Read Pleasure Me Online

Authors: Tina Donahue

Tags: #supermodel, #Shape shifter, #Black Hills, #stalking, #werewolf, #paranormal erotic, #domestic violence, #Hollywood

Pleasure Me

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This book is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.



Pleasure Me

Copyright 2016 by Tina Donahue

ISBN:  978-1-61333-995-4

Cover art by Fiona Jayde



All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.


Published by Decadent Publishing Company, LLC

Look for us online at:


Pleasure Me


There’s no place like home…especially for a wolf who shouldn’t have run away.


Wylder Aaron always knew Starr Joseph was his mate, but the time wasn’t right for them. To escape his hopeless feelings for her, he fled Los Lobos and joined the military, not even saying goodbye.


Starr wanted nothing more in life than Wylder. When he left, she fled too. Her sultry beauty made her an instant success as the new look for a major cosmetics firm. However, fame is fleeting. At twenty-six, she’s old news and forgotten. Worse, loneliness led her into the arms of another were-shifter with a jealous streak. During his last rage, he slashed the side of her face, promising to kill her the next time she tried to flee.


She did anyway, returning to the safety and anonymity of Los Lobos…straight into Wylder’s arms.


Table of Contents


Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five


A Cougar Among Wolves


Black Hills Wolves Stories


Wolf’s Return

What a Wolf Wants

Black Hills Desperado

Wolf’s Song

Claiming His Mate

When Hell Freezes

Portrait of a Lone Wolf

Alpha in Disguise

A Wolf’s Promise

Reluctant Mate

Diamond Moon

Wolf on a Leash

Tempting the Wolf

Naming His Mate

A Wolf Awakens

The Wolf and the Butterfly

Infiltrating Her Pack

Omega’s Heart

Rebel’s Claw

Claiming the She-Wolf

Worth Fighting For



Promiscuous Wolf

Disquieted Souls

A Cougar Among Wolves

Long Road Home

A Mate’s Healing Touch

Another Chance

Broken Silence

A Wolf’s Contract

A Mate’s Redeeming Touch

A Cougar Among Wolves

Pleasure Me



Winter Solstice Run


Wolf’s Holiday

Winter Magic

Winter Secrets

Winter Solstice Ménage

Wolf in Winter Clothing



Murder in Los Lobos



Scent of Murder

Scent of the Hunt

Scent of His Woman

Scent of Madness



Coming Soon



Secrets of the Hunt

Her Guardian Wolf

Jasmine Moon




A Note from Tina Donahue


I grew up reading those ‘brooding hero’ romances where the guy was always snarling, growling, and being a real pain. Definitely not my type. I love a man who can be tender and gentle in addition to being strong.


Pleasure Me
was a delight to create. I adore Wylder. Not only is he a hunk and sexy as sin, he’s honorable. The kind of guy who’ll love one woman forever. Despite the obstacles that have kept him from Starr, he knows she’s his mate. She knows it too, but fights the inevitable. He ran from her once, hurting her deeply. She doesn’t want to risk her heart again.


Wylder has his work cut out for him and woos her in such a delightful way, I couldn’t stop smiling. This sexy beast has a tender side you won’t soon forget.

I’d love to hear what you think about Wylder and Starr’s romance. You can reach me at:
[email protected]






Pleasure Me


A Black Hills Wolves Story



Tina Donahue



Chapter One


She wasn’t only back in Los Lobos, she was nearby.

Wylder pushed off his bed then stopped, feet planted widely apart, head lowered to stop his dizziness. Too bad it didn’t help.

Her fragrance wafted through his open window, rolling over him in waves and overloading his senses. Tempting whiffs of her musk laced her flowery scent. Earthy. Seductive. Images flashed in his mind. Her stripped bare on the dewy grass. Lids hooded, lips parted, arms open in welcome.

Yeah, right. He’d run off and left her once, telling himself he had no choice. Technically, he’d had none. However, he could have handled the situation better, kept in touch during the intervening years, pretended he’d given a damn because he had. More than she’d known. If he had offered her a little of his time and friendship, maybe he could have prevented the terrible events she’d faced these last months.

Too late now.

Her scent beckoned again.
Aw, God.

Speaking her name aloud was foreign to him, yet the sound glided effortlessly off his tongue. As easily as she’d always filled his thoughts.

He gulped air to clear his head and padded to the window. Sunlight slashed across the road, touching the gravel lot in front of The Den, Gee’s bar. Wylder rented a room on the second floor of the establishment. This had become his home since he’d returned from his duty in the Middle East.

He gripped the jamb, steadying himself.

She stood at the edge of the lot, facing the bar. The ends of her glossy black hair and the hem of her olive-green T-shirt fluttered in the mild breeze. Otherwise, there was no movement. She might have been posing for a major ad campaign in one of those high fashion magazines,
as she had in the past. Who knew what went through her mind at being back in town instead.

He wanted to call out, put her at ease. Fearful she might bolt, he dug his thumbnail into the wood and drank her in.

She’d filled out, no longer the slender teen he recalled, her shape womanly now. Battered jeans hugged sleek thighs. Her tee stretched provocatively across her ample breasts, the nipples pebbled against the soft cotton despite the warm summer day. A faint rose tint added a hint of color to her pale skin.

From her inner heat or embarrassment?

The wind picked up, whipping her hair back. She snatched the locks to keep them over her left ear and edge of her face.

He didn’t have to wonder why. Her mom had told him some of what happened to Starr in Los Angeles. Not enough, though.

She regarded both sides of the street. Deserted. Thick forest surrounded the small town, pines creeping up mountainsides, craggy rocks peeking through primordial vegetation.
In the distance, young male voices rang out with laughter. Teens likely racing each other to the swimming hole.

Wylder breathed a sigh of relief the kids weren’t headed toward her with their snickers, cruel comments, and mocking gazes. Dumbasses. Bullying wasn’t what Starr needed.

She tilted her face.

Their gazes met.


His heart turned over, warmth flooding him. She had the face of an angel, her high cheekbones, full mouth, and almond-shaped eyes almost too beautiful to be real. She parted her lips in what might have been surprise, wonder, or yearning. He liked to think longing was on her mind, the same as his.

Her irises shifted from light-brown to dark-gold, the way they had in the past when she’d teased, wanting to get a rise out of him.

He’d ignored her then, had to. Not any longer. Their time, here and now, had to be right for him to claim her as his mate. What he’d known from the moment he’d become a man.

He smiled. Hell, he grinned, coming perilously close to drooling.

Gold faded to brown in her eyes, her yearning expression turning to hurt then caution. She stepped back.

Shit, she was going to run. He planted his hands on the windowsill and leaned out as far as he could without falling. “Starr.”

She pivoted away then faced him again, looking at the bar rather than up toward him. With her narrow shoulders squared, she marched inside.

Tim McGraw’s
Live Like You Were Dying
stopped abruptly, along with the patrons’ laughter and conversation, everything going dead quiet as though someone had flipped a switch. Or recalled how she’d run away.

One night, she’d been in her bedroom, the next morning gone, leaving all her things behind, devastating her mom. The town searched everywhere but couldn’t find any clues to indicate someone had abducted Starr or killed her. She’d simply vanished…until her picture showed up on a magazine cover. Not one of those true crime types with gory articles about murder, but the high fashion kind. Starr had fled to New York and eventually Los Angeles for a career in modeling and entertainment. A life filled with fame, wealth, and the beautiful people. Also known as humans who didn’t shift.

He’d run, too, but had given his parents and the town fair warning. Starr hadn’t. Forgiveness wouldn’t come easy.

He yanked on his boots, praying Gee wouldn’t say something to make her cry. The werebear never forgot anything, especially if one of the pack had done something stupid. Starr had. If Gee lit into her, Wylder would have to slug him to shut him up, hopefully. Not a smart move. The guy would tear him apart as easily as he flicked a pesky fly off his arm. Wylder was no lightweight, but Gee had four inches and nearly a hundred pounds on him.

Wylder tore out of his room and down the stairs, stopping midway.

Everyone had turned in their seats to glare at Starr. If they’d been in wolf form, their hair would have been bristling, fangs bared, bodies ready to pounce.

Standing in a circle of emptiness, she lifted her right hand and held up her middle finger.

Wylder leaned against the rail, uncertain whether to laugh or groan. She wasn’t flipping anyone the bird, thank God. A bright-pink Band-Aid with white kittens graced the tip of her finger. As a returning pack member, she’d taken the required blood oath with Drew, a prick on her finger being sufficient.

Some might have wanted a deeper wound, more blood, a pound of flesh.

From the corner of the room, the Alpha in question watched the unfolding events. Tipped back in his chair, Drew sipped his beer, not getting involved.

Starr was on her own.

Gee slammed a frosty mug on the bar. Several women flinched, along with a few guys. The werebear inclined his head to the jukebox in the corner. “No one likes to play music anymore?”

One of the ladies kissed her guy hard and wiggled to the music box on impossibly high spike heels. Her wolf was going to pay for that nonsense when her paws hurt. After slipping coins inside the slot, she read the selections, and punched a button. The first strains of Carrie Underwood’s
Before He Cheats
roared through the snug, dingy room.

The women pumped their fists in a power sign and shook their booties. The guys groaned.

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