Pack Challenge (12 page)

“Thrilled,” he muttered as he pried her hand off his arm. Once accomplished, he pushed her skirt up above her scar.

Working hard not to panic or fall all over the man like a slobbering puppy, she demanded, “What exactly are you doing?”

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Shelly Laurenston

“Nothing,” he lied as he ran his hand over her thigh, increasing her pleasure, although she did her best not to enjoy it. The bastard wasn’t even looking at her but kept watching his own hand move over her flesh.

Eventually, the other hand joined in to move along the back of her knee and the bit of exposed calf above her boot. She watched his hands too, marveling at how big they were. They had light scars, faded over time and tanned from exposure to the sun. Nails clipped or bitten down as low as possible without hitting the quick. And now those tanned, scarred hands were slipping between her thighs and slowly pulling her legs apart.

She bolted straight up, but he shook his head, still not looking at her. “Don’t. You’re distracting me.”

Distracting him? Was he serious?
She
was distracting
him
?

His right hand moved back to massaging her scar while his left hand went deeper between her thighs. His thumb ran along the seam of her ultra-fancy Jockey For Her bikini briefs for about three seconds before he simply ripped them off. Sara gasped, her body jerking forward. And, before she could stop herself, before she could think about the logic of this one action or punching herself in the face, she slammed her lips against his. Her tongue slipped into his mouth, while his thumb slipped between the folds of her sex. She leaned into his hand and his thumb slowly circled her clit.

Moaning into his mouth, her arms went around his neck, but he pulled back .

If he stops I’m going to wring his big neck.

But he didn’t stop, instead his hands went under her hips and roughly yanked her to the edge of the cabinet she was on. Crouching in front of her, he pushed his head between her legs. Grabbing the sides of the cabinet, Sara held on for dear life.

Sara knew she should stop him. Knew she should slap his face and limp off, her head held high. She should be home, safe—and alone—in

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Pack Challenge

bed watching another episode of “Seinfeld” for the four-thousandth time.

She definitely shouldn’t be here, leaning back, letting a stranger bury his head between her legs and ever so slowly swirl his tongue around her clit, taking up where his finger left off. No, she really shouldn’t. But Sara didn’t want to stop him. Instead, she snaked her hands through his brown hair and spread her legs farther apart. And then, to ensure her place as a slut, she arched her back and pulled his head closer into her.

She felt him chuckle against her burning flesh and a low growl erupted from her throat.

Big hands gripped her thighs, holding her steady as Zach worked his tongue around and in her. No one had ever gotten her this crazy before.

This hungry to be fucked. And Zach was doing it all with his tongue.

Christ, what was she doing? Had she lost her mind? Maybe she finally had, but who was she kidding? Nothing in her life before had ever felt this good. Absolutely nothing. Her fears of the last few months, her pain—all forgotten as Zach’s tongue fucked her.

It was the way he did it. He didn’t rush it or her. He took his time, savoring the taste of her. Eating her out like she had the most important pussy on the planet.

And when he began to swipe his tongue up and down her clit, the low growl he’d steadily pumped out of her exploded into a scream as an orgasm tore from her gut and straight up her spine. She gripped his head tighter as she came and came, and his tongue kept moving and licking, bringing on wave after wave of killer pleasure.

In the same moment, she felt a sharp pain in her thigh where her scar was, but it only lasted a second and was gone. Compared to what she’d put up with the last few months, she barely noticed it.

Panting, Sara slumped back against the wall, her eyes closed, her fingers finally loosening from his thick hair. He slowly pulled away but not before he licked the inside of her thigh which, inexplicably, Sara found really sweet.

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Shelly Laurenston

Maybe she would go to sleep right here. In this dingy little shack. But the sound of cloth ripping forced her to open her eyes. Zach had taken off his T-shirt and was tearing it into several strips. She marveled at his body. Tanned skin stretched over thick muscles as broad shoulders and chest narrowed into a tapered waist. The bastard simply had no idea how gorgeous he was, or the affect he had on her.

“Looks like I scratched your leg a bit.” She looked at her thigh but he’d already wrapped material around it.

To be blunt, she really didn’t give a shit. Right at the moment, she didn’t give a shit about anything.

Until she heard Miki screaming her name a few hundred feet from the shack. There was no way in hell she’d explain this little scenario to her friends. Not in this lifetime. Without thinking, Sara snapped to attention, kneeing Zach right in the face. “Oh, sorry,” she mumbled absently. She pushed him out of the way, slammed her hat back on her head, and charged out the door.

Zach sat on the floor of what even he would consider a hovel. His favorite T-shirt in shreds, his jaw in complete agony from where her knee slammed into it, and the taste of Sara’s pussy still fresh and sweet on his tongue. And he was busy trying to figure out what the hell happened.

He had one simple mission for himself when he brought her here. To stop her pain. It was killing her. He could see that as plainly as her cute little nose. And he figured he needed to try Marrec’s suggestion of bleeding her. From there he decided explaining the truth would scare her off, so he had to distract her somehow. Okay, simple enough. Since his hands on her appeared to make her quite happy, why not a hand job?

Hell, it couldn’t hurt. Only five minutes out of his day. At least that was the plan. But the more he rubbed her leg, the more his dick got hard.

The more she made that sound in the back of her throat, the more his dick got hard. And then she kissed him. Like that first night, but she

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Pack Challenge

wasn’t drunk. She knew exactly what she was doing and that made it even hotter. She wanted him. Before he knew it, he was practically on his knees, his face buried in her sweet little pussy. He could still feel her hands in his hair and hear that growling sound she made…

Zach gave a growl of his own and stood up. “Fuck this shit.” He angrily yanked off his boots and jeans. Standing naked in the middle of the room, he shifted.

A few minutes later, a two-hundred-pound dark brown wolf silently padded out of the shack. He smelled her scent in the air and knew exactly the direction she’d gone to meet up with her friends—so he turned and trotted off the opposite way.

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Shelly Laurenston

She sailed through the intense question-and-answer portion of the evening—Where did you go?
Nowhere
. Did you see Zach?
Nope.
What happened to your leg?
Just a scratch.

She flew through Miki’s twenty minute analysis on the group’s business. Some of the hottest clubs any of them had heard of in San Francisco, Seattle, New York, London, Milan. The list went on and on.

Miki also analyzed why a bunch of so-called club owners would be in a dinky little town in Texas throwing a rave.

But it was Angelina’s innocent “I had so much fun tonight” while they were driving home that Sara simply couldn’t take the pressure any more.

“
I’m a whore
!” she screeched suddenly.

Miki hit the brakes of the white pickup, causing the vehicle to fishtail. It stopped in the middle of the deserted highway, across two lanes.

The three friends sat in the truck, not moving, not speaking. They stared out at the big, star-filled Texas sky.

Miki, her hands still gripping the steering wheel, glanced at Sara.

“You’re not wearing any underwear, are you?” Sara let out a strangled squeal and buried her head in her hands.

Angelina and Miki burst out laughing.

“Bitches,” Sara growled.

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Pack Challenge

It had been a busy night for Sara. A slammin’ rave, head from a stranger, and shit from her friends. But she was sure it was the mere three hours of sleep making her unbelievably cranky. As soon as she got to work, Randy, her favorite cutie pie pit bull, had taken one look at her and run the other way. She almost took it personally but then she’d ripped poor Marrec’s head off as soon as she walked into the shop. In response, he ran out and got her a large cup of coffee, like an offering to some evil bitch goddess, then scurried away to his workshop to finish off some guy’s order. She didn’t blame him or Randy. She was being a total bitch and she knew it.

Actually, that wasn’t right. She blamed Zach.

What a stupid name—Zach. He was stupid. Stupid, big-armed, big-handed bastard. Both Miki and Angelina assured her she would never see the guy again.

“Honey, he’s a biker. He got his wings and flew.” That was after they arrived back at her house. During this portion of the conversation, she buried her head in the couch, her hands over her ears, but her friends weren’t giving her a break.

“Would you prefer we lied to you?” Miki asked. “Tell you he’s going to marry you and take you away from all this?”

“We love you too much to do that,” Angelina added.

Yeah, sure. That was it.

Sara flipped through a magazine she found lying around the store.

She figured it must be Angelina’s since it had all the newest fashions, none of which Sara knew or cared about. She wasn’t really reading anything. She wasn’t even seeing the pictures. All she kept seeing were those big hands and those beautiful hazel eyes. She kept remembering how his tongue tasted and the feel of his hands on her legs…between her thighs…and that delicious little “swirly” thing he did with his tongue…

“Hi.”

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Shelly Laurenston

“Nothing!” she snapped, for no reason in particular. She saw Angelina in front of her.

“Hmm, I wonder what you’ve been thinking about?” her friend asked with mock innocence.

Sara sneered at her. “Why are you here?”

“I was just seeing how my best friend was doing after her recent bout with promiscuity.”

“I’m tired and cranky.”

“Clearly.” Angelina tugged on her friend’s leather jacket. “Come on.

Let’s get you out of here, cranky girl. I’ll get you lunch or something.” Sara’s eyes narrowed. “Did Marrec call you?” Angelina turned on that dazzling smile. “Well, he’s been hiding in the back now for two hours. You scared the shit out of him.”

“Honestly.” When did everybody turn into such pussies?

Sara slipped off the stool and grabbed her backpack. “I’m leaving,” she yelled at the back door. “You can come out of hiding now.” Sara came around the corner and moved toward the front door. When she realized Angie wasn’t next to her, she stopped and spun around. “Are you coming or what?”

The expression on Angie’s face startled her. She was staring at Sara like she’d grown another head. “What?
What?
” Sara looked down at herself. “Is there a bug on me?” She slapped at her jeans, trying to get off a bug she didn’t really see.

Angelina’s eyes narrowed. “Honey—where’s your limp?”

“My…what?” Sara asked, completely confused and distracted from slapping herself stupid.

“I’ve known you twenty years, Sara Morrighan. And since day one, I’ve watched you limp that wide ass around this town.”

“Hey. It is
not
wide!”

“And now, today, I watched you practically skip to the front door like goddamn Pollyanna. Pain free. What the hell’s going on?”

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Pack Challenge

Sara looked down at her legs. She took a few steps. Nope. No limp.

Because there was no pain. None. Stranger still, even on those rare occasions Sara didn’t have pain, her leg was always so weak she still had the limp. Now it felt like her wounded left leg was as strong as her right.

And both felt even stronger than that.

Sara bent her knee and raised her leg up. She stretched the leg out behind her and leaned forward. No pain. No weak muscles. Just fluid movement.

Sara had been so late this morning and so busy thinking about Zach, she hadn’t even realized it. In fact, when she got out of bed she immediately started limping out of habit.

“I don’t know. It hurt yesterday.”
A lot
.

Angelina stood next to her now, concern written all over her face. She knew what her friend was thinking. Stuff like this didn’t happen to people like them. Random events of good luck is what Miki always called it. In their world, people didn’t win the lottery, meet the perfect man, or suddenly get better. And that meant only one thing…

“Oh, my God. I’m dying.”

“
What
?” Angelina shook her head. “You’re not dying, you idiot.”

“Everything okay, ladies?” Marrec had reappeared and was watching them closely. Sara opened her mouth to tell him she was clearly dying because her leg suddenly felt better and people always felt better just before they died and she felt he should know since they’d always been so close, and to make sure her funeral was a tasteful affair—

“Everything’s fine, Marrec. Thanks.” Angelina pushed Sara out the door into the parking lot.

“Where’s your truck?”

Sara pointed. “Over there.”

Taking the keys sticking out of Sara’s baggy khaki pants, Angie pushed her over to the vehicle. “Get in,” she ordered.

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Shelly Laurenston

Sara looked at her friend. “I don’t want a big funeral, ya know. Just something simple.”

“Would you get the fuck in the truck,” Angie snapped.

Zach had just gotten back from hunting, stopping briefly at the nearby lake to wash the blood off his fur and paws. He’d since shifted back to human and, leaving most of the Pack by the lake’s edge, returned to the campsite to get dressed and track down Sara. He tried to convince himself it was simply to see how she was doing. To find out if opening her old wound helped her as he thought it might. But that was all just bullshit. He really wanted to see her. End of story.