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I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything as badly as I want Stone’s cock in my mouth right now. I unbuckle his belt and yank his pants and underwear down and I have him in my mouth before his pants even hit the floor.
I suck greedily and urgently, desperate for him in a way that I can hardly quantify before. I like sex and for someone as busy as my job keeps me, I enjoy a fair amount of it. Most guys might not want a relationship with a strong woman but almost every guy fantasizes about getting screwed by one, and pretty much every man loves a woman who’s strong in the boardroom and willing in the bedroom.
The point is, I’m by no means celibate but with Stone, I am just as eager and desperate as if this were my first time ever having sex. I certainly am as desperate for him to cum as I was for my first boyfriend to cum, although in high school, the desperation was due to a need for reassurance that I was doing a good job while now I have no doubt that I’m good and my desperation is motivated by a desire to please him as much as I can.
I don’t get to make him cum in my mouth because before he finishes, he lifts me up and carries me to the bedroom. I kiss him everywhere I can reach and run my hands all over his body as he carries me. When we reach the bedroom, he drops me on the bed and puts his mouth in between my legs.
“God, Stone!” I cry out.
That’s the only thing I manage to say before once more the breath is driven from my lungs and I can only gasp and shiver underneath him while his lips and tongue work miracles on me. I’m no stranger to getting eaten out but like everything else about the man, he is overpowering and in only a few minutes, I scream and writhe with my second orgasm in ten minutes.
Then he’s finally inside me.
It’s impossible to accurately describe what it feels like to look up at this powerful man as he moves inside me. It’s incredible how easily I accept that he’s completely in control.
No, I don’t accept it. I love it. I’m overjoyed by it. I willingly and eagerly cede control of my body and Stone takes it as though it already belonged to him.
He’s not wrong. When his orgasm hits and I feel him pulsing inside me, I feel somehow more fulfilled than I do when my third orgasm follows immediately after and I turn into a shaking, screaming mass of firing nerve endings and twitching muscles.
As we drift to sleep in each other’s arms, my second-to-last-thought is that this is going to cause major problems to my investigation.
My last thought is that I don’t care.
CHAPTER FOUR
Stone
I wake up to a note that says, “Thank you. I needed that. –K.”
I stare at the note for a long moment before I roll out of bed and head to the shower. On the way, I glance at my cell phone and see the time is five-thirty in the morning. That’s a little later than I normally wake but much earlier than most people wake. This woman never ceases to surprise me.
Then again, she was dedicated enough to her job that she drove three hours to get to the scene last night. Hell, the place was still smoldering when she pulled up and started harassing Rory.
Oh shit. Her job.
I quickly shower and dress, then leave. I’m so frazzled, I nearly shift so I can run to the hospital. I catch myself at the last moment and instead head to my car. I can run just about as fast as a car in highway traffic but as much as the media likes to pretend that there are no more tensions between the shifter world and the non-shifter world, I think most people’s tolerance for shifters stops short of a horse rocketing down the freeway at near-highway speeds.
So, I drive and as I drive, I call the hospital. “Olive Branch General Hospital,” the receptionist answers in a tone that peculiar mixture of bored, contemptuous, and pleasantly polite that only receptionists and customer service representatives can pull off.
“Hi, this is Stone Argyle. I’m a friend of Reggie Underwood’s. I was wondering if I could stop by to see him?”
The receptionist replies, “I’m sorry, but visiting hours don’t start until eight o’clock.”
“I understand,” I say, “But this is urgent.”
The receptionist’s tone changes. She drops the veneer of politeness and is ice cold when she says, “All right, Mr. Argyle, I’m going to tell you the same thing I told the woman who came before you. I don’t care how urgent your business is and I don’t care whom you work for or why you need to see Mr. Underwood. Our visiting hours are in place to ensure our patients receive the rest and care they need and that’s exactly what Mr. Underwood is going to get. Come see us at eight, and if you can convince me you’re actually his friend and not some sleazy lawyer trying to get money from him, I’ll let you see him.”
I don’t argue with her. I’ve already learned everything I need to know. I thank her politely and hang up, then turn around and head back to Reggie’s stable.
On the drive, I reminisce about the day I met Reggie. It was the first time I’d ever shifted, and, like many shifters, the shift came as a complete surprise to me. Some shifters, like wolves and bears, have complete control over their shifts from the moment they come into their gift. One day, they just realize that their shifter nature is no longer dormant and from that moment—boom, they can shift whenever they want and shift back whenever they want.
Horses are different. We and some other animals, like bulls, moose—actually most ungulate shifters—don’t get a warning when our first shift comes, and it takes us time to control it well enough to prevent accidental shifts. For this reason, a lot of horse shifters are homeschooled or sent to private shifter schools so that when the shift happens, it happens in front of a lot of people who know what’s going on and can comfort and assist the confused and usually frightened child. Of course, this also prevents the shift from happening in front of people who might judge them or react fearfully at the sight of a human-turned-animal.
I was the only horse shifter I’ve ever heard of who went to public school. I’m not sure if maybe my parents didn’t realize what was going to happen or if they just didn’t think it was a big deal. In any case, my first shift happened when I was in the bathroom stall at school. To this day, I don’t know how I managed to leave school without being spotted. I only remember stumbling around on two more legs than I knew how to deal with, hoping that I would wake up and this would all be a dream. I eventually made it to Reggie’s property and collapsed against the fence, frightened and exhausted, unable even to cry in my horse body.
That was when Reggie found me. He trotted up to me and regarded me and then shifted back to human. He taught me how to focus on my human identity and will myself to shift by holding a clear image of that identity in my mind and imagining myself inhabiting that form. I spent the rest of the school year boarding at his ranch and met a few other horse shifters and a bison shifter all in the same boat as me. Every day, Reggie would teach us a little more about shifting and understanding our animal natures and how they and our human natures worked together to give us our own distinct identity.
Without Reggie, I have no idea what would have happened to me. He saved me and helped me understand whom I was becoming when my own parents couldn’t even be bothered to help me. Now he’s hurt and not twenty-four hours after his house burns down, some bitch from the insurance company is trying to find a way to deny him his compensation.
