Chapter 1 – BEAU #3
Somehow, her bra is gone next, and she's bare from the waist up, flushed and beautiful in the dim light. I cup her breasts, feeling the weight of them in my palms, running my thumbs across her nipples and watching her arch at the contact.
"Look at you." The words come out reverent, almost pained. I’ve never seen anything as stunning. “So pretty.”
I drop my mouth to her throat, kissing and licking my way down to her collarbone, her neck, slowly over the soft swell of her breasts, prolonging the anticipation. When I close my lips around one peaked nipple and suck, she cries out, and her hands fist in my hair.
She's so responsive, every touch drawing a gasp or a moan that makes it harder and harder not to come just from hearing her beg.
"More." Her hips rock against me, desperate for friction. "I need more."
It doesn't make sense. We've never met, but somehow, my body knows exactly what she needs before she asks for it.
I set her back on her feet gently then kneel before her, pressing a kiss to her smooth stomach as I open her jeans and peel them down past her thighs, carefully removing her socks and shoes and lifting each foot out, one at a time.
It feels like I’m unwrapping the best present ever.
When I look up, she’s watching me closely with a small smile.
Shoving away her jeans and shoes, my attention homes in on the scraps of lace still covering her.
She watches, rapt, as I kiss just above her hipbone on each side, then slide them lower, slowly, drawing it out, revealing her completely to me.
Panties pool at her feet, and she steps out of them as I stand to my full height, looming over her, one hand braces beside her head while the other slides between her thighs, I stoop down to whisper in her ear, “You’re perfect.”
The touch of my fingers against her slick heat makes us both groan.
"So wet." I slide one finger inside, then two, in and out, slowly going deeper and faster, curling them until she keens. "All this for me?"
I kiss her, loving the taste of her lips, the slide of her tongue against mine.
She wraps her arms around my bare back, holding me, as I continue to stroke her, higher and higher.
"Don't get cocky." Her words are fierce, but her voice is trembling, her head falling back against the door as I work her with my hand. "Anyone… oh god, right there…"
"Anyone?" I press harder, finding the spot that makes her shake as a flare of possessiveness lights up inside me, hot and fast, and way too intense to be normal. "You feel like this with anyone?"
My words are demanding, daring her to lie to me and pretend this is normal. That anyone else could make her feel this way.
"No." The admission rips out of her, raw and honest. "No, it's never… I've never… not this good."
Pleased with her words, I press a little harder, and she comes apart on my fingers with a raw sound that I want to hear every day for the rest of my life.
She’s mumbling something incoherent, lips moving against my chest, but I don't give her time to recover. Can't wait any longer. I'm so hard, it hurts, every nerve screaming for her, and when I free myself, kicking off my jeans and boxers, my bear is roaring at me to take her and claim her.
Reaching down, I grab my wallet from my back pocket and pull out a condom.
She snatches it and tears open the foil packet with shaky fingers. When she rolls the condom down my length agonisingly slowly. Her touch is firm and confident despite the trembling, and I have to grit my teeth against the urge to thrust into her fist.
Lifting her carefully, loving how she immediately wraps herself around me, I notch against her entrance, and the tiniest contact is enough to make my whole body shudder.
I pause, giving her a final opportunity to change her mind, but then, still panting from her last orgasm, she rolls her hips, taking me an inch inside her, showing me what she wants.
With a primal growl, I'm sliding home, and the world goes white.
She feels tight around me, hot, and it’s perfect. She clenches around me like her body is trying to keep me there forever, and for a long moment, I can't move. Can't breathe.
Pressing my forehead to hers, I try to remember my own name.
What the fuck is this? Could she really be mine?
"Move." Her voice is thin, desperate, but still bossy as hell. "Please, I need you to move."
So, I do.
My hard thrust punches the air from both of us. The second makes her cry out, nails scoring down my back hard enough to leave marks, which pleases my bear to no end. By the third, she’s moving with me, and we've found a rhythm that feels exactly right.
She meets me stroke for stroke, rattling the door with each thrust, her hips rolling to take me deeper, and the sounds she's making, fuck, those sounds are seared into my mind. Breathy moans and bitten-off curses. She doesn't even know my name, so it's just yes and there and please and more.
A litany of need that I answer with my body, giving her whatever she wants.
"I can't wait, Whisky." She warns, shaking in my arms, her inner walls starting to flutter around me. "I'm going to come."
Satisfaction curls through me. I’ve been battling my own climax, fighting the urge to spill inside her from the second I slid into her warmth.
"Let go, give it to me," I demand through clenched teeth, craving the feel of her release with me buried deep inside her. I angle my hips, hitting that spot I found earlier with my fingers, and she shatters.
The power of her orgasm, how she clenches around my stiff length, triggers my own pleasure crashing through me in waves so intense, I see stars.
With one final thrust, I bury myself to the hilt and stay there, pulsing inside her, as I groan against her throat and sag into her, my body weight holding her up rather than my arms, as I hang on.
We stay like that, pressed against the door, for long minutes after, both of us stunned into silence. Briefly, it occurs to me that anyone could be on the other side listening.
"That was..." She blinks hard and trails off again, a smile curling the corners of her mouth as she laughs weakly.
I kiss her temple, her cheek, her lips. "It really was."
Slowly, carefully, I slide out of her and lower her feet to the floor. She wobbles, and I catch her, but after getting caught up in the pile of discarded clothes and shoes at our feet, we end up tangled on the floor, my back against the carpet, and her body sprawled across my chest.
"We didn't even make it to the bed," she observes, her voice slurred with satisfaction as I draw swirls and circles on her back with my fingertips, relishing the feel of her body touching mine, skin on skin, from head to toe.
"Give me ten minutes, Red." I trail my fingers up her spine, and she shivers, curling into me, despite the warmth of the room. "I'll make it up to you if you let me."
Her eyes lift to mine, and I wait for her reaction. Does she want more?
When it comes, her answer is to shimmy higher up my body and kiss me, long and hard.
Feeling triumphant, I bury my fingers into her messy red hair and roll us so she’s underneath me, parting her thighs with my knee. She watches, biting her lip hard, as I dispose of one condom and put on another.
When I gently enter her once more, our eyes remain locked until she tips her head back, clenching tightly around me with a sexy whimper.
This time is slower, more deliberate. I map every inch of her body with my hands and mouth, stroke in and out slowly, watching her closely, learning what makes her gasp and what makes her dig her nails in and beg for more.
By the time we finally come together again, it feels less like sex and more like I’m worshipping her, branding her body and her soul, and burning her into mine.
Finally, finally, we make it to the mattress itself for round three, where I press her into the pillows and take my time until she's practically sobbing, clawing at me, pleading with me to let her come.
Somewhere in the haze of all-consuming desire, I realize I want her to know my name, to hear it on her lips when she comes again. Whisky isn’t good enough. This is not just good chemistry or a random hookup. I’m already addicted to her.
Afterward, I kiss and caress every bit of exposed skin I can reach, gentle and reverent after the wildness of what we’ve just done.
“You’re incredible, Red. You might just be the perfect woman for me.”
She watches me with a contented smile on her face that makes my chest puff up with pride. Something tells me she rarely lets her guard down.
"You're sweet too," she murmurs. "Didn't expect that."
Looming over her, I give her a quick peck on the lips that feels oddly intimate despite having just tasted every part of her body. "I'm full of surprises."
“You certainly are.” She laughs, having no idea just how true that statement is, and the sound makes me feel like a king again.
Nuzzling her neck, I absorb more of her distinctly human scent, a seed of doubt planting itself in my thoughts.
She’s not a shifter. Could she really be mine?
I guess there’s only one way to find out.
Right then, I decide I want to take her to dinner tomorrow in my new house and learn what makes her giggle like that and what makes her tick. I want to know it all.
Grabbing my phone from where my jeans ended up crumpled near the door, I unlock it and throw it to her. "Put your number in."
She catches it one-handed, still sprawled naked across the sheets, hair an unruly mess, and the skin on her chest still pink from my stubble. She looks thoroughly ravished and utterly beautiful, and I would do it all over again immediately if I didn’t think she was sore and tired.
"I thought we weren't doing any of that, Whiskey."
Maybe she’s teasing, but I stop and meet her eye, needing her to see I’m deadly serious.
"Maybe you didn’t. But I never agreed to that. In fact, I remember distinctly telling you that I wanted more.” I head for the bathroom, calling out, "Anyway, that was before."
“Before?” she repeats, like she’s processing that there’s now a before and an after from this hotel room for us. We both know this isn’t normal, and I’m not letting her slip through my fingers by playing games.
I stick my head back out and give her a wink.
Her laugh follows me through the door. "So cocky."
"Tell me I'm wrong." I hold my breath.
Please don’t tell me I’m wrong.
She meets my eye but doesn't deny it. She knows this is worth exploring.
Feeling smug and more than a little excited at the positive beginning to my fresh start, I take my time cleaning myself up, splashing water on my face and trying to get my head on straight. This woman is special. She might be really special. I have to get this right.
Except when I come back out to do just that, to make sure she never wants to leave my side again, everything has changed.
The mood in the room has darkened, and Red's sitting up in bed, the sheet now pulled to her chin, with my phone clutched in her hand. Her expression has gone cold and closed, the easy warmth from moments ago, completely extinguished.
"Who exactly are you?"