Bewitch The Dark - Racing The Moon Part 4

"Idiot. The clock is electric." Sunday pounded the desktop alarm with a fist. Pulling open a drawer, she shuffled about in the darkness. "I know there's a watch in here somewhere."

She shouldn't be wasting time looking for, well, the time. It was apparent the man was going to change soon. Maybe that was why she'd fled?

"You're not afraid," she tried confidently. Her breath shivered out on a reedy whimper. Sunday clasped her hands before her chest. Her lungs seemed to clamp shut.

"Maybe a little. No. Not afraid of the big bad wolf. Just..." She was unsure of what was really happening here. Because it was more than two l.u.s.ting bodies furiously going at it. There was something about Dean Maverick. She really liked him. And Sunday hadn't liked a man for ages.

She was startled that they were so similar. They listened to the same music. Appreciated cla.s.sic cars. Drank root beer. Hated vampires. They were both loners who wanted to be accepted.

A familiar and a wolf? It just wasn't right, was it?

Her fingers played across a cracked plastic strip. She tugged out the watch, but even with her excellent night vision it was impossible to read the small face.

"Now," Dean's voice thundered from the doorway.

Sunday started to turn, but Dean grasped her from behind. Their collision pushed her against the desk, and she caught her palms upon the gnarled wood surface.

Dean's hot breath rasped in her ear. "Changing. Quickly." His entire body thrust against her, wanting to become one with her.

"Gotta do this..." He let out a strained cry, half excitement, half frustration.

Now or never. Face the wolf or bring forth demons. h.e.l.l of a choice. But easy, because she knew she wouldn't be denied the pleasure she craved. Or the connection she wanted with this man.

"Yes." Sunday slid her hands behind and over his bare hips. He'd removed his jeans. She unzipped hers. Soft denim slid down her thighs. "I'm ready for this."

"Are you?" He bent her forward over the desk. Grunting, his body convulsed against hers, obviously reacting to some inner torment. "Ready? To take me?"

Her heart raced. Her body hummed. Fear had decided to strike. But it was still small. Moreover, she was hot for this half-crazed man who simply had to have her-or he'd become a beast.

"I..." he growled "...can lock myself upstairs. Maybe.... Sunday, please!"

He was still trying to protect her, even as his body fought against the moon's insistent command.

She b.u.mped her b.u.t.t against his c.o.c.k. And then she ground hard against his straining thighs and abs, inviting, promising she was in for the wild ride.

Dean groaned and slapped a hand on the desk near her arm. Claws jutted out from the fingers. Knuckles bulged and flesh stretched. The entire hand began to lengthen. Fingers curled, breaking wood and tearing easily through the desktop.

Another hand-paw-slapped across her stomach in a tight clutch.

"I love you for this," he growled.

Her feet left the ground briefly as he impaled her. He entered her hot core with a forceful glide. His thickness abraded her insides in the best way. Sunday gasped at the delicious fullness.

His intensity filled her, coursed through her being-the connection, the slap of flesh upon flesh, desire conquering need.

Pinp.r.i.c.ks pierced her stomach. Claws lengthened. He was still changing.

"Faster," she cried. "We can do this."

He took directions well. Dean pounded into her, his harsh gasps and moans increasing, along with his speed. Wolf or were, she couldn't even know. No matter which he was, he was still Dean. A man she had come to know a little about, and to crave more than the dry earth had needed the rain.

But this wasn't about her, it was all for him. And she loved sacrificing to tame the wolf. If it would work. It had to work. If it didn't, she might die, blissful and never regretting her decision to pick up this desperate stranger.

Dean pinnacled the edge, that moment when his body tensed and every fiber of him prepared, antic.i.p.ating, opening and succ.u.mbing. The hand on her stomach relaxed and slipped away. Her lover climaxed with a shudder. The growl near her ear was a man's voice, not an animal's.

The claws digging into the wood retracted. The wolf had been put to heel. That didn't stop Dean from howling a triumphant cry into the stormy night.

Dropping her arms across the desk and collapsing forward, Sunday smiled with relief and because she'd just had some awesome s.e.x. With a werewolf. "G.o.d, you're so tight. Made for me." He wrapped an arm across her shoulders and brought her up to cleave against his panting body. "That was amazing. The werewolf was so close."

"It'll stay away for the night?"

"Not sure." He huffed. A teasing bite tweaked her shoulder. He followed with a kiss that sucked in her flesh and would surely leave a love mark. Another shudder pulsed his muscles against her sweaty flesh. Dean gasped, "Might have to go a few more rounds to be safe."

"I'm up for that."

She turned in his embrace and kissed his perspiring throat where the Adam's apple throbbed. The dark beard had receded to stubble. They'd been so close. He had been beyond close, half changed, those claws tearing through the desk as if it were mere tinder.

But they'd made it. "Together," she whispered, breathless.

He pressed his forehead to hers. "We rock." He touched her stomach. "Oh, h.e.l.l, what's this?"

"Just a scratch. You barely grazed the skin."

"Sunday, I don't want to-I'd never intentionally hurt you."

"I know that. I trust you, Dean.""You should never trust me as the wolf. Know that. Promise me, if it gets close like that again, you'll hop in your truck and head for the hills."

She nodded, but the idea of running from this man-even as a werewolf-did not appeal to her. He'd entered her, become a part of her. "Sure. So, it looks like you're ready to go for round two."

His erection bobbed when she glided her palm over the bulging head. Suddenly airborne, Sunday landed over Dean's shoulder.

He turned and headed toward the truck bed. "Time to make the kitty cat purr."

"You are some kind of incredible woman." Dean laid Sunday on the blanket in the back of the truck and crouched over her.

Tendrils of long hair spilled over her breast, and he dragged them away with a lash of his tongue, making sure to glide roughly across her nipple. "To risk the werewolf?"

"Maybe I'm as desperate for s.e.x as you are."

A good excuse, but he figured differently. Sunday was strong, capable and wasn't the sort of woman to suffer a werewolf just for s.e.x.

He respected her for that.

"If that's your story, we can stick to it," he said, and moved up to kiss her. Her mouth was hungry for his, and he danced his tongue with hers.

"Love being inside you." He teased his tongue along the underside of her upper lip. "Never felt so good as this."

"Never?" she whispered. She grasped his length firmly.

Dean moaned into her mouth. "Never. Mmm, you've got a good grip."

"Comes from torquing lug nuts for a living."

"Well, don't torque too hard." She moved his bulging head to her moist heat.

"You're going to tame me again?"

"But you like it." She sucked in his lower lip and bit not too softly.

Dean's arms shook as he strained not to rest completely upon her body. Flesh to flesh, the rasp of her nipples grazing his skin alternated with the giddy hug of her around his erection.

"I like anything you have to offer," he groaned out. He wanted to push himself completely inside, but her fingers manipulated and stroked his length, keeping him from fully entering. The sensation made him dizzy, threatened to push him beyond rationale.

"You make me feel less alone, Dean."

"Woman like you should never be alone. You deserve to be loved and s.e.xed every day."

"s.e.xed?"

"Not a word? I'm making it one. Let's get you s.e.xed, kitty cat."

He'd intended to make her purr. Wasn't fair to deny the woman. But he couldn't fight the rush that coursed through his system. Her touches reduced his words to gasps and grunts. Sunday bit his jaw, nibbling down under his chin to lick his throat. He clutched her breast, loving the soft handful and knowing the minute sting as he squeezed the nipple sent her into some crazy kind of squirming delight.

The tilt of her torso pushed out his c.o.c.k. He gripped himself and rubbed the head over the sensitive spot that made the cat retract her claws and expose her belly.

Head diving backward, Sunday splayed out her arms and gripped the blanket. A cry of mounting pleasure segued to gasping, shuddering purrs.

"That's what I wanted to hear."

But before he could bring her to climax, she gripped the hand he had about his c.o.c.k. Her legs clutched his hips and forced him down and inside her, where the world was warm and right and all rational thought fled.

Dean came instantly. Again, she'd brought him to heel.

Was it too much to ask to abandon anxiety while a gorgeous hunk of man made love to her?

Sunday stroked her fingers over Dean's tense shoulders as he climaxed above her. His skin was hot and dewed with sweat.

Gasps and nonsyllables sang like mating calls she answered readily. She had been close to o.r.g.a.s.m-and then panic had chased away the prize.

There was a fifty percent chance when she did bridge a demon that it would be benevolent, probably a bit disoriented as to how it had suddenly arrived in the mortal realm and more than willing to return to its own realm.

But the other fifty percent were nasty and so ready to wreak havoc. And much as she wished she could just let them dash off on their own, Sunday did feel responsible for any bit of nasty she brought into this world.

Because if she thought loneliness was tough, the witch hunt that would gather should the world learn the truth about her and other paranormals would make being alone seem like a surreal dream.

Dean rolled off her and onto his back beside her. The metal grooves in the truck bed did not make for a comfortable surface, but the blanket was thick and warm.

"Still raining," he said on a sigh.

"I love the rain."

"It's growing on me," he offered.

"Why doesn't the werewolf like rain?"

"I was trapped in a rain sewer years back. Chained, actually, during the full moon."

"Chained?"

"It's a long story. I p.i.s.sed off a witch. Learned my lesson, though. Enough about my anxieties. Why'd you do that? Let me come again?"

"You're questioning my ability to bring you to heel, wolf?""Hey, don't get me wrong. I can go another ten rounds if that's your game." He rolled to his side and stroked her breast with soft fingers. "But I think you're trying to stop the inevitable."

"We stopped the werewolf. That was inevitable."

"True. Sunday."

Her name, whispered in his deep, raspy voice, worked like a touch to her s.e.x.

"I won't be put back," he whispered in her ear. His fingers skated purposefully down her stomach. "I'm not afraid of a demon.

And I sure as h.e.l.l won't let a girl show me up. You can stand fearless before a werewolf? Let's bring on the demon."

So now it had become an issue of male pride. She'd let him have that. But it seemed an awful way to end a perfect evening. Great s.e.x with an extraordinary lover, cut to a b.l.o.o.d.y halt by a nasty demon.

His fingers glided over the landing strip that led to her aching core. "Say yes, Sunday." Gently, teasingly, he traced her upper thigh.

The strokes hummed inside, outside, up and down her soul. "Tell me you'll sacrifice for me."

"Oh, Dean." She rocked her hips, hoping to redirect his tracing journey, but he avoided her heat, instead teasing his finger pads low on her stomach. "Is it possible to form such an intense bond with a stranger?"

"It is."

"What about us? Cats and dogs."

"I'm not a dog, but a wolf."

"Dogs drool," she said lightly, "wolves rule."

He laughed and kissed her shoulder. "You're avoiding the subject." He skimmed over heraching bud. "Purr for me, Sunday.

Surrender to the wolf."

"Yes," she said, and it wasn't a thought, but more a visceral response to his touch.