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“I guessed that,” I say.
“She was sneaking out to go hang out with some older boys from her school.”
“The car guys,” I say.
She bursts into laughter, spitting out the wine she’s drinking. I join her in laughter, and when she recovers, she says, “Yes. The car guys.” She sighs and her face grows serious again. “Anyway, I think you and I both know what two eighteen-year-old guys want with a fourteen-year-old girl.”
“Yes,” I say. “I understand your concern. Have you talked to Annie?”
She nods. “I’ve talked to her, but I don’t know if I really got through. She’s just so young. She believes all the silly things they say to her—how beautiful she is, how special she is, how they’ve never met anyone like her—you know, all the things men say because they mean it and boys say because they want something. I just don’t want her to get hurt.”
I nod. “So when you talked to her, she—?”
“She smiled and nodded and said, ‘Yes, Auntie,’ but I got the impression she didn’t take anything I was saying seriously.”
“I see,” I say. “And the fact that they sped off and left her there while she was screaming in pain from a sprained ankle didn’t suggest to her that they might not have her best interests in mind?”
She shrugs. “Annie still believes that my wrath is the most terrifying thing in the world. She thinks it’s perfectly reasonable that they would want to avoid it at all costs.”
She looks at me. “What do I do, Val? How do I keep her safe?”
I place a hand on her shoulder and meet her eyes. “You let your super-tough shifter boyfriend handle it.”
Her eyes widen. “Safely?” she asks. “As in, I won’t hear about you in the evening news?”
“Perfectly safely,” I say. “I promise.”
“Okay,” she says. Her shoulders relax and she smiles. “Thank you.”
CHAPTER NINE
Klarice
It’s clear he’s worried about his disclosure to me. I guess I understand that. I don’t get out of the house much except to run this errand or that errand and even in my sort of insular life I end up hearing snide comments and fearful comments about shifters. I can understand his trepidation. On more than one occasion during the night he seemed to stiffen up in his sleep, to grow damned tense and almost rigid.
I almost giggle at that. I like him stiff and rigid.
In another way.
I glance at my phone. It’s only five in the morning but I feel energetic, almost. I kiss his chest softly and then slide down. A moment later, the part I enjoy being stiff and rigid is growing in my mouth. I love the feel of him getting hard. I love to think about his mind in that place between sleep and wakefulness, how it must feel to be stimulated with my tongue and my lips. I increase the suction and move my head, letting my hands trail upward over his torso and then back down again.
It's really thrilling to have my mouth on him. I don’t know why. I try to remember if I felt that way about my husband, but I let that wondering come and pass quickly. Whatever it is I used to feel about anything is irrelevant. If life teaches me anything it’s that I have now, right now. That’s all I have and, at the moment, it’s enough for me.
He wakes and I love how he almost immediately tries to take control and then catches himself. His hand goes to the back of my head, and he holds me firmly but then stops and instead lets his fingers gently stroke at my hair. I almost giggle around his cock thinking about how I get to make him want to lose control. I feel a bit of a delicious thought at what that might mean.
Am I attracted to the danger implicit in being with a wolf shifter?
Just thinking the thought sends another thrill through me. Maybe it’s silly but it turns me the hell on, so I suck more aggressively now, moving my mouth deeper and moaning as my lips slide up and down his shaft and I move my tongue like crazy. I move a hand to his balls and rub there and I find myself eager to get him to cum, so I put my other hand on his shaft and move my hand and my mouth together. I love the way he feels in my mouth, and I love the way he moans.
I can tell he’s trying to hold back.
I love that.
He wants to hold off but I’m too much for him. I’m moaning like a complete slut now, and it’s not an act. I’m that turned on and all I want is for him to explode. When he groans and that happens, it feels almost as good as an orgasm to me.
I pull my mouth off and smile, “Good morning, sleepyhead.”
“Jesus, Klarice,” he says.
