Beaufort Creek Shifters (10 book series)
The Wolf’s Auctioned Mate Chapter 8

Laurencia

One vanilla candle in the nook overlooking the garden changed the atmosphere of my apartment with Wendell there. I knew the incense had bothered him earlier-that was why I waved it in his face-but I hadn't expected his reaction to send me running with my cat between my legs and ears flat on my head.

So far, my revenge wasn't going as great as I had hoped. Wendell could be annoyed by anything. And since I knew he hated being around me, I knew I could just act like myself and get on his nerves. But I didn't think he'd wear me out that quickly with his energy. It clogged the air, thickening inside my nostrils like wet cotton. I found it hard to breathe with him brooding in the kitchen.

What was I going to do now? After he'd moved his things into my apartment, he complained that there wasn't enough food to eat, and that I probably didn't know how to cook. I was getting sick of his judgment. No wonder I couldn't breathe with him around. I should have just let him go when I had the chance, I thought while settling into the nook. I stared at the unruly backyard, wishing I could camp down there instead. Grandpappy always warned me about revenge schemes. I should have dug two graves while I was at it. Two graves for two lost souls. That seemed fitting enough. Grandpappy always talked about how revenge didn't go so well unless you recognized the fact that you were digging your grave with their grave. As I turned to look at Wendell messing with the gas stove, I wondered about his grave being next to mine. Would that suffice?

Maybe I was in over my head.

I turned back to the yard. Better to be wild than held down by some stupid retribution scheme. It wasn't like he was going to apologize for abandoning me. He practically spit in my face when I dared him to reject me again. He didn't believe for a second that he had done anything wrong, so why was I pining after an apology?

So much for revenge. This was ridiculous. Now I had to deal with him being in my sacred space with his musty odor and his ignorance. "It's wild out there."

By the sound of his voice, he was right behind me. I should have been annoyed instead of comforted. But I couldn't help how I felt.

I crossed my arms over my chest. "Yeah, I think somebody kept chickens back there or something."

"Why do you say that?"

"It would only get wild like that if there was something crapping out there all the time."

He touched my shoulder lightly with one hand while extending a plate with the other. A pile of steaming green veggies seasoned with black lemon pepper. My eyes burned with tears as I realized he had been cooking the whole time behind me and I hadn't bothered to notice.

And here I was thinking about revenge.

I took the plate. "Thanks."

"I didn't know you knew much about chickens." He hesitated for a second, taking a long breath before continuing, "Or anything, I guess."

"I know plenty about farming."

"Why don't you work in the fields?"

I picked at each vegetable, taking my time to chew through each bite mindfully. My stomach was rumbling like crazy, but if I ate too fast, I'd give myself a stomachache. "I have a bad back. I stick to helping people with their ritual stuff, reading tarot at the market, and working in the thrift shop in town every so often. It earns enough."

"It doesn't seem like you want much."

"I keep things simple."

He stepped back a few inches while peering around. It was weird seeing him standing in here with his things mixed with my things. He didn't have much at all, so it wasn't any trouble fitting his dresser and floor mirror in the same space. A rack of clothes held t- shirts and jeans, muscle shirts and other such things that only he would be caught dead wearing in public.

Wendell walked toward the bookshelf where plenty of jars with plenty of things inside them sat. "I'd say this is less simple than you think."

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah, I do."

Soft, secure, sure-that was his tone this time. It wasn't condescending or proud. It was intimate, like he meant every syllable that came out of his mouth. Like he knew me. Like he wanted to keep knowing me.

I set the plate down and wiped my lips on the hem of my skirt. When I looked at him, I saw something flash between us like the light from a falling meteor. It sprung me to my feet and kept me in place for a moment while I tried to figure out what was going on. Wendell was shirtless. At some point while he was wandering around, he had peeled it off, probably because I kept the air higher than most people in here. He had always run pretty hot, and he could typically be found without a shirt when he was working outside, so it wasn't unusual.

My throat filled with cloth. While it didn't suffocate me, it did make me feel like I wouldn't be able to talk. Just looking over the details of his muscles, studying the swimmer's physique, made me wonder how long it had been since I had traced those muscles. His shoulders had bulked up. That was probably from building so much lately. I couldn't remember what he'd done in the past-if we had ever even talked about it but I did recall how much slimmer he had been back then.

Something had happened to Wendell. Something had changed him. His gray eyes were cloudier than the night I met him in that bar. Gone was the spark of life in them. Right now, they were two glassy marbles staring back at me, flat and void of most feelings. Most, of course, except for a fierce burst of longing.

I ran across the room and jumped into his arms.

I had no idea what came over me. I just couldn't be away from him any longer. The way he was looking at me like he was starving signaled something in my soul that had been waiting to surface for months, maybe even years.

He caught me like he used to back when we would sneak around the beaches at night trying to avoid the teenagers partying with their cheap beer and loud rock music. The caves were our best bet usually, much cozier than that raggedy motel with the ripped carpet and scratchy cotton sheets, scratchiness that reminded me of things I couldn't quite recall.

That was just how it went with Wendell. I forgot everything. I released what I needed to release into the universe while he lodged himself between my thighs and pounded me relentlessly. I wanted so much to feel that way again, to forget about the awkward crap that led to this moment. Tripping on stage, flirting with a stranger, getting lost in the cataclysmic energy of being celebrated-those were things that didn't need to be present in my mind any longer. Especially how I had nearly eaten the ground when I sprinted across the room.

But he had caught me. He had lifted me up. He had planted his hands right on my bottom, cupping the soft flesh like he had so many times, like he would continue to do. Because in this moment, nothing could have convinced that he wouldn't keep doing this exact same thing over and over again.

It was written in my heart. I would always run to him, and he would always catch me. He liked the fact that I was a klutz because that meant he could step in and do what he wanted. I knew how much he liked being in control-and tonight would be no different. I was counting on it.

Wendell welcomed my sloppy kiss like he was letting an old friend back into his life. He slurped my tongue into his mouth and kept it there, retaining me the same way he always could, knowing that it was the secret to my fulfilment. Being in his arms urged my hips into action, causing me to roll against him and his hard c**k, feeling his response tingling through my core like a limb just waking from being asleep.

Gods, every emotion known to sentient creatures hit me all at once. I was that limb that had been asleep for ages getting roused suddenly from my slumber. The lust that awakened in my center made me feel like I had stepped into an alternate reality, one where Wendell and I had never stopped seeing each other. No time had passed at all. This moment had always existed and would always exist.

A shock of pleasure jolted my slit. He swung me around and pinned me to the counter, shoving my long skirt out of the way with one hand while unzipping his jeans with the other. His longing could hardly match the barriers between us, and his skilled fingers were already treading the hot flesh leading toward my slit. With barely a breath granted from his bruising kiss, I knew I was in trouble.

It was all I wanted, to be in the midst of his danger. He groaned when I tried taking my tongue back like he was warning me against it. But I persisted. I challenged him. Because it was one of those things I just knew would tip him into the right mindset. I clutched his shoulders hard as his hand crawled up my inner thigh, fingers grazing lightly, barely making an impression. Until his knuckles swept over my slit.

Every little tingle that crowded my core flooded my entrance and guided my hips forward. I chased after his hand, whining when I lost focus and lost my tongue to his mouth again. Defeated whimpers rumbled my lips and vibrated my chest, inspiring me to shake loose the straps of my flowing top. My nipples hardened when the fabric of my top slid over them.

And he noticed. Of course, he did. He always noticed things like that. The rumbling chuckle that coursed through him and nudged my lips made me ache with desire, and he wasn't even inside me yet. This was how he made me melt. It was how he earned my obedience without saying a damn word.

Just the way his hard muscles felt pressed against my body and the heat that scorched me whenever our skin made contact reminded me of old history, of nights spent until the early morning doing naughty things in the dark. I loved every second of it. I wanted it to last for eternity so I would never have to know the pain of parting from him ever again.

He broke the kiss and tilted my chin. "Be a good girl and stroke me." "But I-"

He squeezed my cheeks, forcing my tongue out of my mouth for him to lick. My eyes disappeared and my hands flew into action to make sure he was getting exactly what he wanted. Because he was everything to me, and his pleasure meant so much more than I could articulate.

Much like the way I felt compelled to do what my alphas told me, so I felt the same with Wendell. He groaned with every stroke, his grip on my cheeks relaxing as I rubbed the head of his cock and felt the fluid that had built at the tip. I licked my lips as his hand slid away. But his command never left, his gaze burning into me and dashing away my fears.

"Good girl," he praised, turning me into mush all over again. "Arch back...a little more..."

Unending torture was what this felt like. Each part of me that could perceive, every aching bit, pinched with a strange longing, inspiring me to do exactly as he instructed. He thrust into my hands, teasing my slit with the head of his cock the more he did it, and drawing whimpering gasps every time.

This was my undoing. This was how I left my body.

And it was pure ecstasy.

Each pump broke my concentration and sent my hands into a frenzy to resume stroking. I lost myself to his rhythm as I tugged him ever closer to my twitching slit, abandoned to the sensations in my body, totally helpless to my desire for him to fill me up. I was wearing thin on patience too-so I took matters into my own hands.

I grabbed his hips and pulled him into me, engulfing him inch by inch as slowly as I could manage, watching the way his face contorted with shock, and then landed on pleasure. He bowed toward me and wedged his nose into his favorite place, the spot in my neck just beneath my chin that he loved nudging so much.

Two pinching pains accompanied his kiss. I didn't mind it much, noticing the room around me swirling instead. I closed my eyes and rode the carousel of my emotions, spinning around and around, never quite getting dizzy but never truly waking from the surreal mirth involved in the twirl. I gave myself over to him as easily as I had the first time, magnetically drawn to him in ways I couldn't control.

Who cared if this was ancient history reimagined? Wendell had a hold of me that I didn't dare break. I welcomed every pump, focusing on the intent plunge and slow rewind. Every time he returned, he sent me farther back on the counter until my shoulders were cutting the edge of the cabinets and my head was planted firmly in the wood.

His hand climbed my spine and adjusted my angle, saving me from a backache later. As his pace intensified, I blinked up at the ceiling, unable to find a focal point-and totally unwilling. Nothing could have broken me like this man, like his committed passion. Dedication marked each movement, and I delayed my release to keep him from exiting my body.

My ankles locked together behind his back, sliding me as close as close could get, lodging us in a perpetual humping battle. His palms seared my skin as his fingers clamped into my flesh, billions of tiny cells squealing with delight at every turn. Great worlds were being born again and again between us, songs were being written, and impressive works of art.

Our union bore strength, vitality. It was something I had missed, the kind of magic that burrowed within my muscles to be awoken in the depth of night when everyone else was asleep. His devotion swelled the faster he thrust, giving way to fervent slaps that caused me to grip harder and tighter with a fierce resistance to our eruption.

But it was useless to combat what was happening. I came before I knew I was coming, several curses spilling from my mouth as endorphins shot through me. My heart was beating in overdrive, the sound of it taking over my form as I convulsed in Wendell's arms. While digging my nails into his flesh, I felt him stiffen, his thighs tensing in preparation for his release.

Just thinking about it rolled me into another wave of hot and cold, forcing my mouth to widen as far as it would go while he leaned back and grabbed my chin. The force of him-the sheer virility of him magnified my explosion. He towered over me, a shadow blanketed with soft candlelight hues, juniper burning somewhere in the background and grounding me back to the present.

His grunts broke apart as he planted himself deep and came. The way he tried to nudge deeper as he clung to my body made me smile. Sweet and innocent giggles tore through me then while his fingers trailed over my lips.

He pinched my chin lightly as a rough chuckle escaped him. "What?"

"I love-" I snapped my mouth shut, swallowed hard, and then readjusted my position, shuddering when his cock twitched inside my entrance. "I love how you feel. I miss it."

Gasps of air hardly interrupted his continued exploration as his hands crawled every inch of me. To feel that was like slipping on an old fluffy robe I forgot I owned.

Oh, but I knew better than to think I owned Wendell. He wasn't a dog on my leash-quite the opposite. He was a guardian, a hound from hell, a true protector who would dig his claws into me in front of anyone who threatened our connection.

"Do you remember those bikers off Route 1?" I asked reaching between us. His cock was still hard. It gave me ideas. "That guy that wanted to use me as his personal counter because he was too drunk?"

A growl resonated in Wendell's chest. He gripped my hips, causing me to bite my lower lip and arch toward him. "That a*****e had it coming."

"You clutched my side so hard that you left marks."

"They healed."

I nodded, smirking. "Sure, but the guy was totally freaked."

"Because I drew blood...?" He leaned close, carefully drawing the outline of my lips with his tongue. "...or because you moaned from how good it felt?"

He was wicked-too wickedly good at reading me. A couple of heavy pets turned into another rough humping session, knocking over the coffee maker, a steel pot, and about a dozen of my favorite plastic Halloween cups. They could stay on the ground for all I cared. Because the only thing I cared about was having Wendell's eyes-and hands-on me for the rest of the night.