Pawn Among Wolves

PAWN AMONG WOLVES CH. 09

No, I don't mean disapproval that Mr Sex-on-Legs is so damn far away and busy.

"Mac would be welcome too," her mother's voice sounded tentative in the long pause, and Gemma's lips twitched in a brief grimace while her skin flushed again at the connection her clever relative had obviously made.

This wasn't the first time that Gemma had broken off mid sentence while chatting to her Mom on the phone, not after that week in the forest. Mac had appeared one morning with his BlackBerry, asking Gemma to call her Mom and reassure her that she was alright, explaining that Mrs. Smith had grown so frantic because her daughter was not answering calls that she'd rung him to ask whether he knew where his flatmate was.

It had hardly been her fault that an officious Madam had taken her phone.

Despite Gemma's protestations that there would be no signal in the middle on nowhere, Mac had urged her to try and place a call, and then smugly pounced on his mate when the line had connected and her mother had picked up on the second ring. Gemma had had to struggle, largely ineffectually, to string together coherent sentences with her inordinately pleased with himself mate flattening her to the soft turf and whispering into her skin what he was going to demand as remuneration for the use of his phone as soon as she hung up.

The long, breathless, squirming conversation that had followed seemed to have etched little pleasure memories down her spine, and then that urgent, hard fuck as soon as she'd rung off - mmmm. Afterwards, while she'd been lying panting in a haze of boneless pleasure on her rug, Mac had sat up cross-legged beside her, his face concerned, and stroked a fingertip gently over her nose while he'd insisted virtuously that she use his phone all week to keep in touch with her Mom so that she wouldn't get worried. He'd appeared the next day with a solar charger.

Concerned - yeah, right. Well, probably that too, but primarily her wolf had loved distracting her while she was trying to speak, especially with her mother. Not that she'd minded. Her breasts were aching hard now in memory - of the way he'd manoeuvred her "into a comfortable position" for the second call, and each subsequent one, after she'd admitted that she liked the torture. Dress pulled down to her waist she would lie on her back on her bower, his arms hugging the sides of her torso and hands cupping her shoulders as he'd rested braced on his elbows over her, hips tucked on the ground between her legs. Then he'd swirled the tip of his tongue gently around each nipple in turn, each time the dialling tone had sounded. Until she'd been silently begging her mother to pick up. Not Adam. Definitely not her Dad. Pick up soon. Well. No, not yet. Actually, not at all. Please be out. Please be out. Please - aw.

Mac had busied himself elsewhere and left her alone for the majority of each call after the first, but it had been easy to tell when her wolf thought she'd had long enough and it was time to play. Suddenly her voice would break off in a squeak as a wet tongue glided lightly up her inner thigh or delved into her ear, or simply a rock-hard erection had been pressed against her buttocks. She had been able to just feel the compelling need in him, urgency in the air, pulling at her, and had combusted every time, speechless. A bit like now.

Correct identification of the culprit, both past and present, well done Mom.

I wish he was present.

Jasmine was now eyeing the book speculatively. 'Firm and Flexible - Yoga for Beginners.' Not anything that should make a girl blush. Not unless she also had damn, hot, aching memories of her mate protesting innocently that he was only stretching her legs this wide to keep her supple and look after her joints. This wide, then a bit wider. Oh, the vulnerable, stretched, open, welcoming feeling - and the weight of him leaning his hips against hers, pressing down, nudging the tip of his straining cock against her oh-so-swollen labia as he laughingly explained that he was just helping her stretch. Oh. Mmmm. Nudging again, so that her tart response was swallowed on a groan. Damn, damn smug wolf.