Chapter Six Gal Friday #3
I need to sleep. So does she. I hope exhaustion wins before the wolf does.
I’ve read, from what obscure texts I’ve been able to pick up, that I can only infect a human by biting them or scratching them when I’m in my beasty form—but siring a werewolf-human child is entirely possible.
What happens to those children? I’m not sure.
Susie has to know what I am—or I have to stop myself from ever sharing the final intimacy with her.
She’s going to want children one day. She’d be a spitfire of a mother, brave, fearless, and brilliant.
Any child would be lucky to have a mother like her. I know if a child of hers was cursed like me—she’d fight to defend him, to hide him, to help him.
But a lover? That may be asking too much. I just don’t know, and so... I try to hold back.
It doesn’t matter. Susie is determined to press ahead, kissing me desperately in my dark living room as soon as I shut and lock the door.
My office has a cubby where I hide my true identity if I’m stuck too late at the office, but if I can help it, this is where I spend the nights when I’m most dangerous.
The basement of this ramshackle old place makes my office look like a resort.
This is where I’ve collected more scrolls, books, stronger chains, silver-lined shapes on my doors and on each step.
It looks like some devil-worshipping sect ought to frequent the place, but if Susan knew ancient languages, she’d know every step is a word or verse of divine protection, prayers for safety, reminders to guard the innocent.
I tell myself it has nothing to do with fear that Susan will find the basement door off the kitchen and everything to do with the lateness of the hour and her need to sleep that causes me to steer her to the bedroom.
“You can change here. I think I have another toothbrush. I’ll get some clean towels,” I say between kisses, finally prying myself away. “I’ll bring them right back.”
I do, hurrying back to her side. Not because I’m like a lovesick pup, even at my age, but because I have to keep her safe. That’s what I whisper to myself.
The door is open, and the little pink-and-white lamp with roses on the glass bowl of its shade makes the room look rosy.
But Susie is the true flower in the room, staring at me with unblinking eyes and highly colored cheeks as she stands by the foot of the bed—in nothing but a brassiere and silky-looking knickers with tiny pearl buttons on the side.
“You can’t go around looking so beautiful. I left my will of iron at the office,” I rasp, putting down the small stack of towels and a clean toothbrush on the dressing table.
“Something else felt quite steely earlier,” Susie whispers, coming over to me. “Weren’t you saying life was too short not to say what you think?”
“I was.”
“I think I’d like you to sleep in here tonight. And if...” She swallows hard. “If you don’t want to wait until things are all ‘official’ between us, Sam, I don’t care.”
“I do.”
But I’m weak for her, so damnably weak. “Could I just hold you in my arms until you fall asleep? I know we’re both tired, and it’ll hit us as soon as we hit the hay.”
“Or... Or we could do some other things. What if you kissed me? Or what if I kissed you?”
She doesn’t mean on the lips. She’s referring to what I told her yesterday. “I’m in no hurry.”
“Maybe I am. Unless you think that makes me bad?”
“It makes you perfect. Wonderful.” My mouth is already starting to fill with saliva, tongue aching to lap at her.
“If you feel comfortable with that, maybe that’s where things will lead, but I’m not expecting it.
Get cleaned up, dollface. I’ll change in the spare room.
I’d offer you a bed in there, but I don’t have one.
I got the house cheap, and I’ll fix it, little by little. ”
“Needs a woman’s touch,” Susie whispers, hand sliding gently down my arm until our fingers twine.
“Just like me?” I arch one eyebrow.
It’s a mistake. Susie studies me, head cocked. “You know, your eye is almost completely better. My brother got walloped by a pal of his, and it took almost two weeks for the eye to look normal again. You’ve only taken four days.”
“I do need a woman’s touch, then. Just since you’ve been looking after me, it’s healed.” I comfort myself that I’m not telling Susie a lie. Her touch has helped, just like her presence.
Because wolves are pack animals, and even a werewolf needs a pack. A mate. His source of strength and comfort.
Suddenly, I can’t let her hand go. I can’t bear to be apart from her, not for one second.
I gather her into my arms and kiss her, cupping her round cheeks in my hands, fingers working their way back to smooth through her hair as it hangs soft and loose to her shoulders.
“Susie, I’m in love with you. I... I wanted you to know that. ”
“Good,” she whispers, her fingers flying across my shirt buttons. “I’m in love with you, too. I can’t help it.”
“I don’t want to help it. I just want to protect you.
I don’t want to do anything to put you in the family way.
I know ways to avoid that, and I know how to wait.
” Even as I’m promising her some fragment of sensible behavior, I’m unhooking her brassiere catches and staring hungrily at the prettiest, fullest breasts you can imagine, snowy white, round as halved honeydew melons, and topped with little plump raspberries of nipples.
My mouth moves on its own, down to suckle the right, then the left, while my hands fasten on her hips.
Susie unsnaps the little pearl buttons on the side of her knickers, stepping out of them and revealing a thatch of dark curls that a man would pay to get lost in.
My kisses travel south, over her smooth belly and the plump little curve that puffs out over her curls, small but perfect to cushion my hands as I hold her close and take her from behind.
The only way I can stop imagining her with her perfect ass against my hips, and my knot working its way inside of her virgin pussy is to distract myself with what I’m hungriest for.
Her scent. Her sex.
My knees give, and I hit the floor.
“Sam!” Susie gasps, alarmed.
I don’t answer. Too hungry. Too needy. My fingers dig into her outer thighs, then gentle. “You’re beautiful. So perfect,” I murmur in awe, nose and mouth reverently kissing her curls. “Sit on the bed, sweetheart.”
“Only if you turn off the lamp and do something so I don’t feel quite so underdressed,” Susie whispers, covering her breasts with one arm.
I obey at once, turning the lamp’s brass key-like switch and plunging the room into darkness.
I can hear Sam drop his trousers with the swish and heavy clink of whatever is in his pockets. I hear the rustle of his shirt and shoes being tossed and kicked into the corner. Then, he kneels.
Kneels and parts my knees, kissing first one inner thigh, then the other, a pattern of soft, hungry suckles that lead his mouth to my soaking wet place, a place I offered tonight.
Told him I wanted to learn more about the kisses he mentioned.
I was only thinking about how good it would feel.
I didn’t think about how messy it might be.
“Men do this?” I whisper in the dark.
“Only the good ones,” Sam says, and lands his lips against my curls again. This time, his fingers join in, just beneath. Pressing on my lips. Opening me up. Exposing all the wet, slick mess of arousal.
“You must think I’m quite the eager one,” I laugh nervously.
“That’s what a real man wants. He wants his lover to be eager. Warm, wet, and ready. It means you want me, Susie. Why wouldn’t I love that?”
I try to think up a witty reply when his tongue hits my seam, and those intense, inescapable feelings start.
Little licks turn into full-on kisses, his tongue dipping into me.
“Oh, God. Sam. Sam!” My spine goes to jelly more and more with every lick.
Sam pushes me back on the bed with a grunt, scooting me up with my thighs against his broad shoulders and my hands digging into that lush crop of hair, nails in his scalp when his lips wrap around my button.
“I’m going to suck this little love button until you come for me, babydoll. All right? Is that all right with my girl?”
“Yes! Oh, yes...” I bite my tongue to stop from saying words I shouldn’t know, words that suddenly want to come out of my mouth.
“You want to make noise, Susie-Q? You go right ahead,” Sam chuckles, and looks up at me, chin on my curls, lips wet in the light that spills from the hall.
“I don’t use words like—”
“I’m your boss, right? I’m giving you an order.
Whatever words you want to say in here are fine.
I won’t think you’re less of a lady. Remember, one day, you’re going to be the wife of Mr. Silverman, respected banker.
” Sam chuckles, and with that incongruous proper statement, he gives me a lewd smirk and sucks my nub again.
“Fuck!” I whimper.
“On our honeymoon. Niagara Falls? I’d say Paris, but not just now. Maybe for our anniversary, when money’s a little better,” Sam teases, but yet, I believe him.
“Ohhh, God. Sam, just keep going,” I beg, not caring if I sound like a harlot. My hips squirm against his face. “Put your tongue in again,” I hiss, eyes closed.
He obeys at once, but then moves his hand to my pussy, stroking it while his tongue flickers on my bead again. “Let me see if this feels good, sweetie. Just a little while I’m sucking on you.”
Sam’s finger slides in, just an inch or two, and presses up, as if he’s trying to tickle my love button from the other side. The pressure is exquisite, and I buck like some show pony with a burr under its painted saddle.
“Are you trying to fuck my finger, beautiful?”
I flush pinker than I already am, but nod. “Looks like.”
“That’s a good sign, right? Feels good?” Sam rubs inside of me, gentle but firm circles, just inside the entrance.