I hold her captive and thrust up again, helpless to stop myself.
Her breath catches and-fate help me-she grinds down on me. Her cheeks flush pink with sleep, long hair fans around her face.
Was she resting here? How in the hell did that happen?
"Fuck, Layne," I groan. "You feel so good. I'm trying to let you go, but I just can't." Another thrust. I sweep my fingers lower, between her legs.
Goddamn. She's wet for me. I mean, really wet.
"Beautiful Layne. My sexy scientist," I croon.
She pushes against my chest, arching her back up until she's sitting astride me. I have an awe-inspiring view of her round breasts beneath my t-shirt, almost tempting enough to shift a hand from her ass just to cup them.
But no. Not when I have her right here. I thrust up again. Her moist heat grinds over my desperate cock.
And she is grinding. It's not just my hands moving her, but she's rocking her hips, rubbing her clit over my bulge.
I can't fuck her. I can't.
I'll have to settle for the next best thing. Tasting her. My lust-addled brain can't figure out how to get the boxers off and keep her on top of me and it drives me mad. I grip her waist and lift her, sliding her up over my face. Then I rip open the crotch of the boxer briefs at the seams.
She gasps but doesn't fight me.
She wants this.
That, more than anything, excites me. Spurs me on. I'm dying to give her pleasure, to satisfy her.
My wolf needs to please her.
I lick the seam of her pussy, opening her. Her responding moan makes my cock so hard I'm sure it will break off. She squirms over my face as I tongue her clit. I hold her hips in place as I lick and nip her labia, penetrate her with a stiff tongue.
Her inner thighs grip my head, the trembling in them only ratcheting up my own burning need. I suck her clit and she screams, thighs squeezing even harder. I keep going and she keeps screaming, screaming, screaming. Coming, coming, coming.
"Sam, Sam, please!"
At last I release her from the whip of my tongue and she falls forward to catch the arm of the sofa, exhausted.
Something in me snaps. The control I'd been holding by telling myself it was okay to give her pleasure, just not to take it, falls away. In a flash, I'm on top of her.
We're on the couch, then the ground. I have her pinned down, my cock out and ready.
She looks up at my face and screams.
Not the throaty cry of pleasure she just treated me to, but one of real terror.
Her arms fly up to ward me off. She pushes the heels of both palms against my throat.
Surprise chokes off the growl I didn't realize I'd been issuing. I throw myself to the side, off her body.
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
I lost control. She must've seen fangs and thought I was going to kill her. Which actually, could happen. My wolf wouldn't mean to hurt her, but a mating bite to a human could be fatal. Fuck, I need to be careful.
I try to reel back the wolf, but he's already crazy with lust. Instead, I shift completely, busting my clothes at the seams.
Out.
Out.
I need to get the fuck out of here before I hurt her.
Need to run. To flee.
I launch for the door, but can't open it. Unlike Jackson's house where I've lived for the past ten years, there's no doggie door here. I race a circle around the room, my hind legs scraping off the walls.
Window.
I leap and smash the glass and screen on my way out.
My legs beat a path away from the mobile home, straight up the mountain, into the woods.
Layne
WHAT. The hell. Just happened?
I slowly climb from the floor, my limbs shaking so badly I'm not sure they'll hold.
Glass is everywhere around the window and I'm in my bare feet, so I back up until my butt hits the couch.
One minute Sam was pleasuring me, the next I was on my back on the floor.
No, wait. That wasn't the upsetting part. That part was actually uber-hot.
But then his eyes turned yellow and he had fangs. He was making a terrible snarling sound. I thought I was in danger. He must've thought so, too, or he wouldn't have jumped out the window like that.
I don't know how long I sit on the couch. After a while, I shake myself and stand up.
Sam left. Maybe this is a sign. Not that I believe in signs-I'm a scientist. But still. I have a chance right now to grab my research and run. Sam promised me a compromise, but I need that research and I can't depend on him to give it to me freely.
It may be too late to stop my own disease, but I know that research can save lives. I just need more time to work on it. Now that I know where the cells came from, I can figure out how to apply it to humans. It will work.
I jump up and run to the computer station where Sam had the data drive. Unbelievably, he left it right there. I pick it up and tiptoe through the glass. In the pocket of Sam's shredded jeans I find the keys to the van. No time to get dressed, so I just stuff my feet in my ballet flats, grab my purse and go out as I am-in a see through t-shirt and a pair of men's boxer briefs, ripped open at the crotch.
Desperate times.
I step outside and run to the van, fumbling with the keys. By the time I climb in and start the vehicle, something cold and hard has formed in my stomach. Something like dread, but fear isn't beneath it. It's guilt.
I sit behind the wheel not moving for several long seconds. Leaving seems wrong.
Leaving Sam seems wrong.
He needs me.