The Werewolf Ranger (Moonbound Book 3) (11 page)
Read The Werewolf Ranger (Moonbound Book 3) Online
Authors: Krystal Shannan,Camryn Rhys
The young woman swayed from side to side in front of him, her breasts bouncing with each movement. Her eyes locked onto his, two golden pools of amber with dark, shuttered lashes.
“I am Tomás,” he said, extending a hand. She did not respond. Instead, she looked behind her and put her hands on his shoulders.
“It will be easiest if you do not speak.”
“Yes, yes, feel the magick and all that.” Tomás cleared his throat and closed his eyes, but he couldn’t focus on anything except how her perfect brown nipples begged for his tongue.
Something wet and hot and…tight…slid down his cock. Tomás’ eyes flew open as the other sensations whirled around him. Her thighs on his, her hands on his shoulders.
She groaned as she lowered herself even farther on his erection. Tomás grabbed her hips out of instinct, ready to pull her off.
The woman took his hands in hers and brought them up to her breasts, where she left them. Tomás couldn’t breathe.
Between the drugs and the drumming and the tight grip of her riding him, he could only groan. The grain of the wood dug into his ass and he cried out.
She jumped off him, his dick popping out of her with a
thwack
. With a few steps backward, she raised her hands to her breasts. “Is something wrong?”
“No.” He stood, touching his tender ass. “That stool absolutely was not made for sex. It was not the sex stool.”
“It is the sex stool.” She dropped her hands from her breasts and Tomás’ mouth practically watered. She had so much grace, in every movement, like a dancer. And her long, dark hair swirled around her and occasionally veiled her breasts from his gaze. It was intoxicating.
He opened his mouth to speak, but he wasn’t sure what to say. On one hand, her sitting down on his cock had been a surprise, but he felt drawn toward her, still, and wanted to press her up against a tree and put his dick back inside her.
“How about the sex floor?” Tomás knelt on the smooth, dark dirt.
She raised one eyebrow and walked toward him, taking his offered hand. “This will do, as well.”
Her hands were on his shoulders again, pushing him to the ground, and she knelt over his groin, guiding his cock inside her once more. The squeeze of her, the rhythm, the beauty. His breath caught once more.
Once she had him on his back, she put her hands on his chest and began to ride him. Outside the tent, the singing woman began to sail above the chanting, and everything felt drawn into a frenzy.
The regal beauty bounced over him, her eyes closed, her head back, and her pace increasing with each beat of the drum. Soon, she had outpaced the drummer and was panting over him. She found his hands again and moved them to her breasts.
Tomás kneaded the perfect globes, taking her nipples between his fingers. She cried out in another language. He continued to roll one of the sensitive peaks with his thumb and finger, and slid his other hand down the plane of her belly toward her pussy. His other fingers disappeared between the folds of her sex and she bit her lip as she exploded in a growl.
He wanted nothing more than to turn her over and pound into her, but the orgasm coiling in his belly would not wait. When she cried out in her pleasure, she clamped down on him and Tomás nearly exploded inside her. He held her hips and kept pumping into her as she went limp against him and curled on his chest like a rag doll.
Holy shit, that was hot
. He hadn’t given a woman that kind of take-your-will-to-live orgasm in his entire life. He could sure handle this on a regular basis. Her panting in his ear was going to make him hard again if she kept it up. Possessive warmth spread through his chest and he wrapped his arms around her. He wanted to kiss her, but her face was away from his. He would kiss her next time.
Sex tent indeed.
She rolled her head to one side and wobbled to her knees, then used the stool to stand. With hesitant steps, she walked behind the stool and used a bowl of water he hadn’t seen to wash herself.
Tomás noticed a slight trail of something dark between her legs, but her hands clapped in front of his face and he shook himself, trying to focus on her. He grabbed her offered handshake, but instead of introducing herself, she pulled him to his feet.
“There,” she said once he was standing. “We should wash you off and find your clothes. We must leave.”
He found himself laughing. “Leave? Zolin told me to stay here.”
The young beauty shook her head and glanced at the door. The drumming had reached its climax and gone over the edge. She hurried to the back of the tent, behind the stool and got to her knees.
“What are you doing?” he asked, following her. The woman pulled him to his knees as well and he wanted to reach for her swaying breasts again.
Was that how this worked? Did he get to have sex with her again? Gods, he hoped they wouldn’t make him have sex with everyone who came in the tent.
She stuck her hand under the tent and raised it into a very shallow opening. “You’ll have to crawl out first,” she said in Spanish. “Before my father finds us.”
Tomás jumped to his feet, shaking off the drug haze. “Your father?”
“Yes, he is the Chief.”
The regal carriage made sense to him. She was the village princess. Holy shit. He’d just fucked the village princess.
She flapped the tent back and forth. “Hurry, before they find us.”
Tomás waved a hand. “Of course they’ll find us. They’re bringing in another woman when I call them.”
“No, they’re bringing her in now.” She pushed at his naked shoulder. “Hurry.”
Tomás glanced back at the tent door, then to the princess who held up the tent for him to escape. “Why would they bring her in before I called them? What if we were having sex again? Don’t they wait for me to—”
“Just go.” She pushed him again and this time, he went head-first through the small opening. Her hands were on his butt, pushing him the rest of the way out. Then, in a moment, she had crawled out after him.
The princess reached for a piece of cloth that lay folded on the ground. She slipped the creamy, thin garment over her head, then passed him a similarly shaped piece of cloth.
“Put this on,” she urged, pressing the garment into his hands. “We must leave.”
“Leave, where? I need to tal—”
She opened the cloth and shoved the shirt dress thing over his head, cutting off his protest. Tomás pushed at her hands when she settled it over one shoulder, then wrapped something around his waist and secured it.
“There. Now. Run.” The princess jumped to her feet and took off down the dirt path. Tomás stared after her.
She stopped a few feet away and gestured to him. “Run. Now.”
He shook his head. “I can’t. I have a mission. I’ve had enough of this ceremony.”
“This isn’t the ceremony.” The princess’s knee-length half-dress billowed around her as she ran back to him. “And there won’t be a ceremony once they find out what you’ve done.”
“What have I done? Technically, I didn’t do anything. You—you did all the work.”
She sighed and took both his hands, pulling him to his feet. Tomás still felt uncertain standing up, between the darkness and the drugs. He put out one foot to steady himself.
“You’ve just defiled the Chief’s daughter.” She dropped his hand and pointed into the dark, away from the glowing fire behind him. “Now. Do what I told you and run.”
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Book 2: The Werewolf Bodyguard
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K
rystal Shannan
, also known as Emma Roman, lives in a sprawling ranch style home with her husband, daughter, and a pack of rescue Basset Hounds. She is an advocate for the American Society of Autism and shares the experiences and adventures she’s been through with her daughter whenever she can.
Needless to say, life is never boring when you have an elementary-aged special needs child and half a dozen 4-legged friends roaming the house. They keep her and her husband busy, smiling, and laughing.
Krystal writes magick and Emma doesn’t. If you are looking for leisurely-paced sweet romance, her books are probably not for you. However, for those looking for a story filled with adventure, passion, and just enough humor to make you laugh out loud. Welcome home!
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A
uthor
of hot historical romance with paranormal elements and co-author of the Moonbound series--a spinoff of the VonBrandt Werewolves from Somewhere, TX.
Loves Florentines and lightbulbs. Writes about cowboys who cook and demons who captain airships and werewolves who save the world. Once met Queen Elizabeth. Can swallow a sword. Eats jalepenos by the handful. Former chef, turned writer. Currently living in Canada. Owns a falcon. Not all parts of this bio are equally true.