Page 14

14

Truffle Pig

M en always think they’re so clever whenever they propose a surprise date. It’s sweet in theory, but in reality, it’s annoying as shit trying to figure out what to wear. We could go deep sea scuba diving for all I know, and I could land on a ball gown. I settled on a pair of jeans, a tank top, and a cardigan. It’s the morning, after all, so my ensemble shouldn’t require any frills.

I stand in my driveway, arms crossed over my chest, and not letting amusement grace my face as Brick pulls in. He parks, giving a tight-lipped smile. I guess he’s not opening the door for me. My stomach bundles at the thought of our conversation yesterday as I stomp to the passenger side and climb inside.

“Hello,” I say, not brave enough to meet his eyes. He just nods as a greeting before backing out and driving down the road.

If I thought the car ride was awkward during our last date, I was gravely mistaken. The silence coating us brings a whole new meaning to the word uncomfortable. One minute, Brick is stoic and uncaring; the next, hate lights his eyes, and then bam, he turns into a dungeon Daddy and whispers dirty things into my ear and drags orgasms from me without even touching my skin. This must be one of the most infuriating things about Brick, and boy, there is a lot. I can’t pretend it doesn’t thrill me, but most of all, it makes me hate him even more. My secret spy seduction act fairs much more difficult with a target like Brick.

I can’t take it anymore. After fifteen minutes, I break the silence. “Can I know where you’re taking me now?”

He contemplates for a moment but finally says, “Olympic Park.”

“Why so you can murder me and no one will hear me scream?” I’m only half kidding. My stomach flutters, thinking about being in such a remote location with him.

He deadpans. “You’re a werewolf, Carmen. I think you’ll be fine.”

I study his side profile, ignoring the perfect slope of his nose or the too-thick eyelashes that no male should be blessed with. Does he really believe what he’s saying? He’s much stronger than me for some reason, and I doubt it’s unknown to him. Of course, it’s rude to ask people about their supernatural origins. In our culture, you wait for people to reveal themselves. After centuries of monster hunting and villagers running our kind out of town with torches and pitchforks, it leads to a very taboo topic. We're comfortable talking about it once it’s shared, and we witness others in their other form. But until then, we keep our mouths shut.

I’m sick of niceties with Brick as if there was really any between us. “What are you exactly?”

He arches his neck in surprise and shoots me a look. “What am I?”

“Like, are you a Were?”

He clenches his fists on the steering wheel. “I thought it was obvious.”

“I can’t smell it on you.”

“Probably because I bathe.”

I chuckle. “Most Weres bathe, but I can still make out their scent.”

He shrugs. “I don’t know what to tell you.”

“The truth?”

“I’m a Were, okay? But obviously, I’m not trying to tell the world.”

Words lodge at the back of my throat. This is the sentiment of my pack, a way to keep us safe from the Hunters. Ironic coming from his lips. He must be a traitor to his own kind. I can’t think of anything more pathetic. Anger lines my reserve. I’m supposed to lure him into my trap, but I can’t help myself. “Must be nice to have a choice on whether or not people know about your powers.” I cross my arms over my chest, letting my head rest against the window.

He’s silent for a moment. “That must have been hard.” I don’t reply, but he continues. “Growing up without the protection that your brother had, but with all the risk.”

“Cameron protected me,” I reply, more childlike than expected.

“I imagine you protected yourself a lot of the time.” The words wash over me. It’s true. I know this already—I have come to terms with it, even if it results in my callus exterior and drive to live fully without caution. I never know when it will be my turn to be overtaken by the Hunters. “Sometimes, I think I’m the fortunate one. I’ve survived out in the open. Others haven’t been so lucky in the shadows.” I drill my gaze into him, trying to catch something—remorse, hatred, anything.

He nods, his chest deflates, and his eyes take on a somber look. “It won’t be like this forever.”

“How do you know?”

“You might not think your words do much, but your exposés bring powerful people and their wrongdoings to light. With all of us working together, this will end.”

“But it’s worse now than ever before. Women are being taken and murdered.”

“It’ll end.” He takes his eyes off the road, staring into mine as if trying to deliver a message. There’s weight to his words and sadness behind his eyes. He’s a traitor. He’s proved this on multiple occasions, but staring at him now makes me feel like I’ve got something wrong and missing something.

“Shit,” he says, yanking his wheel just before he misses the turn to the National Park entrance. I’m rocked sideways but straighten myself once we bump along the dirt road leading to the park parking lot.

“What are we doing here?” I bark once he turns the car off.

“Jesus Christ, you are not fun to surprise.” He slams the door behind him, moving toward the backseat.

“I don’t know what gave you the idea I would be.” A mosquito bites my neck and pisses me off even more. I’m a creature of the woods. It’s not like I don’t enjoy outside activities; I just don’t feel particularly sexy surrounded by bugs, and I need all the sexy voodoo I can get for this date.

Brick walks toward the entrance of the woods, a picnic basket in hand. My heart softens a bit at the sight of him, even as he carries on without turning around to see if I’m following. He planned a picnic for us? I can’t deny the thought pulls at my heartstrings and dampens my panties. I kick the attitude as I follow him, eager to discover more about his role in this mystery and learn about the man behind the brick exterior.

“Have you ever been mushroom foraging before?” he asks once I’ve caught up with him. Fractured light bursts through the canopy of leaves overhead, and songbirds call in the distance.

“Nope.”

“Well, I thought I’d teach you how to look for mushrooms.” He points to his nose. “I’ve got a gift for smelling out the best ‘shrooms.”

I cross my arms over my chest. “Wow, how nice of you to take me on a date where you teach me something,” I say sarcastically but smile to let him know I’m only half serious.

He rolls his eyes and cocks his head. “I know. Very mansplainy of me to do, but I thought it could add to the picnic, and it would be a fun activity to get to know each other better.”

“Get to know each other better? I didn’t think you’d be interested in that.”

He stops, turning to me and catching me off guard. He grabs me with his free hand, his expression serious. “I like you, Carmen.”

My heart speeds. “You like me?” I internally smack myself for letting my bones turn to mush. I don’t need this man’s approval, but why do I want it so badly?

He scoffs with a smile. “Obviously. This is our second date.”

“You could have ulterior motives.” It’s a stupid thing to say. I could completely blow my cover, but I must see him respond to the comment.

“If anything, it benefits me more to stay away from you.” He continues walking, stopping when something catches his eye, and crouches to search through the foliage.

“How so?”

He picks a mushroom and scrutinizes it. “It’s incredibly dangerous for me to be with you.” He straightens, and his eyes widen as if just releasing words he should have been guarding.

“Why is it dangerous to be with me?” I step closer to him, examining him.

He brushes off the dirt from his prize mushroom and throws it into his basket. “You distract me.”

“How so?” I hate that I’m stopping and starting whenever this man decides to make a move, as if he knows I’ll keep following him around.

“Well, instead of reading reports yesterday when I was working from home, I was talking to you and jerking myself off.”

“Brick!” I yell.

“What?” He gives me a confused glance before squatting down again to capture another mushroom.

“You can’t say that kind of stuff out loud.” My cheeks beat bright. Not from the weather, it’s surprisingly cool in the shade, but from this man's unfiltered words.

He looks around, wiping the dirt off his little fungi. “We are alone in the woods.”

“Yeah, but it's the middle of the day. Those words are meant only to be said in a very particular setting.”

“So you don’t fuck in the middle of the day?”

I give a sharp laugh. “Who said anything about fucking?”

He steps toward me, all attention off his stupid mushroom, and directed toward me. “You said those words aren’t meant for the middle of the day. If I fucked you right here, I’d probably mention how often I jerk off, wishing it was you wrapped around my cock.”

He’s a menace. Thank fucking God he’s hot, or I’d shit my pants. He says this sentence confidently, with no hesitation in his words. Suddenly, space doesn’t exist between us. His lips are only centimeters away from mine. My nipples are hard and sensitive, eager to step forward and brush against his chest covered by a flannel shirt. I close my eyes, ready to surrender.

“Let’s stop pretending this is something that it’s not.” I open my eyes to catch him staring down at me, heat behind his gaze. The air from my lungs disappears when he steps away, brushing past me and crouching near a bush.

I clench my eyes shut, stilling my mind, willing my cunt to stop gushing and cursing myself for letting Brick distract me yet again. Yes, I can’t smell the Were on Brick. It’s subtle, but there is something there—powerful and earth-shattering. It’s unlike any scent I’ve ever encountered, and I blame it completely for my inability to behave rationally around him.

I stand in the silence for a moment longer, Brick still rustling around behind me. His words ring through me: Let’s stop pretending this is something that it’s not. There’s so much he could mean. Is this more? Is this exactly what I expected all along—us both playing a very complicated and dangerous game? There’s only one way to find out.

I shake the fog away, turning and pressing my palms against my hips. “You said you were going to teach me about mushroom foraging, but you haven’t taught me shit.”

He pops to his feet, presenting a cluster of delicate brown caps. “These are oyster mushrooms.”

I move in closer, peering into his dirt-encrusted hands. “How do you know?”

He shrugs. “From the way that they look.”

I scrunch my face. “Wow, you’re an excellent teacher.”

He laughs, the rare sound knocking me off-kilter. “Yeah, I don’t know why I thought I could teach you. I actually don’t know anything. It’s just instinctual.” With that, he tosses the mushroom in his bag and walks onward, leaving me in the dust.

“Did you grow up on a mushroom farm?” I ask, rushing up to him, yet again. Thank God, I’m in good shape, or I’d be completely out of breath from chasing him around.

“No.” Nothing else.

“No?”

“I did not grow up on a mushroom farm.” Silence, except the snapping of twigs under-toe.

“Jesus Christ, Brick. It’s literally like talking to a brick wall.”

“What?” His face reads genuine confusion.

“I ask you questions, and you reply with one-word answers. Don’t ask me anything about myself. Have you ever had a conversation in your life?” This is one thing I enjoy about being with him. Yes, he’s horrible at conversation, but let's be honest, most men are. At least I can call him out on his crap.

He sighs. “I’m sorry. I don’t have a lot of conversations that aren’t business-related. I’m not great at socializing.”

“You don’t have any friends?”

He contemplates. “Not really. I moved here three years ago and was thrown into my role.”

“Does that bother you?”

“Not really. I grew up as an only child, so I’m used to it.”

His childhood. This could lead to where things all went wrong. The light shifts as we leave the woods, soft, plush grass before us. A creek sings below the cliff’s edge—a postcard view. Brick walks toward the green lip overlooking the creek, placing his basket down and pulling out a checkered blanket.

I don’t let the topic pass us by. “Where did you grow up?”

“New York City.”

“Wow! I can’t imagine living somewhere without the cover of the woods nearby.” As an adolescent Were, shifting is less voluntary. Living near the woods helps us hide our true selves during the transition period.

He huffs with a forced smile. “Yeah, it was shit. It didn’t help that I had no idea what was happening.”

“Your parents didn’t tell you?” My parents were killed by Hunters when Cameron and I were young, but I still had the privilege of their guidance for a few of my adolescent years. I know many Weres aren’t so lucky.

“It was just my mom. My dad was a one-night stand; she had no idea he was a Were. When I started showing signs, she took me to the doctor. Luckily, living in such a big city made the medical community aware of the paranormal. They set me up with a doctor who specialized in my abilities and gave me resources. I probably wouldn’t be here today if it weren't for them. I think that’s why I joined the National Department of Supernatural the minute I graduated college.”

I’m so distracted by his story that I barely register him setting up two green mats, wooden plates, and unwrapping two cut sandwiches to place atop his presentation. He says these words so easily, almost without thought, as he works on setting up his picnic. It must be accurate, but he could very well be leaving out the details of the Hunters getting to him first and influencing him to work to help them. It would be easier for someone without any Were family. The Hunters could make him feel like he was different, destined to help eradicate the kind that brought him into this world and did nothing to help his upbringing. But even with this consideration, I can’t help but feel for him. This calloused man, so alone in this world from the start, loves foraging mushrooms and setting up intricate picnics complete with a vase flower centerpiece.

He takes a breath, examining his display, straightening the bowl of grapes before turning his gaze to me. Wind sweeps around us, blowing my hair from my shoulders. He sniffs and groans. I used to think my smell repulsed him, but the look on his face right now isn’t pain like before; it’s pure admiration.

A thick silence washes over us, peaceful yet riddled with electricity, exposed wires ready to catch flame to everything around us. I break the quiet before it becomes too much. “Wow, this is quite a set up.”

He blinks rapidly, coming back to reality. “Oh, I almost forgot.” He reaches into the basket and places a handful of his newly retrieved mushrooms on each of our plates.

I scoot closer to my spot, examining the mushroom. “How do I know this isn’t a poisonous mushroom?”

“Like I would purposely poison you?”

“Maybe.” I shrug, dangling a small piece of the oyster mushroom over my lips.

“What a convoluted way to kill you.”

I laugh this time, eliciting a jerk from him, as if the noise of my laughter pulled something from his chest. “Fine, maybe it wouldn’t be on purpose, but explaining that you know what type of mushroom this is because of the way that they look, doesn’t give me the most confidence.”

He sighs and shakes his head, a small smile on his lips. “Fine, I’ll eat it first, and then if I’m alive in twenty minutes, you can eat it.”

“Hm, I don’t know about that. What if you poison yourself, and I have to drag you to the emergency room? I don’t have it in me to lug you around for two dates.”

He swallows the mushroom. “You’re so difficult.”

“Yes, but you love it.”

“Unfortunately, yes.” How did I get so close to him again? We’re both sitting with our legs outstretched in opposite directions, our faces nearly inches apart. He stops chewing, zoning in on my lips.

“What else do you love about me?” I smirk, trying to cut the tension nearly drowning us.

He resists my attempts, reaching out and placing his thumb on the center of my lip. “I’d be unable to stop if I started.”

My chest heaves, and my eyes flutter, yet still, I try to carry on. “I’ve got time.”

“Words aren’t my strong suit. I’d rather show you.” He leans in, kissing me softly. Every nerve in my body sizzles. It’s so sweet, yet so much more. The sweetness only lasts a second, and he whimpers against my mouth as his other hand scoops the back of my neck, pressing me hard against him. Brick always gives all his attention to his current task—from examining a crime scene to foraging mushrooms. This kiss is all of him. I can feel every corner of his brain honing in on me.

I moan into his mouth, and he growls at the arousal radiating from my lips. His lips travel across my jaw, moving to my earlobe. “I love your lips,” he whispers into my ears.

I smile, wrapping my arms the best I can around his huge torso, needing him closer. “I love the words that come out of them. I love the way they look—the way they feel.”

“Really? I thought my words were the first thing to irritate you.”

“Yes, but it makes my dick so hard when you’re a brat.” He grabs my hand, placing it on his hardened cock under his jeans. I already feel the moisture of his precum slipping through the fabric.

“Kinky, Brick,” I tease.

“Only for you.” He presses forward, pushing me onto my back and holding himself over me, his lips and hands not leaving me. His touch travels down my neck, pawing at my breasts covered by my t-shirt. “I love your tits,” he says into my mouth.

“I thought you said words weren’t your strong suit,” I say around his rough kisses. I don’t want him to stop telling me everything he loves about me, but he did mention he loves it when I’m a brat. Gotta keep that dick of his hard if I want it to ruin me the way my cunt begs for.

“They’re not, but I smell the arousal thickening on you whenever I encourage you. Gotta keep that cunt wet and juicy before I devour it.”

Goddamn, this man.

His hand trails down my chest, over my stomach, and pushes between my jeans and underwear, finding the heat of my core. “Fuck.” He pulls away from my mouth, clenching his eyes.

“Going to come in your pants again just from the feel of me?” I smirk.

He turns his attention back to me, eyes blazing, tracking every inch of my face. His mouth opens with a moan as he inserts a finger inside of me. I cry out. “Let’s see who’s coming first this time. You feel so ready.” He inserts another finger, stretching me as his thumb presses against my clit. I’m completely clothed, and I’m about to sputter out of control.

He doesn’t return his lips to mine, watching me as if I’m one of the world’s wonders as he fucks me with his fingers. His gaze is too intense, mixed in with the powerful sensation between my legs—I can’t keep my eyes open.

He stops his movements. “Eyes on me, little wolf,” he orders, no humor in his voice. I pop them open, even if they are heavy the moment he continues inserting himself. I don’t let them close, though, watching him moan and groan with each of my whimpers. He’s so responsive to my arousal, clenching his teeth and shutting his eyes every few seconds to steady himself. I try my best to hold out. He appears so close to his edge, and if I’m anything, it’s competitive.

But then he pulls some bullshit, curling his fingers and rubbing at the spongy spot behind my clit. My orgasm washes over me like a thermal spring, surprising me as it floods my nervous system.

“Oh, such a good girl,” he says, eyes not leaving mine. “Take all of it. Don’t hold anything back.” He continues his pressure, my pussy squelching from his fingers.

I relax momentarily, closing my eyes and catching my breath. Brick falls over me, kissing down my neck. Goosebumps immediately pepper my skin, and a new wave of moisture floods my already soaking panties. “I won,” he whispers, and I push him back, startling him, but once I work at the buttons of his flannel, he softens, helping me in my attempt to undress him. He may have won, but right now, I don’t fucking care. I’m too set on watching him come that I’ll worry about him bragging later.

He sits up, ripping the shirt off his frame once it’s halfway unbuttoned. I nearly come again from the sight of him. I could feel his muscles and witness their shape under his clothes, but goddammit, he’s beautiful. “Are you shitting me?”

“What?” He tries to play coy, but the cocky smirk gives it away.

“Why do you look like that? There’s no reason to have those abs.”

He pushes me back, ripping off my pants in one powerful pull at the hem. His fingers push aside my lacy panties, and he groans, stroking his finger through me. “The working out is worth something. You’re so fucking wet.”

I don’t know how he can think of the most diabolical words. I can’t think of anything except his dick inside of me. I wrap my arms around his neck, trying to pull his lips to mine, but he pulls back, trailing kisses down my neck. He pulls my shirt and bra overhead so he can continue kissing my chest, licking at my nipples and grinding against me.

“God, are you going to fuck me already?” I yell, needing more from him. I’ve already orgasmed it’s time to be properly fuck.

He reaches for my cunt, his lips still on my nipples, before pulling away. “I’ve got a big cock, little wolf. I need you even wetter than this to take me.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” I’ve only ever felt his cock grinding against my ass or my stomach while he’s completely clothed. I know it’s going to be huge— my pussy will take forever to recover huge—but I need to see it first to prepare mentally.

“Soon,” he says between kisses down my stomach, climbing between my pants and pulling down my panties. I’m officially buck-ass naked in the middle of the national park. This is a felony, I’m sure of it, but I think I could get out of it. I do have the head office pig between my legs, after all.

He breathes over my cunt, his breath quivering. “God, your fucking smell—it’s so delicious. I think I might come just from the taste.” He swipes me gently with his tongue, sending my body into a shivering mess. “So fucking good,” he groans, before spreading my lips with his fingers, lapping me with eager strokes. His tongue is large and massages every inch of my cunt. He licks as if this is more for his enjoyment than my own, but holy fuck is it good. Something about an eager pussy eater makes any technique absolutely exquisite.

I’m so close to my edge again, but he pulls back with a hiss–turning his head to the side and clamping his eyes. “God, I’m close.”

I push myself up, crawling toward him and shoving him to the soft green grass. “My turn,” I say as I unbutton his jeans, and he helps me pull them down his monstrous thighs. His cock is full-mast underneath his cotton boxer briefs, and when I pull them down, he pops free—gloriously long and thick with healthy veins running to the tip. My mouth waters at the sight of him, but my hands itch to explore him. I cup his balls, the weight heavy and full. I gasp, catching his eyes. “Never seen a knot before?” He studies me curiously.

“I have, just surprised.” Not all Weres have knots. Some only have them visible when in the presence of their mate, and some, the rarer, have them all the time. The latter is usually for males that never have a mate, and instead, nature insists on using them to breed the whole fucking world. Brick must be the second type of Were. Obviously. I don’t even entertain the alternative. It’s fine with me if he knots me; in fact, it makes me even wetter, if that’s even possible.

Female Weres have the kick-ass ability to control when we want to be pregnant. We still ovulate and menstruate as human woman, but we have the supernatural ability to stop sperm in their track with our mental abilities. It’s kind of like Red’s mental powers except on a minuscule level. I’ve heard of some females who thought they didn’t want a baby, but subconsciously, they did, and their brains took control of their true desires, but that won’t be a problem for me. There’s no way I want a child right now. That’s for sure.

“We can stop,” Brick says, catching his breath and clearly in physical pain at the thought.

“We’re not fucking stopping.” I bring my lips to his tip and circle his head with my tongue.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he cries, falling completely to his back. He bites the back of his hand as I roll my lips down his shaft.

His visceral response makes me eager. I take him fully, hitting the back of the throat. I ignore my gags, slurping him up and down, wanting him to lose control—this man is so stoic and reserved, brick-like, you could say, but melts like a popsicle from my touch. I cup his balls with one hand, and with the other, I twist at the bottom of his shaft. Even going all the way to the back of my throat isn’t enough to take all of him.

Just when I’m really getting into it, my cunt throbbing at his breathy moans and the subtle jerks from his hips, he pushes me back. I catch myself on my elbows, staring at him in disbelief. He moves over me, pushing me to the ground, and positions his head at my cunt. “I can’t take it anymore.” He drives into me, hard and rough, forcing a cry of pain mixed with pleasure from my throat. “You infuriate me, even with your lips around my cock, and yet, I can't stop wanting you.” He grits his teeth as he fucks me, his hot breath at my neck.

His words ring true. I should hate this man. Although doubt lines my theories of him as a traitor to his kind and the culprit of my people’s demise, he’s the enemy. He’s my target. Yet I can’t keep my hands off him. My mind won’t stop playing images of him fucking me just like this.

With each thrust, he deepens, until I’m stretched by his half-hardened knot, applying pressure at my entrance with the most delicious pain. His body tenses over me, and he moans low in his throat. I don’t close my eyes, watching as he slowly transforms before my eyes. His nose and ears elongate, fur coating his growing body. It’s not a complete shift, but something strikes me as odd. There’s a unique characteristic to his half-form.

I feel my own transformation happening as well. Odd since I’m usually in control of my shifts, even on the brink of ecstasy. I ignore it though, letting my claws slightly dig into his back.

He attempts to pull back at the last moment, clearly not wanting to knot me. I focus all my strength on keeping him pressed against me. “You sure?” he barely gets out.

“Knot me, Brick.” The words send him over the edge. He thrusts into me harder than the rest, sending a rush of cum inside of me. His knot expands, hardening and trapping me to him. His cum doesn’t stop, filling me until I nearly feel it at the back of my throat. My second orgasm washes over me, the pain turning my body into a sputtering mess. It takes longer than usual for us to settle, my mind finally clearing and my sweat-covered body relaxing into the picnic blanket underneath me. Brick buries his face into the crook of my neck, holding himself up so as not to crush me. His form is still massive, but I watch as the light fuzz sucks back into his skin—his body returning to its full human state. We’ll be trapped like this until his knot deflates, but strangely, I don’t mind the pressure of him.

Birds chirp in the distance, and the sun shines just behind a light veil of clouds. My eyes widen, taking in the scenery I’ve been blind to, my senses tunneling into Brick and blocking out everything else. A few flies loom over our untouched sandwiches beside us. “The food.”

“What?” Brick mumbles against my skin.

“You put so much work into setting this up, and we didn’t even eat.”

He holds himself up on his forearms, giving me a scrunched-face look. “Carmen.” He shakes his head. “Fuck the food.” He brings his lips to my skin, kissing down my neck as if he’s starved just for me. I let my head roll back, my skin already flushing with goosebumps, my cunt already dampening. This man. He’ll be the death of me for sure.