Wolf Bond - Lyric Hounds 02 Page 3

  He flinched like he’d been shot, a low growl slipping from his lips so feral, half the males in her pack would be jealous of it. “Seven years? That was more than the term of your service. You’d been in six years, two in the same unit as me when you died....”

  She shook her head, the possibility that she and his Saxon were one and the same forcing a horrible suspicion to form about her family. They’d always been insistent that she mate a wolf. “Um…were we...?”

  “Lovers?” One of his eyebrows winged up. “Yes. From the day we met. As soon as I saw you, you were like a fire in my veins. I had to make you mine.”

  “You did,” she whispered, unable to tear her gaze away from his lips. The awareness between them swelled and deepened. “You must have. Why else would I dream of you? I lost my memory, but my soul didn’t. It tried to tell me about you in my dreams.”

  She shifted in his lap, feeling safe and secure for the first time since the crash. He watched her, his attention absolute as she leaned forward to press her lips against his. They were firm, warm, and immobile under hers. Tension hummed through him, his muscles taut as though he held back. As though he couldn’t believe the surreal situation they’d found themselves in. She didn’t blame him, the story straight out of a fairy tale. Or a nightmare. Given the facts and dates, it very much seemed her family outright lied to her. But why?

  Brushing his lips one last time, she pulled back. “I’m sorry…” she whispered. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

  Shit. Perhaps he’d already moved on, if he’d thought his Saxon…she…was dead. Wait. Was tonight about that? Forgetting her? With her? Saxon’s head ached, her wolf rising possessively, wanting to reclaim him as theirs and snarling at the idea he might be searching for a new mate. Even though the woman he’d come to meet was her.

  “I don’t even remember your name.”

  He opened his eyes. “It’s Barrett. Barrett Simmons.”

  “Barrett.” She rolled the name on her tongue, trying it on for size. “That could shorten to Barr. Or B.”

  The smile that spread over his lips stole the breath from her lungs. It turned his rather harsh, almost cruel masculine features into something amazing. The smile opened his features, the blue of his eyes startling and direct, while the smile curving his lips managed to be both cheeky and hinting at sensuality. The heat in his eyes kicked her feminine reactions into gear, and shivers raced over her skin, wrapping around her spine to settle into a warm knot in the pit of her stomach.

  “You always called me that. B…even bought me a bumblebee soft toy,” he admitted, his voice low and rough. “I still have it.”

  He didn’t lean forward to kiss her. Instead, he sat back, pulling her with him and toppling her against his broad chest. She squeaked, big mean she-wolf that she was, the sound lost as he kissed her, nowhere near as passive as before. Dominant and forceful, he claimed her lips like he had every right to, demanding her response. She yielded, let him delve within. A groan rolled from the back of his throat and he pulled her closer, thrust deeper to find her tongue with his and duel with it. Teasing her until she whimpered, almost overwhelmed.

  The touch of his lips, the stroke of his tongue... all new and at the same time as familiar as her own skin or the wolf that prowled within. She knew him. On an instinctive level, on a cell-deep level, she knew it. All her doubts disappearing, she relaxed into the kiss and started to tease him back, evaded him with quick flicks of her tongue, then a small nip of his lower lip when he growled at her.

  She broke away and gasped, receiving a small grin in response. “I thought I was the wolf here.” Her heart lurched. She didn’t remember him, only from the dreams and this new-found physical knowing. What had they shared? What had they talked about and laughed over? She’d missed all that, the loss like a physical blow.

  “Don’t think.” Evidently sensing her distress, he altered their position with ease on the couch. Her dress, a simple satin shift, slid over the leather with a soft rasp and he braced above her, tangling their legs. “Just feel.”

  Feel. That she could do.

  Saxon closed her eyes and gave herself up to the shivers that whispered over her skin and the heat blossoming through her veins. Let the whole situation, her lost memory, the puzzle of their previous connection, fall away to concentrate on him and him alone. He leaned down, his warmth surrounding and covering her, lips mere inches from hers, so close she felt the slight rasp of his stubble against her skin. Her breath caught in her throat and her wolf wallowed in the scents, new and yet so intimately familiar that rolled from his skin, his aftershave, hinting of sandalwood and citrus conjuring up the safety and security she associated with him even in the dream. Which explained her compulsion to buy a bottle of the stuff when she felt low, and the way her heart pounded whenever she scented a human guy wearing it, only to face an unexplainable sense of disappointment when she tracked the wearer down.

  Because it hadn’t been him. Hadn’t been Barrett.

  He closed the gap, caressing her lips gently with his. Softly. Compared to the feral nature of his previous kiss, the dainty, delicate touch stoked the fire within her like nothing else. With a moan she opened up. Needing more. Needing everything he could give her. She’d been out in the cold too long and only his warmth could bring her back to life.

  His breath caught in the back of his throat, then became a deep rumble of approval. One arm wrapped around and under her, crossing her shoulders to cup her nape. Holding her still, he tilted her head back and claimed her lips again, kissing her like his life depended on it, as though he couldn’t get enough of her. A deep, tongue-dueling invasion that turned to hot, open-mouthed kisses, fanning the flames running riot through her body.

  More shivers raced over her skin. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him closer. It didn’t matter that he was human, and she a wolf. Didn’t make a difference she could snap him in two easily, he held her in thrall with his kisses. Moving over her, he slid a hard-muscled leg between hers, parting her thighs to settle between them.

  She welcomed his weight and rubbed her leg up the outside of his. The heel of her shoe caught in the fabric of his pants. Swearing between kisses, she unhooked it to throw it on the floor. His lips curved in amusement and the mood changed, became playful. She struggled to get rid of the other sandal, each wriggle pushing the hem of her dress higher. The fine fabric of his pants abraded her inner thighs gently, sending a shiver from her scalp down to her toes. Her wolf whimpered, the creature’s need to reclaim their mate a compulsion Saxon couldn’t ignore.

  Wouldn’t ignore.

  Finally yanking the other sandal free, she dropped it; it joined the other with a thud. Then she tangled her fingers in the front of his shirt. The buttons popped free easily, the tantalizing brushes of his chest on the back of her fingers almost driving her to distraction. She fumbled the third button with a curse and he smiled.

  “Tear it off,” he whispered, nudging her nose with his.

  Oh, hell yes. Her wolf was so on board with that idea. The most feral growl she’d ever uttered rose from the center of her chest. Dropping the button like a hotcake, she grabbed handfuls of fabric and yanked. Cloth ripped, shattering the silence of the room, punctuated by his deep gasp as acres of masculine skin were exposed for her pleasure. He growled as well, the sound becoming a rumble of approval when she ran her hands over his shoulders. Silky skin over steel muscles. Delightful. Sexy. Everything she’d dared to dream of in her guilty little fantasies about him.

  “Don’t stop, baby… I need you to touch me. It’s been so long—” He cut off his own sentence by claiming her lips again, the sheer hunger in his kiss shooting a spear of heat straight through her.

  He rolled his hips, the muscles in his shoulders and arms bunching. He pressed harder, his cock a thick ridge in his pants that rubbed right where she needed him. A moan welled up and her pussy clenched, aching to be filled. A tremble rocked her, need dampening her panties. She was wet and
ready for him. The reserve she’d shown around all other men disappeared as if it had never existed.

  “Gotta get you out of those clothes.” He punctuated his words with a trail of kisses across her shoulder. Hooking a finger under the strap of her dress, he slipped it down her shoulder, the rasp of his stubble along her skin dragging another shiver from her hypersensitive body. “Need to see you. Feel you again.”

  Her wolf aided and abetted him. Extending a claw, she sliced the other strap then ran it down the side of the dress. The sharp tip caught her skin, but in her need she didn’t care. A little bit of blood was nothing. He was everything.

  He stared as the fabric fell away a little to reveal her body beneath. She hadn’t bothered with a bra; only a tiny pair of panties that enhanced more than hid what lay beneath. He sucked in a breath as her curves were revealed. Sudden doubt assailed her. She’d been a soldier, hadn’t she? So she must have been fit, not slightly more…curvy as she was now, that last ten pounds taunting her when it wouldn’t come off. Instinctively, she tried to cover up.

  “No!” He snarled, grabbing her hands and pinning them above her head with one of his. Leaning back, he flipped the ruined dress aside. His eyes darkened, heat in their blue depths while he gazed his fill.

  “I liked how you were before…” Her heart stuttered at his low words, heat beginning to spread across her cheeks. “But this…fuck me. You’re stunning.”

  He ran a big, callused hand up her hip and into the curve of her waist. The touch burned and she fought the urge to wriggle. An interplay of emotions skated across his face—need, feral and dark, warring with something else, something she couldn’t define.

  His big frame shook with tension. “I wanted to take this slow, but I can’t.” He flicked a glance up, held her gaze with his. His expression was tight, on the verge of tortured. “I dreamed of finding you again. How I’d take you slowly, make sure you knew you were loved. Make sure you knew how much I lov…how much you meant to me. Mean to me.”

  He paused, struggled for a second, then regained his composure and smiled. The simple expression stole her breath all over again, but the darkness lurking behind it...she shivered and her pussy clenched again. Trailing a finger under the thin strap of her panties, he said, “But all I can think about is tearing these off and taking you, hard and fast. Right here.”

  Oh Lord, he really would be the death of her. Eyes wide and not able to do a damn thing about it, she nodded. “Then do it.”

  Surprise swamped his features, his hand stilling. “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely.” Hooking her leg around his, she brought him closer. His hips pressed against hers again, and her eyes rolled back in her head. “I’ve been dreaming of you for years. Give me better dreams than blood and death. Please?”

  Without a word, he held her gaze, winding the thin strap of her panties around strong fingers. Tension built with each brush of his fingers. When she thought she couldn’t take anymore, he pulled.

  Her gasp covered the twang of the snapping elastic and he pulled the ruined fabric free, the other side giving without a fight, to leave her naked beneath him. With his big hand rough on her thigh, he pushed her legs apart. Her whimper broke free as he stroked higher, tracing his fingertips over the crease between leg and body. Parting her pussy lips with a gentle stroke, he groaned and bowed his head to the slick wetness.

  “God, baby.” He alternated long strokes of his fingers with quick flicks of his tongue over her clit. “You’ll be the death of me.”

  Death of him? He’d be the death of her.

  Arousal and anticipation slammed through her with the force of a freight train, driving her mercilessly higher. If she harbored any doubts they’d known each other, done this before, the doubts were swept away. He knew how to touch her, how to work her body; bring her to the brink within minutes. Quicker even than she could herself, in her lonely bed with battery-operated friends.

  “That’s it, moan for me,” he urged, dipping his fingers into her pussy again. The semi-penetration, the hint of more, had her panting and arching her hips, desperate. Desperate to be filled by him. “Let me hear my name on your pretty lips again.”

  Her reply was cut off when he slid two, thick fingers into her. Curling them back, he sought the sweet spot behind her pelvis, and she had to fight not to cry out. Biting her lip, she rode out the shivers of pleasure radiating from her core. With each thrust and curl, he showed her a little bit of heaven, adding yet more pleasure when his lips brushed the side of her neck. His deep voice whispered in her ear, dirty, crude phrases to describe how he was going to take her. How hard, how fast. Words she couldn’t focus on.

  She strained and rocked her hips until her release welled and exploded without warning. Tension one moment and an onslaught of ecstasy the next. She cried his name and shuddered, riding his hand for every last drop of pleasure. God, it had been so long….

  Waves shimmered through her, pleasure still ebbing and flowing. He slipped from her and she gave him a pout. Through heavy eyelids, she admired the grace in his heavily muscled frame as he stripped with an economy of motion beautiful in itself. His cock, hard and heavy, sprang free to slap against his toned stomach, the pale scars there evidence that he hadn’t come away from his time in the army unharmed.

  “Like what you see?” His amused query filtered through her pleasure-numbed brain. The couch dipped under his weight and foil rustled. He turned sideways, his muscled arms hiding his movements as he sheathed himself. Then he turned and crawled over her again like a predator, his gaze hot, a tight, fierce expression on his face.

  The shiver hit her, radiating out from her core in waves. Settling between her thighs, he hauled one of her legs up over his hip, opening her wide to him. The broad tip of his shaft rubbed against her clit, and she jumped with a moan of pleasure. She’d already come, but it wasn’t enough. She needed more. She needed him. Filling her. Taking her. Claiming her.

  “Nearly there, baby.” He dipped his hips to drag the thick shaft of his cock along her pussy lips, then rocked between them. She whimpered, every cell on fire as he teased her.

  “Please….” she begged, unable to take much more. “Barr, please. Now.”

  He answered by angling his hips and then he was there. Right where she needed him. Their moans, hers soft and delicate, his harsh and masculine, merged as he pushed, his thick head breeching her, stretching and parting her, each thick inch larger than the last until, finally, he was seated to the hilt.

  “Look at me, baby,” he urged with a strong finger under her chin, forcing her head back. Concern warred with the heat filling his gaze. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

  She couldn’t speak, the burning pressure of the welcome invasion stealing the ability clean away. Instead she shook her head, hands flat on his chest, waiting for the burn to ease. And it did, replaced by the urgent need to move. She rocked her hips and he rewarded her with a sharp inhale and a muttered curse. Grinning, she did it again.

  “Fuck….” He growled. “That’s it.”

  Grabbing her wrists again, he hauled them back over her head. He seemed to like pinning her down, but she didn’t care. He pulled out and a shudder hit her, then he slid back in, the stroke hard and satisfying. As long as he kept doing what he was doing, he could do whatever he liked.

  Setting up a hard and fast rhythm that shoved her into the soft leather of the couch, each stroke filled with a power and feral need that touched the wolf inside her. She met him thrust for thrust, reveling in the heat and eroticism of the moment. The sounds of sex, the slide and slap of skin on skin, and their soft moans and pants filled the room.

  It was too much. She hovered on the knife-edge again. Her breath caught, her movements slowing and uncoordinated. Barrett growled again, let go of her arms, wrapped his around her and slammed home over and over. He claimed her mouth and she came apart, her scream, his name, muffled under his lips.

  The orgasm shattered her into a million pieces, each cascadi
ng down like drops in waterfall. He roared, upping his pace. The slide of his thick cock caused the fragments to shatter further, until she was awash with bliss. One, two, on the third stroke he drove into her and stiffened, throwing back his head to bellow her name.

  Claiming her as his own.

  Chapter Four

  He couldn’t believe it. He’d found her again.

  Barrett lay on his side in the big bed they’d finally made it to and watched the woman sleeping next to him. If he’d had any reservations that she was Saxon—his Saxon—then they’d been eased when she fell asleep. Within a minute or two of her breathing evening out, she’d turned on her side and nestled against him, all curled up and cute. Like she’d always done, right from the first night they’d spent together on a hard cot in some tent in the ass-end of beyond.

  Brushing his lips over her temple, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes in contentment. He should sleep. Already exhaustion pulled at him beyond the sated satisfaction humming through every cell, but he didn’t want to miss anything. Two years he’d been without her, grieved for her, so every second was a gift.

  He allowed the reality to settle in, and warmth spread through him.

  Car crash, his ass. She didn’t bear scars from the bullet wounds that killed her, but he’d sparred with Sav enough to know that wolves didn’t scar and the change wiped any damage from their bodies to leave a clean slate. He envied the awkward bastard. While some of their training sessions left Barrett almost unable to walk, the werewolf strutted around like a spring chicken, regardless of the amount of damage Barr had handed out with his fists. So yes, some hard questions needed to be asked, right the way down the line. From the medics who had told him she’d died, to the family that appeared to have lied to her.

  But that could all wait until morning. He didn’t want to wake Aaron or Mel up that late at night. They’d both have his back. Aaron would shift heaven and earth, throwing all the influence a world-famous rock star could muster, until the situation yielded some answers. They would get to the bottom of it. He relaxed with a smile, finally able to look forward to the future with a happy heart.