CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Idon't pull into the narrow road which leads to the pack farmhouse until nearly eight-thirty, which is later, much later than I thought my errand would take me to run.
But I wasn't expecting Fisher's dad, Mart, who has another strange name I've never heard before, to come back not only with a large box full of pastries but also three coffees and muffins.
He assumed I hadn't had breakfast yet for me to be up and about so early, and asked if I wanted to stop in at the shop for a few minutes so we could eat it together.
I had to pretend I'd dropped something to hide my eyes filling with tears because no one's ever thought to include me like that before, not ever.
And even though I knew I should head back, I didn't hesitate about saying yes.
Since Fisher had left the chilled and frozen food boxes until last so nothing would spoil, we left it there and went to sit in the back of the shop and ate breakfast together.
I've never laughed so much in my life, and even now my face is still sore from all the ridiculous stories Mart and Fisher told me about all the things that have ever gone wrong in the shop.
Even though they must have been curious about who I am and why I've moved here with Dayne, neither of them asked, and I appreciated it.
Already I'm looking forward to next Friday since they both want me to go back and have breakfast with them again before I pick up the groceries.
That makes three now.
I'm grinning like an idiot as I bump along the road, unable to wipe the no doubt ridiculous smile off my face.
I have three friends in the world, maybe four if I count Jenna, and having come from none a month ago, I feel like the luckiest girl in the world.
Until I pass the last of the trees and I'm within sight of the farmhouse.
Just like the first time I got here, the entire pack are outside staring in my direction. And by the entire pack, I mean everyone.
Even Dayne, who does not look happy to see me.
Immediately, I stall the car.
No matter how many times I fight to get it to start up again, I can't. Not with the way Dayne is staring at me. Not with the way my hands are shaking from the knowledge I've pissed him off, and I don't know how he's going to punish me.
Without warning, someone wrenches the drivers' side door open.
I gasp, and my eyes fly up to see who it is.
It's Dayne. Of course, it's him, and before I can even think of reacting, he's unbuckled me from my seat and is jerking me out of the car.
I open my mouth to tell him about the food in the back of the truck, and the breakfast in the passenger seat, but even as I'm saying the first word, his gaze is locking on Luka who is fast approaching, looking anxious.
"Deal with this," Dayne snaps at Luka.
He drags me along with such a tight grip on my upper arm, I have to jog to keep up with his ground-eating strides.
I pass the pack who deliberately turn away from me without a word. And then Dayne is dragging me up the porch steps when I hear the truck engine purring.
Darting a glance back, I see Luka behind the wheel, though his gaze is still on me and he looks even more worried than he did before.
Probably wondering if Dayne's on his way to killing me. And he wouldn't be alone in thinking it, either.
But I don't focus on him for too long. No, my attention is on Dayne who's face is so utterly devoid of expression as he tows me through the house, up the stairs, and to our bedroom.
"Dayne, I'm sor-"
He slams the bedroom door shut so hard, I stop talking.
And when I glimpse into his eyes and see they've gone fully wolf, I panic. With his nostrils flared, and his lips curled in a snarl, he takes a step toward me.
It's like he was just waiting for us to get to the bedroom before he let his fury out.
Now all my thoughts about feeling comforted by the wolf instead of the man are flying out the window.
Lowering my head, I start backing away as his fury triggers my fear.
But he's not having any of it since his grip on my arm tightens and he jerks me toward the bathroom with enough force that I have no choice but to be towed along.
The bathroom door gets the same treatment as the bedroom, and the slam is hard enough to send bottles on a shelf beside the sink crashing to the floor.
Dayne doesn't react at all, though I give the blue mouthwash spreading everywhere more than a passing glance.
Oh joy, something to look forward to cleaning if Dayne doesn't kill me.
With one hand locked around my arm, he steps into the shower, turns it on, and then he backs out again.
I don't have even a second to wonder what he's doing, and what this is all about before he's releasing me.
"Get in," he snarls in such a rage-filled voice, it's close to impossible for me to understand what he's saying at first.
I glance down at my jeans and tank top.
The jeans are designer but they might be all right, the tank top on the other hand is a silky peach fabric which I can't imagine would survive a shower. It looks like something more in need of drycleaning than anything else I've worn before.
Since Dayne doesn't seem to be in a talking mood, I don't even bother to speak. I put my hands on the hem of my top and tug.
"No," Dayne snaps. "Get in. Now."
I blink up at him, not understanding. "But my clothes, I don't want-"
He leans into my face. "Get in the fucking shower before I fucking throw you in there," he snarls in a voice not even close to being human.
I scramble in the shower without another word, and through the open door watch as Dayne leans against the sink and crosses his arms over his chest, staring at me.
Not knowing what else to do, I stand there under the showerhead, fully dressed, getting soaked.
As the minutes tick on, I see less of his wolf in his eyes, and he doesn't seem as angry as before.
Finally, he uncrosses his arms and stands from the sink. "Get out."
I fumble to turn the shower off and start toward him, even though I'd run the other way if I could. But since there's only one way out of the bathroom, and Dayne is standing in front of it, it's pointless to even hope for escape.
What is it with Dayne trapping me in the shower?
"Strip," he demands, the second my bare feet touch the shower mat, and my hands go to my jeans.
I'm shaking so much I find it impossible to undo my jean button, much less the zip.
And after a couple of minutes of me getting nowhere, and Dayne observing me, he steps forward, making every muscle in me tense as he quickly and efficiently strips my soaked tank top from me and unbuttons my jeans.
When he crouches down to peel the wet denim that feels glued on from my legs, I startle and my eyes, which were lowered to the ground, jerk up to his face.
With his hooded eyes and a blank expression on his face, yet again I struggle to work out what it is he thinks when he looks at me.
He never hides his rage and frustration from me, but everything else-all other emotions, I don't have a clue.
Just as efficiently as he dealt with my tank top, he tugs my jeans off, one leg at a time.
And then I'm standing naked, trembling in front of Dayne, who does nothing but gaze up at me in silence from his crouched position.
I start thinking about how my breasts aren't cute and perky like Savannah's, how narrow my hips are, and all the other things wrong with me, shifting restlessly with embarrassment, feeling myself blushing the longer Dayne continues to stare at my body.
Eventually, I can't take anymore and lift my arms to cover my breasts, which I've always felt made me look unbalanced with how much bigger they are than all the rest of me.
"Out of proportion," a girl in my old pack used to love telling me.
The words haunt me now, as they always do whenever I catch sight of my naked body, or when I feel the weight of someone's attention on my chest.
She's right, I am out of proportion.
How can I be all boyish hips, and skinny-legged, yet have boobs that look like they should belong to someone else? Someone with curves, someone more feminine than I ever will be.
Except, almost as soon as I cover myself, Dayne is tugging my arms down to my side again, never lifting his gaze.
Swallowing, I stare at the bathroom wall because I don't know what else to do. And then, without warning, Dayne reaches up and cups my breasts with his large, warm hands, drawing my gaze back to his face again with a sharp indrawn breath.
I tense at his unexpected touch, not knowing what he intends to do next.
Not that he seems to notice.
Slowly, he brushes the pads of his thumbs over my nipples as he strokes and massages my breasts until I feel a growing ache between my legs.
"Breathe," he murmurs.
My breath whooshes out of me.
Once I'm back to breathing somewhat normally instead of just holding my breath, still not taking his eyes from my breasts, Dayne leans forward and draws a nipple into his mouth, suckling lightly.
Moaning, my hands go to his head as I throw my head back at how good it feels to have him tugging on my nipple. But when he uses the sharp edge of his teeth against my aching breasts…
I let my eyes drift closed when he moves his mouth to my neglected breast, and can't stop myself from sagging against him when my knees weaken.
I didn't think it was possible to climax from someone touching and kissing your breasts alone, but I know with utter certainty that if Dayne keeps using his mouth on me like this, it's going to happen to me, and soon.
I lose track of time.
All that matters to me, all I care about is for Dayne to never stop what he's doing. So, when he suddenly shifts back and rises, I tighten my hands in his hair in a frantic attempt to hold him there.
He looms over me.
With his hands on my hips the only thing holding me up, he backs up to the sink and then spins me so I'm facing the large oval mirror.
Through it our eyes lock.
He takes a step back and releases his hold on me to tug his shirt over his head. I grip the sink for balance.
At the sound of his zipper, and the sight of his muscled arms tensing as he shoves his pants down behind me, something I don't see with my body blocking his, I gulp.
Everything in me goes tense as I wait for the first press of his body against mine.
When it comes, when he curls his arm around my front and tugs me back against him, nothing prepares me for how good it feels to have the heated length of his body flush against my damp skin.
It draws a deep sigh from me, and as I watch, his wolf is in his eyes again when I rub myself against him and his erection settles between my ass.
But the wolf is there for only a moment, and then it's the man again, it's Dayne's ice-blues peering at me as one hand returns to play with my breast, and his other skims down my body.
When his fingers brush against my core, my breath catches at the dual pleasure and I start to close my eyes, all the better to soak it all up.
"Eyes on me." Dayne's voice is gruff, his eyes shifting from ice-blue to silver.
The longer he touches me, brushing the tight bundle of nerves that has me writhing, the wetter I'm getting until he slides first one finger, and then two fingers inside me, and I make a choked sound.
"Oh god," I cry out, knowing I'm not going to last much longer. If he keeps thrusting his fingers inside me like this, I'm going to come apart.
I don't know why, but alternating between watching his thumb brushing my sex as his fingers plunge in and out of me, and staring into his eyes while he fucks me with his fingers is making me hotter than I thought I could ever get.
When his finger glances against a secret part of me, a place that has me feeling frantic, I suck in a breath and grab at his wrist as I ride his hand.
I'm close. So, so close, all I can think about, all I can focus on is the feel of Dayne working his fingers in and out of me, that when he bends me over, I grab onto the edge of the sink and let him, desperate for him to never stop.
I'm not expecting him to ease his body, and even worse, his hand, away from me. So much so, I open my mouth to complain.
But before a single word passes between my lips, Dayne thrusts, his cock spearing through me right up to the hilt.
I come screaming.
With my body already wound up so tight, the moment he thrust into me there was nowhere I could go but down.
I can't say how much time passes between my orgasm. But when I open my eyes, I'm surprised to find I'm lying draped over the sink, my forehead pressed against cold porcelain, clutching onto it with a desperate grip, knowing it must only have been seconds or a couple of minutes because I feel Dayne still lodged deep inside me.
My inner muscles are still rippling around him, struggling to adjust to his girth. He's rock hard, but he's not moving.
Lifting my head from the sink, the first thing I see when I glance into the bathroom mirror is that Dayne's eyes have gone wolf.
"You ready?" His words come out at a near growl, and his eyes promise he's not going to be gentle.
I lick my dry lips. "I don't know." My voice comes out raspy, probably from my screaming. Which the pack has to have heard, but I try not to think about that.
Amusement lights his eyes, and his hands tighten around my hips. "How about we find out?"
And then he pulls out almost completely before slamming back into me so deep, the tip of him touches the end of me.
The moan he wrings from me is so intensely needy, I'm shocked I'm capable of making such a sound.
I writhe against him, unable to believe how good it feels, struggling to understand how I could still be so greedy for him.
"Fuck, you're tight." He shudders against me. "It's like being in a fucking furnace."
Through the mirror, I catch Dayne's jaw tense as his fingers grip me tight enough to bruise. I don't care. The only thing I care about is Dayne fucking me.
"Please Dayne," I whimper when he still doesn't move.
He sucks in a deep breath and releases it just as gustily, and then he bends, burying his face against the back of my shoulder. Easing back a little, he rolls his hips against me in one slow, deep thrust.
"Move," I growl when he does nothing else.
Lifting his face from my shoulder, I already know what I expect to see from the feel of his mouth on my skin.
The barest hint of a smile curves his lips. "Was that an order?"
Ignoring the amusement on his harshly drawn face, I attempt to shove back against him as a desperate ache threatens to swallow me whole.
This is more than want. This is need.
But his hands clamp tight around me. Forcing me to halt.
"Dayne. Move." I don't care it's me making demands. All I care about is him finishing what he started.
"Who knew you could be so demanding?" He sounds like he's laughing at me, and although his eyes are still more wolf than man, the grip he has on me warns me not to trust this amused side of him.
He isn't as relaxed as he's pretending to be and from the way his hardness is throbbing inside me, he wants this as much, or more than I do.
"Dayne, please. I need…" I shift against him.
"What?" he demands in a near growl, amusement sliding away in an instant.
"You," I whisper, "please."
The only warning I have is his eyes darkening before he moves. And then all I can do is hold fast onto the sink as he pounds his hips against mine, a snarl on his lips.
"You're mine. Fucking mine."
I've never let myself go as absolutely until this moment.
With a crazed wolf inside me waiting for me to lower my defenses so she can break free, I can't afford to. But not now.
Now nothing else matters but Dayne fucking me, not even holding my wolf back.
I forget everything.
My only thoughts are on the feel of him, the harsh slap of his skin meeting mine, and the musky scent of sex.
His pace is so hard, so fast, there's not a hope in hell of me keeping up, so I don't bother. I grip the sink even tighter and widen my stance, my gaze remaining locked on Dayne's as he drives his cock deeper and harder inside me.
And my body just… gives around his.
All of a sudden, I'm standing on the edge of an explosion unlike any I've ever felt before. It's nothing like how I felt at our mating ceremony. It doesn't even come close to my first climax minutes before.
No, this is something else.
I'm going to come hard, and it's got everything to do with the way his arousal is rubbing, dragging against places no one else has ever touched before.
This is it.
I feel myself igniting, breaking apart.
I go still even as Dayne continues to plunge inside me, my body tight, breasts swollen and aching, trembling as my eyes widen and my lips part.
"Dayne..." His name is a desperate whisper so soft it's barely audible, so breathy I doubt he hears. I know I don't from the harsh pounding of my heart in my head, drowning out all other noise.
But going by the taut lines of strain on his face and the increasing pressure of his fingers digging into my curves, it's as if he hears me. As if he knows I'm coming.
Dayne draws his hips away, pulling out until only the tip of him remains tucked inside, and then he shoves back inside me.
Everything in me goes so tense, every muscle clamping so tight around Dayne as my eyes shutter closed and bright lights dance behind my lids.
He gives a violent shudder, and I know he feels how tightly my inner muscles are clenching him, holding him inside me.
And then the tension drops away, and I'm screaming as I writhe against him, the deepest pleasure I've ever felt in my life blooming, and I'm choking, nearly crying as the force of my release sucks all my strength away and I slump onto the sink.
I feel Dayne's cock jerking against me as he holds me still, and then I'm being flooded with his fiery release.
I'm conscious he's speaking. Maybe swearing. I don't know, as he continues to slide his hardness in and out as he softens. Letting my body draw the last of his release from him, I don't know.
But now my eyes are closing as exhaustion seeps through me and darkness opens its arms and embraces me.