Werewulf Journals 4: Sated Pleasures (10 page)

She did moan then, burying her face in her hands. “Please stop. Please…”

“I haven’t even begun, baby. Let me tell you what I really want to do to you and with you.”

“I won’t listen to you.”

He raised one of those perfect brows. “Don’t you want to hear how my cock is jumping at the thought of getting my lips wrapped around those sweet nipples of yours?” He paused, eyeing her reaction with a predatory stare that had her hackles rising as well as her libido.

“I’d tell you how I want to ease you back on these cushions, spread your shirt open right here in the tram, and bare your breasts to the sky. Their beauty is a wonder of nature and what better setting for them than here on the edge of the jungle. I can smell your fragrant arousal and I’m dying for a glimpse of pussy…”

* * * * *

56 Camille Anthony

Rickard was relentless. As the tram jostled along the gravel road to the spa complex, he continued to captivate her with carnal pictures painted in bold words and erotic gestures. He held her enthralled with his honest declarations of lustful interest and heated desire.

Indigo’s resolve corroded slowly as she grew steadily more aroused. A master seducer, Rickard used his silken tones and tempting words to press an unfair advantage. He wooed her with the promise of pleasure, his voice flowing over her like sun-warmed honey, smooth and sweet, rendering her soft and pliant.

She didn’t notice when his words petered into silence but after a while, the quiet seeped into her soul and she languidly peeked through lowered lids, curious at what had derailed his soliloquy.

With a gasp, she straightened out of her slump, eyes widening as she realized Rickard no longer sat across from her. He had moved and now sat beside her, his back to the driver’s compartment four rows up.

“How did you…?”

“Get over here so fast? You could say I was highly motivated.” He glanced down at his lap, where the outline of his erect cock was visible beneath the now snug drape of his slacks.

His quiet chuckle was rich and deep, sexy like his gruff voice. “My plan seems to have backfired. While trying to seduce you, arouse you with my words, I’ve managed to fall into my own trap. I’ve built a fire I can’t put out and you’re not the only one burning.”

She stiffened. “I’m not --”

He laid a finger against her mouth, his warm digit pressing in until her lips swelled around it. “Now, now, Indigo, let’s not go there. You don’t want me reevaluating your truthfulness, do you?”

That playful glint did it. Indigo gave up, relaxed against the high-backed squab, and surrendered to the pull of attraction. To her horror, her body rebelled against her tight control and her hips tilted up just a tiny bit, as if inviting his touch. He was quick to take advantage. His broad, warm palm firmly cupped her mound and she had to smother a scream.

All her blood ignited. Steams of fire sped to that vulnerable area, lighting up her veins and sparking along her nerves. Both her hands shot out to grab at his wrist. She tugged, trying to dislodge him, halt his plundering of the steamy delta between her thighs, to no avail. Masculine fingers dipped into the crease between her legs, located her already erect clit under her shorts. She exploded.

She kept her voice down, determined to keep Aricles and the driver unaware of what was taking place behind them. Digging her fingernails into his arm she hissed, “Catnip and kitty litter, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Stirring up rebellion, darling,” Rickard crooned, licking his lips. He winked, flashing his pirate’s grin. He kept his hand plastered over her cunt, fingers rubbing her clit, the Werewulf Journals 4: Sated Pleasures

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friction he created so hot the feeling seemed to burn right through the thin material of her clothes.

“Your body isn’t in agreement with your policy of noncooperation.” His finger rubbed and pressed, pressed and rubbed. Her clit throbbed and ached, lower lips swelled with blood.

She was a vessel overflowing with lust as he strummed her sex. Her muscles relaxed and her knees fell apart, creating space for his bold caresses.

With a murmur of praise, Rickard stopped working her clit only long enough to slip his hand under the waistband of her pants. Burrowing down, his long, warm fingers found her cleft, dipped in to gather her slippery wetness. His coated digits returned to rim her stiff clit.

“Don’t make me climax, not in the open like this.”

“Come to me this evening, then.”

She shook her head in a frantic “no” motion, too busy fighting off the waves of pleasure to verbalize.

Rickard smiled, his hand increasing its diabolical momentum. “I didn’t really want you to say yes. I wouldn’t miss your climaxing for the world!”

To her disgust, no matter how she fought to sit still, her hips moved under his mastery like a well-trained pet. Unable to ignore the havoc his fingers were creating between her thighs, her body betrayed her by lifting into his touch, begging for more.

Her death’s grip on Rickard’s wrist changed so that instead of trying to tug him off her, she now guided his fingers where she needed them, forcing him to stroke her weeping flesh with more pressure. His middle finger circled her entry, pushed in, and her body melted and tightened all at once. Heat flashed, dancing over her skin and she gasped for air. “I’m going to come!”

“Do it,” he ordered, narrowed eyes glittered with focused excitement. His white teeth flashed in his strained face, his finger shuttled back and forth, gliding easily inside her vagina, the flood of her heated desire having made her wet and slippery. “God, I wish I had you naked so I could see this tight little pussy milking my finger. I want to see as well as feel you coming on my hand. I wish it were my mouth catching your cream.”

The heel of his hand pushed down on her mound, letting her feel the weight, the powerful muscles in his hand as he spread her labia wide and caught her clit between his scissoring fingers.

Indigo convulsed with a helpless shudder, knowing that if she remained in this form, she’d alert the entire island she was coming. Even as she gave way to the orgasm hurtling through her in streams of lava, her body began to shimmer and dissolve. Her scream, when it came, was a soundless wail in the rushing otherworldly magic of her morphing as limbs liquefied, shifted, and twisted. Her clothing fell away around the nothingness she became for one split second…

58 Camille Anthony

Rickard continued stroking her, though now his hand drifted along the soft fur of her back. He laughed low and long, the sound both tortured and amused. Casting a why me glance toward the sky, he sucked in a deep breath before gazing back down at the large feline draped over his lap. “Somehow, my dear, I just didn’t take into account how literal YOU

could be. This isn’t quite what I meant when I said I wished to see a little pussy.”

No longer concerned with emotions of lust or budding love, Indigo rubbed her head under his hand, her pink tongue emerging to taste the tip of his middle finger. She encountered the residue of her human arousal and her whiskers flicked in feline disgruntlement. “Meow!”

Rickard gazed into eyes so dark a blue they bordered on black, the pupil a golden slit.

Resuming his petting with one hand, he shifted his cock with the other, seeking ease. He sighed. “Just so.”

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Fast Food

The wulf stared at the watering hole from his hiding place at the fringes of the jungle, eyes burning with incandescent power. Hunger clawed at his belly, commandeered his thoughts, and kept him off balance. It was hard to remember his goals, hard to focus when the need for flesh dominated. He had to eat so he could plan. He hunkered down to wait.

It was early, just after sunrise, and he knew it wouldn’t take long for the animals to begin appearing for their morning drink. The unspoken law of the jungle declared the water a neutral spot at morning and evening, but Delin paid no more heed to nature’s laws than he did his own. He was in the mood for some fast food and didn’t have time to waste on a true hunt.

A yearling buck accompanied its mate to the banks of the lake, stood guard while she dipped her head to drink. The buck lifted its head and scanned the area for threats, its nostrils quivering. It was already too late for the roe. He took her down, broke her neck with a vicious snap of his jaws, ignoring the panicked flight of her mate.

Using his claws, he ripped at the flesh of her belly, opening her up to get at the still pulsing heart. He ate the bloody muscle in one bite, dug in the cavity for the kidneys and liver and wolfed those down, next.

When he returned, the airstrip lay deserted except for the plane sitting at the end of the runway. His keen sense of smell told him there were two beings still present in the cockpit. He didn’t know for sure, what species one of the males was -- probably Fey or one of those infernal Brownies. Whatever he was, it wasn’t Homo sapiens. The other male, though, he was 100 percent USDA human -- prime meat to fill the need burning in his gut.

The sleek jet rested on the tarmac, locked down tight. Getting into it might prove problematic. Delin -- being a wulf -- had the strength to tear his way through the hull, but destroying the plane was not his intent. That jet was the only way off this island and he 60 Camille Anthony

needed it intact and capable of flying. Besides, it belonged to Hunter McCallum’s group and he wasn’t stupid enough to bring himself to the personal attention of that Alpha.

Unlike Janecek, McCallum was no softhearted wulf, hiding his true hungers under a veneer of overcooked beef. He had found an acceptable way to realize his true nature without having to kowtow to humans. No, he’d wait until one of the men exited the plane and take him captive. He’d use the one to pry out the other and take over the vehicle. Once he discovered which male he needed the most, he’d dispose of the other.

Licking his chops, Delin hunkered down in the underbrush, belly full and swollen with the bulk of the medium-sized deer he’d consumed for breakfast. Ordinarily, a kill such as that would hold him for two or more days. Still, his mouth watered at the thought of sinking his teeth into soft human flesh saturated with rivers of rich, salty blood. He sincerely hoped the human wasn’t the one needed to fly him out.

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Shifting Realities

Brandon sat across the room from the women, broodingly watching Rosemary trying to reassure her fellow clients. His respect for her rose to new heights. Having intimate knowledge of how badly she felt about Anita’s death, he was proud of her coming out of her comfort zone to help those struggling with the tragedy. He shifted on his seat, uncomfortable with the other trainers being in such close vicinity of the clients. For some reason -- he didn’t know why -- he disliked the idea of all those wulves crowded around her.

They had a right to be there; their jobs, like his, dictated they stay with their clients.

What better place was there to congregate than the dining room? Everyone was talking about the murder, speculating on where and how Delin had disappeared, because once Pavel had revealed the victim’s identity at yesterday’s lunch, no one doubted who the perpetrator was.

The other trainers talked about hunting him, but Brandon didn’t have any interest in that. He had no intention of running after Delin and leaving his client here at the spa…unguarded. No, he planned on staying right here, keeping a sharp watch on the woman assigned to his care.

“…whaddya think, Brandon?”

“Huh?” He hadn’t been paying a bit of attention.

Ruff repeated himself. “I asked if you think things will get back to normal soon.”

“If you mean will the women once more be vying for a chance at your cock, then yeah, I guess so.”

Ruff waggled his brows up and down, a smile playing at the corners of his mobile lips.

“What can I say…? I’m a beast!”

“A damned rutting cur, if you ask me,” Brandon muttered, not caring that Ruff heard his low-voiced complaint.

62 Camille Anthony

The taller wulf drew up, a frown replacing his smile. “Hey, Brand, what’s with the snarky remark? What the hell nipped your tail today?”

“Help yourself to all of them, but do not look to Rosemary,” he warned, his anger at the amoral gigolo growing.

Ruff held up his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, she’s all yours. I’ll leave her to your tender mercies, pup.”

The older wulf was always mocking him! If he thought his snide comment would placate him, he was dead wrong. Yeah, dead sounded pretty good, in fact.

Brandon bared his fangs in threat. “If you mess with her, I’ll kill you.” He glared at all the other wulves, daring them to cross him, raising his voice to shout, “And that goes for the rest of you!”

Jerking to his feet, he started around the table, determined to take her away from here, away from the covetous gazes of these perpetually horny wulves.

Trey’s hand in his chest stopped his forward momentum. “Whoa, dude, you’re partially shifted. You can’t mingle with the clients like this. Calm the fuck down.”

A haze of red anger clouded Brandon’s vision. “You think you can stop me from going to her?”

Trey stretched his arms wide, called over his shoulder, “Someone get Travis!” To Brandon, he said, “We’re all friends here, Brand. What the hell is stressing you?”

He could hear the lie in his so smooth voice. “You’re as bad as Ruff!” Somewhere in the back of his mind, the aggressive growls rumbling in his chest startled him more than the wulves sitting at the table with him. Trey didn’t back down.

“Guys, lend a hand, here.”

The idea they would gang up on him infuriated Brandon. That was not the wulf way. A full-fledged snarl erupted from his throat. His eyes went white hot as he called his battle form. Fur rippled in a fluid advance across his shoulder blades. Steel-hard talons sprang from the tips of his curling fingers.

The trainers stood en masse, maneuvering between Brandon and the clients, blocking his view of his bitch. How dare they try to keep her from him when he needed her the most?

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