Werewolf Wedding(30)

“And we’re going to my tiny house? Would you care to explain why that might be? For right now let’s just look past the whole ‘forsaking your duty’ thing and look at logistics. You live in a goddamn mansion and we’re back at my two bedroom, one bath split level? Really?”

He shot me a dark look. “I needed to get away. I needed to feel secure. And that meant getting away from the house. It might be stupid, but I needed time to think.”

I took another deep breath, fairly proud of myself for how reserved I was being. “Then you need to come clean, and now.”

“You don’t tell me what to do,” Jake growled.

Those eyes, those steel, beautiful eyes, put that same squiggle in my belly that I felt last time we were together.

“Or what?” I asked, slightly breathless. “You gonna punish me?”

The corner of his mouth twitched in what could easily be either a grin or a grimace. “You want to find out?”

I took another deep breath, trying to steel myself against his admittedly incredible charm. “No,” I said at first, “I want answers, not orgasms.”

Jake lifted his hands to my face, his thumbs lying along the line of my jaw. “That’s not what your body is saying.”

I was half-consciously moving my hips against one of his massively muscled legs. Just the heat of his skin through his torn slacks, between my legs, was enough to have me almost aching to feel more. Before I knew I was doing it, my head was tilted backwards, and looking up at Jake’s beautiful face. “If you’re going to punish me,” I said in between desperate, sucking kisses, “you better do more than just kiss me and then make me come again.”

Giggling, despite myself, I tried to chase a kiss, but he pulled back. “You will,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “But so will I. Probably not as many times as you, but...”

“Oh he’s cocky, too,” I said, biting my bottom lip to quiet my second round of inadvertent giggling. “Well, teach me a lesson then, you big werewolf. Wait,” I said, “tell me one more thing. Do you really howl?”

“That,” Jake said, with a growl that shook me to my very core, “is up to you.”

“If I do,” I asked, my hands trembling as I unbuttoned his jeans, “will the neighbors hear?”

His only answer was to moan as I slid my hand under the denim and around the bulge in his underwear. Soft, cotton boxer-briefs were the only barricade between my fingertips and the thing in the world that I wanted most right then. I squeezed, feeling him move under the palm of my hand, his softest skin burning to the touch.

“How are you so hot?” I asked.

“Wolf thing.”

“You’re serious about all this?” I felt him harden and thicken underneath that damn underwear that was starting to constrict around my wrist.

“Find out,” was all he answered before I freed his hardness from the cotton that squeezed him. Better my hand than a bunch of heartless fabric. Jake took a sharp breath, and let it trickle slowly out of his nose. “Your smell,” he said between clenched teeth. “It’s doing it again, it’s making me feel like I’m losing... control...”

Flattening my other hand against Jake’s muscled chest, I got a hint of what he was talking about. The smell of hard manliness, earth, the outdoors, sweat, it stung my nostrils for a second and then warmed me all the way to my bones. I felt a shiver creep through me, and from the sweat popping up on my forehead, figured it wasn’t the heat.

Well, it was some kinda heat.

I kissed his chest, and let my lips and tongue trail down his body until I heard him groan and felt him shudder. The trail down his chest continued down his length. I held him tight in both hands, pulling, tugging, twisting gently, and then felt a hand on the side of my face. I looked up into those silver-gray eyes, and when he smiled at me, there was a pull in my chest, then a flush of warmth.

The closest I can get to explaining the sensation that filled my soul right then is that it’s the same general tingling I get when I’m about to eat a chimichanga that has way too much queso sauce on top. Well, except the feeling Jake gave me was about a million times more intense.

As I took him into my mouth, his groaning became thicker, huskier, more urgent. The hand on my face stiffened along with the rest of him. Circling my tongue around his tip, the taste of Jake mixed with the scent of his hard, rough masculinity had my knees weak and my inhibitions weaker.

I’m not exactly pent-up and I’m not exactly wild when it comes to how I act in the throes of passion, so when I reached up and dragged my nails down Jake’s chest without even thinking about it, I was just as surprised as he was.

His huffing groans sharpened again. He hissed, first with either surprise or pain and then immediately afterward with pleasure. He moaned my name, and tried to pull me to my feet, but the instant I slid the tip of my tongue along the most sensitive little point underneath his tip, I knew that I, little Delilah Coltrane had somehow tamed a big, bad wolf.

Jake grabbed my hair, desperately clinging to me like he was holding on to life itself.

“Bite me,” he hissed.

I did, but I guess not quite like what he had in mind.

“Harder, harder, drag your teeth down... oh... yes!”

He had me nibbling, then biting, at the underside of his tip, running my teeth up and down his shaft so hard that I have no idea how it didn’t hurt like hell, but from how he was carrying on, I knew it didn’t. Or, at least if it did, he was really into pain.