Page 6 of Claimed By the Werewolf Boss

Chapter fiv e

Valentino

Or there can be a rat.

Junelle crosses her arms. There is another beautiful member of the family .

My heart wells up with a softness I try to keep buried deep inside.

For as vicious and animalistic as Andrea says I am, I’ve always wanted a love like theirs.

When she moves, a hint of the bite on her shoulder from where Andrea placed his claim comes into view, and that softness morphs into a desire for my mate.

I could put a mark like that on Cheyenne tonight.

A little wining and dining, and as much decent conversation as I can manage before I drag her out of the restaurant and fuck her full of my cum.

Her shoulder would look so pretty with a crescent moon of teeth decorating it.

I could kiss it every morning while we lie in bed together.

“You’re dressed nice.” She flicks her eyes up and down my suit. “She likes a date who is willing to put in the effort.”

Well, fuck a duck. Cheyenne told Junelle, or at least enough for her to make an educated guess. She hasn’t read me the riot act, at least. Maybe that’s what she’s going to do now, and I should try to deflect.

“Nothing is going to outshine your weekend,” I promise, a smile pulling at the corner of my mouth.

“So it’s like any other first date you’ve been on in the past three years?” She turns on me. “She’s just interesting enough to warm your bed for a night?”

Anyone else would know better than to use a tone like that with me. Hell, Junelle’s seen me at work. She knows what I am, what Andrea is. We don’t scare her for a moment.

I still scowl at her. “Those dates were always well aware of the situation. ”

“Does she know the situation ?” She pushes. Her dark eyes are discerning, like she’s trying to read my thoughts before I even have them. Junelle didn’t have the best introduction to our family. When Andrea said he’d found his mate, I didn’t think it would be followed with and she’s in my trunk .

“Not yet,” I say before quickly pulling my soon-to-be niece into my arms. We hug for a second before she pokes my side to give her more of an answer. “But I promise, before the end of the weekend she’ll know everything .”

She squeezes me quickly and then steps back to look up at me. “Good. Maybe you’ll know everything by then too.”

She smiles and walks right back out of the room. What the fuck does that mean, Junelle? From here, Andrea’s whispered voice is crystal clear. Am I okay? More than he realises despite the current shitstorm on our hands. I check my watch and head for the foyer to wait for Cheyenne.

Prowling is in my nature, stalking and lurking just a part of the job even when you’re the boss.

I turn the corner but stop in my tracks when I see my girl all dressed up.

My head falls back as a growl threatens to rip from my throat.

Those fairy tales about wolves going after maidens are about to become so very true .

I’m not sure what this style of dress is, but the sleeves cling to her soft arms, revealing the long expanse of tan lines, sunburns, and freckles.

There isn’t a bra strap in sight, and the deep cut of her dress pushes her heavy breasts up in a way that has me convinced she isn’t wearing a bra at all.

My cock surges to life, knot beginning to fill as my canines extend along with my hair and ears.

The tight fit of her dress accents the natural curve of her body.

The soft lavender gingham reminds me of lazy afternoons in the sun, sweet fruits, and wet pussy to drown in.

A perfect way to enjoy my mate. She turns away from me, and the corset strings at the back of her dress pull me in like a dog on a leash.

Before I can control myself, I’ve got my arms wrapped around Cheyenne.

I pull her plush body into mine and press my nose against her neck.

Lavender, lemons, rose perfume that makes my dick twitch.

I’m tempted to say we skip the date altogether and go right to my suite. Let everyone hear me claim my mate.

“I—” Her words cut off in a soft hum when I kiss her throat down to her shoulder.

“You look beautiful,” I murmur. “Good enough to eat.”

“I wasn’t sure if this was going to be nice enough.

The only other dress I brought was for the wedding.

My other clothes are just like beach clothes,” she rambles.

“ I wasn’t thinking about dates when I was packing.

Junelle said this was going to be a chill trip with family, nothing fancy, but like I know that Andrea is a rich guy, and I didn’t want to look weird compared to everyone else—”

“This is perfect, Cheyenne. And nobody would ever say otherwise when you’re with me.” My fingers brush against her stomach and her hips, the generous curves calling to me from under her frilly skirt. Her body tenses against me like it did before.

Reluctantly, I let her go with a final kiss to her shoulder. First date, meet appropriate societal expectations, then worship every square inch of her body. She turns to look at me, cheeks flushed and eyes bright.

“Do you need anything else before we head out?” I ask.

“No, I shared my location with Junelle, and I’ve got my phone and card in my pocket.

” She places her hand in the folds of her dress and flaps the fabric to show me.

Not that she’ll need her money tonight or ever again, but it makes me happy she’s prepared.

Junelle knowing where we’re going is fine.

I’m sure Cheyenne will take pictures too.

“Okay then, sweetheart, let’s go.”

Cheyenne is quiet on the drive into town.

Her thighs are pressed firmly together with her hands clasped just as tightly.

She nods along to her music that plays but otherwise stares out the window at the scenery.

I should try to make conversation, but stealing glances at her is doing more for me.

Seeing her like this, guarded and tense, tells me a lot about her.

She’s nervous about our date, but her panties are still wet from when I kissed her neck. Locked in the car as we are, the air is circulating the smell of her arousal around. When we arrive at the hotel, I look over at my girl before getting out. My hand stills hers over the seatbelt.

“Are you nervous because of me or something else?” I ask.

“Being in a crowd, restaurants are loud, people might stare and judge me, what if I spill food on my dress? I barely know you, but I already feel attached to you,” she confesses in a rush before swallowing as if to keep the rest of her words down.

I curl my fingers tighter around hers as warmth swells in my chest. “Trust me, I feel very attached to you already. As for the other stuff, I’m sorry I can’t erase those thoughts from your head or make everything perfect, but give me ten minutes and I’ll make this an easier date. ”

Cheyenne scrunches up her face, and it’s the cutest damn thing I’ve ever seen.

I cup her cheek and pull her in for a kiss.

Her breath hitches in her throat before our lips briefly meet.

She is so soft under me, so giving. I want to pull at all the parts of her until she is putty in my hands and nothing makes her feel anxious again.

I climb out of the car and walk up to the valet.

“Ciao, sir, can I have your name for the reservation?” a young man asks.

“Benetti,” I say, watching the man’s eyes go wide. “And we are only parking here, but I need to check something at the restaurant first. Don’t let anyone near the car.”

He nods quickly, and I take the short walk down the path to leave the hotel gate.

The place we’re going to eat has a gorgeous garden where most people dine in the same area where their food is grown.

There is a historic lemon grove that the chef uses to make the best limoncello in Italy.

But I also know that there is a private dining space in their wine cellar.

It’s a quick conversation with the manager.

The couple currently using the room to celebrate their fiftieth wedding anniversary get a beautiful, fat roll of euros from the Benettis to leave right now.

When they see me standing by the front, they are quick to apologise.

I also instruct the staff that my wife and I would like to dine with as much privacy as possible .

My wife. I stroll back up to the hotel with a stupid smirk on my face. She isn’t married to me yet, but she might as well be. The rumour about our dining experience will surely be spread throughout the city before the end of the night.

“We are all sorted.” I open her door and offer my hand.

Cheyenne takes it and blows out a breath. She doesn’t let go of me either when we start to walk down the path.

“Wow,” she mumbles as we walk to the restaurant. “Isn’t this like sacrilegious or something?”

“Nah,” I smile. “This hasn’t been a church for a very long time.”

I watch her every reaction as we enter. Her lips part at the warm lights that cascade from the vaulted ceilings. Her fingers clench mine tightly as she sees the garden area, the lemons hanging from the pergolas already. She doesn’t notice the side glances or hear the whispers the way I do.

“Is that?”

“She must be…”

“So pretty.”

The ma?tre d’h?tel waits off to the side quietly and, once we have our fill, they lead us into the cellar. The large room has all but two sturdy chairs removed, sitting next to each other. There is already a bottle of white wine in an ice bath and a red wine next to it.

I stop Cheyenne from pulling out her chair herself. She looks at me a bit like I’m crazy, but when I do it and gesture for her to sit, she complies. With ease, I push her chair in as well and sit myself.

“The chef would like to prepare a special menu for you, Mr Benetti. Is there anything you wish not to eat?” they ask softly, pouring flavoured water from a pitcher I hadn’t noticed.

“I’m happy to eat anything.” I look over at Cheyenne.

“I don’t like fish, but prawns are okay.”

“Are you allergic to anything?”

“No,” we answer together.

They nod and leave us to it. I sound like such a fucking old man when I describe our conversation like that, but that’s just it.

Because we’ve already done a background check on Cheyenne, I know the basics.

She doesn’t blink when I ask deeper questions.

She explains why she doesn’t speak to her parents anymore.

I’m more than happy to listen to her rant about public education, politics, and for some reason, the economics of romance books.

“Do you read a lot?” I ask. I think I have read one other book in the last decade, but if that’s something Cheyenne likes to do in her free time, I can try to get into it with her .

“Not as much as I want, but I’ve reached this weird point where I’m either critiquing books instead of enjoying them, or feeling bad about myself,” she says.

“Why would reading make you feel bad?”

“Have you ever seen someone else’s work and thought you’d never be able to compare? Like that guy in the office whose proposal is that extra bit more thorough or maybe someone is lifting just that little bit more than you at the gym?”

“No,” I answer honestly. I’m not great at everything, that would be ridiculous. But I’m fucking spectacular at making sure we have the greatest people in our organisation. I was raised to never feel inadequate about anything.

“Well.” She takes a sip of her wine. “I get that feeling a lot when I read.”

“You shouldn’t,” I say with too much force. I can’t make her think things or change ingrained habits with two little words. “Everyone has their own skills, and as long as you’re open to learn, trying your best each day, there’s no limit to what you can do.”

“What podcast did you get that from?” She laughs.

“Ouch, honey.” I grab my heart as if her teasing hurt me. “I happened to hear that from Zed Q talk, thank you very much.”

“Do you do podcasts or anything?”

“Sadly, I was cursed with the sports gene. I’m a season ticket holder for the five pro teams in Tolson.”

Cheyenne tries very hard to control her features, but she would be shit at poker. I’m not at all surprised she has no interest in professional sports. It’s not exactly the most peaceful environment for relaxing.

“Don’t worry, I won’t drag you along to any if you don’t want to.”

“I like sports romance, if that counts for anything.” She blushes before scooping up a dainty mouthful of risotto.

She groans as the flavours burst on her tongue. It’s so damn erotic. My food might as well all be the same. I can’t even remember what the previous two courses were. My cock throbs with need every time she takes a bite.

“Do you not like it?” she asks, eyeing my untouched plate.

“I’m craving something else, sweetheart.” I put my napkin on the table and stand.

Before she can question me, I pull her up too. Cheyenne makes a high-pitched noise that has the wolf side of me snarling for a hunt. She’s not running like prey, though. She stares at me with wide, confused eyes until I slam our mouths together. Like this morning, she melts into me .

Her hands slide up to my shoulders and her little whimper is nearly my undoing.

I wind a hand around the back of her neck to keep her lips on mine while I use the other one to pull at the strings at the back of her dress.

Her pulse jumps under my touch. I can’t stop myself from rubbing my thumb under her soft jaw and down to the base of her neck.

God, she tastes so fucking perfect. She opens up for me, lets me lead her without a moment of hesitation when I plunge my tongue into her mouth. She groans around me, and I want to hear more of those sounds, unmuted and drawn out.

She presses her body into mine. I’m not shy about the bulge in my trousers. My dick’s been hard since I first saw her in this dress, and I’m not going to settle for jerking off in the woods tonight. Cheyenne will be mine.

“Hold on to me,” I instruct, chest heaving as I look down at her flushed face.

“Why?”

Even as she asks, I feel her grip on my suit jacket tighten.

I let go of her neck for a moment to hold her waist firmly.

Cheyenne’s a big girl, soft and squishy in a way that calls to the predator in me.

It’s like my body knows it will find nourishment and comfort in all the parts of her she’s shown me she’s uncomfortable having caressed.

I lift her up and set her ass on the table. She gasps as the plates rattle quietly.

“I’m going to eat my dessert now,” I breathe out, doing my best to hold on to my senses. Wolfing out isn’t going to get my face buried between her thick thighs. “And I want you to scream my name when you come on my face.”