So here's the skinny... I have to eat. And in order to eat, I need to sell books. And in order to sell books, I need to publish them and offer them to you at very reasonable prices (less than 3 dollars!) on Kindle, Nook, iBookstore, and through my website, runawaypen . com (no spaces.)
So I am going to have to apologize to all of my readers on here. If you would like to continue reading my work, please shimmy over to my website and buy yourself an ebook. I wish I could continue to offer this stuff for free but... you see, I need to survive in the big scary adult world, and in order to make ends meet and find the time to keep writing, I can't offer my work for free anymore.
Thank you so much for your support and friendship. I hope to see you at my website. Much, much love and blessings!
She was trembling against him. It made him feel weak and powerful at the same time; he wanted to grab her, kiss her, consume her... He couldn't stop. His mouth tasted her skin and it was like honey; his fingers ached to touch her everywhere, to rub her crotch, to feel her damp folds... but not yet. No, first he had to make things up to her. He hated seeing her cry.
He knew she had every right to deny him. He had been less than kind these past years; even now, a cynic could say that he was using her. But he needed her, damn it. She was his.
Sirus pressed himself closer against her, reveling in the soft feel of her curves, of her round hips and large breasts. He cupped her cheek and dipped his face down to hers again, licking gently at her tears, drinking them as though somehow they could save him, like water to a dying man. She moaned, drawing him lower, his mouth traveling down to explore her collar bone, his hands moving to her breasts, thumbs flicking her nipples through her sweater. She gasped and writhed, eyes heavy and unfocused, glinting in the softness of the night. Her hair was flattened by the rain.
He suppressed the urge to grab her even harder; he had to be careful. Now more than ever he needed to be aware of his violent self, of the part of him that wanted to crush, that wanted to see her wince and protest. Her soft noises were making him crazy. His blood pounded in his ears, he could feel every muscle tense in his body, especially the warm swelling below his belt. He wanted to press into her, to push past her folds and break her barrier and claim her as his... but that had to wait for the wolf-moon... for two more days.
Still, her body's heat called to him. He was losing himself, weakening. He wanted to devour every inch of her...
He slid his hand down the waist of her pants.
Jaime couldn't breathe. She didn't know what he was doing to her, only that her entire body was burning; her legs were so weak that she couldn't stand, and she was relieved that he held her pinned against the wall; otherwise she would be down in the mud. His mouth was incredible, pulling and tugging at her skin, returning to play leisurely with her lips.
His hands slid up her skirt, leaving trails of fire against her. She moaned, arching her hips forward, dying to be touched. Her cunt ached, throbbing and protesting, driving her insane with the need to grind. His smell was all around her, his heat against her, his breath heavy in her ear.
"Sirus... I don't..."
"Shh," he whispered, and continued kissing her. His fingers brushed over her damp panties, playing over her soft thighs. Damn, they were rough against her skin. Every lazy flick of his thumb made her whimper. Her panties grew soaked, her cunt hot and heavy; she was painfully aware of how empty she was. The thirst of her wolf-moon came rushing and she groaned, feeling it howl within her, a sudden whirlwind of need. For a moment she tried to resist it, tried to retain some form of sanity... but it was too late.
"Sirus," she moaned. "Please."
"Please what?" he whispered, torturing her, kissing along her jaw and then to her neck again, sucking on the skin.
She didn't know anymore. She didn't even know what she wanted — just to be rubbed everywhere, to feel his body against hers. It was wild, instinctual.
Suddenly he grabbed the edge of her skirt and pulled it up, leaning down and grabbing her firmly by her upper legs, his mouth against her stomach. She gasped and collapsed downward and he caught her, lowering her to the wet earth.
Her back touched the earth and his shoulders were between her legs, his tongue gliding over her thighs. It was as though they were in a forest, not a backyard, surrounded by bushes and ferns on every side, shadowed from the lights of the house. She stared down at him as he pulled his shirt off over his head. It was the first time seeing him shirtless... her mouth grew dry and her eyes widened. He was perfect, every muscle cut and defined, his skin smooth and glistening in the rain. She could see scars across his skin, countless marks that looked like they could have been knife wounds... or maybe even bullets, reminding her of his history as a Tracker.
He looked up, poised between her legs; she met his gaze and stared back, speechless, not knowing what to expect.
"Well?" he murmured.
She swallowed, unsure of what he was asking. Her thoughts were clouded and confused, her will still resisting the demands of her body. What did he want? What did she want? She couldn't think straight. Jaime bit her lip. She really should say no.
And yet... that look in his eyes...
She opened her arms, tired of thinking. It was her only answer. He came to her then, pressing himself over her, warming her and shielding her from the rain. His mouth sent streaks of pleasure through her, making her gasp, making her cry out and curse and writhe against him. His soft laugh met her ears. She had been teased to the point of desperation—she wanted to explode, to release all the tension that was building inside of her.
She opened her mouth to say his name, but he kissed the words away from her, his eyes glinting down. "Don't worry, I've got you," he murmured. His hand traveled between her legs.
The moment his fingers pressed against her pants, she thought she would die — her heart was trying to escape from her chest. Her breathing came in short, quick gasps. His hand slid easily beneath the band of her sweatpants, moving to the apex of her thighs; her cunt ached and throbbed, and she thrust herself against him, eager to be touched. When she looked at his face, she saw that it was drawn and tense.
His fingers found her wet hole. She cried out as one of them pressed into her, opening her for the first time, making her weak and desperate. He moved slowly at first, testing her, pressing his finger against her and watching her response... then he slid the whole length of it in. She writhed, biting down on his shoulder as she moaned loudly.
"I love the noises you make," he murmured, and pressed again, this time moving his finger deep inside of her, curling to reach some magic spot, some area she had never felt before. Pleasure abruptly lanced through her, sharp and almost painful, making her limp and useless. All she could do was whimper against him, no longer controlling her own voice.
His hands continued to work on her. He slid another finger in, stretching her, filling her and making her moan. Then he started to move his hand, working his fingers against her rhythmically, leaning down to kiss her gently across the lips — it left her breathless. His mouth trailed down her neck to her breasts, feathering over the skin before he found her left nipple.
Jaime knew she was gushing all over his hands, but she didn't care. She moved her hips to meet his thrusts, gasping and groaning, bending her body to his will. When he took her nipple into his mouth, she thought she would pass out... and then the pressure started building and building, making her muscles lock and her head spin. She didn't know where she was anymore; she couldn't feel the ground beneath her or the rain.
And then she was exploding. She screamed out against the night, arching up off the ground, and he grabbed her tight against him, leaning her up as he continued thrusting into her through the orgasm. She clung to him, moaning and panting as wave after wave of pleasure shook her, crashing over every part of her body, making her crazy. She melted against him, weak and helpless against the onslaught of sensation.
Finally, when the waves passed, she was left shivering against his chest, clinging to him as though he was a rock. He held her tightly, his arms wrapped firmly around her, pressing his face gently against her hair. She knew he was smelling her, taking in her scent, most likely still intoxicated by the call of her wolf-moon. She wondered when he would begin again. When he would pull down her sweatpants and spread her legs, and thrust himself inside of her...
And yet he didn't. A good minute passed as he held her, rocking her against the darkness and the rain. Then he gently righted her clothes and stood up wordlessly, lifting her up with him, swinging her into his arms and wrapping the wet sweater around her bare chest. He kissed her gently against the forehead.
Then he started off across the lawn, carrying her to the house. Jaime didn't say anything. There was nothing to say — he had won. She knew that now. He had conquered her as surely as he conquered everything, through unflagging persistence. She wished she could be strong and hold her ground, but she was so tired, so weak... she just wanted to rest. She wanted to snuggle up in the warmth of a bed and go to sleep.
She rested her head against his shoulder as he climbed the steps to the house and entered through the kitchen. She had no idea how much time had passed, but the lights were low, and voices carried to her distantly from the den. They didn't head in that direction, though. Instead, he carried her the opposite way, through the kitchen and into a hallway, one that branched out into several rooms. Opening a door on the far left, she found herself carried into a dark bedroom. By the quality of the decor, she figured it was a guest room of some kind, with a giant queen bed in the middle.
He laid her gently upon it. She gazed up at him, relaxed and calm, her body subdued at least for the moment. She was still tingling with pleasure from her orgasm, and when he slipped into bed next to her, she didn't question his warmth or his arm that pulled her close. She just wanted to sleep. To forget all of the insanity of the past twenty-four hours.
"I still haven't forgiven you," she grumbled sleepily, her eyes closing on their own. He pulled her closer, offering her warmth under the blankets.
"Good," he murmured back.
But she barely heard his words, because her head was already falling to one side, her face buried in a pillow. Darkness swam up to claim her; it was long overdue.
Sirus watched her fall asleep, her face deceptively peaceful; she looking even younger when she was curled up against the massive bed. He could still smell her on his fingers, and he slipped them into his mouth, tasting her juices. She was incredible. Her body had been a hot, tight sheath, warm and pulsating, ready for him. He wished he could just fall asleep next to her, but that would be impossible —he would not be getting any sleep in this bed tonight. His body was too tense, too energized, too tight with anticipation. He wanted to continue where he had left off, to bury his face between her legs and make her come again and again. And when she was done screaming, he would thrust into her... take her until she couldn't even say his name anymore...
But he controlled himself. She was exhausted, and not ready to face the intensity of his lust. She murmured something next to him, shifting in her sleep; it softened him somehow, made him weak in places that weren't familiar. He didn't like this new vulnerability... but he would never tell her that. Love was not exactly his forte...
He held her tighter, pressing her against him, letting her scent fill his nose, her warmth, her presence. All he wanted was to make her safe. To ensure that there was no danger.
He sighed, leaning against the pillows, still studying his young lifemate. The world was an evil, terrible place... but this much was good.