Wild Wolf

Graham lifted his head, his lips damp from suckling her breast, his eyes alight. “You feel good, sweetheart.”

Misty tried to respond, but all that came out were incoherent sounds. Graham smiled, and slid one strong finger inside her.

The stiff invasiveness made her tighten. At the same time, Graham brushed his thumb across her opening, drawing more moisture and more heat.

“What are you doing?” Her whisper came out a croak.

“What does it feel like I’m doing?” Graham slid in a second finger.

His fingers were large, stretching her. Misty drew in a breath, prepared to tell him to stop, but the words didn’t come. She didn’t want him to stop. For months she’d craved his touch, and now he was giving it to her.

Misty wormed her fingers under his waistband, finding his slick, warm hip. Graham yanked her hand out again.

“Not yet,” he growled. “Feel me.”

She couldn’t not feel him. Graham slid a third finger into her, and Misty groaned. Her legs opened of their own volition, wanting this spreading, his large hand inside her. He was going to think she was no better than a Shifter groupie, begging with her body for the touch of a Shifter.

Who cared? Graham kissed her again, his mouth a place of goodness, while his fingers gave her pleasure. Her br**sts were bare, pressing against his torso, and Misty pulled him closer. When he eased off kissing her, she reached up and caught the skin of his neck in her teeth, leaving her own love bite.

“Oh, yeah?” Graham’s smile flashed, his eyes wicked.

He moved his fingers in and out, easy with how wet she was. Doing with his fingers what he’d never done with his cock.

Misty clung to him while she rose against him, wanting to drag him inside her. His hands awakened the desires she’d constantly pushed aside, telling herself she was happy with only his company and his kisses. What a lie.

Her desire built and built until it broke. As with the icy wave in her dream, Misty’s climax rose over her and swept her away on a black tide.

She heard her own voice ringing until Graham silenced her with his mouth. She suckled his tongue, needing him inside her, squeezing his fingers that thrust into her.

Graham kissed her while she rode out the wave, then he increased the speed of his thrusts, sending her up into climax again.

Three times he took her there, and three times he held her while she went wild around him. In the end, Misty had no idea where she was or when, and she didn’t care. She only needed Graham, and he was in her arms.

She hung on to him until the spinning stopped, then she fell back to earth, his large body coming down on hers. He didn’t crush her, he only covered her with his warm length, shielding her against the night. Graham stroked Misty’s hair, lips touching her face, the line of her hair, her lips. Incredible gentleness from this rough-edged man.

For a long time they lay together, stretched out on the ground, absorbing the warmth of the darkness. Graham said nothing, only nuzzled her cheek and lightly kissed her. He’d given Misty all the pleasure, demanding nothing in return.

As moonlight brushed his skin as he kissed her, an idea that had been tapping before Graham had driven her thoughts away started knocking for attention again. Misty looked into Graham’s face.

“The spell cured me,” she said. “I’m not thirsty anymore. But it didn’t work on you, did it?”

Graham regarded her another moment, his gray eyes steady. “No,” he said, voice quiet. “It didn’t.”

CHAPTER TEN

No, Graham wasn’t cured. And that was going to be a problem.

He staved off the thought by brushing his lips against Misty’s, but for the first time in his life, he faced the question—What do I do?

Graham always knew what to do. If he didn’t, he made something up. Yelling at one of his Shifters or knocking them across the room usually helped. But this time, brute force and bullying wasn’t going to work.

Thirst pounded through him. Kissing Misty calmed it, but as soon as he released her, his mouth grew parched again. He needed to drink.

Graham also knew, though he wasn’t sure how he knew, that his gunshot wound was only temporarily healed. Fae magic had closed it up, but Graham would bet that, if the Fae chose, he could rip it open again. Shifter metabolism being what it was, Graham would still heal from the shot eventually, but he’d have to go through the agony of its infliction all over again. And maybe the Fae would keep reopening the wound, just to punish Graham.

Misty, though, was free. Somehow the stupid little spell with the roses and tequila had burned the Fae water out of her. Possibly the tequila alone had done it; humans were weak when it came to alcohol. Maybe that was the same reason it hadn’t worked on him—Shifters had a high tolerance even for the strongest liquor.

“Graham?” Misty touched his face.

He loved this—Misty in his arms, a moment of peace.

Graham had left his mark on her. The dark love bites on her neck and br**sts stood out in the moonlight. His mark, his brand.

He closed his fingers around her wrist and held on. “You can’t tell anyone it didn’t work. Swear to me.”

Misty blinked in concern. “Why not?”

Graham didn’t answer for a moment. He kissed her again, savoring her taste. He thought about moving his fingers back between her legs, where it was hot, sweet, slick. He could bring her to climax one more time, forget about spells and Fae. Only Misty was important.

“Graham?” Misty’s voice was soft, but insistent. “We’ll need help to figure this out.”