Wild (22 page)

“Only yours, Ms. Marcel.” He reached around her and opened the door. Held it open for her to walk inside. He was right behind her. Elle couldn't have wiped the grin off her face if she'd tried.

*   *   *

Tuck followed Elle through the door and into the cabin, his thoughts on a conversation he'd had with Brad and Cain shortly after they'd brought Cherry back to Feral Passions for keeps, that no matter what the old-timers said, they were convinced there really was a special mate for each of them.

He hoped they were right, because damned if he didn't think Elle Marcel was his.

She was absolutely majestic, her shoulders broad, breasts large, torso nipped in at the waist just enough and flaring out to the most amazing ass he'd ever seen. He wanted her naked. Just Elle on that big bed, her lush body ripe and ready for him.

She paused in the center of the small room, turned, and smiled at him. It was a tactile thing, that smile of hers. It touched his heart, made the damned thing pound in his chest as if he'd just run a mile. His wolf wanted to howl, but he tamped the guy down. He didn't want to blow it now. All season long, there'd been women in and out of Feral Passions, and not one of them had caught his attention. He'd been good to them, had enjoyed their company, but he hadn't felt this powerful sense of destiny. Not with a single one.

He stepped close, kissed Elle again. Held her in his arms and rested his chin on her head. “I want you, Elle. But I don't want to pressure you. We hardly know each other, but…”

“But it feels right, doesn't it?” She leaned back and looked him in the eye. “I saw you today when you first walked up to the car, and I felt something. I can't explain it, but it was the strangest sense that something would happen with us.” Her voice dropped an octave, low and sultry. “We can get to know each other better, if you're interested.”

He chuckled softly. “You have no idea how interested I am. Except I wasn't planning on this. On you. I'm not even sure if I have protection.”

“The fates would not be so cruel. Check your pockets. I'll look in the bedside table.” She laughed and pulled out of his arms. “I mean, it sounds plausible, doesn't it?” He checked his pockets, fully aware they didn't hold what they needed, while she walked over to the bed and pulled open the drawer on the little cabinet Trak's granddaddy had built. “What did I tell you?” Laughing, she held up an unopened box of condoms. “You guys really do take care of everything.”

“I guess we do.” He'd have to ask Trak whose idea it was to stock the cabins with condoms, if for no other reason than to thank him. He stepped across the room and sat on the edge of the bed, tugging Elle until she was standing between his legs. “You're sure you're okay with this?”

“Oh, yeah. What's your plan?” She planted her hands on his shoulders and smiled down at him. So often women looked like children to him. Not Elle. He loved the fact she was so tall. She wore an old-fashioned-style blouse tucked into her skirt. It had a wide neckline with a tie running through it, gathering it loosely around her shoulders, baring her collarbones, the soft curves of the tops of her breasts. When she leaned closer, her breasts almost spilled out of her bra. He cupped them in his hands, fascinated by their weight, the smooth chocolate of her skin. There was so much of her he wanted to touch, but he wanted to see everything first. He tugged on her blouse, slipped his hands beneath the hem, lifted it carefully over her head, and set it aside. He reached around her and unhooked her bra. She sort of shimmied her arms—which made her breasts do amazing things—and he helped her slip the straps over her shoulders.

He concentrated on the sleek, satiny fabric of her bra instead of her breasts. It wasn't until he set her blouse and bra aside that he turned and kissed her full lips and then turned his attention to her breasts.

They were well worth the wait. He sat there, almost afraid to touch, just staring for a moment. They were large and full, but they didn't sag at all. Instead, with him sitting on the edge of the bed, Elle stood between his thighs, her breasts displayed proudly at eye level for him, their areolas much darker than her sleek skin, her nipples tightly budded, inviting him to touch.

He cupped them reverently in his palms and reveled in their solid weight. She was a big woman, voluptuous and sensual, with curves in all the right places, a fullness to her that reminded him of a fertility goddess, ripe with promise. Holding her breasts, he rubbed her taut nipples with his thumbs, dragging a soft moan from her lips and adding more pressure against the button fly of his jeans.

He leaned close and drew her nipple into his mouth, tonguing and sucking the right one and then the left, drawing each to an even tighter peak. Her heart pounded, loud enough to hear, strong enough to feel against his lips. He smelled the rich scent of her arousal, felt the tiny shivers racing over her skin, and he didn't want to wait any longer.

Kissing along the upper curve of her breast, over her collarbones to the soft skin behind her ear, he licked and nibbled and finally whispered, “I want you, Elle. Now. Are you with me?”

She laughed, a ragged, needy, full-throated sound that had him grinning like a fool.

“With you? Dr. Jones, at the rate you're going, I'll be finishing without you. Take off your clothes. Please? And I promise to do the same.”

“Let me help.” He slipped her skirt down over her thighs, taking her satiny panties with it, and she was every bit as wonderful as he'd imagined. Broad shoulders and full breasts, a waist that nipped in before flaring to full, womanly hips and thighs. A softly rounded belly, firm skin, soft and eminently touchable. Hers was a woman's body in the full flower of her prime, and Tuck knew: Elle was the one.

If only he could convince her.

She grabbed the hem of his T-shirt and tugged it up and over his head. Ran her warm palms over his chest and slipped quickly to the top button on his jeans. It was hard for her to undo them with him sitting like this, especially with the hardest dick he'd had in years trying its damnedest to get free, so he planted his hands on her hips and stood.

Laughing, she carefully undid the top three buttons. Her eyes went wide when she realized he wasn't wearing underwear, but he couldn't tell her it was just one more thing to worry about when he wanted to shift. Let her think what she might, at least there could be no doubt in her mind that he wanted her. Desperately.

He helped her with the final buttons, slid his pants down over the solid curve of his dick, and stepped out of the pants and his mocs. Most of the guys chose moccasins over boots, again for the practicality of shifting. They were easy to get off.

Handy when you were standing in front of an aroused, exquisitely naked woman.

Elle looked him up and down, eyes sparkling, lips twitching, view lingering down. Finally, she raised her head, smiling broadly, and stroked her hands across his chest. “I have to say it,” she said, and she laughed. “You, Dr. Jones, are a big boy. All over.”

“And you, Ms. Elle, are not a tiny woman. And for that I am overwhelmingly grateful. It tells me that the gods are happy with me—to think they've sent someone as ideal as you are for me.” He wrapped his arms around her and held her close, finally experiencing the fullness of her breasts against his chest, the soft swell of her belly against his, her long, strong legs, almost as long as his. It was a revelation, this sense of meeting a woman as a physical equal, a woman who made him laugh and most definitely turned him on.

Then, without warning her, he slipped his arms beneath her legs and back and lifted her against his chest. She laughed out loud—no ladylike shriek from this woman—and she was still laughing when he carefully deposited her on the bed.

She lay there smiling broadly, arms raised in an invitation that had him over her in seconds. “I can't believe you did that.” She pulled his head down and kissed him. “You could have totally blown it, you know—dropping the big girl on the floor would have been a real mood killer.”

“The sexy woman on the bed who is exactly the right size for me is much too precious to drop.” He reached for a condom and knelt between her legs, sheathing himself. She spread her knees for him, but instead of thrusting into her, he scooted back, leaned close, and tasted her.

The scent of her arousal had been teasing him since dinnertime, when he'd been thankful for the overhang of the table. It hid the erection he'd been sporting since he walked into the dining room and saw her looking directly at him, smiling her welcome.

She had an amazing flavor that matched her glorious scent and had him licking deep and nuzzling close to inhale. Her thigh muscles quivered, and her hands stroked through his hair. She wasn't forcing him closer, but she wasn't letting go, either.

He found her clit and concentrated on that taut bundle of nerves, using his lips and tongue while teasing her opening with his fingers. She bucked beneath him, and he knew she was close. Thrusting two fingers deep inside, he curled them forward, rewarded by her rapid breathing, the tensing of her muscles. He sucked hard on her clitoris, thrust deep with his fingers, and almost came himself as he quite literally stroked her off the edge.

She cried out, a long, keening wail that had him moving over her, needing to be inside her. He used his hand to place the broad head of his penis between her moist and swollen lips, but ahead of his thrust, Elle raised her hips and took him deep.

He slid in, slowly, carefully, working his way past her tightly clenching vaginal walls, their muscles still caught in the tremors of her climax. He filled her, for the first time in his very long life actually fitting inside a woman without hurting her, no matter how careful he'd been. With Elle, the fit couldn't be any better, their bodies meshing as if they'd been specifically designed for one another.

She wrapped her legs around his hips, and he picked up speed. So amazing, the sensations of her body clasping his, the tightness without the fear of causing pain. His balls slapped her bottom, his heart thundered in his chest, and he couldn't have stopped grinning if his life had depended on it.

This was joy. This was the connection he'd heard of but never experienced, the feeling that she was so far inside his head and his heart that she'd never break free. He was never letting her go, this woman who must have been made for him. Now, all he had to do was convince her that she wanted to spend her life with a guy who went furry on occasion, a guy who wanted her along for the very same run—on four legs instead of two.

Except he had to convince her without telling her the details. Not any of them.

His climax was rising; he had to take her with him. Leaning close, he kissed her, and she licked his lips, and it came to him that she was tasting herself on his mouth. That knowledge, that sense of connection? That was all it took. He grabbed her and lifted her close. Her arms went around his shoulders as he sat back on his heels, holding her tightly, plunging deep, hard, and fast. Her vaginal muscles grabbed him so damned tight he groaned. His climax flashed from the small of his back to his balls, from his groin to the end of his dick in a supernova of sensation.

His legs felt numb, even his toes and fingers tingled, and he knew every drop of blood in his body had gone straight to his dick for the biggest, most magnificent orgasm he'd ever experienced. Sucking air, body trembling, he carefully lowered Elle to the mattress, but when he went to roll away so as not to crush her, she hung on to him, pulled him down on top of her.

“You're not going anywhere, big guy.” She kissed his throat, licked her way across his collarbone, nibbled on his earlobe. “You're covering me like a big, warm, sexy blanket. Stay here, okay? For a while, at least.”

He nuzzled her throat. “For a while. Then I need to go check on that wolf cub, make sure he's okay. He's only a couple of months old, still not very tough. Which reminds me. The wolves here on the preserve have gotten really spoiled over the season. If you hear one scratching at your door and don't mind a big furry beast on your bed, go ahead and let the guy in. They're really friendly and seem to have developed a love of warm beds. Or it could be the lovely women sleeping in them.” He kissed her smile. “If you leave the door ajar, you might wake up with a furry companion—that is, if you don't mind a strange guy, albeit with four legs, in your bed.”

“That would be cool. I just might do that.” She yawned. “It's been a long day.”

He kissed her again. “It has. Now you think about wolves while I think about what I'm doing before I leave.” He dipped his chin and nuzzled her magnificent breasts. This woman was made just for him. He didn't have to worry about breaking her, only about loving her.

And making her love him. He had until Saturday morning to convince her, and then, following the rules they'd all agreed on when they opened Feral Passions, he'd have to turn her loose. Let her go for at least a week before he told her exactly how he felt about her. And even then he couldn't tell her the truth, that he was a werewolf, a man who could shift and run on four long legs, a man who was already over 120 years old. And he was still considered a youngster in the pack.

A lot of things had changed in this modern generation. Women expected to be mates in all definitions of the word—equal mates in decisions and relationships. The guys agreed that modern women were a lot more interesting than the old-fashioned kind, but they were more work, too. He nuzzled Elle's breasts and inhaled a deep breath of her scent. He was going to love any work he had to do to keep Elle happy. That was a given, but he hated leading her on without telling her the truth. That wasn't a good way to start any relationship, basing it on lies. Really huge lies.

Maybe she'd be like Cherry and figure it out. That had certainly thrown Trak for a loop. The alpha didn't like knowing how easy it had been for Brad and Cain's mate to discover the men's werewolf nature. It had been all about their eyes. Cherry had quickly noticed that the wolves' eye color matched the color of the men's eyes, that when blue-eyed Wils was around, the wolf with bright blue eyes wasn't. When Cain showed up with his forest-green eyes, the green-eyed wolf was nowhere to be seen.