Werewulf Journals 3: Hungry Pleasures (8 page)

Low in her belly, an answering heat flickered to life. Her breathing increased until she was panting, her starved lungs reaching for oxygen. “Go away. I don’t want to want you!”

A pleased-sounding laugh broke from his lips. Aroused and hard, he stalked toward

her, took her upper arms in his hands, and yanked her into his chest. His cock butted against her soft stomach and he ground against her, pressing his hips forward to jab at her with his hard length. She barely had time to register that heat, had just noted he was much wider and broader close up than she’d thought when he brought his lips down on hers and proceeded to devour her mouth.

Kaila shuddered. Then she opened to him, helplessly enraptured by the brilliant

tutelage of his masterful tongue.

Oh gods, the man can kiss! Added to that, his arms about her were surprisingly strong and long. He had no problem getting them around her bulk and pulling her close to draw her into the kiss. Sipping at her mouth, he bit her lower lip with tiny, stinging little nips that fueled her ardor, inviting her to do the same to him.

She accepted his invitation, sent her tongue on a timid foray within the hot depths of his mouth. Growing daring, she tasted him as he had her. His reward was swift and carnal.

One hand slid up under her sweater, climbed her hills and valleys to capture a nipple. It hardened against his callused palm, pushing out with impudent boldness. A prince -- with calluses? What next?

Next was the sultry rhythm of his hips as he repetitively flexed his cock against her, humping her lower belly while he continued to cradle and caress her tight nipples. With an incoherent murmur, he pinched one tip between thumb and forefinger and twisted,

repeatedly tugging the stiff flesh out away from her body and then pressing the compressed tip hard against her chest. Shifting his hand, he repeated his actions with the other breast, wringing a verbal response from her that made her face heat with shame.

Moans and animalistic groans fell from Kaila’s mouth, startling her with the raw, needy sounds. Her hands came up; she buried her fingers in the silken mass of his hair, loving the feel of all those thick, straight locks. The contrast between his moon-white hair and her dark skin entranced and enchanted her.

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Almost out of control from the desire pumping through her system, Kaila bit at his lips, demanding more. She’d never had this much, never tasted passion straight from someone’s lips. It was good, so damned good it didn’t matter that the man who was bringing it to her was not the man of her choice.

“Scheiβe, you are so wet, liebchen! And so tight!”

Oh gods, when had he put his finger in her? How could she have missed the insertion

of such a long, thick digit? He eased his finger out and pumped back in her, rotating his hand to increase the friction along the intimate corridors of her sex.

She brought her hips forward, begging for the firmer contact he continued to deny her.

“Please…stop?”

“Tell me I am not pleasing you.” His finger retreated, pulled out, only to slide back in joined by another finger.

She shuddered. Her flesh burned, and then moistened, stretching to accommodate the

wider girth of his two fingers. High inside her, the tip of one finger flicked against a spot she’d known nothing about. Her knees weakened and she sagged against him, mouth wide

open as a shocked scream heralded her delight at the sensation.

“Oh god, oh god…again, please!”

“But of course!” He repeated his action, pulling the same womb clenching reaction

from her.

Faster.

Harder, his fingers plumbed her depths.

In and flick! In and flick! In and flick!

Cold air wafted across her chest. Kaila looked down, astounded to see her large breasts exposed to Rickard’s salacious gaze. “Hold your sweatshirt out of the way,” he ordered, voice gone guttural in his focused lust.

Trembling hands clutched the edge of her top, lifted it higher until she’d bared the tops of her breasts. Her pecan-brown nipples rose amid the darker circle centered on her café-au-lait mounds.

“Yess!” He hissed his pleasure at the sight. A second later, his head snaked down, full lips opening over a jutting nipple. The hot, moist cavern of his mouth enclosed her; his teeth clamped like a vise around the erect, tight nubbin. His cheeks hollowed as he applied hot, forceful pressure to the sensitive tip, suckling her, drawing hard on the morsel he’d captured, flicking across the distended crest with quicksilver darts of his tongue.

Drowning under the intense stimulation, racing toward a pinnacle she’d never climbed, Kaila locked her hands behind Rickard’s head and clung for dear life. “Oh…oh…oh,

something is happening to me!”

With a growl that rasped across already over-stimulated nerves, Rickard drew back his head, allowing the tip of her breast to fall from his lips. Chest rising and falling with his Werewulf Journals 3: Hungry Pleasures

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labored breathing, he rested his forehead on hers. Eyes closed, he held there a moment. Then his hand gathered one of hers, led it down to where his cock surged beneath the cloth of his dress slacks. Guiding her fingers, he wrapped her palm around his hard girth. “Desire doesn’t get any more real than this, Kaila. Believe me when I say I find you very desirable.”

Dropping a kiss on her forehead, he pulled away, leaving her cold and forlorn. “And

respect and loyalty doesn’t get any harder than this!” A self-mocking quirk tilted his lips as he moved her convulsing hand away from his penis.

His words confused her. His actions dismayed her. He wasn’t going to fuck her?

Rickard probably read her questions in her eyes, on her face, because he brushed the

back of his hand over her left cheek. “Today, I am only going to watch you come. I will not fuck you…today.”

Her words warbled because her mouth shook so much. “I don’t understand.”

He sighed. When he spoke, he sounded angry. “I barely understand it myself,

liebchen.” Half leading her, half carrying her, he guided her back to the loveseat, eased her down on the plush cushions. “Open your legs for me, sweetness.”

With a docile obedience she was hard-pressed to understand, Kaila spread her knees,

allowing Rickard to settle between her splayed thighs. She lay quiescent, still as stone as he folded her sweatshirt out of the way and widened the opening of her shorts. Her nipples beaded under his hooded gaze. “Caramel corn,” he teased, “my favorite.”

He fell to her, agile hands plumping her mounded flesh, fingers tweaking and flicking her beaded nipples. Soon, she was moaning and squirming beneath him, her passions quickly re-aroused to the flashpoint they’d reached before. Mouth still working her nipples, he sent one hand seeking beneath the band of her cut-offs. She mewled as his broad palm smoothed the thick, tangled bush covering her fleshy, dark mound.

Three fingers thrust past her narrow opening, forced their way high in her clasping

channel. Her hips flew off the sofa, chasing the lightning of his touch. His body held hers open as his hand pumped between her thighs, driving his fingers in and out, in and out of her wet core. Slurping, slapping sounds of flesh striking flesh filled her ears as her body sought to hold his ramming fingers deep within.

Growling around her nipple, Rickard ordered, “Now, liebchen! You will come for me,

now!”

“Oh my God…unhh…oh, yes…yes!” Knees falling to the side, Kaila’s hips surged

upward, swallowing his hand as her upper torso jerked under the electrified whiplash of a long-delayed orgasm.

His tongue lashed at her nipple, battered the fleshy button until it screamed beneath his ministrations. Turning his head, he lavished the other tip with the same fervor. Between licks he encouraged her, fingers blurring as they shuttled between her open thighs. “Yes, baby, yes, my sweet one…come for me, cream all over my hand.”

40 Camille Anthony

With a primal cry, she arched one more time. Her muscles clenched, held her body

airborne as she hung on the cusp of completion. And then it struck, unraveling her bones until she flowed like water to the cradling cushions.

“Ah, baby. You are well worth waiting for.”

Kaila moaned, every muscle and sinew rubbery as Play-doh, too dazed to be sure she

heard his whispered words correctly. Unable to find the strength to turn even her head, she drowsed on the couch, hands languidly caressing her naked breasts, all shame consumed in the sensual conflagration just passed.

From above, lips that would have done a black man proud pressed down on hers. An

insistent tongue pried her mouth open, swept in to encourage her participation in a kiss hotter than the Sahara desert. Caught up in the meshing of mouths and tongues she barely felt him lowering her shirt and straightening her pants.

Pulling back and away, Rickard gazed down at her, a soft smile wreathing his face. “I really must go. In a day or so, my man will arrive with an envelope for you. It will contain everything you need, including my private number.” He paused, opened his mouth, closed it with a slow shake of his head. “When next you see Pavel, give him my love.”

He left her boneless from his loving. She turned her head to watch him leave, eyes

growing damp as, this time, his hand closed around the crystal knob and twisted. The door opened. Beyond the open portal, she caught a glimpse of shadows in the bushes, saw one man come up and speak to the prince. His bodyguards.

Relaxed beyond measure, she sighed, turned on her side and drew her legs up. A

moment later, her eyes drifted closed.

* * * * *

Rickard stood on the porch and watched as his trusted men emerged from their secret

posts. Aware Karel and at least two others had observed his foreplay with Kaila, he frowned.

Even those who hadn’t observed the tryst had no problem discerning the course of events.

They had only to observe the heft of his still erect cock.

Normally, their knowing wouldn’t bother him. Today, for some reason, it irked the shit out of him. Some things should remain private…like giving the woman who might prove to be your best friend’s forever girl her first orgasm. Or two.

Gruffly, still battling his raging lust, he ignored the question and barked an order.

“Karel, have the car brought around immediately.”

“At once, Highness.” Tucking his chin down, the security leader spoke in rapid cadence into his mouthpiece. A practiced hand gesture dispersed the men to their default defense positions.

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A few minutes later, a sleek white stretch limousine flying the personal Orloffberg flag and the flag of Drestovia purred around the corner. Rickard wasted no time climbing inside.

Pushing a button on the master console, he engaged the privacy shield, bottom lip caught between sharp teeth until the barrier completely concealed him.

Hissing with need, he widened his legs, hurriedly unzipped his slacks, and drew out his angry red cock.

He was so damned close…and yet so far.

Flinging his head back against the tan leather squabs, he eased his fist up and down his rampant length, almost sobbing at the burning pleasure roaring up his spine, radiating outward from his tight, full balls.

A flashback of Pavel’s plus-sized woman, her full thighs open as she came on his hand, inundated his mind, ramped up the urgency of his need. Groaning, he increased the pressure and speed of his fist, gripping his upstanding cock and pumping hard while his other hand cupped and rolled his balls. Fiery ribbons of arousal slammed through him, bowing his back and locking the muscles in his legs. He’d barely managed to control his earlier climax. There was no stopping this one.

With a lusty shout, Rickard gave way to his solitary orgasm. Semen, lava hot and

churning, boiled up his shaft, shooting in strong spurts to coat his belly and hand. The climax lasted forever, driven by the memories of Kaila’s lush body abandoned in the throes of her frantic completion.

Panting in the aftermath, he cleaned himself, mopping up his spilled seed with a

pristine handkerchief. Muttering angrily, he stuffed his limp cock back in his pants and zipped up. Closing his eyes, he pressed his thumb and finger against the bridge of his nose.

As the car sped through traffic, he admitted he’d let the situation get out of hand.

Knowing it was easier catching flies with sugar than with vinegar, he’d only meant to lure her with a little sweet lovemaking…not end up so hot he had to masturbate in the back seat of his damned limo!

The depths of her passions had overwhelmed him. His lust for her had surprised him

and he’d found himself carried away by her enthusiasm. Only the most gracious mercy had enabled him to stop before taking her. Pavel would have killed him…and rightly so.

Lifting his right hand, he cupped his palm over his nose and mouth, inhaling deeply.

Her essence still clung to his skin. Sweet, slightly musky, with an undertone of…Dial soap.

Kaila’s scent was just like her, a mixture of the exotic and the pure. He couldn’t wait to fuck her with Pavel. At the thought, his cock, so recently sated, filled and hardened. Heart thumping, he stared in consternation at this new development. He bit his lip, worry

beginning to tug at his soul. He’d bargained for only one time with them.

Shit. What if once wasn’t enough?

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Vichyssoise

“Ladies, welcome. My name is Pavel and I am the director of Sated Pleasures. I know

your flight was long; however, I trust it was a pleasant one. You must be anxious to freshen up and get settled in, but before you exit the plane, I’m afraid I must ask you to remain in your seats while the stewards pass out your orientation papers. There are a few final items we need to go over.”

Oh heavens -- it’s him! Good grief, he looks so much better than I remembered!

Pavel Janecek hadn’t seen her yet and Kaila kept her gaze glued to his face, wanting --