Page 2 of Memphis Heat

Madness. This was total madness. She would run.

She had to. He was a monster, an abomination.

Proof God had given up on the world. He couldn’t hold her forever.

He couldn’t even hold her for now. But he knew he wasn’t man enough to give her up, no matter how much he needed to, not even for her own sake.

Something inside him refused to even consider the thought.

He’d needed her before he’d been bitten, but this…

this attraction, this need to possess her, wasn’t natural.

But what if …

He didn’t want to even think the words, but now he had no choice.

What if even this limited contact, the few stolen moments when he’d buried his cock balls-deep in her cunt, before he’d managed to pull away, what if …

What if he’d turned her, if he’d ruined her life the way that bastard had ruined his before Jarod had shot him dead…

Then he’d have a partner. A real partner.

Selfish bastard !

He should have eaten a bullet the moment he knew what he’d become.

Werewolves couldn’t be allowed to roam the city, infecting others with their foul disease.

Condition. Whatever the fuck it was. He’d known then what he needed to do.

But he couldn’t do it. Not till he made sure there weren’t any more.

Not until he was sure they wouldn’t come after his partner.

He had to protect Belle. Even if that meant protecting her from himself.

“Ouch!” The sting of Belle’s slap pulled him out of his internal argument.

“So you can speak. Are you listening to me? Have you heard anything I’ve said? What the fuck were you thinking, trying to hide a thing like this from me!”

His cock ached for her with a madness that threatened to break him. “No choice. Can’t -- no control. Might hurt you.” His voice was gruff, husky, nearly more growl than human. “Besides. You’d have locked me up.”

She barked a short laugh that sounded more than a little desperate. “I still might.”

They stood there, staring at one another, the stakeout all but forgotten. Finally, Belle moved. She planted her hands on his chest and shoved him back onto the ancient excuse for a bed. “You’re bigger than I remembered.” She licked her lips. “Everything still work the same?”

She couldn’t… Not even Belle… But she was reaching for his wallet, for the condom he’d always kept there for emergencies. He swallowed hard. “No idea.”

The thin latex stretched in protest, but it didn’t break. “Then I guess we’re going to find out.” She snapped her cuffs around his thick wrist, passing them around the bedpost, then held out her hand for the other arm. “Just the way we’ve always done things. Together.”

She’d leave him there. Cuffed and naked. Jarod bet the local bureau had cells just for guys like him.

This was Belle … He wanted to trust her. He did trust her, damn it. He did. Almost. She was everything he wanted. Everything he needed. He’d shared his secret with her, intentionally or not, and she was still here. He wasn’t alone. Closing his eyes, Jarod put his fate in her hands.

And howled like the beast he was when she straddled him to sink down over his swollen, aching cock.

“Fuck, you’re big. I’m not sure you’re gonna fit.”

“You’re so tight!” he managed, bucking up into her, aching to drive his cock home.

“And whose fault is that?” She eased herself down, pulling back, and trying again. “If you weren’t such an idiot, we could have figured this out months ago.”

“Yeah, well…”

Up. Down. Deeper. “Admit it.”

“Admit what ?”

She raised her hips, then sank back down, harder this time, her pussy juices easing the way, her heat wrapping around him nearly to the balls. “That you shoulda told me, you moron.”

Up. Down. Hot, wet friction covering him in need stronger than anything he’d ever felt before. “If I’d thought…” The urge to snap the cuffs and take her, really take her, was nearly more than he could suppress.

Thighs like steel gripped his hips, riding him now. Her pussy held him like a vise before letting go, only for her to thrust down again. Liquid fire consumed him as her tits bounced with every stroke, adding to his torment. “Men don’t think,” she breathed.

“Pinch your tits for me.”

“Admit it.”

It. It was so many things. “I admit it. I’m a guy.”

Laughing, she grabbed her thick, puffy nipples and twisted, harder than he ever would have, in any form.

Holy fuck, that was hot. She must have thought so too because she leaned forward, grinding her clit into the thick, coarse hair at his crotch, squirming against him with every stroke.

He howled, speech no longer possible. Unable to do anything else, he bucked up against her, trying desperately to give her what she wanted. What they both needed.

I am an idiot , he managed, out loud or not, he wasn’t sure. “Need you. Need this. Need… you.”

“You’ve got me,” Belle gasped, head thrown back, cunt spasming around him. “You’ve got me, baby. I’ve got your back, and your cock. Mine .” She looked down again, a frown of warning on her face. “Don’t break the bed.”

He realized he was trying, and might succeed at any moment.

The wolf in him needed to dominate. To control.

“Mine,” he agreed. His cock was swelling, so thick and hard now he was sure he’d hurt her.

“Mine!” he screamed. And he came, but not all in a rush -- no -- in slow, searing jets that didn’t stop, just went on, and on, and on…

* * *

Belle stared down at him, her hands fisted in the matted fur of his chest, her brain a quiet, peaceful place for the first time since… since he’d been shot. Since she’d seen the thing that had attacked him wither, its bits and pieces returning to remnants of its human form.

Had she known what the monster had been?

Not really. Not like this. She hadn’t wanted to know.

Not wanted to admit what she’d seen might be real.

A dark night. A full moon. Her partner shot.

Bleeding to death before her. And there had been nothing she could do.

Nothing but yell at him, tell him to hold on. Help was coming. Hold on …

She’d blamed it on too many romance novels.

Werewolves didn’t exist. She couldn’t have seen what she’d seen.

But the fur under her fingers turned softer, and faded away, and the smooth, hard body of her lover, of the man she’d lived without these months, shook off the now too-large cuffs and shrank around her, pulling her down tight against the length of his body.

How she’d missed this.

She’d trusted him. Trusted him with her life. She still did. Just didn’t trust him to tell her everything. Werewolf or not, he was still a man. What the hell was in that warehouse that was worth risking their lives over?