Treeland Pack Tales 3: A Trace of Ivy (14 page)

He groaned into her mouth while she swallowed the delicious
hints of leather, sandalwood, clean male musk, and his own special addictive
wildness. He intoxicated her mind and seduced her body as he penetrated her
willing recesses with his powerful tongue over and over.

By the time he ended the drugging kiss, whatever else she
wanted to tell him had evaporated in the wildfire arcing between them.

Chet dipped his head, trailing damp kisses down the side of
her neck all the way to the upper curve of her breast.

She moaned and arched closer.

His wicked lips grazed the tight nipple begging for
attention. He closed over the tip and sucked hard. A jolt of excitement zinged
from her engorged nub straight to her sex. He ended the exquisite torture with
a tender nip, causing her to press her legs together. No matter how much she
squeezed her inner thighs, she couldn’t quell the desperate emptiness within.
Then he moved on to the other breast.

He continued to kiss, lick, and nibble her sensitive nipples
while he slid his hand to her pussy. His knowing fingers parted her outer folds
and rimmed her core. One thick digit pushed into her swollen walls, and his
thumb flicked across her distended clit.

A strangled moan spilled from her lips. Chet halted in an
instant.

“Are you all right?” His voice came out as rough and raw as
she felt.

Her heart pounded as if she’d been running sprints. Her
breasts were tight with desire and pressed against his hard chest. The channel
between her legs had grown swollen and slick. She recognized the unmistakable
signs of her arousal with shock and more than a little awe. “Very much so.”

“Your eyes are glowing with wolf sign.”

She wet her parched lips. “What does that mean?”

“Your wolf wants her mate.”

She pulled on him, encouraging him back to her achy breasts,
and swallowed her doubt. This was Chet; he wouldn’t hurt her.

“Then she should have him.” Her voice came out low and
sultry.

When his head dipped, she reached between them and found the
satin crown of his erection wet with precum. After spreading the silky liquid
over his plump cockhead, she licked her damp fingers and moaned again at his
exquisite flavor.

“None of that right now. I’m already on a hair trigger.” He
manacled her wrist. Without hurting her, the firm hold forced her to relinquish
his tempting cock. “My turn.”

Chet’s talented mouth fastened over one taut nipple, sending
more bolts of white-hot pleasure throughout her body. She clutched his
shoulders, digging in with her nails, marking him.

He moved his clever lips down her torso, pausing to dip into
her belly button. He continued to nibble and lick all the way to the top of her
slit. His warm breath ruffled the short hairs guarding her sex. He inhaled and
groaned appreciation. “You’re as delicious as my favorite dessert.”

Her wolf stayed close to the surface, nudging her toward
Chet. Before she made a move, he backed her into a corner of the shower.
Suddenly her legs were draped over his shoulders, and he was on his knees with
his nose pressed between her nether lips.

He lifted his head. “You’re as sweet under my tongue as you
are to my nose.”

The slight puffs from his guttural words pelted her
sensitized folds, sparking straight to her womb and pulling more hot cream from
her pussy. Startled by the sensations pulsing through her channel, she squeaked
with surprised pleasure.

Undismayed by her squeal, he returned to lapping her
channel. Her fierce hunger for him bloomed under his expert ministrations.

“You’re so wet for me.” He growled like he’d created a
winning advertising slogan. Each word puffed against her rigid clit. The
slight, maddening caress was too gentle to push her over the edge into the
fulfillment she craved.

Dark and desperate need coiled deep inside her belly,
forcing her hips to cant. A lifetime of sensual deprivation and correct
behavior followed by the degradation of the rogues’ abuse had left her empty,
vulnerable, and painfully aware how little certainty the future held. Something
inside her snapped. She was trapped by her own need as much as his lovemaking.
Shameless with a sensual greed she’d never known, she squeezed her thighs
around his ears, keeping him right where she wanted his wicked mouth. She
furrowed her fingers through his thick hair and then hung on as he nibbled,
licked, and sucked on her core, rocking her into an explosive rainbow of erotic
pleasure.

“You taste better than hot apple pie.” Chet returned to
making enthusiastic slurping noises, causing her to melt.

Arousal flowed through her—a golden, shimmering river floating
her toward something beyond the climaxes she’d experienced before him. Her own
efforts had always been more fast relief than anything resembling passion. None
of her former boyfriends had brought her this quivering need. The rogues gave
her nothing other than pain, degradation, and self-loathing. She pushed away
the toxic past, threatening to steal the elusive pleasure, dancing just out of
reach, and concentrated on Chet.

She knew whose soft beard tickled her slit. Because it was
Chet and because she trusted him, the sensations quaking through her were
clean, safe, and undeniable. The emotion was too real and too powerful to allow
room for fear as he continued to lick, nibble, and suck. All her thoughts
burned away. Her reality narrowed down to this male’s mouth tenderly assaulting
her core.

His tongue thrust against her entrance, causing feminine
muscles to flutter with joyous abandon. At the same time, he rubbed his nose
across the little knot of excited nerves at the top of her channel. His soft mustache
brushed the tiny hood. She released his hair and panted between incoherent
sounds that were desperate pleas for mercy.

“Come for me. Come on my face, sweet torment.”

As though her body had simply been waiting for permission,
his command sent sharp ecstasy rolling through her slit. Her cunt spasmed in
wild convulsions, and her hips rolled, grinding her sex against his face. His
name squeaked from her throat in tribute.

Her lax thighs fell open. He lifted his head, tickling her
sensitized clit with his goatee, causing her pussy to flutter again and setting
off another wave of rapture.

When the aftershocks slowed and the world came back into
focus, she was boneless, satisfied, and slick from her climaxes. For once the
idea of his cock impaling her wasn’t scary. The mind-melting bliss seemed to
have fused her wolf in place. They were welded together, making both sides of
her nature stronger—surer.

Everything between her legs tingled delightfully, and she
was so utterly relaxed that real intercourse might actually feel good.

There was no chance she’d have another orgasm for at least a
week, but this was the perfect opportunity to seize the rare fear-free moment.
She wrapped her fingers around the hard shaft leaking excitement on her belly
and tried to guide him to her entrance.

The angle was wrong. She hooked one thigh over his hip bone,
trying to scoot him closer. Still she lacked the necessary leverage. Her
frustration with the logistics made a whimper spill from her lips.

Chet boosted her up his torso. His cock notched into her
entrance with the utter satisfaction of the last piece of a complex puzzle. As
he carefully lowered her onto his thick rod, he groaned. “Tell me if anything
hurts, and I will stop.”

Fat chance. She wanted to do this while she was still limp
and quivering, and she wasn’t stopping for anything other than a mortal threat.
She didn’t bother talking, using her teeth to nip his stubborn chin.

After he settled her against the tiles, he took care to
cushion her back with his powerful arms before he pushed deeper into her
channel. When his cockhead breached her gateway, her feminine walls stretched
to the point of burning.

What if she couldn’t take him? New fear swirled in her
veins, cooling her blood and tightening her inner walls.

“Shh, sweet torment. We’ll stay like this for as long as you
want. I’m not moving until you’re ready.” His gravelly voice rumbled through
her core like a vibrator, coaxing another gush of honey from her cunt.

Her fingers dug into his scalp, bringing his mouth closer to
hers. Boldly she traced his sensual lower lip with the tip of her tongue.

Chet took control of the kiss, plundering the soft recesses
of her mouth. His delicious flavor replaced her fear with intoxicating desire.
Her pliant surrender returned, further slickening his passage as he eased
deeper into her cunt.

He kissed like he watched her—with utter passionate
intensity. His bonding scent grew thicker until she breathed him. Ivy lost
herself in their sensual connection as he penetrated her mouth and her pussy
with tender force.

Right that moment a lifetime connection to this incredible
male sounded perfect.

Her feminine muscles shivered with new excitement under his
expert onslaught. He wasn’t even all the way inside when her arousal bloomed.
Her walls rippled and clutched his massive cock, easing and tightening, and
then spasming with unstoppable abandon. A fierce orgasm rolled closer, catching
her by surprise. Ecstatic hunger seized her, sent her soaring, and then
shattered her very essence.

THE GIFT OF Ivy’s fulfillment gripped his cock, pulling a
release from his balls before he’d even completely sheathed himself in her
tight, silky cunt.

His record of self-control was smashed without regret by the
clutch of smooth satin walls rippling around his shaft. His release bathed her
womb in long blasts, but his erection never flagged. Mindful of her delicate
tissues, he forced himself to leave the exquisite torture of her postclimactic
spasms.

By the time he had her out of the shower and seated on the
vanity counter, his cock was locked and fully loaded. He ignored the rampant
rod.

Ivy swayed. He braced her with his body, filled a glass with
water, and brought the drink to her lips. After she’d swallowed a couple of
mouthfuls, he asked, “Better?”

“That was wonderful. Maybe a bit too wonderful.” She gave
him a shaky smile.

He cursed himself for being too rough with her. “I can do
better.”

Her eyes widened. “I don’t think I would survive better.”

Reassured and immensely pleased with her, he wrapped a towel
around his hips and began patting her dry. Naturally the terrycloth didn’t
disguise his enthusiastic erection.

“Didn’t you?” She flapped her hand toward the tent in his
towel.

He smoldered at her. “Come?”

She dipped her chin, still big-eyed, which swelled his dick
and his ego a bit extra.

“Yeah, but I’m ready for round two, but only when you are.”
And then some. He’d always had a healthy sex drive, but bonding had taken it
into overdrive. Damn good thing too, considering his charm, restraint, and
self-control had deserted him. Raw animal lust was the only thing left in the
seduction toolbox.

Everything about her lit his personal furnace. Her sweet
fragrance beckoned him closer, and her taste intoxicated him. Her beauty made
him desperate to touch, and when he caressed her satin perfection, he craved
more closeness. The only relief came with burying his cock to the root in her
silky cunt.

Ivy leaned into him and tugged on his neck to bring him
closer. “I love your taste. You’re beyond delicious.”

And then she kissed the hell out of him.

He’d hoped she wouldn’t cringe from his brash offer, but
he’d fully expected her flat refusal. Her openmouthed acceptance gratified him
in a brand-new way. Happiness warmed every part of him that wasn’t already on
fire. Her courage and willingness to teach an old dog a fresh trick blew his
towel right off.

Once was absolutely not enough for him. Not taking a chance
she might change her mind, he promptly used the damp terrycloth to cushion her
butt, then took her excellent kiss to a new level of raw hunger.

He released her lips when her thighs parted, making room for
him.

“You’re beyond good at kissing.” Her smooth legs hitched
over his hips, and her small heels dug into his butt, urging him closer.

He arched a brow. “Not good enough, if you’re still making
polite conversation.”

Her pupils expanded, and her lashes lowered until only a
narrow rim of green iris showed. “And here I was all set to beg you to fuck
me.”

Her sultry words jerked precum from his erection.

“No begging required,” he promised in a rough growl.

Eager to accommodate his lady’s wishes, he forgave her for
her teasing and composure instantly. He guided his cockhead to the gateway to
paradise. Even before he’d begun to thrust into her wet, velvet heat, the
electric connection between them tingled down his spine, drawing his heavy
balls tight against the base of his cock.

He fought to hang on to a bit of his usually effortless
control. The only thing that kept him from ramming into her delicate sheath was
his need to protect her, even from himself.

“Have you ever worn clamps here?” He teased her pretty coral
nipples until they were dark and rigid.

She gave a surprised huff. “No.”

Fresh cream moistened her entrance, but she was still
swollen and so fucking tight he was afraid to thrust.

In her infinite wisdom, the goddess had designed mating to
affect males first. The absolute commitment that locked him to Ivy like silver
shackles ensured the female would be sheltered during her pregnancy and
birthing, when she was most vulnerable. The idea of his young swelling Ivy’s
flat stomach both thrilled and terrified him. Too many females were lost
bearing pups. And like everything else to do with mating, he didn’t have a damn
thing to say about conception. He couldn’t refuse to mate with her any more
than he could will his heart to stop beating. The real rub came from knowing
she wasn’t tied to him by anything other than her own free choice. She was
young, gorgeous, and infinitely desirable. Every unmated male who got a whiff
of her natural scent would want her.