Page 9 of A Deeper Blue
“Yuh.” She wriggled underneath him, wanting the bra off too as he continued to tease her through the fabric. His kisses continued downward, and he paused, hovering between her legs, tongue running over one hip bone, while his hand gently parted the folds of her body.
Azure didn’t believe in extreme hair removal. Plus, it wasn’t like she was seeing anyone, so who cared about shaving all the bits? She was hairy as fuck down there, but he did not appear to care one bit. She sat up just enough to scramble out of her bra and jettison it over the side of the bed. He waited until she was free of the bra and pressed his tongue into her while he pushed her back down onto the bed. Azure moaned, and his tongue made little circles, exploring. Then he applied just a hint of teeth, and she yipped in surprise. Rafe’s only response was to laugh as he slid his fingers on either side of her clit in a V, and she moaned again as he rubbed a little faster, making her head rock back. He finally put his tongue to her. Pinching her clit between the two fingers and then driving into it with his tongue.
Azure made an inarticulate gasp, grabbed his hair, and shoved him face-first into her pussy. She panted, rocking against him as he licked her again and again. Using his tongue and his fingers, he had her quaking. She was so close to coming she began to crave it desperately, clinging to his hair and moaning her pleasure. She clawed at his shoulders, wanting more. There was the faint sizzle of magic under her fingers, and then something happened between her legs. His tongue drove into her harder and impossibly wider, giving her the more she needed. Before she could ponder the implications, his tongue flicked inside her and also managed to hit her clit at the same time. She gave a cry as he pushed her over the edge into an orgasm like she’d never experienced before.
His weight shifted on the bed, and she felt his lips begin to travel upward. Her entire body tingled, and his lips set off little fireworks under her skin at each stop.
He reached her collar bone and paused to let his tongue caress the hollow of her throat. Her breath caught at the strangely intimate gesture. He pushed her legs apart with his knee and reared back, pressing his cock to her. He slid it back and forth, teasing her, letting it get slick with her cum.
“Rafe,” she moaned. “Give it to me.”
He pushed a little way in, and her pussy clenched so hard that she let out a whimper. “More,” she begged.
He sank into her gently, his eyes fixed on her face as if enjoying her every moan and twist. Then he began to thrust. Slowly at first, so that she moaned and begged him to go faster. Then harder and deeper. He pushed her legs up until they were over his shoulders. She didn’t think she’d ever been fucked so deeply in her life. The bed was shaking as he pounded into her, rattling the wall, and she didn’t even care. He had one hand clenched around her ass cheek so hard that it hurt, but it made her feel tight like she was going to come again at any second.
“Don’t let go,” she gasped, panicked as he adjusted his grip. “Yes, goddess, yes!”
He drove into her in a wild fury, and she began to worry that she wouldn’t come again by the time he finished. Her second sight chose that moment to give her a little preview, and she gasped in shock at her own orgasm and then came so hard her she forgot to breathe. He finished with a roar, grinding into her, before collapsing down on top of her.
Azure wrapped her legs around him, refusing to let him pull out of her—enjoying the sticky, sweaty, earthy moment of being joined to him. She pushed her face into his neck and inhaled, loving the utterly masculine scent of his sweat and his body. All she could think was this was how men were supposed to smell. And then she realized he wasn’t a man—he was a wolf.
Episode 6
Morning
Rafe
Rafe stumbled out of bed and into the bathroom, only cracking an eyelid to make sure he was making it into the toilet. The sun and was trying to creep in through the motel drapes, and somewhere a fucking pigeon coo-cooed. He had long since eaten every pigeon within five miles of his cabin in Wyoming, and he was tempted to do the same here, but it sounded like too much effort. Also, the damn tile was too cold on his feet, and he didn’t see why there needed to be a draft on his ass, but he didn’t really care about any of those things. He shuffled back toward the bedroom. What he cared about was crawling back in bed and going another round with Azure.
He paused in the doorway, his eyes popping open.
What the fuck had happened last night?
One minute he’d been thinking how nice it was to meet someone who knew the words toThe Cowboy’s Lament,and the next…
He remembered thinking he needed to get out of the room. Run out into the hills. He looked at the motel door in horror. How close had he been to wolfing out in the motel parking lot? He flipped on the bathroom light and looked around the room. His exit from the bed had stripped the covers off Azure, and the yellow bulb from the single overhead fixture in the bathroom painted her curves like a Renaissance study of light and shadow. His first thought was he was the luckiest son of a bitch on the planet. His second was that he’d screwed up massively. He could see scratches on her back, a bite mark on her shoulder, and he was pretty sure those bruises on her ass would be a match for his fingerprints.
She lifted her head, one hand flailing around the bed as if looking for something.
“Where’d you go?” she mumbled, twisting around to squint at him. He realized with a thrill that she had been searching for him.
“’S cold,” she complained.
“Sorry,” he said, flipping off the bathroom light and hurrying back to her. He slid into bed, spooning against her and tucking the covers up around them.
She had been doing some sort of spell last night. He hadn’t paid much attention to it. He’d thought it was some sort of locating spell. Mostly he’d been concentrating on how good she smelled and how much he wanted to get down on the floor with her. He assumed that as a witch, she probably knew more about magic than he did, but whatever she’d been doing hadn’t looked that complicated.
But then…
She’d flipped something in him. Whatever magic she’d done had been far more powerful than he’d expected. His little witch was not a featherweight. He also didn’t think she’d been aiming her spell at him. He tried to remember what her reaction had been to him shifting, but everything felt fuzzy—like the first night that he’d been exiled from the pack, drank three cases of vodka, and woke up eight days later in Canada with only vague wolf memories of how he got there.
He did have a distinct memory of cutting off her underwear, and she had been pissed. And then also, later, of her riding him like he was damn rodeo bull. She hadn’t seemed pissed about that, and he definitely wasn’t, so it seemed like she had gotten over the underwear thing. Under the covers, he ran a hand over her back. The scratches worried him. He was a hundred and thirty-eight. He was supposed to have better control than that.
He pulled up a spell that he rarely used. It was barely more than a charm—a song his mother had used to speed healing in the pups before they could properly change.
He hummed the notes, unable to remember the words, and ran his hand over her back and down to her ass, stroking over the bruises.
“Mmmmm,” she murmured, melting against him. “That feels so goooooood.”
