Winter Howl (Sanctuary) (25 page)

She was still pushing at his chest, but the angle was all wrong, and she could not find purchase.

“Come on,” he hissed. “Is that the best you can do?”

Renee clenched her teeth. She curled her nails—not particularly long, but they had not been cut in a while—into his skin, pressed, pressed harder and deeper, and she thought she felt something give.

He gave a low shout, but there was no mistaking that he was hard again, jerking his hips against her thighs. She hit his shoulder with her good hand, but when that got no reaction, she struck the side of his head with the palm of her hand, and he fell to the side. But he had a grasp on her shirt, and when she struggled to get up, she had to bend over and let him keep it. She stood there in her bra and skirt, not knowing where to go, not knowing if she felt threatened, if she should run and call the police about a man attacking her, or whether this was a game.

Then he was coming at her again, unbuttoning his jeans with one hand and holding the side of his head with the other. She yanked open the drawer of the nightstand and pulled out the Gideon Bible. She held it between them like a weapon, even though the knife was still under her skirt. He actually laughed, but the book still had sharp corners that took his breath away when she shoved it into his stomach. He kept coming at her, gasping for breath, and that was when the fear began to flow through her fingers until they were like ice. His hands were hard on her as he shoved her into the curtains. Her shoulder struck where the wall angled into the window, and she was sure there would be a bruise there. She hit him again with the Bible, but he batted it away. The carpet muffled the impact when it landed on the floor, but the sound was still loud in her ears as he pulled her bra straps down, baring her breasts without taking the bra off. He rubbed the sandpapery skin of his unshaven face against her nipple before he took it into his mouth, teeth tugging slightly, enough that she cried out—whether it was because it hurt or because she liked it, she couldn’t say anymore. She looked down and saw a slight bloodstain where his mouth had been. He worked his way down her stomach with his teeth, taking flesh and testing it, sucking it, breathing her in, drinking her in as if she were the perfect snifter of liquor. Nothing she had done seemed to have even slowed him down.

She brought her knee up and caught him between the throat and the chin. He flew back, and she facilitated his fall with her heel to his chest. It was only when he wasn’t holding her up anymore that she realised she was shaking. And scared. And inexplicably, irrevocably aroused. If he really took it upon himself to attack her, she knew now that she could do nothing but take out her knife. But right now… Right now she did not know whether she
should
.

He coughed and gagged for a few moments, and she took those moments to skirt around him, pulling her bra from its tangle around her and throwing it onto the dresser. Her hand flew to her side where the knife was under her skirt when he finally pushed himself up and rid himself of his pants until he was just a man. His cock was rigid, bumping against his stomach as he walked slowly towards her. A thin thread of pre-cum ran from the head to just above his navel. He raised his hands between them as a sort of truce, his gaze on her hand grasping the knife.

“You’re afraid of me,” he said. His voice was raspy from her hitting him, and from the growl that was making its way from deep in his throat. The sounds that meant he was as turned on as he could be. “That’s good. It’s smart. I’m bigger and stronger than you. But you’ve been doing so well, love. You don’t need that. You don’t need to fear me tonight. Unless you like being afraid. Then I’ll scare you as much as you want.”

Renee brought the knife out, but it hung limply in her shaking hand.

“You don’t need that, Renee,” Grant whispered, stepping a little closer. “You’re doing everything right.”

“What is this?” she asked, tremulous, and she hated the sound of it. “What do you want from me?”

“I need you to hurt me.” He placed gentle fingers on her wrist. She did not let go of the knife, but she understood the restraint he needed to be gentle at all. “I need you to fight. It’s good when you fight back. Make me earn your body, love.”

“Why?”

He smiled toothily. “Because it’s fun.”

Renee rubbed a hand over her face and through her hair, pushing it back. She brought the hand holding the knife away from Grant.

“So this is fun?” she asked.

“Were you confused?” He came closer still, but he was careful not to move too quickly. She didn’t bring the knife up, which he took as encouragement to wrap his arms around her, tugging her skirt and panties down until they pooled on the floor at her feet.

Renee let the knife fall with them.

“You like it when I hurt you,” she said. “You liked it in the bar.”

“You have no idea,” he whispered in her ear.

She moved her fingers up his stomach, tickling the muscles so that they jerked in her hand. She circled his areola, feeling his hair there crinkle slightly. His small, flat nipple hardened almost the way hers had, and she bent forward to take it in her mouth, much like he had hers. Then, she opened her eyes to look up at him as she began to clench her teeth around the small bit of flesh in her mouth.

His cock jerked between them, and he threw his head back in a loud groan before fisting her hair and yanking. It must have hurt like hell when she pulled his nipple with her teeth on the way, but as she went stumbling back into the wall between the bedroom and bathroom, he only seemed more aroused, if that was possible.

This time, instead of running from him, she let him come to her. She almost struck his face, but he caught her hand in time, then the other. He was amazingly fast, and she had to suspect that some of her blows had either been unexpected or he’d simply let her hit him. His palms and fingers engulfed her wrists until she could feel her muscles and bones scrape together, and his breath was hot on her mouth, drawing muffled moans from her as he kissed her with her arms against the wall, as if she were crucified. Even though she wanted him to keep kissing her, keep making her moan—keep her forgetting that there could be anyone hearing them, forgetting that she should care—she brought her teeth down hard on his lower lip, then his chin. When he broke away, she tried to dig her nails into his hands but she was at the wrong angle, and she could do nothing as he brought her wrists together, then threw her bodily onto the bed.

For a moment, as he filled her vision with his too-large, bloody smile and glowing eyes, that fear of him came back. But unlike before, she let that fear thrill her, electrifying every nerve cell in her skin. She was shaking again as he attacked her shoulder, then the top of her breast, but she finally managed to twist her wrists so that she could grab his skin between her nails. She must have reached a pressure point because he let go of her hands, his own falling to each side of her. She brought her knee up, and he dodged a painful bullet by shifting to the side.

The movement conveniently let her curl herself around him. He rubbed his cock between her legs, his pre-cum and her juices mingling. His head fell next to hers as he began to rut against her without entering. She pressed her mouth to his shoulder, then slid beneath him a little so that he was frotting against her stomach and she could take his abused nipple into her mouth again, biting and licking in turn until he finally came on her, semen smearing over her stomach and her breasts. He did not even try to hold back as he shouted his orgasm, slamming one hand against the headboard and almost breaking the frame.

She held him through the rocking until he finally crawled down and kissed her again, as though he had worked out none of the sexual energy all night. He plunged his fingers into her hair and kissed her until she was gasping. His skin was so warm that she sweated beneath him, and she could taste her salt on his lips.

“You think we’re through?” he moaned into her mouth before enclosing her throat in one hand and pressing—not enough to choke her but enough for it to feel like it. “You think I want you to stop fighting me? You’re only just getting started.”

His eyes were fierce, and her fear was back, drawing her legs together and her nails to his eyes, his Adam’s apple. Blood was rushing through her head and away—she could feel it, thick and heady. She finally managed to get her knees into his ribs, and he let go with a feral grin. Air rushed into her lungs. She coughed and crawled, but he trapped her beneath him, covering her back with his body and nipping down each of her vertebrae. He covered her hands with his and pressed them into the comforter on the mattress.

She could see the two of them in the mirror above the dresser. There were places on his face that were a little swollen, and there was dried blood in the corner of his mouth. Her red hair was tousled, tangled, and wet at the temples—it looked almost too bright against her pale skin, which set off the marks he had made on her body, places where his teeth had been. She felt his cock stir between her legs as Grant made his way down her back, and he pulled her hands back until her face was against the comforter and her ass was in the air.

She could still see herself in the mirror. Renee could not believe that the woman was her. For all that she was small and hurt and beneath him, she thought she saw someone with strength there. It was all backwards, but she could not stop the whimper, the startled ‘O’ her mouth made in the mirror as his tongue circled the puckered hole of her ass. It was such an unlikely place for her to find herself wanting to cry from the sensation. He made his way down over her perineum until she was mewling for some kind of force. She squirmed, pulling against his grip as he drank through each clenching of her cunt. He swirled that moisture around her hole again, and she cried out, pressing her face into the mattress.

He let go of one of her hands to force her head back up as he moved up her body again, pulling her upright by the hair so that she could see her body before her in the mirror. She looked almost in pain as he grasped one breast tightly, pinching the nipple near the webbing between two fingers. He used that leverage to help lift her up so that he could enter her cunt. But she could feel his pubic hair where his mouth had been, and just the memory of it made her moan more every time he slammed into her.

“God, Renee, yes,” Grant growled. He did not bother lowering his volume. If there were people in the next room or outside—or maybe a few doors down—they all knew that her name was Renee and that she was a wild bitch and that he wanted her more than he had ever wanted any slut. That she was going to keep screaming for him and that people were going to think he was murdering her for the way she was going to love every second of this fucking. He punctuated his declarations with pinching and biting and pulling her until she was just a bundle of aroused nerves, with not a single thought left in her head.

When he pushed her forward a little so that she had to brace herself on the footboard of the bed, he found that place that did make her scream, over and over and over again, as he hit it without any mercy. She shook with the force of the orgasm when it finally came, the pleasure hitting her over and over with every scream and every brush of that cock until it was too much, and she flung herself around, elbowing his ribs where she had kneed him, then his stomach. His head hit her shoulder, but his cock slipped out of her.

Renee was a little embarrassed at the fluid beneath her. At first she thought she had peed, but it wasn’t right—it didn’t smell right. Grant grinned as he noticed her notice the stain.

“Oh, I made you come all right. Now if only I can get my name out of that pretty little mouth next time,” he murmured, pulling her back into bed by the back of her neck. His back curved, almost too much for a human, as he whipped around to cover her again. He buried his face against her breasts, licking at the places where he had come on her until all she was covered with was sweat and saliva and her own moisture dripping down onto the comforter. It was messy, and she should have hated it, but when he came back up to take her mouth, she delved her tongue into the corners of his lips where the blood had dried, cleaning him, too.

The vibration against her grew as his growl became more pronounced, and Renee swore that his teeth were sharp against her tongue. She jerked back and stared into his mouth. She wasn’t wrong. The shape of his jaw was altered, slightly elongated to accommodate the new structure.

“Turnabout is fair play,” he said in a guttural voice, the consonants slurred and sharpened at the same time. “For the silver.”

She hissed as he began to bite, taking flesh between his teeth and worrying it with his teeth and tongue, to bring blood under the surface but not enough to break the flesh. He was a fraction of an inch from turning her against her will with every bite, just as she had been too close to poisoning him at the edge of a blade.

And perhaps she knew what had made him quiver with restraint as her fingers threaded through his hair to hold him close, but not pushing him down like she might have done. He was the only one with open wounds, but he avoided places that he had bit down on her before, just in case. It was strange that with all the things that Renee couldn’t trust Grant with, she could trust him not to bite her unless she told him to. She knew forcing her into wolf skin would not be nearly as satisfying to him as Renee choosing to defy her dog pack. Just as letting her choose to come with him on this trip in spite of the commanding tone he had used had been satisfying. Just as every time she let him in or played his games was more satisfying than forcing her to do anything.