Beast in Me (The Divination Falls Trilogy) (11 page)

‘Turn around now.’ Trace was still on his knees and the realisation and the full impact of what he hoped beyond hope that meant hit Cameron. His face went unbearably warm. So warm he actually reached up to touch his burning cheeks.

‘Shut your eyes.’

He shut his eyes, though he didn’t want to. But he did it, anyway. Because Trace had asked. The moment the wolf’s tongue touched the tip of Cam’s cock, he had to curl his toes into the meagre bathmat to keep from coming. The slow and maddening drag of a humid mouth down his shaft had him reaching desperately for nothing. He finally put his hands up and grasped the metal bar that held the shower curtain.

Trace worked him slowly at first, almost daring him, with his tongue, to come. Cam shook with an effort not to. Mostly because he didn’t know if he was allowed, but also because he wanted so very much to make this last.

When his breath kept stilling in his lungs and his body seemed to run all over with a fine tremor, Trace breathed against his skin, ‘You can open them.’

Cameron opened his eyes and took him in – big, broad, beautiful beyond belief. More beautiful than he ever felt he deserved. His breath hitched.

‘When you’re ready, you may come. And you can keep your eyes open.’

It didn’t take long once he was allowed to watch. That mouth, often set in an almost-frown, drawing down the length of him. His cock disappearing an inch at a time into the recesses of wet comfort. Cameron clutched the overhead bar, gasping, driving forward just enough to give his body some control. He hoped the bar held, he hoped Trace didn’t mind, he hoped –

All of it bled away from hope into happiness as his body called the shots and let go. He came with a small sigh, giving in to what he was feeling fully. Not holding anything back.

He watched Trace lick him clean, thinking certainly he’d lost his mind and started hallucinating. And then the wolf was looking up, leering at him in a way that made him want to do it all over again. ‘So,’ Trace growled. ‘Are you hungry?’

Chapter Twenty

‘Brick oven pizza!’ Father Finn proclaimed. He set down a big wooden serving board bearing two pizzas; one laden with olives, peppers, sausage, and more, one just copious amounts of gorgeous melted cheese and what looked like fresh basil.

‘Smells great. What time is it, Father?’ Cam followed the question with a loud yawn. ‘Sorry,’ he murmured as Trace chuckled.

‘Oh, about eight. Wine? Oh wait, can you –?’

‘He’s fine,’ Trace said, eating his first slice in three big bites.

‘Isn’t that hot?’ Cam asked. He was gaping. He couldn’t help it. Steam curled off the pizza in long, white ribbons. How in the world had he eaten that? Did wolves have asbestos mouths?

Father chuckled and handed them each a glass of wine. ‘He does that all the time. Not sure how he has any taste buds left.’

Cameron shook his head and sipped his wine while he waited for his pizza to cool. ‘I’m beat. I feel like I’ve been going for days. Though I know it’s the opposite.’

‘It’s quite understandable. Your body went through a trauma,’ Finn said, seating himself across from them. He slid a piece of pizza onto his plate and blew on it. ‘So, what do you think of our fair town, Cameron? Besides the monsters and the near-death experiences.’

His eyes twinkled when he smiled, and Cameron found himself snorting with laughter. ‘Besides that, I think it’s lovely.’

Trace grabbed a second slice of steaming pizza and pressed his thigh against Cameron’s under the table. The contact made a thousand dirty thoughts – some of them memories – rush through Cam’s head. He cleared his throat. ‘What do you know about Batts Dunn, Father?’

‘You can just call me Finn,’ the priest said.

‘My grandmother would roll over in her grave and then come haunt me until I apologised,’ Cameron said.

‘Ah well, best to stick with Father, then. I know that Batts loves water. I know that Batts is friendly, drinks a bit too much, and has a lovely home that he doesn’t mind sharing. He’s basically a normal man. As we all are, here,’ he said, scratching his chin.

‘I wasn’t implying –’

‘Oh, I know,’ Finn said. ‘I know, son. Now eat. You look pale.’

‘We’re worried about him, is all,’ Trace cut in. ‘He’s missing, Father. His house is empty and he’s the only one of us who was up at the falls regularly. And after that thing pulled me under …’

Finn nodded, taking a bite of his food. He sat back and sighed. ‘I am very grateful that you’re OK, Trace. I’m very grateful you both are. I don’t know what to say about this newest development.’

Cameron, who’d had more than one bad experience with religious types who proclaimed judgment on God’s behalf for various reasons, didn’t know what to think. He asked softly, ‘You don’t think this is God’s judgment?’ He tried not to let his voice shake.

Finn looked surprised. ‘No. I don’t. God did not stand in The Den and chant and use magic to call these things up. God had nothing to do with this. Humans seeking power did. Usually, that’s how things go when they go wrong.’

Cam nodded. Good to know. The father was not a negative nay-sayer who blamed all the world’s woes on those not adhering to God’s supposed rules. He blew out a breath and ate his pizza.

‘I think we should go back tomorrow,’ Trace said, squeezing his leg under the table.

The exhaustion that flooded Cam was staggering. It was all he could handle, now that the adrenaline had left him, to keep from putting his head down on the table.

‘Not to sound like a broken record, but you look worn out,’ Finn said. ‘Let me make you a tray and Trace can carry it down for you.’

Cam thought about protesting, but his body – fatigued like it had never been – decided for him. He gave a quick nod before he could stop himself. ‘Thank you, Father.’

‘Of course.’

Trace had dropped him into bed and that had been that. Cam felt himself slipping into sleep almost immediately. The wolf dropped into the chair and started eating the pizza.

‘You staying?’ Cam asked, hoping the answer was yes, but not wanting to show it.

‘For a bit,’ Trace had said and then, ‘Shh.’

Cam had fallen asleep immediately after “Shh”.

And now, in the morning light, he saw before feeling the giant arm draped around him. Cameron studied the espresso coloured hair, the way Trace’s wrists were both delicate and manly at the same time. How broad the wolf’s thumb was, how scarred his knuckles were. How he breathed in steady, deep waves and how the air from his exhalations tickled the back of Cam’s neck.

Cameron craned his neck to see that Trace was indeed on top of the comforter while he was under it. The rectory had air conditioning, and considering the rooms were underground anyway, they got quite cool in the night.

He strained to see what Trace was wearing – praying it was nothing. It turned out to be his boxers and socks and nothing more. Apparently that was a good look for the wolf because Cam’s cock got hard just looking.

‘What are you staring at me for?’ Trace growled without opening his eyes. He did give a small smile when Cam started.

‘Jesus, stop scaring me like that!’ His heart thundered and his mouth was dry. The man had truly looked asleep. He was good at playing possum. The fear turned into a low, but still nervous, buzzing of excitement in his bones.

‘You really have to stop calling me Jesus,’ Trace said right in his ear. He held Cam’s hip in his big hand and pushed forward so that Cam could feel the wolf’s hard-on nestling neatly against his ass crack.

‘How about
God
that feels good?’ Cam teased. He liked that he felt comfortable enough to do that. They’d been intimate more than once, had even grown closer, but something about Trace – something
in
Trace – still felt at arm’s length. He swallowed hard. ‘Why are you on top of the blankets?’

The wolf shrugged, but his lips brushed the back of Cam’s neck making all the fine hairs stand on end. A charge ran up Cameron’s skin and under his hair to make his scalp tingle. A familiar, yet odd, sensation given it had nothing to do with lightning this time.

‘Because,’ Trace said, ‘you didn’t invite me into your bed. I just decided I wanted to be there. It seemed the right thing to do.’

Cam shook his head. ‘You’re nuts. I want you –’ he licked his lips ‘– under the covers with me.’

‘They’ll be here soon to talk. To make a plan,’ Trace said, dragging his tongue along the nape of Cam’s neck. When Cam shivered, he chuckled. It was a dark, teasing laugh. ‘What if we don’t have time?’ His hand came around to grip Cam’s erection, it pressed eagerly to the thin comforter. When he squeezed gently, all the air left Cameron’s lungs.

‘We make time,’ he managed.

‘If you say so.’ The wolf moved swiftly under the comforter and then there was barely any barrier between them. Trace’s cock, made even silkier by the over-washed cotton of his boxers, pressed the cleft of Cam’s ass.

‘Why do you have those on?’

‘Why do you have these on?’ Trace countered, slipping a finger beneath Cameron’s boxer-brief waistband to touch his skin.

‘Take them off me,’ Cam said by way of an answer.

‘Oh, I like it when you boss me around,’ Trace said. He leant over enough for Cameron to see his face. He was smiling. ‘Off with these, then.’ He helped Cam wriggle free of his underwear and they went sailing across the room.

Cameron let the laughter roll out of him. It felt good. When Trace pressed against him, still clad in boxers, he couldn’t not baulk. ‘Now what is that?’

‘What, these?’ Trace asked, rolling his hips so that his erection ground boldly against Cam’s ass.

‘Yes, those.’

‘Were these in your way?’ Trace asked, all mock surprise.

‘They are. They’re in the way of something I want – in me,’ he added for good measure.

A growl burst out of Trace and it made the skin on Cam’s shoulders feel as if it were rippling. He let the feeling rush over him but also revelled in this angle of Trace he’d never seen. Playful. He’d seen him surly, randy, bold, and passionate. Never playful. It was new and exciting. Just like the man himself.

‘In you, you say.’ The boxers were gone just like that, and Trace was nestled there against him. Every warm inch of him pressed to Cameron. Lips came down on the back of his neck again and Cameron sighed, bending forward just a little. Just enough to press his bottom against Trace. To show him that he’d meant it.

‘In me,’ he said on a breath.

‘In you,’ Trace repeated. He bent Cameron just a bit more with a hand splayed on the small of his back. Cam went willingly.

Trace moved against him, the lazy, languid slide of skin on skin. Impossibly hot smooth skin against Cam. He found he was holding his breath. Let it out. But then Trace’s hand slipped around under his waist to find Cam’s cock. He was holding his breath again.

‘You’re hot. Your skin,’ Trace said. Teeth grazed along the slope of Cameron’s shoulder and he had to suppress a shiver. ‘You’re hot all the time. Everywhere. Like an oven.’

His laughter turned to a moan when Trace started to stroke him. His fist the perfect pressure as he moved along Cameron’s shaft. Every few strokes he’d pause to squeeze and then trace the tip of Cam’s weeping cock with his thumb, smearing the precome there. It was a sensation that brought Cameron down to a sigh.

‘Good?’ Trace asked.

Cameron could hear the smile in his voice. So he just nodded and began thrusting boldly into Trace’s hand. The wolf’s free hand, still clamped against Cam’s hipbone, gripped him harder to steady him. Cameron felt glad for it, it made him feel grounded even as his heart began to pound and his head went swimmy. He was hard with morning wood, he was horny, he was being touched. As much as he’d like to appear well seasoned and in control, he would not … ‘I won’t last long,’ he grunted. ‘Sorry.’

‘Why be sorry, Lightning Boy? It’s the very definition of a quickie. Fast, frantic, dirty. My favourite flavour.’ His sharp teeth nipped Cameron’s earlobe.

Cam moaned, thrusting again even as Trace stroked and squeezed and handled him. The heat of his hand, coupled with friction, pushed Cameron over the edge. He came with a muffled cry as he bit his tongue and waited to taste blood. The orgasm knocked him for a loop, bringing white stars in the dark behind his closed eyelids. Making his ears ring. For a few seconds his heartbeat and his breathing were all-consuming, his pleasure a force all its own.

‘Good?’ Trace asked again.

‘Is that even a real question?’

‘No.’

Cameron bent forward just a bit to allow the wolf’s ministrations. He knew what he was doing, but the knowledge didn’t detract one bit from the arousal it inspired. Trace worked a finger into him. A warm and slippery finger that slid in perfectly fine, thank you very much. And then a second joined the first. Patiently, the wolf spread him, worked him, manipulated until his body relaxed and welcomed him in. It was his own come the wolf was using as lubricant to ease his way, and that made Cam’s cock twitch despite being spent.

‘Still want me in you?’ Trace asked. It was a sincere question, touching Cameron’s heart so that unexpected tears stung his eyes. My God. He could not go all Liftetime movie here.

He nodded.

‘Good.’

He was slow at first. Pressing forward with just the tip, letting Cameron relax and open for him. Almost too slow, Cam thought. He found himself wanting to push back and force the issue, but when the wolf’s mouth clamped – damp and balmy – against the back of his neck and his hands gripped possessively against his skin, he gave in. He would let Trace go at the speed he needed to. It was easy to surrender when you trusted someone the way he trusted the wolf. He had no concrete reasons to trust that way, he knew, but after the last few days, everything was accelerated. All the people he’d met upon arrival were working together. All of them trusting one another. He simply trusted Trace just a bit more, trusted him in his body.

Inch by inch, Trace entered until Cam was panting, moving and shifting just a bit even though he was trying not to. ‘Easy,’ Trace said, kissing his shoulder.

When he was in fully, Trace put his hand over Cam’s chest and started to count. ‘One … Two … Three …’

‘What are you counting?’

‘Heartbeats,’ the wolf said.

‘Why?’ Cameron was aching for his lover to move. Dying for there to be friction and fucking.

‘Shh. Eight … Nine … Ten …’

Then he began moving. ‘I wanted you to be calm. I wanted you to enjoy it.’

‘I am!’ Cameron laughed wildly.

‘I wanted you to enjoy it
more.
’

‘Oh.’ And it was a bit more. His whole body had waited, pausing as his heartbeats were tallied. So when Trace began to move in earnest, moving deep and hard, it was good. Better. The best.

‘They’re coming,’ Trace whispered. ‘They’re out in the parking lot.’ His movements accelerated, his fingers on Cam’s skin were more aggressive.

They moved together, a moan breaking free of Cam as Trace’s movements became more intense, more chaotic.

‘Good morning, Cameron,’ Trace grunted, driving in deep once more. ‘A man could get used to waking this way,’ he rasped, then he was coming. His teeth scraping Cam’s skin.