BLue Moon

BLue Moon - Lunewulf

Lorie O’Clare

Chapter One

Wind blew through her coat, the icy chill exciting her. It had been a long time since Sandy Parks had felt so alive. Her pack had relocated and times had been tough for a while. But tonight, something about the way the moonlight lit up the trees, the stars sparkled a bit brighter against the unblemished black sky, everything smelled more alive.

The second full moon this month. And it would wane just in time for Halloween. Her pack worked with some of the humans in town, making arrangements to make the holiday festive. Sandy hadn’t warmed to the idea, the thought of mingling with humans still new to her. But after tonight’s run, something inside her wanted to embrace life, take on all it had to offer.

Her heart beat with anticipation. The clean night air filled with rich fragrances of spruce, dew covered grass, and the rich smell of the earth. A run through their endless new hunting land filled her with more energy than she’d had in years, reminding her of her youth, filling her with life, with lust, with yearning.

Usually this time of night brought on a melancholy sensation. Individual dens parted ways, everyone heading home for the evening. Couples would saunter off to where they had parked, change to their human form, and dress while whispering contentedly to each other.

Maybe she had grown accustomed to her widowed status. Maybe her empty den no longer bothered her. Her cubs grown, successful in their jobs, Sandy might have reached a point of acceptance with her life as it was now. Quiet and just her.

But something about tonight. Her body craved more, ached to be touched, to be explored. Damnit to hell. She needed a werewolf. And not just any werewolf would do. Images of strength, overwhelming power capable of taking her places she couldn’t take herself ransacked her over-exhilarated mind. Sometimes she cursed how picky she was.

She slowed her pace, taking her time reaching her car where she’d left her clothes. Others around her mingled, some of the younger werewolves sparring playfully, enjoying the beautiful night. Those who had changed pulled sweaters over their head, laughing and taking advantage of the isolated hunting ground they now had with their new location.

Glancing over toward her pack leader, Ethan Masterson, she let her gaze stroll over the other werewolves with him. Dear Lord. She acted worse than a young bitch in heat.

Her small car, a cute red Volkswagen, a gift from her daughter, was the only car left on the side of the field when she finally reached it. The tightening of muscles, while her bones popped and extended, gave her a quickening sensation in her belly. Her vision changed, shadows growing more vague, the sounds of the night fading together, while individual conversations became harder to hear.

Stretching, the cold air wrapping around her naked skin, she shivered, feeling so much more alone in her human form than as a werewolf.

“Are you headed home?” There hadn’t been anyone behind her a minute ago.

Sandra jumped, startled, and turned around to stare at the pack leader’s security man.

“I must be getting old.” She giggled, suddenly feeling nervous under the tall man’s scrutinizing gaze. The way he appeared to be taking in her naked body made her feel anything but old though. “I didn’t hear you come up.”

Ralph Hipp cocked his head, making a show of enjoying the view. “You don’t look old to me. In fact, not many women can brag that they look better naked than with clothes on.”

Sandra couldn’t stop the piercing heat that flogged her senses from his praise. Ralph had always been a flirt, his chivalrous manner attracting her attention more than once. But the way he looked at her now, his dark eyes focused on her breasts, had her thinking he had more than flirting on his mind.

She smiled, turning to open her car door to get her clothes. Ralph placed his hand over hers. His rich male scent wrapped around her, the heat inside her swarming to her pussy, her heart creating a pulse there that distracted her.

“Don’t get dressed yet.” His hand gripped hers, willing her to turn around again.

“Why not?” She couldn’t turn around all the way. And the sudden shyness that took over her made her feel silly, embarrassed in the presence of this magnificent man.

She’d admired him more than once in the past, his large stature making him hard not to notice during pack meetings. Ralph kept his head shaved, his body in incredible shape. Unlike so many other werewolves their age, nothing on him appeared to be sagging. She guessed working as a sheriff for so many years, he’d kept in shape. But right now, with his shirt unbuttoned, the thick spread of gray curly hair across his chest sprinkled with black, made her want to drool.

Ralph Hipp was sexy as hell.

“You know I watch you, keep an eye on you.” He’d lowered his voice, and she glanced around them, surprised to realize they were alone in the field.

A lone truck, parked not too far away, was the only other vehicle left. She guessed it was his, although she wasn’t sure.

“Yes. And I appreciate it.” Her mouth had gone from dry to too wet. She wasn’t accustomed to feeling awkward around him.

“Appreciate it?” He chuckled, his thick baritone sending chills through her. Although even in the chilly night air, she felt anything but cold. “If you knew the thoughts going through my head, I’m not sure you would appreciate it.”

Sandra turned, looking up into that well-chiseled face. He had few wrinkles, but then she seldom saw him smile. His line of work probably helped prevent wrinkles too. An investigator didn’t smile a lot. His scent gave her little clue of what he was thinking at the moment, another trait he’d probably learned doing years of investigative work.

“What thoughts are going through your head?” Her pussy throbbed as she asked.

Ralph took her hand, turning her so that she faced him. “I think you know.”

He let go of her hand, running his fingers up her arm, cupping her shoulder with his rough palm. Her insides tightened, anticipation clamping down on her pussy, her breath catching, forcing her heart to pound faster.

She couldn’t help herself. Reaching out, she touched his bare chest, the soft spread of hair feeling downy against her fingers. His body was warm, his muscles hard and corded against her flesh.

“I’m not sure what you are thinking.” It took all of her strength to quit staring at his perfect chest and glance up at him. She attempted a flirtatious smile. “Other than you prefer me naked.”

Ralph pulled her to him. His hands ran over her body, powerful and controlling, molding her to him, willing her to relax in his embrace.

A growl escaped his lips. And she felt it rumble inside him, his thick round chest muscles twitching under her hand. “You are a smart bitch.” His unshaved face tickled her skin when he lowered his mouth to hers.

Sandra gasped, wondering why she hadn’t expected him to kiss her. But up until now, Ralph had simply watched her, kept an eye on her, been around when she needed him. She wondered why it hadn’t occurred to her that his intentions went beyond the duties of pack security.

For such a large man, his touch was surprisingly gentle. Most men pecked at her, hurried kisses in hopes they would be able to get a quick fuck. At her age, she’d learned men didn’t want a relationship. Either they were no good at being a mate, or their lives were full enough that they didn’t have time for anything other than a fling on the side.

Sandra wouldn’t be a piece of tail for any werewolf. Just because she was widowed, her cubs grown, she didn’t have to settle for some man coming around when the mood hit him. And so she had kept a clear path of the male werewolves in her pack.

But something about Ralph, also widowed, so dynamic with his strong presence, his large build, and the calm confidence that radiated around him whenever he was near. Ralph had always made her feel protected, pretty, like his attention toward her was a quiet statement that she was safe in his hands.

Ralph’s hand moved over her bare back, while his fingers combed through her hair, adjusting her head, angling her so that he could deepen the kiss.

Sandra had no fight in her against him. So strong, so tall, so calm in his actions, it was as if this was meant to happen and now Ralph guided her into his warm security, where she belonged.

His strong fingers glided over her rear end, gripping her, spreading her so that cold air drifted over the fire burning in her cunt. Moisture, thick and creamy, soaked her inner thighs, the sensual scent rising in the air around them.

Ralph groaned, tightening his grip, deepening the kiss.

She opened to him, spreading her fingers as far as she could over those corded chest muscles of his, enjoying the thick curls that tickled her skin.

“Woman,” Ralph breathed, breaking the kiss with as much authority as he had started it with. “Kissing you isn’t enough.”

His hands brushed up and down her back, stroking her with a sensual caress. Rushes of excitement built a painful pressure deep inside her pussy. She wasn’t some young twit, incapable of controlling her actions. But the urge to reach down, press her hand against his jeans, just so she could feel how big his cock was, overwhelmed her.

She blinked, focused on her breathing for just a second, while she fought to keep her urges at bay. Maybe it was because she hadn’t been with a werewolf in such a long time, but Ralph was making it real hard to think straight.

“But I’m not sure what you can handle.” His words caught her off guard.

“What do you mean?” She leaned into him, letting one of her legs slide between his. Even through the jean material, she could feel the hard muscle tone, his solid stance what she expected from this pack protector.

“It’s been a while since you’ve been with a werewolf.” His calm statement made her want to challenge him, ask him how he would know what she did with her private life.

But the fact was true. And she had a feeling Ralph Hipp could know anything that he wanted to know. Questioning how he knew would get her nowhere. She doubted Ralph would tell her how he knew the details of her life.

“You would rather have a female who sleeps with half the pack?” She decided a coy approach might be her best bet. Anything to calm the fire burning deep inside her.

“If I wanted one of them, I would have them.” Ralph’s hands moved to her hips, squeezing her soft flesh, centering her, pressing her to him.

The heat from his body scourged through her. His cock pressed through his jeans, throbbing against her naked flesh. The heat as his thick shaft pulsed against her made her dizzy. She imagined a cock that could fill her and satisfy her deepest aches.

“Why are you worried about what I can handle then?” She had a hard time talking, her body one overcharged nerve ending, aching for him to touch her everywhere.

“Because I want so much from you.” His growl almost made her come.

Looking up she tried to respond, but her mouth had gone dry. She shivered, not so much from the cold, but more from the promise as to what his statement might mean.

He grabbed her rear end, smashing her against the throbbing length of his cock. “I want to claim every inch of you,” he whispered into the sensitive part of her neck.

Sandra thought she would pass out if he didn’t hurry and stop the throbbing pain that threatened to take over her entire body.

“What are you waiting for?” She couldn’t believe the brazen suggestion had just escaped her lips.

Chapter Two

Ralph could tell her what he was waiting for. But he knew she wasn’t ready to hear it. He would have to show her. And that would take time.

Sandy tried to be bold with him. But he saw through her, saw her nervousness, her untamed lust. No. She wasn’t ready to hear the answer.

“I’m not waiting.” He had waited long enough. She was here in his arms, where she belonged. “But I will take my time.”

Her sigh about undid him, the pain in his throbbing cock making it hard to focus.

“If I didn’t know better I would say you have a plan.” Her delicate fingers ran over his shoulders, her touch sizzling his skin.

“Yes. I do.” He wouldn’t lie to her.

And that trusting gaze that looked up at him, searching for more answers but not questioning him, told him that he’d judged Sandy accurately. She was aching to be taken, molded, offered what she’d never experienced before.

Her green eyes widened, wondering. But she didn’t say anything else. He didn’t doubt his comments made her a bit nervous. He’d anticipated that. For months he’d watched Sandy, made sure she was safe, and that none of the strays bothered her. He made especially sure of that last one.

Ethan, his pack leader, had told him a bit about her. Sandy’s grown daughter, Beth, who was mouthy and needed a tight leash, proved a challenge Ethan seemed to enjoy. How Sandy had managed to raise her, he wasn’t sure. Sandy wasn’t a thing like her daughter. Petite and thin were the only traits mother and daughter had in common.

Sandy didn’t want to run the show. She kept to herself, managed her own affairs and helped out when the pack needed her. But when approached by anyone personally, to attend pack functions, socialize, Sandy stayed home in her den. Being told he had plans for her put her on edge.