Page 10 of Memphis Heat

Chapter Two

Butch sucked her nipple, hard, then let it go with a pop.

Out of a sense of fairness as well as a reluctance to hurry, he treated the other breast to the same attention before he laved his way lower.

He had three months of torment to make up for.

Good thing it was a commercial facility.

The water beating down on them wasn’t going to get cold any time soon.

When he dropped down between her thighs, Regan nearly toppled off the bar.

He caught her and swung her knees up over his shoulders.

She grasped the bar, white knuckled, her back arched against the tile wall as he spread her wide, admiring the view for a moment.

She was shaved bare, or maybe waxed, not so much a delicate flower as a proud woman, her parts on display for his hungry eyes.

It had been too long. Way, way too long.

That was not going to happen again, he promised himself, before he proceeded to lick the length of her slit, circling her clit when he reached the top.

“Shit!” she screeched. She reached out with one hand, trying unsuccessfully again to pull at his hair. “Get up here and fuck me already!”

Answering meant letting go of the labia lip he was nibbling on, which he thought was just punishment.

“I will. Believe me, I will. When I’m good and ready.

” He darted his tongue into her tight pussy, dipping and tasting, then thrust in hard, jabbing the tip along the upper walls, searching for the spot that would make her writhe.

Writhe she did, her hands finally fisting his ears for want of a better purchase, yanking his head close against her nether lips. “Oh, fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“Eloquent.” He laughed. Speech necessitated withdrawing his tongue, and she pulled harder, grinding her pussy against his face. Happy to oblige, he sucked her clit in, teasing and nipping, washing and then blowing dry.

“ Ohh ,” Regan moaned, her hips thrusting toward him with each lick, nearly losing her hold on her precarious perch. “Oh, God. Oh, God. I’m gonna come. Damn you, Butch, I wanted you in me this first time.”

He pulled back a little. Just enough to say, “Next time.” Because there would be a next time. And a time after that. This one was not going to get away. He buried his tongue in her pussy, slipping a finger between them to stroke her clit in time to the thrusts of his tongue.

Butch had known women -- his ex-wife, for one -- who made happy little cooing noises when they came. He’d told her once, under the influence of a way too liberating amount of alcohol, that she sounded a bit like a pigeon. Verbally abusive, according to her lawyer.

Regan… Regan was not charmingly sophisticated.

Especially not with his tongue tickling her G-spot.

Her heels buried themselves in his back, and her hips launched up off the handrail.

“ Ayeieeeeeee !” she screamed. “Oh, God. Oh, fuck. Get up here and fuck me, damn it! I want to feel your dick in my cunt. Now!”

A man had limits. Even a Marine combat veteran like Butch Carson.

He made it to his feet, her heels still hooked over his shoulders, her back pressed against the slick tile wall, her pussy…

her pussy was right where he wanted it. In line with his cock.

In one swift stroke he was buried so deep his balls slapped her ass, her spasming muscles contracting around him as if to hold him there.

He stood for a moment, savoring, letting her orgasm ride over him, remembering the feel, and yet not remembering, because nothing had ever felt this good before. This right.

And then her hold on him loosened, and he pulled back. Enough to thrust home, again and again, the long, slow glide in stroking his cock harder with every push, the slide out a tease, delaying the moment when he’d thrust back in, burying himself so deep he could feel the tiles against her ass.

“Mine,” he whispered against her lips. He bit as he thrust home again. “Mine. My woman.” The friction was unbelievable. She felt so fucking good, he wanted to come and come, branding her forever his so there could be no misunderstandings later.

She bit back. Hard. Sweet, sweet pain and the coppery taste of blood. His, hers -- he wasn’t sure. Didn’t care. “Mine,” she argued. “From the moment I saw you, I knew.”

He rested his forehead against hers, his breath coming as hard as the rising tide in his balls. “Yours,” he agreed. Because one way or the other, he was never letting go.

His cock seemed to agree. With every thrust it swelled larger, harder, till the strain of holding back was almost more than he could manage.

Regan rode him hard, meeting him stroke for stroke in their wet, sweaty dance, the heavy girth of his swollen cock filling her, the fit so snug he could barely move.

He felt himself shifting, starting to turn.

Not to the wolf form. To… something else.

Something still human, but not. He fought to hold it at bay.

Regan stared up at him, her eyes going wide as she watched him…

change. He expected fear. Revulsion. Instead her grin grew more feral, and she shifted, too.

Just enough. Matching him perfectly. Oh, yeah.

Something new they shared. And as long as they were together, nothing else mattered.

Her fur was soft beneath his hands. Her body was not.

Her grip on him tightened, reflecting the iron strength of the body beneath him. And she bit him back. Hard.

He rocked harder with every stroke, sinking in, pulling back, the strokes shorter and shorter, faster now, as he fought the change in his body, fought to hold off the inevitable end, fought to stay locked together for all eternity, one long, long wash of an orgasm that never ended.

Really never ended. He’d never come this hard. Or this long. And his cock wasn’t getting smaller.

He wasn’t going to panic. He wasn’t. A man didn’t panic in the midst of the best orgasm of his life. Not with his woman spasming helplessly on the end of his swollen member.

Regan finally collapsed against him, her head on his shoulder, her pussy quivering over his now quiet, though still double-sized, cock. “I think we’re knotted.”

“Knotted?” Vague lessons from biology class came whispering back. “Oh, Christ. Knotted.”

“Think you got enough leg power left to make it back to the beds?”

“What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Some nurse will find us unconscious in the hallway.”

“Pretty sure I can make it.” The beds, at least, had covers. Not that he’d have minded so much for himself. But he wouldn’t have his woman on display before strangers. Not even ones who must know who -- and what -- they were.

* * *

Belle pawed at her nose, trying to cover her smile. “You think we should…”

Jarod shook his head, backing quietly out of the room. “No. They’ll figure it out. We did.”

Belle glanced at her watch. “I don’t want to rush things, but…”

Jarod laughed. “You know better. No way in hell to rush them. You need distracting.” He bent his head to kiss her, capturing her lip with his teeth.

Belle kissed him back, pushing him away at the same time. “Don’t start that. Then we’ll be the ones trying to get untangled in some closet again, instead of us waiting on them.”

“Closet? Where’d you see a closet?”

* * *

Jarod ran, long limbs stretched to their fullest with every leaping bound, muscles pumping hard, heart racing.

Such was the beauty of the wolf form that was still a bit new to him.

Belle matched him stride for stride, her tongue lolling out in a silent laugh.

The sheer joy of the hunt made it hard not to sing out, but they were, after all, undercover.

For the first time in a week they had a solid lead.

Belle had caught the call for backup on the police scanner.

They’d been close. Close enough to hit the scene as the invading pack pulled back from the kill.

Except it wasn’t a kill. Not this time. They understood now.

The Memphis PD pack had been there, turning the victims with their last breath.

Saving them, the way Jarod’s lucky shot had saved his own life.

Blood. It was the blood, not the bite itself, that turned them. All it took was a little infected blood. MPD had saved their fallen heroes -- their new pack members -- and now Jarod and Belle finally had something to chase.

They were close to the edge of town, in the warehouse district.

He expected the wolves they chased would head south, along the river, but it felt like they were angling more east, toward the airport.

They’d crossed under I-240 and headed more or less south following Nonconnah Boulevard.

Where the hell were they going? All that was out here was the airport and the industrial parks.

Jarod pushed Belle with his shoulder, steering them into the brush along the stream as one of the pack they followed stopped, staring back the way they’d come, as if sensing their presence.

Together they crouched low, their breath coming in hard, panting gasps.

Lord, that had been fun. He’d never had a chance to really run like that before, to feel what this body was capable of.

But now they’d better be on the alert or they’d get themselves caught.

The wary wolf turned back, trotting now, apparently well aware of his pack’s destination. Jarod and Belle skirted the stream’s bank, slinking soundlessly from shadow to shadow, so intent on their quarry they never noticed the trap he’d led them to.