Mating Rights (3 page)

Kamra

Stupid, stupid, stupid!
If I’d just pretended to be ignorant to what I am, of what I know him to be, I might’ve been able to bluff my way out of this. At least I could’ve faked it enough for him to lower his guard so I could make a getaway. But
nooooooo
, I had to go and let my temper get the better of me.

In my experience, wolves take what they want. Alpha wolves are far, far worse. That crazy bastard chasing me is way beyond any Alpha wolf I’ve ever come across. It wasn’t like I don’t have experience avoiding situations like these; for some reason I seem to attract all kinds of Alpha types. Wolves are just one of the peskier verity. Usually they saunter right up to me, announce themselves as the shit,
then
demand I submit. Like it’s a privilege they deign to approach me in the first place. Overconfident,
kinda
dumb types are easy to deal with. This guy’s far from dumb—hell, he outwitted me. And I just know his confidence is born of a surety that makes my girl parts tingle.

Running is the absolute worst thing I can do. Deep down in my soul I
know
taking off the way I did will only tease his perverted animal senses, making him even more determined to have me. And he will undoubtedly have me. Like I can outrun a
freakin
’ wolf. Still, I run until my legs begin to burn, every leap over fallen branches, logs, or thick bush jarring my joints. Thankfully I’m wearing jeans or my limbs would be scratched all to hell and back by now. I can hear him behind me. Even though I try to put on a burst of speed, it isn’t doing me any good. He stays the same distance behind me, toying with me, no doubt. He isn’t gaining on me, but he isn’t shrinking back either. The bastard is giving me just enough space to give me hope even though I already know how this will end, barring a major miracle. Eventually he will pounce.

Yes, it does occur to me I can use magic to get away. But I don’t. I can’t figure out why, but I can’t seem to form a spell in my mind. It’s like I am blocking myself, which is equal parts stupid and weird. I really don’t care to try to figure out the whys of the situation. Drawing in air is becoming increasingly difficult. My lungs are on fire, my thighs are starting to draw tighter and tighter, fiery pain is shooting up and down my legs.
Why am I doing this?
I ask myself again, this time with no more answer than the first. And yep, I just ran in a big old circle because I can see the headlights of the car, the road gradually coming into view. The shining lights on the car mean the keys were still in the ignition, right? Damn it, I can’t remember! Still there’s a chance. All I have to do is make it to the car before he chooses to close the distance. Just a little bit closer, just a—

UMPFT!

Just like that, I’m knocked into the still-warm hood of the car. Geez, it feels like I’ve been tackled by a huge linebacker. My arms automatically spread to try to break my fall. That so doesn’t work the way I thought it would. Instead of the brace I am going for, the breath is knocked from my body in a gush of air, and my breasts smash down none too softly on the heated, smooth surface. Aside from the initial, shocking bite of pain, the heat from the engine combined with the solid wall of muscle pressing down on me from behind feels so good against my nipples, which just isn’t right at all. This is supposed to be uncomfortable. This is feeling far better than anything ever should, and my stupid body is loving it, especially the firm bulge pushing against my ass.

“If you know anything at all, you know running from a wolf only turns him on,”
Rannulf
snarls all low and sexy in my ear.

Ummmm
,
yessss
. Silly me, I knew what running would do, and I did it anyway.

“Get off me, dog.”
Aaaannnnndddd
I just have to go and make it worse, don’t I? What the hell is wrong with me? Maybe it’s the full moon. Rumor has it things like that make people touched in the head. Never happened to me before but there’s a first time for everything, right? I am pretty sure it is a “scientific” fact full moons have crazy effects on those of us who are other than normal. That’s my official excuse. I am going with it.

For the briefest of seconds, the heaviness eases off my back. I can pull in deep draws of air. Thinking he’s going to let me up, I plant my palms firmly to push up, only to have a very sizable hand slam against the small of my back, keeping me right where I am. This shouldn’t turn me on. It is so wrong to have my pussy gush at the show of raw masculinity, and yet I can’t help it. Not only is my channel flooding in anticipation of being taken, my nipples throb painfully, aching to be touched. I must be seriously twisted. Every girly part of me is screaming in approval despite my quite sensible mind, which—okay, my mind is really not involved right now. Fucking thing went on vacation or something.

There’s something sharp ever so slightly pressing against the base of my neck, followed by tugging and the unmistakable sounds of cloth ripping. Cool autumn air caresses my skin as my T-shirt falls apart, drifting down my arms. Shit! Wolves have claws. Why has that fact completely escaped me until now? An excellent time to remember that would have been before my all-too-brief excursion through the woods. But what is even more perplexing is how it is possible I can just stay put, not the least bit afraid.

Closing my eyes, I can feel
Rannulf
making short work of what is left of my tattered shirt, tossing the remains on the road. And he does it all with one hand—claw—whatever, because the other one doesn’t move from my back besides to lift briefly to remove the article of clothing. Damn that’s hot.

“That’s wolf, darling. Not dog. Never a dog.” I can practically
feel
the grin I know he has to be sporting right about now. “I think you were fully aware what would happen when you ran. And you wanted it, didn’t you?”
Gawd
, that low rumble of his voice so close to my ear causes my stomach to quake like it’s sitting on the San Andreas Fault. My sex clenches in tormented anticipation, wanting to be filled by him so badly
it’s
sopping wet. This is so not how I saw my night going. I’m not a dog lover. Wolves, in my mind, are little better than the
Canis
lupus variety. And a hell of a lot hornier to boot.

“I ran because I was afraid of getting fleas,” I pant, trying to block out the rush of pure ecstasy I feel as he reaches around me, unerringly finding a protruding nipple and twisting it. The acute sting quickly melts into a delicious heat that spreads throughout my body, centering right in my cunt. The low-down bastard!

“You’re intent on pushing me, aren’t you, little witch?”

His hands move down to my waist, snapping the button open with a mere tug. If he rips my jeans I will be completely naked, as I tend to go commando most days. Why, oh why does today happen to be one of those days I eschewed underwear? There is no way I can face my band, my
freakin
’ family, all freshly fucked and nude. First of all, they’d smell him on me from a mile away. Secondly, well, it’s just plain embarrassing. There’s absolutely no doubt I am about to be fucked. By the moon, I’m damn near begging for it.

However, my hopes turn quickly to dismay when I feel a razor-sharp claw lightly nick the soft skin at my side, moving inexorably down to my hip. That little scratch was on purpose. I know that as sure as I know my name. The snug fit of the denim I’m wearing gives way at the exact time I hear a
RIIIIIIIP.

“You’re ruining my clothes, asshole.” I try my best to sound annoyed, maybe even a little fierce. For crying out loud, I am in the middle of nowhere pinned to a damn car. Yet, all I can manage to feel is turned on, and my voice showcases the intense yearning the wolf is forcing me to experience. Damn the full moon, damn my own need that is bubbling to a full boil.

“You won’t need clothes this night,” comes a husky promise, this time laced with an accent I can’t place as he makes short work of clawing my jeans to pieces, all without nicking me again. Before now, he’d just sounded like any American wolf.

Well, at least I had my boots.

“My name is
Kamra
,” I hiss, loving the feel of his hot breath against my spine as he moves down my back. Not kissing, not touching anywhere but the hand against the small of my back.

Why isn’t he touching me? I need him to touch me!

“Yes, I know, little witch,” he murmurs just before biting the apple of my ass cheek. Not nipping, but fully bites down, those sharp canines so very close to penetrating my flesh. “
Kamra
Sama
—my own moonlit heaven. Perhaps I should call you little moon instead.”

Holy crap, he knows what my name means! An intelligent wolf; how novel. How sexy. I would love to shoot him a witty comeback, but he forces my legs apart, the tips of those deadly teeth ever so slightly running along my inner thigh. By the goddess, I can feel him inhaling deeply, drawing in every ounce of my desire. Anything I could possibly think to say washes away with the knowledge he can scent how much I crave him.

I know what he is about to do, yet I whimper for it anyway, like he will snatch his face away at any moment. I just might die if he does that. Or I really will turn him into a frog or something. I fucking want his mouth on me so very badly. There’s no use for examining or dissecting or questioning my reasons for just allowing this to happen. Especially when the flat of his tongue swipes me from clit to taint.

Ohmygawd
,
ohmygawd
!
How is it possible for a tongue to be so scrumptiously rough and so exquisite at the same time? The coarseness against my clit sparks quivers deep inside my gut. My hips thrust forward on pure instinct. More! I have to have more of that heavenly tongue!

“Lick me, damn it!” I hear myself demand, grinding my pussy down on his mouth. “Fuck me with your tongue!”

I’m not usually this vocal. Okay, I’m never this vocal. The main event hasn’t even started yet and I’m firing on all cylinders. I cannot stand this teasing. I may not be strong enough to force him to do my bidding, but I can beg if I have to. I really, really need that tongue inside me. But
Rannulf
the Wolf seems content flicking against my clit, circling my opening but never entering.

“Please,
Rann
?” Fuck it. If it takes begging, so be it.

Jackass. The complete, utter asshole was obviously waiting for me to break because as soon as the magic word leaves my mouth, he thrusts his tongue inside me, moving his now clawless hands up to pinch the clit he has just lavished with oral attention.

Orgasm is instantaneous—an explosion of volcanic relief flooding my channel. Like the good wolf he is, relatively speaking, he licks up every drop. And he doesn’t stop just because I slowly float to earth. Instead, he uses his other hand to propel two long, beautifully thick fingers inside along with his tongue. Fucking nirvana. The lovely man,
er
, wolf curves his fingers, finding the spongy, ridged g-spot unerringly. Ruthlessly, he firmly caresses my epicenter of pleasure, using just the right amount of force. The top half of my body falls heavily against the car’s hood, my shaking legs turning to useless rubber. Yes, yes, sweet goddess
yeeesssss
! This is what I’ve needed for so very long. I want it, have to have it.

Rannulf
is a genius. Somehow he’s managed to unlock years of repressed, raw lust that I have shoved in the back of my psyche somewhere. No other man has ever come close to lighting me on fire like this. My wolf relentlessly assaults me with erotic delights until I am alternately crying, then screaming. I don’t care that I am begging though it all. All that matters is the way his neck stays strong as I ride his face and fingers with no shame. The immense sexual gratification comes with a sharp edge. Each orgasm builds on another until they all merge into one. I can’t think, I can’t breathe,
I
can’t do anything but come over and over again.

There is no way I can possibly go any higher.
Rannulf
stops pinching my clit so at least I can draw in a little air. Maybe this part will be over soon. Not that I don’t love it, but goddess I want his cock!

SMACK!

A burst of acute pain explodes right on my clit. I swear I see stars as I gasp, unable to utter a single coherent sound. My body seizes for a brief second before my pussy begins to spasm like crazy. The damnedest thing happens.