Pack Mistress #3 (Quick 'n' Dirty Erotic Paranormal Romance) (2 page)

When I made it next door to do my shopping, I
thought about who Susan could have been talking to. The voice did
not sound familiar, but it had a gravelly quality that reminded me
of something. Probably the weird phone calls I’d been getting—it
must have been the same person. Then, I started to second-guess
myself. Should I go to Jack and complain? Could I make that kind of
accusation against his wife—arguably the second-most powerful
person in the pack and the mother of his children? And since there
were no other witnesses and no tape of the conversation, it would
be my word against hers.

I paid Reggie for the milk and eggs, then
walked home. On the way, I ran into a few couples and families out
and about. I smiled and nodded, but behind my smile was a sense of
confusion and the growing awareness that I might not be as safe in
my home as I once thought.

***

When I got home, there was a note on my door,
printed in an elegant, girly script on pink, scented paper that the
new guy—Rick—would be stopping by in about an hour. The note was
signed by Becky and had a heart next to her name, which was a nice
pick-me-up.

I wasn’t in the mood to entertain guests, but
it wouldn’t help my case if I decided to talk to Jack about his
wife, if I wasn’t pulling my own weight for the pack.

Having no idea what Rick liked and didn’t, I
went with one of my more popular looks, a short, pink pleated skirt
with tight, white cotton undies and a tight, white button-down
shirt that stopped just above the edge of the skirt, exposing
intermittent slices of my midsection. I also donned a pair of
stiletto-heeled sandals. It was schoolgirl meets stripper and as
clichéd as that sounds, it was sexy as fuck.

I left the top three buttons of the shirt
undone so the round, plump tops of my breasts were visible. I knew
that as I walked and bent over, the bottom of my ass cheeks were
giving their own round, plump, firm show.

I had finished dressing when there was a
knock on my front door. I opened it to greet a tall, thin hunk of
wolf with an unruly mane of dark, curly hair. The big, loose curls
weren’t long, but they were long enough to run your fingers
through. With the sun streaming through them, they looked like a
halo surrounding his young but chiseled face.

“Rick?” I purred, rubbing my leg up the edge
of the door.

“Hi,” was all he said back, but his dreamy,
crooked smile and the quiet way he said it had my stomach doing
excited flip-flops. Oh, this one would be slow and languid and
hot.

“Come in,” I said, opening the door wider,
but not so wide he could enter without rubbing his body against
mine.

He came in and looked around briefly, but
seemed much more interested in what I had to offer than what my
rooms did. I indicated that he should sit on the chair facing my
bed in the front room, and I sat at the bottom of my bed and
watched him.

“Becky tells me you’re very
accommodating.”

I uncrossed my legs, spreading them wide
enough for him to see my tight, white underwear and the spreading
wetness on it, then placed the palms of my hands flat on the bed
behind me and leaned back. “I try to be.”

I watched as he shifted slowly in his chair,
his eyes never leaving my pussy. “I like what I see here.”

Just the soft but in-control sound of his
voice was driving me wild and I thought I might cum from him
reading a textbook aloud to me. I moaned involuntarily and my hand
started to move down my chest to squeeze my breast, flick my
nipple, and stroke my own thigh.

“Looks like you’ve got everything taken care
of over there. Maybe I should take care of myself over here and
leave you alone.”

“I really wish you wouldn’t.” With every
second that passed, my hand got closer and closer to my mound and
my breath became deeper, as if I was trying to get extra oxygen to
enhance the experience.

I heard the sound of a zipper and looked over
to see his cock out and standing tall. In that moment, there was
nothing I wanted more than to feel the soft, smooth skin of his
shaft between my lips. And I told him so.

He hissed and started moving his hand up and
down his cock. “Mmmm, how far do you think I go on the first
date?”

I moved my underwear to the side and started
to explore my wet lips with a finger, careful not to accidentally
finish myself. “I don’t know about you, but I go as far as I feel
like going.” I lifted my feet onto the bed and pushed myself back,
spreading my bent knees wide.

“I can’t see your tits when you lay like
that.”

“Then I guess you’d better come over
here.”

I heard a belt jangle and slow, steady
footsteps on my rug. Finally, his face and hard, thick cock loomed
over me. He brought his right hand under my head and lifted my face
and rubbed his cock all over it. I opened my mouth, trying to put
my lips on it, but he wouldn’t let me until he’d totally marked me
with his scent.

Then, he knocked my hand away from my pussy
and used his own to cover my mound. The heat of his motionless hand
was driving me nuts and I started to grind against it while moaning
and running my tongue along the underside of his cock. As I brought
the head of his cock into my mouth, he began to move one of his
fingers around my clit.

I licked and sucked his cock, while using my
free hand to cup his balls and rub his taint, while he moaned and
picked up speed on my clit. When I felt his balls tighten, I
breathed deep and then plunged his cock into my mouth until my lips
were around the root and his head was blocking my throat. As I
came, he pulled his cock out and with two pumps, shot cum all over
my face and chest.

He pulled his pants up and zipped them,
leaned down to kiss a clean spot on my forehead and said, “This was
a very informative meeting. We will definitely be coming together
again.” My soft laugh matched his and he left. And, after my
shower, I slept like a rock—forgetting to even lock my door.

***

On Sunday, I woke with an ominous feeling—not
surprising after all that had been going on lately. But I was
determined not to focus on it. I was going shopping today with
Sally—and that might be the start of my first real friendship. It
was a bright spot in an otherwise disturbing few days.

I take shopping seriously, especially since
packaging myself appropriately is part of my job. I wore a
shopping-approved outfit that consisted of a black yoga pants, pink
T-shirt, gray hoodie, and running shoes.

Sally was dressed in Hot-Topic-meets-Lolita
chic with her checkered tights, flouncy skirt, and rib-knit tank
with the word NO printed on it. She was leaning against the
Victoria’s Secret entrance sending a text message when I
approached. Without my heels on, I didn’t tower over her as much as
I did at work, but I was still significantly taller.

“Wasn’t sure you were going to show.” She was
as surly at the mall on a beautiful, sunny Miami day as she was on
a workday.

“I would’ve called.”

“Whatever. Let’s get this over with.”

“Hey, I’m happy to be here, and happy to help
you—something you requested of me, I might add—but I don’t need to
be here if you’re determined to make this a miserable
experience.”

Sally stood facing me, arms crossed over her
chest, eyes looking at anything but me. “I’m sorry. It’s just ...”
She hesitated, then dropped her arms and started fiddling with the
top layer of ruffles on her skirt, making her look like an
uncomfortable five-year-old.

“What is it?”

She sighed and said, “I’m uncomfortable with
this.”

I looked around the mall, then back at her
and shrugged. “With what? This mall? We can go somewhere else.”

“No,” she said, rolling her eyes, “shopping
with you. I mean, we’re totally different.”

“I know that—and I’m not going to suggest
that you dress like me, if that’s what you’re worried about. We’re
going to work your personal style into a little more conventionally
sexy package—that’s all.”

“Yeah, so, no mini-me action, right?”

I laughed, trying to picture Sally as a
miniature version of myself, “Not at all. You’re going out with a
man who likes you for you already, right? Why would we try to ruin
that?”

She smiled and her shoulders relaxed. “Okay,
yeah—totally.”

The next three hours were painful, but worth
it. Sally got a sophisticated, sexy black dress that showed a lot
of leg and highlighted her elegant neck and collarbone. She paired
it with an adorable pair of granny boots that had a sexy heel and
were sort of steampunk—and something her very small frame could
actually pull off without looking chunky. She added a demure pair
of fingerless lace gloves and bought a studded black-and-white belt
with tiny skulls on some of the studs. It was perfectly Sally and
perfectly sexy. I was slightly jealous that I’d never be able to
pull off something so edgy. To comfort myself, I’d invested in new
lingerie and a tight-and-tiny black dress.

We went to lunch after we’d accomplished our
mission, and Sally offered to pay as a thank you. While we were
attacking our salads with the gusto of hungry baby wolves, I
decided to find out more about her mystery date.

“So, where’d you meet him?”

Sally’s face turned red and she fiddled with
her fork. “He came into the museum one afternoon, after you’d left.
He was looking for artwork that represented real Florida wildlife
for his vacation home out on South Beach. At first I thought he was
talking about those crappy peach-and-sea-foam paintings with shells
and glitter on them, but he is a serious collector with a great
eye. He was really drawn to R. W.’s stuff.”

I nodded and finished chewing. “R. W.’s work
is pretty jarring, though. Seems a weird pick for a vacation
home.”

Sally rolled her eyes. “Art is meant to evoke
emotion, not to lull you into a coma. With R. W.’s work in a
Florida vacation home, the buyer would be creating one of the
truest Florida experiences, and isn’t that what vacations are
about? Living like someone else for a while? Maybe even embracing
the lifestyle of the spot more than people who actually live
there?”

I shrugged. “I guess. I’ve never really had a
vacation.”

Sally started choking on her greens and her
eyes went wide as she coughed a leaf free. “What do you mean you’ve
never been away on a vacation?”

“What would I get away from? I love my pa—my
parents. I don’t need a break from them.”

“You still live with your parents?”

“No, we … we’re close—in the same
neighborhood. But I meant I love the area and don’t need to get
away. Although I guess now, maybe I should think about … no—let’s
talk more about your sexy, art-loving beast. Tell me how he asked
you out?”

Sally lifted her eyebrows at me. I nodded to
indicate that I really wanted to hear more about her new guy, to
not talk about my own obvious issues. “We got to talking about the
local art scene and he mentioned that we should go together to
explore the galleries on Las Olas in Fort Lauderdale.” She smiled,
as if remembering the moment.

I ate my salad in silence, lost in thought
trying to remember the last time anyone had taken me anywhere. To
dinner, to a gallery, heck, even to the beach. No memories of any
such thing. I felt a small stab of jealousy that some hot guy had
showered this attention on Sally.

Unfortunately, this day was becoming as
uncomfortable as the one that preceded it. I was suddenly exhausted
and ready to put an end to the outing. We finished up, paid for
dinner, and said our goodbyes.

At home, I clumsily unlocked my doors and
wrangled my bags inside. After putting away my new assortment of
lingerie, I showered and got ready for bed.

I turned off my ringer, locked all the doors,
and opened the smallest window in my home. It was still large
enough for a thin man to fit through, but it had a screen and I
promised myself that I’d close it before going to sleep. But I
wasn’t going to let pack pressure stop me from the serenade of
cicadas, frogs and birds in the swamp on a cool, damp Florida
night.

I was settling into a romance novel when I
heard a quiet, rapid tapping on my door. Grumbling something about
Grand Central Station, I rose and pulled on a short, silky robe
over my satin nightie. When I opened the door, a tall, lean man in
a baseball cap with a hoodie pulled over it stood before me. He
rushed in and slammed me into the wall, and as he kicked the door
shut behind him, I heard something metal clanking. I took a deep
breath to smell my aggressor and as the scent of sage and burning
wood entered my nose I whispered, “R. W.?” Just as I felt my hands
being pulled behind me and the cold metal of handcuffs clasping
each wrist.

“Yes, little wolf. Glad I didn’t have to blow
your house down to get in.”

“I think you’re mixing your metaphors.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not here about
metaphors.”

“How did you find me?”

“You smell like clean air and lilacs. I could
follow your scent anywhere.”

That answered that. It also made my knees
weak, but I tried to ignore this side effect.

He left me leaning against the wall, my arms
trapped behind me, as he wandered to the back of my house toward my
studio. I followed behind him, having some difficulty balancing.
When I got to the studio after him, he was crouched in front of my
pile of paintings, flipping through them and evaluating each with a
critical look on his face. Any arousal I may have felt left me and
was replaced by an artist’s insecurity and fear.

“You definitely have talent. Your
perspectives are off and some of your angles are wrong, but the
basics—the ability—is there.”

“Okay …”

“The worst thing you’re doing is putting a
barrier between your work and the viewer.”