next five hours.

He howled through her torturing and actually semi-passed out for a while. Woke up to find her searching for his beeping phone.

“Whisper had her foal.” He glanced down his totally relaxed body. She was lying on the bed, naked as a newborn fawn, his phone in her hands, knees bent, plump, delicious toes curling and flexing as she waved her feet in the air.

“A colt. Doc G.’s ecstatic.”

“Untie me.” He tugged at his bonds.