Taming Heather [Cariboo Lunewulf 1] (19 page)

He turned, enjoying her look of surprise and disappointment. She jumped off of his bed, rushing after him, completely naked.

“Like hell you’re going to leave right now,” she said, grabbing his arm, but unable to stop him as he headed toward his back door. “I need you. Marc. This isn’t fair.”

He turned, lifting her in his arms, and kissing her soundly. When he put her down she was gasping, staring up at him mirroring the need that surged through him.

“And when I get back, you are going to perform for me. So you better be ready.”

“Perform?” she whispered.

But he didn’t elaborate. Let her wonder what he had in mind while he was gone. It would be a damn quick run. He couldn’t wait to get back and devour her.

* * * * *

Heather didn’t mean to fall asleep. It was too comfortable lying in Marc’s bed, feeling the warmth of the sheets from where his body had been. The indention of his head on the oversized pillow, the way the bedspread had been tangled in a straight line down the bed, showed her exactly where he’d slept. And she’d cuddled into that exact spot.

For a few minutes she thought about her article that she’d managed to get turned in to her editor while Marc had been sleeping. She dwelt on Marc’s brothers who’d both dropped in to check on him. Stone, with his cold shoulder treatment, and Gabe, with his pleasant manners that was so opposite his brother, in spite of their almost identical looks. There was no doubt though that both of them worried about their brother, and that she might hurt him.

Heather had fallen asleep with that thought putting a knot in her gut. She’d had no problem making her feelings toward him clear in a crisis situation. But when her world was calm, quiet, and her girlfriend had confronted her, she’d denied him.

So what the hell did that mean?

A door closed in the other room. At first she thought it was in her dreams, but then she opened her eyes, taking a moment to adjust to the darkness of the room, and there was Marc, filling the doorway as he stared down at her.

“You are so damn sexy when you sleep.” His voice was slightly garbled, and she thought maybe it was because he’d just resumed his human form.

His hair was damp, his body glistening with moisture, and he was completely naked. Corded muscles bulged under his skin. Beautiful blond hair covered his body, thicker on his chest and down his legs. That incredible cock of his stood at attention, as if reaching toward her, eager to reach her.

“I must not have been snoring then.” She stretched, intending to tease him, still naked, as he’d instructed.

Marc chuckled, moving closer to the bed. His cock teased her. Just staring at how hard it was, how long and thick, and knowing how he could make her feel, had her pussy pulsing, throbbing with need. Moisture spread between her legs. She could feel it dampen against the shaved folds of her cunt, along her inner thighs. Reaching down, she ran her fingers over her clit, into the depth of her soaked pussy.

“Little bitch,” Marc growled, and then reached for her.

Quickly and without hesitation, he took her arm, lifting her from the bed.

Heather scrambled to her knees so that he wouldn’t drag her over the covers. Once he had her to the corner of the bed, he climbed on, taking the spot where she’d just been lying.

“If you’d wanted me to move, all you had to do was ask,” she mumbled, shaking her head at him.

Marc grinned. “There is something about dragging a woman while she’s masturbating that I find incredibly hot.”

Heather rolled her eyes. “You are such a brute.”

“And you love it.”

She paused, heat flushing through her. He’d used the “love” word. And it had hit a nerve inside her. It had crossed her mind to mention that she’d fallen in love with him as her opening line for her article. A hell of a way to grab the reader’s eye.

But damn it, if that was her only reason for writing it, then again she was using him. How fucking shallow could she be? Or could it be, maybe just possibly, that she was in love with him and just scared to truly admit it.

“Yes. I do,” she whispered, almost afraid to answer him, worried that he might catch her true meaning.

The truth had just hit her, stealing her breath away. She hadn’t been so much denying Marc when she had spoken with Margot, as she had been denying her own feelings. Admitting to Margot that she was seeing Marc would have meant admitting how he’d gotten under her skin. Even more than that, how he’d reached her heart.

No one had done that. Her heart was off-limits. Letting go of her heart would be inviting pain. Since she was a child, since her mother had died, she’d sworn she would never allow that kind of pain to touch her again. Yet Marc had done that, and now she risked getting hurt.

Marc’s expression sobered, his eyes narrowing on her as if he’d just picked up her change in moods. Suddenly her heart began racing in her chest, the room warming so that her skin felt moist. He could sense her emotions, her feelings. It was like being an exposed nerve ending, laid open for him to do with as he pleased. It terrified and excited her all at once. It was hard to breathe. She wasn’t sure at all that she could handle this. But in her heart she knew there was no way in hell she could turn back.

Marc didn’t take his gaze from her, as if he were analyzing her. Stretching, he got comfortable while he clasped his hands behind his head.

“Perform for me,” he told her quietly.

“Perform?” Her mouth went dry. “What do you want me to do?”

“Masturbate. I want you to masturbate while I watch.” He didn’t move, his tone remaining serious, while his piercing stare made her heart race. “Imagine it’s me touching you while you play with yourself, little bitch.”

She kneeled alongside him as he stretched out, his long body spreading easily from head to foot of the large bed.

Muscles bulged, moving under his skin, and she ached to touch him. Reaching out, she hesitated when he shook his head.

“Masturbating means touching yourself, my dear. Don’t touch me.”

“Fine.” If he wanted a show, she’d give him a show. And he’d be begging for her to touch him before she was done.

His cocky grin egged her on. Not to mention made her even more damn horny. Kneeling in front of him she sucked in her breath, running her hands over her breasts, down her flat tummy, and between her legs.

Hot cream soaked her fingers, and she stroked her moist folds, spreading herself open as she slowly moved her hands back and forth between her legs.

Her own motions turned her on, and she closed her eyes, letting her head fall back while imagining Marc touching her there, stroking her, making her crave his cock.

She arched her back, increasing her movements, gliding her fingers inside her hot cunt. The heat built, while a pressure formed deep inside her, an ache she couldn’t appease with her fingers.

Her breath caught in her throat. Her fingers had hit that spot, and she pushed further, encouraging the dam to break deep inside her. It was like reaching that eternal itch, that one part of her that craved attention, needed soothing.

Marc’s breathing seemed louder, and she blinked a few times, it taking a moment’s effort to focus on him. There was no way she could stop doing what she was doing. It felt so damn good. She ran her hand over her belly, caressing her breast, while she continued to finger-fuck herself.

Marc had grabbed his cock, his eyes glazed over with lust while he watched her play with herself.

“That’s it, baby. I want you to come for me.” His voice was a deep gravelly sound, his jaw set with determination.

She watched his muscles flex while his arm moved, his long fingers slowly gliding up and down the length of his cock.

He reached for her with his free hand.

She shook her head, her hair falling over her face. “No way, my werewolf. You said no touching. Follow your own rules.”

Marc chuckled, his free hand balling into a fist. “Fucking come,” he whispered, not touching her, but driving her crazy with his hand so close, reaching out toward her.

Heather couldn’t stop her grin. Marc had to be in charge, or feel that he was, and he was happy. She could handle that.

Letting her head fall back once again, she ran both hands over her body, spreading the moisture from her pussy over both of her nipples. Marc groaned, and she knew she had his undivided attention. That knowledge empowered her.

Running her hand down her front, she again stroked her pussy, teasing her clit while the dam inside her continued to threaten to break.

Marc moved on the bed, and she opened her eyes quickly, thrilled with the knowledge that he’d watched as long as he could bear and now needed to fuck her. He reached for her, having moved to his knees, and she grinned.

“Something you want, my dear?” she teased, giddy with need.

“Oh, hell yes.” His smile was almost dangerous-looking, his blue eyes brimming with silver. “A better view.”

“Huh?” She didn’t understand.

Marc grabbed her waist and pulled her further up on the bed. She was still on her knees and he positioned her, while moving to lie on his side. Then he pushed her backwards, so that her back hit the bed although she was still on her knees.

“Like that,” he told her, and then spread her legs open further. “Now play, make that pussy drip with cum for me.”

In this position she couldn’t reach her pussy as well but began stroking her clit, the small movement making her insides throb. His long fingers pressed against her inner thighs, but she could barely see over her arched torso to tell where his head was. She imagined he had a damn good view though.

If his growls were any indication, he was loving the hell out of this.

He pushed her legs even further apart, and her inner thigh muscles stung from being stretched so far.

“Spread yourself open, my little bitch. Oh, hell yeah. That is one fucking hot view.” His raspy whisper was almost too deep to hear.

“Marc. I can’t take it anymore. I need more than this.” She was absolutely going to go nuts if all he did was watch and not touch her.

Masturbating was something she did when she didn’t have a man. But she had Marc. And she didn’t want to use her own hand anymore. She wanted his cock. Plain and simple. He needed to fuck her.

A cry escaped her lips when his fingers slid up the insides of her legs, his hands moving over hers. She slid her hands up her body, anxious for him to take over, to feel his rough, determined touch.

He pressed against her swollen and wet pussy, stretching her open. “Come back here, little bitch. Play.”

She groaned. “You do it.”

“No, my dear. You are going to make yourself come.”

“I’m too horny to do that.” She knew that didn’t make sense and that she was whining, but she didn’t care.

Marc chuckled, taking her hand in his and bringing it back down to her clit. “Rub right there.”

He had her spread wide open with his fingers while she caressed her swollen and throbbing nub. Her body convulsed, and if she were more limber she would have pulled her body up from the position he had her in.

Need rushed through her. The dam finally fucking broke. Heather about came off the bed, the muscles in her legs straining while needles seemed to rush down them as she exploded against their hands.

“That’s it, baby. Oh, hell yeah. I knew you could do it.” His praise made her come even harder.

The room started spinning, and she rolled to her side, scared she would black out from the intensity or her orgasm.

Marc lifted Heather, unable to wait another moment. Watching her get off like that had been torture like he’d never imagined. Her sweet little pussy had pooled with thick, white cream. And when it seeped out of her, while her muscles convulsed, he thought he would explode right there.

“Marc. Dear Lord. That was incredible.” Her smile was sleepy, sated.

“You’re not done yet.” He would die if she told him she needed to wait.

She smiled, the glow in her face adding to the torture that already ransacked his system.

“I’m done doing the work,” she said coyly. “Now it’s your turn. Fuck me, werewolf.”

He didn’t need her to suggest that twice.

She was so relaxed in his arms, still breathing heavy, her body aglow with lustful energy. Her scent was like nectar, an intoxicating aroma that made him mad with need. Every muscle in his body was hard, not just his cock.

Laying her down gently on her back, he climbed over her, moving his arms under her legs so that he lifted her to him. Her ankles rested easily on his shoulders, that sweet smell of her pussy robbing his senses of all rational thought.

Adjusting himself, he plunged easily and quickly into her hot little cunt.

“Oh shit,” she cried out, fisting her hands into the bedspread on either side of her.

“Damn.” Her heat wrapped around his cock, and then soared through his body like a beautiful poison, intoxicating and capable of taking over every inch of him.

And that was what this little vixen had done. He realized that. Gliding against her inner muscles, her heat and dampness wrapping around him, he wondered at the fact that just after a two weeks, he didn’t want to live without her.