A Mate's Forgiving Touch Read online

  His head lifted from her breast, and she caught the bright gleam of his wolf flashing in his eyes. “I love how wet you are for me, baby. You’re squeezing my fingers so tight I can’t wait to have all this molten heat wrapped around my cock.” He thrust again, stretching her wide, attention fixed on her face.

  “Don’t stop. Just like that.” She moaned, head thrashing from side to side. His thick fingers filled her like never before, and she didn’t know whether to press into his hand or try to get away.

  He bent his head and sucked her nipple hard. As he caught the tip between his teeth, he pressed his thumb hard down on her clit. The stars flew above her, and she cried out, tumbling over the edge of her orgasm. She closed her eyes, and the stars were still there, dancing behind her lids as she shuddered and quaked around his fingers. Soft lips brushed her cheek, making her aware of the dampness there as he kissed away the tears spilling from beneath her lashes. She panted hard, lungs sawing from the intensity of the moment.

  His lips traced a soft path from her cheek to her jaw and then lower to the curve between her shoulder and neck. He pressed his teeth deep into the flesh of her shoulder, and she bowed up, her body aflame in an instant. Pulling back, he eased the sore spot with his tongue. “When you are ready to mate, this is how I will claim you, Bailey. My teeth in your neck as I spill my seed deep inside your body.”

  The image he painted stirred her beyond the physical pain and fur whispered in her mind. The idea of being claimed by this man, being owned by him, owning him in turn, frightened her. How could she allow herself to be bound to him when she had no connection to her wolf? He deserved a proper mate, one who could provide for the needs of both man and wolf. Half a mating would be worse than none at all for a man like Connor. He would never give up, would keep pushing, and it would break her worse than she already was.

  Those drugging kisses of his trailed across her collarbone and down toward her breasts, and she grabbed his head before she lost control of her senses again. “No biting. No mating, do you hear me?”

  She pulled hard on his ears to make her point. He growled and tugged his head free, returning his mouth to her breast. The tease of his tongue arched her back and she locked her hips around his, flipping their positions until she straddled him again. She pinned his shoulders to the ground, conscious he could break her hold in a second. A low grumble rippled in his throat, but he stayed down.

  “I like you, Connor. I really do, but things are moving way too fast for me.” The irony of her position, naked as a jaybird and hovering over his erection, wasn’t lost on her. Bailey had never been shy about seeking out a man to satisfy her sexual needs, but this had the potential to be something different, something more, and she needed to keep her guard up.

  Undulating her hips, she slid her wet pussy along his length, and he palmed the back of her head, dragging her down for a kiss so hot it threatened to scour her soul. Smoothing her hands over his massive pecs, she pinched and twisted the small dark discs of his nipples. His big hands engulfed her hips, and he lifted her lower body until the tip of his cock teased the entrance of her pussy.

  “Condom,” she gasped, and he froze.

  “Wolves don’t carry disease, baby. Our altered chemistry gives us heightened immune systems. Your wolf knows when you are fertile, so pregnancy isn’t an issue.” He kept his voice gentle, but it didn’t stop the chill in her bones. The cold shudder dowsed her passion more effectively than a bucket of cold water, and she scrambled off him.

  Until a few hours ago, she’d believed herself alone. A freak of nature, cursed in some horrible way to morph into a wild animal at the full moon. And now it seemed as though everything she’d been taught was a lie. What else had her father lied about? She’d forced him to reveal the poisonous secret behind their construction business. He never would have volunteered where so much of their profits ended up if she hadn’t kept digging. If Connor found out about the slush fund, there would be no more talk of mating. She wouldn’t see him for dust.

  She crawled across the blanket toward her clothes, kicking her leg free when he circled her ankle with a restraining hand. Keeping her back to him, she tucked her breast back into her bra and yanked the big sweater over her head. Fumbling for her jeans, she growled when Connor held them out of her reach.

  “Give them back.” She held out her hand, refusing to get into a tug-of-war with him.

  “Talk to me first,” he pleaded, completely unconcerned by his own nakedness. Mind you, with a supreme body like his, he should never wear clothes again. Shaking the errant thought away, she propped her hands on her hips.

  “I won’t talk to you until at least one of us is wearing pants, Connor.” She rolled her eyes when he tossed her jeans farther away and reached instead for his own.

  Towering over her, he slid his legs into the soft denim, fastening the lowest couple of buttons over his still-impressive erection. The clean citrus of his scent swirled through her senses as he enfolded her in his brawny arms. She leaned against him briefly, indulging the fantasy of them for a moment or two, before she pulled away and settled on the opposite side of the blanket.

  Ignoring her attempt to put distance between them, he sat beside her, tugging her feet into his lap. She struggled briefly, but he tightened his hold. “Contact with you settles my wolf, Bailey. I’m doing my best to keep him down, but he’s getting restless. There are no shades of gray for the wolf. Push him too far and he won’t rest until you are marked and claimed.”

  She shook her head. “You need to stop with the wolf bullshit, okay? Whatever you are and whatever your experience, we are not the same. I don’t have the same relationship with the thing living inside me. I can’t go running around the woods, chasing sticks, and peeing on trees or whatever the fuck it is you do with your pals in the pack.”

  He shook his head at her words, the look of pity pushed all her hot buttons and not the sexy ones.

  “Listen. You’re a good-looking guy, and I’m definitely in the market for a fuck-buddy, but that’s it. I don’t need a boyfriend or a husband or a mate telling me what to do. My life is fine the way it is.” She folded her arms. She’d said her piece, and he could get with the program or get on his bike and ride into the sunset.

  “You done?”

  She blinked at his fierce tone and shrugged an insolent shoulder. “Sure.”

  With a snarl of rage, he gripped her ankles. Dragging them over his shoulders, he knocked her flat on her back. He dove between her thighs, tongue seeking and lashing her clit with sharp, quick, strokes. Twisting her hips, she fought to get out of his hold until a stinging slap on her ass froze her.

  “I cannot believe you just spanked me!”

  She screamed in outrage, the sound choked off by another resounding slap to her other cheek. She scrabbled at his head, cursing when she couldn’t get a decent grip on his short hair. He ignored her struggles, and she realized he’d shown her a fraction of his true strength before.

  Sucking her clit between his lips, he pushed two fingers inside her pussy, melting her fury into lust. It should have shamed her the way she allowed him to dominate her body, the way she yielded under his commanding touch. Instead, it felt like coming home, as though she’d waited all her adult life for this man to show her what her body existed for. She pressed his head closer, using her heels against his broad shoulders to push her hips up to meet his driving fingers. He did that growling thing again, and the vibration shuddered through her. She came hard, screaming.

  Her legs fell limp. He sat back on his heels, sucking the evidence of her arousal from his fingers. “You taste so sweet, lover, like almonds and cherries. Better get used to my face in your pussy because it’s going to happen a lot.” Crawling forward he braced one hand beside her head, using the other to unbutton his fly, he guided his rigid cock to her entrance. Her lids fluttered closed in anticipation, flicking open when he growled fiercely. “Look at me, Bailey. Watch me take you.” He shunted his
hips, and she moaned at the stretch in her core as he pressed inside. Slow, steady, relentless, he pushed forward until he’d sheathed himself to the hilt.

  Panting hard, she clawed at his hips, adjusting to his girth. The wool of her sweater teased against her stiff nipples, adding another layer of sensation to her overloaded system. He pulled back then rammed home, the force of his thrust lifting her hips off the blanket.

  “You wanna know the best thing about being a wolf, lover?” He ground out the words through clenched teeth, grabbed her ass, and plowed into her. “I can fuck you harder, faster, and longer than any other male and you’ll love every minute of it.” To prove his point, he dragged her closer, draping her legs over his lower thighs. Lifting onto his knees, he pistoned into her. With her entire lower body pinned in his hold, she could do nothing other than let him take her. She clawed at the blanket beneath them, shredding the material beneath her suddenly sharp nails.

  “Ready to come?” he snarled, and she moaned in response.

  The world spun as he pulled free from her body. Flipping her over onto her front, he powered back into her body in one seamless stroke. She pushed up on hands and knees and he blanketed her back. Hot breath rushing past her ear, he rode her hard and fast. His thumb traced her mouth. She sucked on it, wishing he could fill her in both places at once.

  A dark chuckle sent shudders through her, he bit down on her earlobe. “Oh, lover. We are going to have so much fun together. Do you have a dildo at home?” She moaned around his thumb, nodding frantically while he rocked his hips against her ass. “You have it ready for me tomorrow when I come to you, and then I’ll fuck this hot pussy of yours with it while you suck my cock.”

  He drew his thumb from her mouth, reaching between her legs to rub her clit. The muscles at the base of her back spasmed. She threw her head back, screaming her pleasure to the sky, her voice rising to an eerie note.

  “Mine. You’re mine, Bailey.” He grunted, shuddering above her. “Say it, baby. Tell me!” Heat flooded her core as he filled her with his seed.

  Yes. Yes, yours. Always yours. She held the words tight inside, refusing to give him what he wanted. He could have her body, she would never refuse him anytime he came for her, but she wouldn’t give him her heart. He deserved better.

  ***

  She swung her leg off the bike, fiddling with the chin strap of her helmet. He turned sideways on the seat, stilling her hand so he could undo the clip and remove the half-lid. Hooking the strap over the handlebar, he hooked an arm around her back, dragging her close until she straddled his broad thigh. The stars had long faded, the first streaks of dawn painting the sky in shades of pink, purple, and orange. Leaning down, he claimed her lips in a branding kiss, licking and tasting every inch of her mouth. She pulled back, and he grabbed a handful of her short hair, holding her still so he could complete the kiss to his satisfaction. Her knees wobbled when he finally set her away from him, a knowing grin wreathing his face. “I’ll see you later, lover.”

  It wasn’t a question. She’d directed him to the east side of the sprawling house, to the private entrance which served her wing of the property. “I have a late meeting so I won’t be home until eight.”

  “Working on the weekend?”

  “One of many joys of being the boss.” She didn’t have to work all day, but the discrepancies on the Yarrow extension still gnawed at the back of her brain. She would get to the bottom of them, even if she went cross-eyed from staring at the figures.

  “I’ll bring supper.” Again, not a question.

  “Pushy bastard.”

  “Ballbreaker.”

  “Asshole.”

  His rich laugh rolled across the open space between them, making her wet. He drew in a deep breath, gray eyes flashing wolf gold for an instant as he licked his lips. “Mine,” he growled.

  Steering the motorcycle back down the sweeping driveway, he disappeared in a small cloud of dust.

  Yours.

  Chapter Five

  The gray wolf hunkered down beside a fallen log, head tilted to catch the gentle breeze stirring the foliage overhead. He’d spent the past few hours roaming the acres of forest behind his mate’s house, learning the area, searching out any possible signs of danger. If he’d had his way, he would still be wrapped around Bailey’s sexy little body, but she’d kicked him out of her bed a little after six. At least she’d started to let him in. He’d managed to tempt her into the shower for a final romp before she bounced him out the door when he asked for breakfast.

  A trip to the diner had filled his belly. It had also been a good opportunity to check out some of the other residents of Franklin. Dale and his cronies had been in their usual booth, surprising him. He didn’t have them pegged as part of the Sunday morning church crowd. He’d stuck to his spot at the counter. He might work with them, but he didn’t want to waste a minute of his personal time on them.

  After leaving the diner before them, he’d stopped beside Dale’s work truck where the scent of gunpowder and blood turned his stomach. A dirty tarp covered the back of the flatbed. A basic attempt had been made to clean the dark-green material, but the stink of death still clung to it. Fucking asshole hunters. If Connor had his way he’d gut the whole damn lot of them.

  The run in the forest had helped to settle his wolf, although the animal insisted on circling back toward the Clarke house several times to catch a glimpse of Bailey working in her upstairs office. She’d given him a guided tour last night. The majority of the rooms were on the ground floor, the open-plan living area stretching up to the rafters. A hand-carved staircase led to her workspace on the upper floor, the bright, airy space opening onto a balcony. The bedroom and bathroom windows, shielded by folds of delicate voile curtains, nestled in the shade of the protruding balcony. He’d been left with the distinct impression she and her father had demarcated territories within the building, rarely straying beyond their own thresholds. It made him sad to think of her isolation. His own family lived cheek-by-jowl, and his mother, Marjorie, insisted everyone present at mealtimes ate together.

  A sudden desperate longing for home filled his heart, and the wolf stirred in the long grass. Soon. The forests surrounding Franklin were pleasant enough, providing ample space for a wolf to run and hunt. But they paled in comparison to the vast tracts surrounding Los Lobos. The ten years the family had spent in hiding after Caitlyn’s attack had vanished on their first run across pack territory. The land welcomed them, the spirits of their ancestors mingling with the scent he knew only as home.

  He’d regretted leaving from the moment he’d crossed the border out of pack territory. Shame had kept him running in the months since. The notion that his family would do anything other than welcome him with open arms had been a lie of his own making, an excuse to keep him away. Both Caitlyn and Caleb had tried to contact him via their telepathic links, but he’d slammed the mental doors in his mind closed as he rode away. The brushes against his consciousness had faded over time. Neither had tried to reach him in weeks.

  Sweat, cigarette smoke, and the stench of hot metal floated downwind toward the wolf. He bent all his senses toward the source. Twigs snapped beneath careless feet, a flash of bright orange catching his attention. The hunters were closer to Bailey’s house than they should have been, and he curled his lip in a silent snarl. Fighting the urge to turn the tables and stalk them like prey, the wolf inched back slowly, keeping the fallen trunk between himself and the humans.

  The undergrowth to the left of his position rustled. A terrified deer burst through the trees. The stench of its fear, the flashing white of its eyes called to his most primal instincts. Breaking cover, he sprang toward the buck. The creature snorted, body jackknifing, twisting away from the snap of his jaws.

  A gun boomed, too close for comfort, and Connor surged forward. Overriding the wolf’s control, he forced it to run in the opposite direction to the deer. Another weapon cracked, a bullet thudding into a tree not far
from his head. Needing no further urging, his animal form poured on every ounce of speed in his powerful hind legs, fleeing through the trees.

  He ran for a couple of miles, crisscrossing and doubling back to muddle his scent trail. A brackish creek helped further, although the stink from the stagnant water irritated his sensitive nose. Circling around, he followed an indirect route back to where he’d parked his bike and hurried through his shift. The stench of fouled water clung to his skin, but he ignored it and pulled on his clothes. Leaving the bike in its hiding spot, he jogged the short distance to the big house. Raising his hand to knock on Bailey’s door, he froze at the sound of voices nearby.

  “Jesus, Dale, did you see the size of that thing?” The excited voice belonged to Tommy, one of their work crew. Fear and excitement eddied on the breeze.

  Connor crouched down, shielding himself from view as a group of men in bright-orange vests exited the trees. He breathed a little easier when they angled west, moving to the opposite side of the house from where he hid. They laughed and jostled each other, each exaggerated comment about the size of the animal they’d spotted more outrageous than the last. The deer. They’re just talking about the buck.

  “What’s going on, boys? What are you doing here?” Donald Clarke sounded less than impressed as he moved into sight. Dressed in smart Sunday casual—pressed slacks, shirt, and a wool vest, he cut an impressive figure. He stopped walking, folding his arms across his chest. The scent of his anger filled the air, so strong it masked the excitement coming from the hunters.

  The group straggled to a halt in the face of his disapproval, leaving Dale to approach their boss alone. Bright-red spots highlighted Dale’s cheeks, and he shifted from foot to foot unable to contain his nervous energy.

  “It’s Sunday, Dale.” The color in the younger man’s face heightened, embarrassment washing out the excitement in response to Donald’s icy tone.