Treeland Pack Tales 3: A Trace of Ivy (21 page)

He hugged her back. “Me too, sweet torment.”

His mood lifted, his heart softened, and his cock hardened.

Ivy’s temporary checks and shiny new debit card arrived
shortly after two. She examined the account numbers. “So how much do I owe you
for my shopping spree?”

“The bill has not arrived.” Chet turned a page of the
morning paper without looking at her.

“Fine.” She had no intention of squabbling with him over her
right to buy her own clothes. She simply excused herself, retrieved a pen from
his office, filled out a check payable to Chester Tomlin for twenty-five
thousand dollars, and tucked it into his top desk drawer where his checkbook
resided. With any luck, by the time he found it, he’d be more reasonable.

The rest of the day Ivy and Chet waited for Daniel’s call.
Plainly Chet wasn’t used to sitting out the action. He prowled around the
apartment, wiping down the kitchen, fluffing pillows, and straightening picture
frames. Ivy expected him to pull out a ruler and realign the pantry’s contents
any second.

Kat and Tess and Ivy’s utter failure to get them help were
never far from her thoughts. Today her friends were especially vivid in her
mind.

Chet fixed a delicious brunch, but her appetite had
disappeared. When he took her to the shooting range, she had an hour of
respite, seeing monsters in every target and trying to obliterate them.
Determined to become an instant expert shot, she failed miserably. The
headshots he made every time eluded her. She finally accepted his advice to aim
for the body. Disappointed with her performance, she settled for hitting the
target once in a while. After the excursion, she’d tried to coax her wolf to
the surface with Chet’s encouragement. That experiment hadn’t worked any better
than the gun-training exercise.

Chet handed her a leather holster containing the small gun
she’d fired earlier. “The weapon is loaded with silver bullets.”

“The urban legend is true—silver kills werewolves?”

“If you hit them in the right spot or often enough. A gun
isn’t magic. Remember how quickly the rogue moved last night after he’d taken
two hits. Turn around, and I’ll adjust the clip for you.”

She gave him her back.

Chet slid the leather into place and smoothed her sweater
over the small weapon. “Tell me again about the time your claws came out.”

Ivy shrugged halfheartedly. “I’ve told you already.”

“Humor me.” He pushed her.

In spite of the need to stay focused, she responded to his
bossiness with embarrassing tingles. “I was so scared I couldn’t breathe.”

“And the other times?”

“I’m not sure what caused her to wake.” She blushed at her
arousal and the memory of her inner bitch arching her butt for Chet. “She likes
you.”

“Of course she does. My wolf wants her too. We are mates.”

Ivy didn’t know what to say in response to his certainty, so
she stared out the window and tried to regain her composure.

“Come to the office with me.”

She turned away from the rainy view of Treeland and the
mountains beyond, making herself meet his gaze. “What’s in the office?”

“Work—something to do instead of standing around with my
thumb up my ass.”

“Sure.” She trailed along behind him. “What do you do
besides being a badass enforcer?”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Make money, mostly. Right now I need
to spend some paying bills.”

“How exactly do you make money?”

“Investments.” He seated himself and opened the laptop.

“What kind?” She persisted, curious about his everyday life
and aware how little she knew about the male.

“Stocks, bonds, property. I’m not fussy.”

She watched over his shoulder as he clicked through
spreadsheets, updating information. The male defined fussy, but she kept a
bland expression in place. “I planned to be a graphic artist.”

“Are you any good?”

“Amazing actually. I had an interview for a job with one of
the top ad agencies in San Francisco before the monsters interfered. Now my old
life seems totally irrelevant.”

“Don’t dismiss your talent. Art entertains, informs, and
makes this a better world.”

“Storyboards seem pretty silly when I think about Kat and
Ivy. The funny thing is I never fit in anywhere, not with my grandparents or
school or college. The time I spent with the rogues was horrible, except for
Kat and Tess. They’re like sisters to me.” She blinked to dry threatening tears
and swallowed the knot of emotion clogging her throat.

Chet pulled her into his lap and cuddled her, not fooled by
her brave act. “The enforcers are really good at hunting rogues.”

She sniffed and willed away tears that came too easily.
“Then why hasn’t Daniel called to say they’re safe?”

“I don’t know. And I hate not knowing,” he growled.

“If I weren’t here you’d be with your friends, tracking.”

“True, and I would be living the same miserable, lonely life
I had forever. You are everything to me.”

Last night he’d said he loved her in a moment of passion.
Had he truly meant it? She wasn’t sure if she would ever feel the bonding
phenomenon the way Chet did, but she was definitely in love with him.

Her lips parted, and the words spilled out without plan or
permission, “I love you.”

He tipped her chin until she had no choice except to meet
his gaze. His dark eyes smoldered with heat. And then he covered her mouth with
his.

She’d expected him to devour, but he kissed her with
tenderness and perhaps reverence. He placed tiny kisses that teased and sipped
and nibbled until she bit him. Not hard enough to draw blood but decisively.
“Kiss me like you mean it.”

“How did I fall in love with such a demanding Beta?” he
rumbled in his almost purr. Instantly the embers of her arousal kindled into a
blaze.

He captured her mouth, kissing her like the forceful male
she loved. Her core melted, then the rest of her. She tingled from her scalp to
her toes, wanting nothing more than to stay with him like this forever.

Chet didn’t break the kiss during the trip to his bedroom,
and she didn’t complain about the change in location. He interrupted the tongue
tangling to shed his shirt. Too hot for modesty, she took advantage of the
pause in the action to tug off her top, unclip the holster, and skim out of the
jeans.

“I love your lingerie, but not as much as I love what’s
under it. Strip.”

Maybe she should’ve been offended at his bossiness, but she
wasn’t. His commands gave her tingles in all her favorite places, and they
definitely heated up her wolf. “You’ve found the key to waking my inner bitch.”

“Damn, I should have thought of sex sooner. My wolf wants
yours too.”

“The bitch had her chance all afternoon, now she has to
wait.” She shimmied out of her bra and undies. “Your turn.”

He’d already unfastened the waistband of his slacks. She
stared at the bulge behind his zipper, her mouth watering in anticipation. His
fingers paused. Her gaze flew to his face.

His distracting mouth quirked at one corner. “I’m keeping my
pants on for a while.”

She swallowed the excess saliva, but somehow a whimper
escaped her lips.

“Was that a complaint, sweet torment?”

Ivy shook her head, keeping her mouth firmly sealed. Her
bottom was still tender, reminding her constantly of his shockingly hot
early-morning discipline.

“Good.” He stacked pillows and stretched out on the bed.
“Climb aboard.”

She straddled his lap, braced herself on his wide chest, and
hovered her drenched pussy inches above the tent in his pants.

“Higher.”

She stretched upward.

“Higher on my chest.” He patted the vee at the base of his
neck.

She crawled closer to his face.

“That’s right.” He positioned her legs over his shoulders.
“Now grab the headboard and tilt up for me.” When she’d obeyed, her sex was
spread above his face. Her cheeks heated from a combination of vulnerability
and yearning for his clever mouth on her swollen clit.

“Lower.”

She complied and mewled at the first puff of his breath on
her heated folds.

“Perfect.” He spread her outer lips and lapped her from the
entrance to her core, up to her clit, and back again.

Pleas in the form of whimpers and moans and wanton rolling
hips begged him for more.

His mustache brushed the tight bud at the top of her sex
when he lapped into her sheath. His goatee tickled her entrance when he switched
to nibbling kisses on the small bundle of nerves. He licked and sucked until
her breasts ached, her clit throbbed with its own pulse, and her inner walls
spasmed, aching to be filled—stretched around his cock.

The relentless erotic assault on her pussy made her grind
shamelessly against his face, desperate for release.

His thick tongue delved into her cunt. She clamped her inner
muscles around the silky probe. Her butt clenched hard and her hips bucked in
short needy jerks. Fulfillment danced so close she inhaled the musk of the
ultimate release.

He lifted her away from the bliss of his mouth, setting her
carefully on his thighs. His mustache and goatee were drenched with her honey.
“I love eating you almost as much as I love fucking you.”

His rough hands cupped her hips, holding her steady. “Unzip
me.”

Ivy complied eagerly with Chet’s harsh demand, unfastening
his pants and impatiently waiting for further instructions.

His hips canted. “Take off my pants, boxers too.”

Deep in her belly, the bitch within whimpered and arched her
butt in clear invitation. “My wolf is excited by you.”

“More likely, she’s responding to my wolf. He’s eager to
meet her.”

Excitement rippled through her and her inner bitch as she
followed instructions, skimming the trousers down his legs and freeing his
engorged shaft. His erection tapped his cut midsection, leaking delicious
precum onto the trail of silky black hair dividing the wall of muscles.

“May I?” She tilted forward, wanting to lap up the sweet and
salty goodness.

He fisted his thick cock, bringing it close to her lips. “Of
course, but don’t use your hands.”

Thrilled with his permission to taste and tease, she tucked
her crossed arms behind her and cupped the elbows, locking them in place. She
peeked at Chet for approval and won a chin dip before she leaned forward and
lapped away the drops of excitement from the luscious plum-colored crown.
Satisfied with the nice wet gleam of his cockhead, she teased the sensitive
area just under the graceful flare of the helmet.

Her efforts earned a groan of masculine hunger. The sound of
need combined with his intoxicating flavor to tighten her nipples and make more
cream flow from her core. She placed a series of damp, nibbling kisses along
the thick vein on the underside of his dick until she reached his balls. She
nuzzled the potent sac, lapping the twin weights.

The next time she darted a peek at him, wolf’s eyes glowed
back. Her wolf surged nearer to the surface in response.

“You please me greatly, sweet torment.” Chet’s growl was deep
and harsh, but somehow so filled with love she wasn’t scared.

“You bring out my wild side.” She placed a wet kiss on his
scrotum, winning another approving growl before licking and nibbling her way
back to his plush crown. Arms still locked behind her, she relaxed her jaw and
opened wide, swallowing as much of his shaft as possible. She breathed through
her nose and built a rhythm—a slow glide back up, a long pause to probe beneath
his rim with her tongue, then taking him deep and fast down her throat. Chet
provided a dissonant melody with lusty sighs and growls of approval. Her pulse
pounded a primal backbeat.

“I’m coming—swallow.”

An easy order to follow as the hot, salty-sweet gushes of
goodness splashed past her tonsils.

He touched her with melting tenderness as he guided her
upright, freed her arms, and then nuzzled her neck, nipping the spot that sent
electric sparks tingling through her erogenous zones, whipping her into fresh
hunger.

“I love your responsiveness.” His erection grew longer and
thicker in corroboration.

Just in case he missed her bunched nipples or her wet,
swollen pussy, a passionate moan signaled her willingness. She was so easy for
this male.

Chet positioned her on her hands and knees. The heel of his
palm between her shoulder blades encouraged her breasts toward the mattress.
“This is how my wolf wants to mount you.”

Alarmed, her gaze flew to meet glowing amber eyes. “Are you
still in charge?”

“Always. I’m not a green pup. I control my beast.”

She believed him, sort of, but she couldn’t tear her focus
from his elongating fangs and the subtle changes in the shape of his face that
signaled the scary half-shift.

Her wolf emerged so fast she never had a chance to totally
freak out.

Ivy found herself locked in a different world—a passenger in
a new body. There was no fear, she was exactly who she’d always been. What had
changed was that the missing pieces of her true identity had been found and
integrated. She and the wolf were two manifestations of a single united entity.

Her senses were ridiculously keen. Odors delivered complex
impressions, painting an aromatic story of mood, health, gender, strengths,
weaknesses, and more, all expressed in a fragrance’s layers and nuances. Sounds
were almost as rich in information. The sensory perceptions melded with genetic
memory to form a whole new reality. The nameless werewolf bitch shared her
thoughts. Awed by the access to wolfie senses, she accepted her role as
observer.

The enormous gray male bit into the bitch’s ruff, holding
her in place for his mounting.

She whined and lifted her tail, angling her butt to give her
male better access. The submission to the more powerful Alpha—to her master—was
as natural as her heart beating. There was no room for deception or half-truths
in this sacred space. She breathed in his love and devotion with every sexy
snarl and nip.