Pleasure Me Page 4

  He lifted his face and shook his head quickly. Skywriting was out. A showy display of his feelings would certainly embarrass her as much as him. This wasn’t reality TV for Chrissakes, but their damn private lives.

  Stumped as to his next move, he plodded back to the store. The door was already open, crammed with five older women who’d clearly been taking in what had happened between him and Starr. At his approach, they scurried away and browsed the aisles, pretending to shop.

  Yeah, yeah, yeah.

  He lumbered to the candy and sniffed deeply, wallowing in Starr’s scent, the musk stronger today, no doubt because of their kiss. He breathed in deeper, faster. The world spun. Her heady fragrance, the promise of their mating, was so close yet too fucking far away. His groan of pleasure turned to a sigh of frustration. Not only was she gone again, he couldn’t pull in enough of her scent to satisfy his needy heart. He was close to hyperventilating when his gaze drifted to the PayDays. Something she truly loved.

  If only she’d show him the same kind of constant affection.

  Wait. An idea formed in his mind.

  He scooped the box of candy bars under his arm, took the one with the Milky Ways, too, along with M&Ms and other candy. Hurrying down the other aisles, he looked for the area with the birthday stuff and selected what he wanted. His next stop was the shelf with the disposable baking pans. He’d need a few other items but those he’d have to find elsewhere, the lumberyard for one. With his arms overflowing, he rushed to the checkout, impatient to get started.

  He worked on his project clear into the night, the thump of music and rowdy laughter from Gee’s registering intermittently. Sitting cross-legged on the floor of his room, Wylder attached the last candy bar to the frame he’d built, one resembling a Christmas tree. Instead of green boughs, there were alternating rows of caramel-chocolate candy bars and caramel-peanut ones serving as branches. Using colored string, he hung individually wrapped squares of Dove candy on his creation. The blue, yellow, and red foil wrappings made the chocolate treats look like ornaments on his “tree.” Earlier, he’d wrapped the circular baking pan, which served as a base, in red birthday paper. Now, he filled the container with plain and peanut M&Ms.

  Almost finished.

  Then again….

  He struggled with the red ribbon he’d bought to make a pretty bow for the top. Given his thick fingers, what he came up with looked as if he’d used his feet instead of his hands to create the damn thing. His other failures littered the floor.

  Shrill female laughter floated up from the bar.

  Maybe he should ask one of the women down there to help him. Right. Nothing like giving the town even more to gossip about. He struggled alone for what seemed an eternity and finally gave up trying to making his bow perfect. No matter how he fought to get both sides equal, one was always larger than the other. He settled the thing on top and fluffed up the edges. No good. They drooped pitifully.

  Oh well. Maybe she wouldn’t notice.

  He sagged to the floor, arm over his eyes, more tired now than after a full shift at the yard with overtime tacked on. Fuck, love was hard, but he was doing what he had to in order to win Starr to his side. Now all he had to do was wait for the bar to close for the night. No way did he want anyone down there or in this town watching him haul his gift to her house. He didn’t want to give Starr fair warning either. This had to be a surprise.

  She’d either love or hate what he’d done.

  He lifted his arm and looked over at the Mount Everest of candy trees. The thing leaned slightly to the right, the bow looked like shit, but the Dove ornaments were cute, even pretty. He grinned hard enough to make his cheeks hurt. Despite the imperfections, this was going to floor her…especially if she didn’t know who’d left the gift. She’d probably guess he was responsible, but it wouldn’t hurt to make certain she knew for sure. Better write a note to leave with his present.

  On his belly, he pulled a square of gift-wrap over, put pen to paper, and came up with nothing great. For Starr from Wylder seemed kind of impersonal. For you, baby, from your guy was definitely too bold and hopeful at this point. He nixed Give us a chance, please as being too needy.

  A country tune wailed away downstairs. Given the stomps and whoops, several patrons were dancing. He tapped his boot in time with the music and tried out some of the song’s lyrics for his message, crossing through each as unacceptable. Writing about something bad that was going to happen would definitely set the wrong mood.

  Ugh. He ground the heel of his hand into his eyes, wishing he was a poet instead of a damn shifter with a military background. Get your damn ass in gear, woman certainly didn’t strike the right tone. He struggled so long the silence took him by surprise. No music or boisterous conversations any longer. He looked out the window. The lot was empty, its gravel sparkling in the moonlight, the ashy beams turning everything varying shades of gray. An owl hooted. The town was silent. Time for him to get a move on.

  He stared at what he’d written and then crossed out. Hunkered down, he wrote, For you, from me. Enjoy. He folded the note, shoved the paper between the M&Ms then pulled it back out, suddenly recalling something Starr had said to him in the store.

  Using a new piece of the wrapping, he wrote, You were perfect back then. You’re even more wonderful now. Never deny yourself what you love, no matter what anyone says. Screw them. Enjoy yourself and these treats, please.

  Maybe he was a poet after all.

  He stole away without disturbing Gee. On the way to Starr’s house, the damn wind blew the bow off the tree three times. Should have stapled the stupid thing in place. He finally tied the ends of the ribbon to one of the candy bars. Gritting his teeth, he climbed the stairs of the porch, praying the wood wouldn’t creak beneath his weight. Someone was up, one of the lights on inside. He left his gift near the door and took off before Starr or Ethra heard him or caught his scent.

  Pleased with himself yet suddenly restless, he ran the length of the town and into the woods. Despite the mild night, sweat dampened his face, chest, and back. He yanked off his clothes. Naked, he breathed as deeply as he could, pulse drubbing against his throat. He took off in a sprint and leaped. Airborne, he transformed in a blink of an eye from man to wolf, muscles tensed, reddish-brown fur ruffling in the breeze.

  His paws hit the ground with a subdued smack, his breath puffing out. Leaving the town behind, he ran for miles. The woods whizzed by, one scent bleeding into another—rich soil, crisp pine, the coppery odor of recent rain, animal musk.

  Not Starr’s though. She was the only thing he wanted to smell tonight, tomorrow, and for the rest of their lives. If she’d ever give them a chance.

  If she didn’t….

  Unsettled, he put more distance between himself, her, and possible failure, zipping past trees, bounding off rocks, frightening rabbits and deer, sending both species scurrying for cover. They had no worry with him tonight. Food was the last thing on his mind.

  He ran until his lungs burned, finally dropping to the ground. The dewy grass was cool and inviting beneath his pelt. He rolled through the velvety carpet of growth and breathed deeply, relaxing at last. The only scent here was of prey, including the faintest trace of a black bear and mountain lion. From the smell, both were long gone, not hanging around to encounter a ravenous pack of wolves intent on a hunt.

  Given how lovesick he was, he was equally dangerous to them or anything else if they dared disturb him tonight.

  He threw back his head and howled louder than he would have in human form. On and on he went, calling to Starr, pouring out his heart even though she was too far away to hear, or, rather, especially since she was.

  Coward.

  Yeah, well. He wasn’t ready for another slap down or to make the long trek back. Ten miles or more was his guess. Jesus, he should have thought this out before he’d gone so far. At least, he didn’t have to work tomorrow.

  The sun was spilling over the horizon by the time he returned to town. I
n his room, he kicked past the leftover wrapping paper, ribbon, and other stuff he’d used and fell face forward on his bed. The frame groaned, springs squeaked.

  Those were the last sounds he was aware of until the rumble of a motor outside woke him. An old Garth Brooks song played on the jukebox in the bar. Sun streamed through the window. Given the angle, he guessed the time to be an hour or two past midday.

  He rolled out of bed, had his fill of water directly out of the faucet, and gobbled four peanut butter sandwiches for breakfast. After brushing his teeth and taking a quick shower, he finally padded to his phone to see if he had any voicemails or messages. He didn’t expect any from Starr. Hoping she’d contact him was being way too optimistic. He did figure Ethra would touch base, letting him know whether his gift had pleased or scared off her daughter.

  No voicemails, text messages, or emails from either of them.

  Didn’t make sense as far as Ethra was concerned. Unless….

  One of the neighborhood kids had swiped his gift before Starr had gotten to it.

  Shit. If so, he’d have to build the thing again, as soon as the store restocked their shelves. The delay could take up to a week.

  Enough of this. He’d sneak by Starr’s house to see if she hadn’t found the gift yet. Could be she and her mom had slept in as he had.

  He rushed past the stink of booze, steamed broccoli, fried pickles, and shifters in the bar to the outside. Whoa. After teetering to a halt, he braced himself to keep on his feet. Starr’s scent was everywhere, embracing him with its lush fragrance. He turned in a slow circle searching for her. Not here. Inside?

  He checked. Nope.

  Back outside, he stared at a crumbled candy bar wrapper in the center of the lot. Not something he saw every day or at any time. Litter wasn’t a problem in Los Lobos. Everyone’s inner wolf kept things clean, respecting Mother Nature as humans rarely had.

  He strode to the end of the lot. Another wrapper. This one belonging to a Milky Way. He pocketed it, the same as the other, and looked for more. When he didn’t see any nearby, he followed her scent.

  Hold it. There.

  Crumpled next to a rock was the yellow foil from a Dove square. A red one glinted beneath the sun near the edge of the forest. She was marking her trail, leaving these things like the breadcrumbs Hansel had dropped in the old fairy tale so he and Gretel could find their way back.

  Exactly as Starr was trying to do in Los Lobos. To become part of the community again. If anyone tried to stop her, he’d fight them to the death.

  With each step he took, her scent grew stronger, battering his senses. His heart pounded crazily.

  He passed trees, a brief clearing, a small pond, his face lifted to catch her fragrance then lowered to study the ground.

  Aha. A blue wrapper this time.

  He added the litter to the rest, strode forward, and stopped.

  She stood near a series of rocks, her moccasins, jeans, and tee in a pile near her naked feet. Her hair shimmered blue-black in the light, eyes golden and sparkling, color blooming on her cheeks. A chocolate smear near the corner of her mouth waited for him to lick it off.

  He forced down a swallow. A breath was more than he could handle.

  She unclasped the front of her lacy black bra, a Victoria Secret’s number if ever there was one. Freed, her breasts quivered with each of her breaths, the globes ripe and succulent, her nipples tipped with a deep-rose color, proving her need. Gently, she swayed her hips back and forth, easing her black thong down as she did so.

  A surge of her musk slammed into him, constricting his throat.

  She was wet, her arousal dampening the crotch of her thong, the moisture glinting in the afternoon light.

  Straightened, she faced him, the thatch between her legs the same raven color as her hair, her sex engorged with desire, the lips peeking out beneath her delicate curls.

  Like a heat-seeking missile, he bolted toward her.

  She turned and scampered up the rocks, hair flying, sleek muscles rippling. When she’d reached the highest slab, she looked down at him then leaped in the opposite direction. In the air, she shifted as smoothly as he had last night, the flawless expanse of her pale flesh suddenly covered with black fur with streaks of gray. Her paws hit the ground with a faint tap.

  Without glancing back, she took off.

  “Come back here!” he bellowed. “Now! I mean it!”

  His choked laughter told Starr he wasn’t as pissed as he was trying to sound.

  “Please?” he cried out.

  Aw, he’d have her in tears soon. She ran like hell, needing to play, wanting him to work to have her.

  He’d done amazingly well so far.

  Contrary to popular belief, diamonds weren’t a girl’s best friend. A gift from the heart was. His lopsided candy tree had actually made her cry. His note had her sobbing. She’d bawled as she hadn’t since he’d first left Los Lobos while chowing down on chocolate, peanuts, and caramel to ease those past hurts, stuffing enough sweets into her system to stay on a sugar high for a month.

  Still buzzed, she ran recklessly through the trees, darting in and out of the shadows. Even with the distance separating them, his muttered oaths reached her. Fabric rustled…him undressing.

  The whap of paws against the ground alerted her to his shift and pursuit.

  If her wolf could have squealed in delight, it would have. She veered to the left, racing down an embankment. A rabbit stared, nose no longer wiggling. In a flash, the animal bolted into thick shrubs. An eagle piped above her. The wind rushed past, whistling through the leaves.

  Her breaths came hard and fast.

  Wylder’s paws pounded the ground relentlessly.

  She swerved in another direction, zigzagging through the woods. A patch of light peeked through the trees, a grassy clearing and sizeable pond beyond the stand. On another burst of speed, she broke through the forest, the wind hitting her face. A deer and her fawn stopped drinking at the pond. Their stares lasted less time than the rabbit’s, both animals sprinting into the brush.

  Starr raced toward the pond to wash away her scent, make this pursuit even harder on Wylder. See how much he could take. How far he’d—

  She stopped and reared back. He’d already circled and faced her just short of the pond. His reddish-brown fur glistened, powerful shoulders heaving with his strained pants, gray eyes filled with animal lust and human desire.

  God, he was hot.

  Waves of warmth rolled through Starr, her head swimming, heart whapping painfully. Never had she experienced such delicious weakness mingled with reckless wonder. She waited for him to approach.

  He stood his ground, pure dominant.

  Her blood thickened. She broke first and padded to him, her muzzle against his, drawing in his luscious scent. A sexy beast, 1,000 percent male. The woman in her trembled, the wolf whimpered in willing submission. On a hoarse growl, he pressed close, his superior size and weight subduing her further. She fell down. He followed. They rolled across the grass, shifting to their human forms, naked limbs entwined, his pecs crushing her breasts, her soft folds snuggled against his rigid cock.

  They kissed with the urgency of war-torn lovers separated for decades, their fingers pushing into each other’s hair, palms cupping skulls, holding tight. He thrust his tongue into her mouth first.

  Screw that.

  She pushed his tongue aside to fill his mouth with hers, taste his exquisite flavor, like no one else’s on earth. A man, a wolf, she’d been born for. But there was still her bruised heart to consider. Sex was all she could handle now. Love wasn’t even in the equation at this point. Maybe ever.

  Too much had happened.

  Crap, she didn’t want to remember bad times. Growling as he had earlier, she dove in for more, her kiss frantic enough for her teeth to cut into her bottom lip. She ignored the pain, struggling to get closer. He allowed her raging lust for a moment before taking command like the kickass guy he was, filling her mouth sure an
d deep. On an indistinct moan, she slung her leg over his and ground her pussy into his shaft.

  Wylder rolled them over and tore his mouth free. His hair swung forward, skimming his cheeks. He grabbed his cock.

  “No.”

  He glanced up, eyes practically bulging. “What?”

  “Not yet. Wait.”

  “For what?”

  “I want to look at you.”

  “What—why?”

  “Because I do.” She’d waited twelve long years for this and wasn’t going to endure a second longer. She shoved him as hard as she could.

  Caught off guard, he windmilled his arms to stop himself, failed, and crashed over her leg to the grass. She crawled to his side before he could budge. “Don’t move.”

  He stared up at her. “Why are you doing this? I’m in pain here.”

  And she wasn’t? She spoke through her teeth. “I’m only asking for a minute.”

  “Fine. You have sixty seconds. One, two, three—”

  She smacked his arm and leaned back to take him in. Her breath spilled out on a wanting sigh. The man was perfect, his chest hard slabs of muscle, skin bronzed, tiny nipples the color of ginger, pecs and abs so well defined they were more than sculpted. Chiseled was the only description she could think of with the word still falling short of how perfect he was.

  Her mouth watered.

  A silky line of dark hair ran beneath his navel to his groin, his thatch thick and fragrant. His cock jutted from the tangle of curls, the column meaty, several veins dashing down its hard length, the crown smooth and engorged with blood, nearly scarlet with his arousal.

  He was hurting. Showing off, too. He flexed his shaft again. The thing defied gravity, lifting to point at her before falling back on his belly, exposing his balls.