Wolf Bite (Wolf Cove #2) (11 page)

“You don’t have to do this,” I say, rolling over to face the
wall, tucking my arms along my sides.

He sweeps my long, damp hair over and begins gently kneading
between my shoulders with one hand, ignoring my words. “Are you happy you came
to Alaska?”

A soft, embarrassing moan escapes me, the strength of his
fingers against my muscles soothing. Thankfully, he doesn’t comment about it. “Yes.
No. I don’t know.”

“Working directly for Mr. Wolf can’t be easy.”

I don’t want to think about Henry Wolf, or what we had and
don’t have, or how he used me, how he lied to me. How he’s screwing those two
women right now.

“Relax, Abbi,” Michael murmurs, his voice deep and soothing.
“You’re as tight as a wire.”

Henry liked to tell me how tight I am.

I close my eyes and focus on Michael’s large, strong hand
instead. “This must be the last thing you want to do right now, after doing it
all day.”

“Normally I’d say yes, but that’s definitely not the case
with you.”

Is that his way of saying he’s interested in me? If so...
it’s flattering, but I just have no energy to even think about being with
another man right now. So I stay quiet and revel in the feel of his skilled
hand as it works along my shoulders and down my back, the pressure perfect, the
motions rhythmic. Even one hand is heaven. What would both feel like?

Michael seems like a genuinely nice guy. I eye the small
ledge on the wall—a design feature for each bed in each cabin, to house your
personal items. He’s tossed his wallet and phone up there, next to a small box
of tissues. And a strip of condoms.

Has Michael slept with someone here?

In this bed?

Do I even really care?

“Have you warmed up enough now?”

“Hmmhmm,” slips from my mouth, my eyes still glued to those
condoms.

He tugs on the cotton t-shirt. “Would you mind taking this
off? It’s easier against bare skin.” He must sense my hesitation because he
quickly adds, “I do this with clients every day, Abbi.”

“You lie in bed with clients every day?”

The bed shakes with his laughter. “Okay, maybe not that. But
I’m not going to try anything on you, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

He
does
massage naked bodies all the time. I take a
deep breath and, before I can think too much about it, I’m lifting his t-shirt
over my head and setting it next to me on the pillow.

Goose bumps erupt all over my back and I want to pull the
covers up to my neck.

The weight in the bed shifts and Michael’s suddenly moving and
tugging at the covers, and I feel the soft cotton of his sweat pants brush against
my bare legs as he slides in next to me. “There. Now we can pull them all the
way up and keep you warm.” His fingers smooth over my back from under the blankets
and he continues kneading. “Perfect. I can get deeper this way.”

My blood stirs at his words, even if I don’t want it to.

Thankfully, he doesn’t say any more, seemingly content to
work away all the stress and tension in my back and arms in silence, his hand
touching every square inch of my skin, his fingers never once wandering too far
down to graze the sides of my breasts, pressed against the mattress.

But this silence is a dangerous place for me.

Because in the silence, with Michael’s skilled hands on me,
I’m thinking of Henry.

Of what he’s doing right now.

Of what went wrong.

Of what, if anything, was ever real or true.

I can’t spend the rest of the summer around him, at his beck
and call. I just can’t do it. But I won’t go home. I won’t be stuck spending
the summer in Greenbank with Mama, listening to her go on about Jed and how I
need to win him back.

Why would Henry refuse to let me move to another department?
Is it a power thing? Why would he want to hurt me like that, when he’s already
hurt me so badly? Is he that heartless?

A fresh wave of tears stream down my cheeks again, these
ones silent.

But somehow Michael knows immediately. He slips one of his
long muscular arms beneath my head and, with a gentle hand on my shoulder,
rolls me onto my side, until my back is against his chest. Adjusting the
blankets so they’re covering my bare front, he ropes his other arm around and
folds both in front of me, loosely hugging me. “It’ll be okay. Whatever it is,
you’ll be fine,” he murmurs into my hair.

I don’t know if he’s right but it feels good, hearing him
say that. “I’m so tired.” I really am.

“Then shut your eyes and go to sleep.” He reaches above us
to switch off the small reading light. The night-light that’s plugged into the
wall socket next to the shelf kicks on, casting a glow in the small space. Not
annoying, just enough to know where I am when I wake up.

I begin to believe that maybe I can just fall asleep here,
in the comfort of Michael’s arms.

That’s when the door bursts open and a woman’s giggle
carries through the cabin.

Michael heaves a deep, irritated sigh. I gather he’s not
happy about the additional company. “I can ask them to leave, if you want,” he
whispers.

“No. It’s okay.” He shares this cabin with five other guys.
They have a right to be here, too.

There’s a series of stumbles and “ouches” and “shits” and
more giggles—they’re obviously drunk—before a bed creaks and a privacy curtain
draws.

“James! Stop!” The girl whisper-giggles. The sound of a slap
follows, then zippers being unfastened, and then the very distinctive smacking
of lips. Low music starts playing—over a phone speaker, probably. Not nearly
loud enough to drown them out.

“Do they know you’re here?” I whisper as softly as possible.

“I doubt they care.” Michael’s sigh skates over my neck. “And
I’m sorry.”

About five seconds later, the girl lets out a guttural moan
and I understand what Michael is apologizing for. We’re about to lie here and
listen to his roommate have sex.

Chapter Thirteen

“No! It’s your turn first this time,” the girl
whispers.

“I can’t. I’ve been watching your ass in those tight jeans
all night. I won’t last through it. But I won’t take long, I promise. And then
I’ll be ready again by the time you’re done.
Please
,” James negotiates.

He must have convinced her because a moment later he lets
out a low, “Fuck, yeah. All the way, baby.”

The muscles in Michael’s arms begin to cord, but otherwise
he remains silent and still as we listen to some girl suck his roommate off.

I’m now wide awake, and suddenly feeling the urge to giggle,
the reality of my night just too much.

“Shhh,” Michael whispers into my ear, but I can hear the
amusement in his tone. He wants to laugh, too.

“How often do they do this?”

“A few times a week. That’s the problem with this setup. I
mean, come on. There’s no privacy, so people either abstain for months or relax
their need for privacy. Guess which option most people are leaning toward?”

I don’t know that Katie and Rachel have ever had a need for
privacy to begin with.

James’s moans and whispered instructions are growing louder
and more frequent as the minutes pass, and Michael’s heartbeat against my back
is speeding up. He’s breathing heavier, too, and has shifted his lower half away
from my body.

He’s turned on, listening to his friend get a blow job. I
guess I can’t blame him for it. Listening and watching to Katie and Rachel in
bed together affected me, too.

Finally, we hear James groan a warning of, “I’m coming.”
It’s followed by a series of primal grunting sounds that sparks a tingling
between my thighs, my own breaths coming harder and faster, by body naturally
tensing.

The bed creaks loudly as they shift positions.

And the girl lets out a soft gasp.

I close my eyes and grope for Michael’s hand in the dark. He
takes it, weaving his fingers within mine, tightening his hold as she moans.

I remember what that feels like, to have Henry’s face there.
The first swipe of Henry’s tongue over my clit, the delicious burn of his
stubble against my skin. It was excitement, and nerves, and anxiety, all mixed
together.

All that time Michael spent working the knots out of my back
seems pointless now, as tension seeps into my body once again, the knowledge
that I’ll never feel Henry’s touch like that again excruciating.

The realization that his face is between someone else’s legs
tonight, agonizing. I fight against the urge to begin crying again, focusing
instead on the girl’s pants, picturing their naked bodies—tangled; imagining
what it would feel like to be on my back, feeling that right now.

If this attractive, nice guy, who I would probably be
fantasizing about had I never crossed paths with Henry Wolf, who is holding me tightly,
had his face between my legs.

My chest is rising and falling with quick breaths, and a
deep throb grows between my legs. I can’t relieve the pain in my heart, but I
can relieve that discomfort, at least.

And why shouldn’t I?

Henry doesn’t care.

There’s a voice in the back of my mind, screaming at me to
stop, to rethink this, to think about my values and what I’ve already given up.
I force it aside, because neither that voice nor my values will help ease the
emotional ache.

Steeling my nerve, I tighten my grip over Michael’s hand, and
I move it toward my chest, pulling it under the covers, down along my curves,
his knuckles skating over my nipple as I drag his hand farther down, all the
way to the waistband of the boxers I borrowed from him, so loose they’ve
practically slipped off me anyway.

I hesitate, but only for a second, until I remind myself
that I want to not think about Henry and what he’s doing right now.

Michael tenses behind me, and for just a moment I worry that
he’s going to refuse.

But then he shifts his body to press his long, hard erection
against my backside.

I close my eyes and hold my breath as I drag his hand
farther down, pushing the boxers down and unfurling my fingers from his to settle
his hand on my smooth mound.

His shaky sigh skates across the side of my cheek, but he
doesn’t hesitate, slipping a long finger through my wet folds, slowly and
gently, the arm that my head is resting against curling, pulling my head
tighter against his. Over and over, his finger slides back and forth, skating
over my clit, never pushing inside me.

Making me grow incredibly wet with anticipation.

I’ve tuned out the girl next to us, my lips pressed firmly
together to keep my own moans from escaping as Michael teases me mercilessly.
I’m torn between staying still and rolling onto my back to give him better access.

Finally, on one of those lingering strokes over my opening, his
finger doesn’t glide past, instead slipping inside me. My stomach muscles
clench with the intrusion. “Is this because of me? Or them?” he whispers, his
mouth pressed against my ear.

“Both,” I answer honestly, shamelessly.

I guess he’s okay with that answer. He tugs my boxers down,
stretching to push them past my knees. I easily kick them off the rest of the
way. With a hand on my inner thigh, he guides my leg up to curl over his, pulling
my body back into him, opening me up to him. And then his hand is back between
my legs, and he’s plunging two fingers deep inside me, as far as they can go. He
finds my clit with the pad of his thumb, and he begins circling it with the
same skill he used to work the knots in my back.

I close my eyes and lose myself in both Michael’s hand and his
lips, now trailing wet kisses along my neck, making me shiver.

Next to us, the girl lets out a deep, guttural moan,
followed by a cry. That’s two girls I’ve heard come tonight.

I’m going to be the third.

The sounds of a bed creaking and foil tearing tells me they’re
moving on to the third act next to us. It doesn’t bother me much, now that I’m
minutes away from coming myself. “
Oh
, y
eah,”
James groans deeply,
and I know he’s just pushed himself into her. My muscles clench against
Michael’s fingers.

The repetitive squeak of the mattress and skin slapping
begins. Michael grinds his hips into my ass, pressing his hard length against
me. He’s practically panting, his warm breath kissing my skin in little puffs.

I begin to feel guilty. Everyone in here is about to get off,
but him.

So I reach back and, with tentative fingers, slip inside his
track pants, under his boxers, and wrap my hand around his girth. He’s big. Not
as big as Henry, but still impressive. And
so
incredibly hard.

“Abbi,” he whispers against my ear as I slide my hand up and
down his cock, the angle and the fact that he’s wearing pants making it
awkward.

“Yeah?”

He hesitates before whispering, so quietly, “You can say no,
and it’ll be okay but... I
really
need to be inside you.”

My hands stills, his request stealing my breath. Sex? With
Michael? Just days ago, I was still a virgin. How did this happen?

Because I met Henry Wolf. That’s how this happened.

A pang twists my heart.

“Okay,” I hear myself whisper without thought. Because I
don’t want to give room to focus on consequences or regrets or anything but my
physical needs right now. Because I have this deep throb between my legs that I
want relief from. Because I do like Michael and I find him attractive.

We quickly adjust our bodies, me shifting to my back and him
kneeling between my legs. The blankets have fallen off me, leaving me
completely naked and exposed, but thankfully only as much as the low glow of
the nightlight allows.

He’s fumbling with his things on the ledge, knocking stuff
over.  “Fuck, I know I have one somewhere here,” he mutters. He switches on the
reading light.

Suddenly our little nook is flooded with light.

I tense, the urge to cover myself strong. Michael pauses in
his search, his eyes flaring with desire as they take my body in, drifting from
my breasts to my stomach, to the bareness between my legs. “God, you’re
beautiful.”

Reaching over his head, he yanks his t-shirt off, and then
pushes his track pants down past his thighs, letting me take in his naked body,
his chest firm, his torso long and lean but layered with defined muscle, his
erection standing tall, a bead of moisture resting on top. With another quick
top-to-bottom look at me, his eyes like finger trails along my body, he focuses
on the small ledge by the wall again, seizing a condom.

Ripping the wrapper with his teeth, I watch him roll the
condom over himself. They’re still going strong next door, both of them
grunting and moaning, completely unconcerned with us.

And I’m going to do this. I’m really going to have sex with
Michael tonight.

“Can I?” I reach for the lamp, switching it off before he
can deny me the option.

In the dim light, I watch Michael climb on top of me, my
thighs spreading wide apart to accommodate his hips, and his cock, which is now
sliding along my slit, the tip lining up with my entrance.

One quick thrust will get him inside me.

But instead of thrusting in, he leans down to cover my lips
with his. His touch is soft, the gentle tentative strokes of a first kiss, as
if we’re not seconds away from having sex. I open my mouth for him, and welcome
his tongue against mine, tasting Michael for the first time. He eases my nerves
with each pass of his tongue, his kisses growing deeper until the stubble from
his chin scrapes across my skin.

He’s propped up on one elbow, but his free arm moves down my
body to fill his hand with my breast, the pad of his thumb rubbing over my
pebbled nipple in small circles. A thrill shoots down to my stomach, straight
to my clit.

And so suddenly, he thrusts himself into me.

I cry out with the odd mix of pleasure and pain.

“You’re so tight,” he whispers against my lips, drawing his
hips back and then pushing in again, sliding in deeper. I’m only somewhat
conscious of the fact that James may be able to hear him say that,
if
they’re
listening.

With each thrust, he moves deeper, until I’m stretched and
completely full.

I’ve now officially had sex with two men. It’s an odd mental
declaration to make. I wonder if every woman does this at that pivotal moment
of a guy entering them for the first time, or is it just inexperienced women
like me?

Michael’s so different from Henry. Where Henry took and
demanded, Michael has tested and hesitated and waited. Up until now. Now
there’s no hesitation, the bed creaking with each one of his thrusts, competing
with his roommate. Two couples having sex no more than ten feet apart. I should
be mortified but right now all I can focus on is how good this feels.

My hands slide all over him—over the stubble coating his
jaw, over his broad, strong shoulders, tensing with his exertion, over the
ridges of his sweat-slicked back—as my head falls back and I revel in the feeling
of being joined with such an attractive man.

Of Michael wanting
me
.

“Oh, fuck! Yeah!” Next to us, James yells as he comes for a
second time tonight.

A few hard, quick thrusts and Michael follows his roommate quickly
with a deep moan, pulsing inside me.

That’s it?

“Shit. I’m so sorry,” he whispers against my mouth, his
words between ragged breaths. “I tried to hold off, but I couldn’t help it.”

“That’s okay.” I swallow my disappointment, the heaviness in
my belly still there but quickly morphing to a dull ache.

“Finish her off, man!” James hollers. “Come on, let’s race.
Winner gets to watch.”

“Fuck off,” Michael growls.

“Fine. But still, race you.”

Michael chuckles. Planting a deep kiss on my lips, he
whispers, “Just relax,” and then calls back, “You’re on,” as he slips down my
body, taking the covers with him once again.

Oh my God.
This isn’t happening, is it? They’re not
actually
going to—

A gasp escapes my lips as Michael’s tongue swirls around my
clit for the first time. A second later, the girl echoes me.

This is actually happening.

Michael pushes my thighs apart as far as they can go and then,
slipping both hands under my body, he angles my pelvis up, opening me up even
more. I can see the glint in his eyes as he pushes his tongue into me.

As much as I want to stay quiet, I can’t. I revel in his
talented mouth as he alternates between sliding it through my seam and sucking
on my clit, the sound echoing through the cabin along with my whimpers and
moans.

That now familiar burn begins to build in my lower belly
again, the one that tells me I’m going to come soon, the one that makes me no
longer care about who can hear or see what. I reach down to run my fingers
through his short hair, using the leverage to pull his face tighter to me.

He answers by slipping first two, then three fingers in me,
turning them sideways to stretch me, rubbing my inner wall, while his tongue laves
over my clit, over and over and over again.

I’m moments away from coming and I’ve spread my legs wide. I
wouldn’t care if we lose the race and earn an audience as James threatened. I
buck against Michael’s face, my orgasm coming hard and fast. I let myself cry
out, I let them all hear me come. Because there’s no point hiding it. And
because I’ve already heard all of them come so we’re in this together. And
because tonight, I just don’t care.

The girl orgasms seconds after me, maybe from sheer luck, or
maybe because hearing me set her off.

Either way, all is suddenly and eerily quiet in the cabin.

Michael pulls his fingers out and kisses the insides of my
thighs. He reaches for a tissue from the ledge. I quietly watch him slide off
the cum-filled condom from his still-erect cock. “I’ll be back in a sec.”
Tugging his pants up, he slips off the end of the bed, pushing the curtain open
a touch. I listen to his feet pad softly along the floor to the powder room
directly across. Light floods over me a second before the door shuts, leaving
me alone with my thoughts.