Chapter Four Sam #3
God damn it. The “knot.” A sure sign of oncoming heat—sparked by scenting my mate—and scenting her arousal.
As I jerk my hand up and down my length, I imagine slipping into her, opening what has to be the sweetest, juiciest virgin pussy, a tight little hollow that I’ll mark and fill, shape it so that no other man can ever even hope to satisfy her.
And satisfy her? I know a bit about that—at least, I know how it was before I turned.
Sex was quick and all about the score. Now?
It’s about my mate. About keeping her enthralled with me, about pleasing her, because the scent of her pleasure and arousal is the highest of highs a man can hope to hit. Doubly so for a wolf.
My shoulder jogs hard against the wall, cock aimed over the basin, mirror mocking me. My hair flops out of its elegant smoothness, and my face looks beaten and haggard. The cock that’s swelling would probably scare Susan, not please her. Everything seems like a dream and a mockery at once.
Maybe it’s good that I’ll take a few days away once the professor arrives.
I need to give Susie time to clear her head, and I need time to work out how to tell her the truth of what I am, or at least time enough to figure out how much she needs to know.
Most humans are oblivious to the supernatural.
It might never be an issue. It might all be roses and sunshine as long as I keep away during full moons.
With a grunt, I finish, breathing hard, a snarl under my grating breaths that push past my aching ribs. I wash up, wash away the evidence, and fix myself up.
There. Older, bruised, but respectable. I go back into the reception area just as Susie returns.
“You look all flushed, Sam. You sit down and let me get a cold cloth for your head!” Susie fusses as soon as I appear. In seconds, I’m in her hands, melting under her soft, feminine charms and her sweet care.
“You’re spoiling me, Susie,” I sigh.
“Hilda never did this for you?” she teases, getting the bottle of iodine from the little paper bag supplied by Bond’s. She takes out a pad of cotton wool and starts dabbing it on.
“Hilda would have sent me to the infirmary with a good tongue-lashing for getting myself hurt.”
“I must say I can’t blame her on that score.
Really, Sam, you went the whole weekend like this?
Don’t you know how to look after yourself?
” Susan clucks her tongue, but she follows it with an apologetic smile.
“I’m sorry I’m scolding you. I suppose I was shaken up when I saw how badly you were hurt. ”
“It’s nice to be scolded. No one’s cared for me like this in a long time. Not even myself.” It’s true. I tend to ignore the minor injuries, or even the major ones, that come with the job. Ever since I became a werewolf, I’ve known my body will heal from almost anything.
“That’s silly. I knew from the instant I laid eyes on you that you were worth caring about,” Susan finishes treating my eye and hurries to get a cold cloth, wetting the washroom towel in the sink.
“Did you?” I watch her, leaning back in the chair, spying through the gap in the door at that perfect bottom and legs that would make me give up a year’s salary.
“I was probably being shallow, but yes. I thought you looked ever so handsome, and just the sort of worldly, distinguished older man who might like a secretary with big plans and endless energy to go on adventures with.”
“A regular Torchy Blane?” I joke.
Her eyes glow in eagerness, nodding as she pats the cold, wet cloth onto my forehead.
“My idol—much to Mother’s disapproval. She doesn’t much like girls being adventurous.
When I told her you were a private detective, she nearly fainted.
She’s sure I’m going to get kidnapped by bootleggers.
Telling her liquor was legal in New York state now didn’t even make a dent in her lecturing. ”
“Ah. Well, I’ll mind my P’s and Q’s. I want to stay on the good side of Mrs. Spade.” He hesitated. “She probably wouldn’t have liked that kiss I gave you earlier.”
Susan tossed her curls and sauntered away, iodine and stained cotton in her hands, calves seeming to call to him by name as she placed things back on her desk. “I planted that kiss on you, Mr. Silverman. I could be discharged.”
“Or promoted.”
“What’s above secretary? Partner?” Susie gasps.
“Sweetheart. And maybe a junior partner. We’d have to see what cases you could crack, honey,” I soothe.
“I want to keep you safe, after all. I’m mixed up in something a little dangerous just now.
In fact, I may have to go out of town next week.
You should visit your folks. I’ll still pay your wages. ”
“Nonsense! Who would get the mail, answer your letters, and what about your calls?” Susie fixes me with an uncompromising stare. “No, thank you. I’ll prove that I can manage things alone.”
“Manage the office alone,” I warn. “Not any cases, Susan Spade. I mean it. If anything happened to you, I would never forgive myself.”
“You mean it?” Susie whispers, standing close. Leaning over me to pat a stray drip of iodine away with the corner of the wet towel.
I pull her down suddenly, one arm hooked around her waist, into my lap, kissing her like there’s no tomorrow.
Someday, that’s going to be the case. Only fools act like tomorrow is promised. That’s what my old unit chaplain said.
“Oh, Sam,” Susie’s breathless voice is an aphrodisiac, an illegal, dangerous piece of contraband that makes me hard again, that makes me forget about manners, about giving her time to think, about the problems of my supernatural nature.
All I know is her, and the way she calls my name and keeps her hand away from my injured spots while kissing me into a frenzy.
“Where’d you learn to kiss like this?” I demand between attacks with my tongue, attacks that she gives right back.
“No-nowhere!” she stammers, cheeks hot as if I’ve accused her. “I’m... I really haven’t done this before, Sam. Any of it.”
“Do you want to do more of it, sweetheart? Because I’ll stop when you ask.”
“No! No, don’t stop. Not for a little while,” she begs, and kisses me back.
“I want to do so much more than kiss you, honey. But all of that can wait.”
Susie nods, and I know she’s relieved. I don’t want to rush, and I don’t want to be like the fiends in the books she’s sneaking around in her purse. “Not all of it?” she asks shyly, fingers slowly tracing around my collar.
This woman. She’s innocent enough not to realize that my erection is hard against her outer thigh, or else savvy enough to ignore it.
“Oh, not all of it. There’s so much we could do, Susie. Things your books only hint at,” I whisper, and kiss her again.