Renegade (Ministry of Paranormal Research & Defence) Page 2

  CHAPTER

  3

  I woke up and stretched. I hated being apart from Jack, especially when it came to being in bed. It's not just the sex—although the sex was incredible, I thought with a little thrill of pleasure at the memories—it's going to sleep next to him, wrapped in his arms, curled up safe and warm, knowing he'll be there when I wake.

  There's a word for wolves who mate with humans. It's not a nice word, at least to werewolves. Humans think it's a nice word, but it's a mortal insult. It also means a wolf who is stupid, easily led, and gullible.

  Doggy.

  Some of the older, more traditional werewolves in Liam's pack think of me that way. They refer to Jack as 'my human', in a tone of voice that makes it clear that they mean 'my owner'.

  The problem is that they're right. More than once I've found myself wagging my tail when he speaks to me in my wolf form. There's another phrase they use, and I know that's true, too. If he whistled I'd come running.

  Lying there in bed I tried to convince myself that I didn't care. It wasn't working. The pack is very important to a werewolf. Any wolf who didn't conform to the pack rarely survived long enough to have young, so conformism had been evolved into us. For thousands of years the pack was everything. We had little, if any, contact with humans. But every so often a wolf would fall for a human. The pack wouldn't ostracize the wolf for it, but they would talk behind their back. Did he buy her a ring or a collar? Does she take him for walkies? It doesn't matter what position they use, it's always doggy style. Does he let the doggy sleep in the bed?

  I kicked off the covers and stood up. Suddenly I didn't want to lay in bed. I padded quietly to the door that separated our two rooms and laid my forehead against it. My man was just on the other side of this door. It was unlocked, I knew that. My man was in bed, asleep. He was probably laying on his back, one hand tucked under the pillow, that peaceful, tranquil look on his face, the one that you never found there when he was awake. I reached a decision. I could stand here moping and feel sorry for myself, or...

  I opened the door and peered around it. Jack looked like he'd been fighting in his sleep again. He does that sometimes, his arms and legs making tiny twitching movements, his face locked into a scowl of concentration. I never ask him what he dreams about, but last night looked like it had been bad. The covers were pushed off, the sheets were tangled around his legs.

  I closed the door behind me and crept quietly to the bed. As I reached out to lift the covers his eyes flicked open.

  “And what do you think you're doing?” he asked, trying to give me a stern look.

  “Getting in bed with my man,” I replied, slipping in next to him.

  I buried myself in his arms, his scent surrounding me, filling my nostrils, pouring down into my lungs. I sighed contentedly.

  “I missed you,” I whispered against his chest.

  “I missed you, too, love,” he whispered back. “But the rule was no sleeping together.”

  “I'm not going to sleep,” I said. “Nobody said anything about sleep.”

  I was asleep before he had a chance to reply.

  When I woke up Jack had pulled the covers up around us and was dreamily stroking my hair.

  “Hello again,” he said.

  “Morning,” I mumbled. “I don't wanna get up.”

  “Then don't,” he said, kissing my forehead. “Let's stay in bed, all warm and naked, pressed up against each other all day. How does that sound?”

  I laughed.

  “I figure we'll be able to keep that 'no sex' promise for at least,” he stared up at the ceiling, his lips moving as if he was working something out, “oh, at least twenty five, maybe twenty-six minutes.”

  “That long?” I replied, lightly scratching my fingernails across his chest. “I think I'll be jumping you in the next five minutes. Maybe four.”

  “Then we'd better move,” he said.

  I groaned and lay my cheek against his shoulder.

  “Do we have to?”

  “Don't you want to go have breakfast?”

  “Yeah, I'm ravenous. Where are we eating?”

  “Little place I know,” he replied.

  I smiled. Jack knows little places all over the world, it seems.

  “Okay,” I said. “We better get dressed. Did you see your gift?”

  Jack nodded, glancing at the table. That had been Jack's idea. We'd picked out each others' outfits for each day, and left them wrapped up and labeled. I had a feeling Jack was going to get a kick out of his gift today.

  “Okay, I'll go,” I said.

  “I think you need to wait a second,” he said.

  He slowly rolled me onto my back and leaned over me, propped up on his hands. He moved until he was between my legs. Something warm and hard touched the inside of my thigh.

  “Oh, Jack,” I breathed, squirming until his erection was pressed up against me.

  His smile was bright and mischievous.

  “What is it you want, love?” I asked, wiggling my hips.

  “It's not me,” he said, his smile widening. “It's ... the kiss monster!”

  Suddenly he grabbed me, showering my face with kisses. I shrieked with laughter and wrapped my arms around him, moving my face, trying to catch his kisses on my lips. Finally we connected and he kissed me, deeply and passionately.

  “I think I have to move,” I said once he broke the kiss. “You just moved up the deadline by at least a minute.”

  “Only a minute?” he asked.

  I opened my mouth to reply but I couldn't say anything. The head of his penis was pressing up against me and he was making slow movements with his hips, his cock rubbing back and forth over my most sensitive spot.

  I swallowed and tried to find my voice. After three tries I managed it.

  “Jack,” I said, breathless. “Please.”

  I had no idea if I wanted him to stop or to go further.

  “What do you want, love?” he asked softly.

  I shook my head. I didn't know. I wrapped my legs around him, moving against him until he was pressed up against that spot, his head already pushing inside me, stretching me open. But he pulled back, leaving me gasping and frustrated.

  “Think about this,” he said. “Just how explosive it's going to be tomorrow night, how good it's going to be?”

  “It's going to be wonderful,” I said, my voice low and breathy.

  “Yeah, it is.”

  He leaned down and kissed me, his lips soft against mine.

  “Thank you,” he said. “Thank you for thinking of this. And thank you for being strong.”

  “Trust me, I'm not feeling very strong right now,” I said. “But you're welcome. And thank you, for everything.”

  He gently disengaged himself from my grip and kissed me on the tip of my nose. That always sent a warm rush through my body. Then he stood up.

  “Go get ready,” he said.

  I smiled, my eyes fixed on his erection and then on his behind as he walked away. I love Jack's personality, his sense of humor, his kindness, his loyalty, his generosity, his fun-loving nature. But sometimes I just have to let civilization slide and admire his body. There was nothing soft about Jack. A decade in the military had given him a body you could crack rocks on. Not a bodybuilder's physique, but a lean, hard set of muscles.

  “You moving?” he said, leaning back out of the bathroom.

  “Yep, I'm up,” I said, hopping out of bed.

  I had a shower and was drying my hair when I heard his voice from his room.

  “Are you kidding me?”

  I smiled at my reflection in the mirror. Jack had opened his box.

  CHAPTER

  4

  The box on the bed held what I was supposed to wear today. A nice, expensive pair of jeans that looked like they would fit well. Under that had been a white t-shirt that looked like it was going to be a little too tight. I guess that, from Marie's perspective, it would be exactly tight enough. Under that had been a beautifu
l, soft leather jacket. This one I recognized. One of the males in Liam's pack did some amazing things with leather and this was one of his. I remember admiring his work whilst we'd been visiting.

  Under the jacket was the item that had prompted the comment.

  When it's for a man is it a thong or a g-string? Grape smugglers? Ball huggers? Whatever you called it, it was skimpy and made of soft, thin, clingy red leather. It was obviously the kind of thing a stripper would wear because it had those quick-release Velcro sides.

  I held it up and stretched it experimentally. Yeah, it would fit, such as it was, but the imagination wouldn't have to work overtime to picture the wearer naked.

  I laughed and put it aside.

  The only thing left in the box was a folded piece of paper. I picked it up and read it.

  One word.

  'Please?' Marie had written.

  I knocked on Marie's door. Yeah, I could have gone through the connecting door, but the point was that we were dating. Okay, granted, we'd just slept—albeit for only a few hours—in the same bed, and, yes, we had come close to having sex, but we had a game going and I was enjoying the play.

  She opened the door wearing a dark blue robe that was short enough to show off most of her legs.

  “Hello stud,” she said. “Come on in.”

  She closed the door behind me and leaned against it, an eager smile on her lips.

  “So?” she said.

  “So?” I replied.

  “Are you wearing it?”

  Actually I was. The feeling of the soft leather against my skin was very nice, and almost balanced out the discomfort of having my underwear up my arse.

  “Maybe,” I said.

  “Oh come on, Jack,” she said. “Don't do that. Tell me you're wearing it.”

  I shrugged.

  “I'll find out,” she said.

  “I was wondering about that,” I said. “No sex 'till tomorrow. How you gonna know?”

  “No sex, Jack,” she said. “I do intend to play a little.”

  “Then you'll find out later.”

  “You're not going to tell me?”

  “Nope.”

  “I'll find out for myself,” she said with a sly smile.

  “I doubt it,” I said, laughing.

  “Wanna bet? Wanna bet I can find out in the next five minutes without touching you, whether you're wearing that g-string?”

  “Five minutes? No touching?”

  She nodded.

  “Okay, you're on.”

  She walked toward me. I backed up, raising my hands.

  “Hey, what are you doing?”

  I realised too late that she was backing me towards the bed. The backs of my knees hit and she pushed me. I fell over and she climbed on me, straddling my thighs. She pinned my wrists above my head with her right hand and unbuckled my belt with her left.

  “You said no touching,” I protested.

  Damn, I sometimes forget how strong she is.

  “I lied.”

  She pulled down the zipper on my jeans and yanked them open.

  “Oh, nice, Jack. Very nice. That does look good.”

  She stroked me through the leather, running her fingertips over my rapidly-swelling penis.

  “This is unfair,” I said.

  She leaned down and ran her tongue over the material, leaving a slick trail on the leather. I was definitely putting it under pressure.

  She released my hands, still licking around my erection.

  “Want me to stop?” she asked.

  “I don't, I really don't, but you have to.”

  “Well, you're the boss. Take charge.”

  I propped myself up on my elbows, watching her. I would never have thought she could suck me through leather underwear, but she had a good two or three inches of me inside her mouth and she was working it with an intensity that took my breath away.

  “Stop,” I said.

  She sat up and smiled brightly.

  “Okay, boss. All you had to do is ask.”

  “Every time I think I have you figured out...” I said.

  She giggled as she carefully zipped me up. I appreciated that: my jeans had a zipper with metal teeth so all that stood between me and an amateur circumcision was a thin piece of leather.

  “You know, I was just thinking the same thing about you,” she said, buckling my belt.

  “How so?”

  She slipped her robe off her shoulders and allowed it to fall to the floor behind her.

  “Very nice,” I said.

  Marie did look wonderful. She was wearing a soft, dark green bra and matching panties of the variety now referred to as 'boy shorts'.

  “I was expecting something tiny and slinky with lace and not a lot of it,” she said. “This was quite a pleasant surprise. I feel guilty making you wear that g-string now.”

  I smiled, placing my hand on her stomach.

  “Looks really good on you,” I said. “But we have to move.”

  “Are we in a hurry?”

  “No, but I'm very turned on and you're the sexiest woman on the planet, so if we stay here...”

  She sighed softly but nodded.

  “Okay, I understand. Do you think it'll ever get any easier?”

  “Oh I hope not,” I said, sitting up and taking her in my arms. “I always want you to drive me this crazy.”

  “Me too.”

  She kissed me on the forehead and stood up. I lounged on the bed, watching her. She made a thoughtful noise as she looked through the clothes I'd picked out for her.

  “Jeans, MPRD shirt, sensible shoes, even socks. Jack, where are we going?”

  “Breakfast.”

  “Where?”

  “A little place I know.”

  She groaned and threw a cushion at me.

  “What?” I said, laughing. “What's the problem?”

  “You always say that and it tells me nothing.”

  “You'll just have to wait and see.”

  “Okay, okay. Are we taking the bike?”

  “Yes we are,” I replied.

  “So I'm doomed to helmet hair all day?”

  I shook my head.

  “Sit down, I have an idea about that.”

  She pulled out one of the chairs around the table and took a seat. I grabbed her brush from the bathroom and started to work on her hair.

  “If anyone finds out that I do this for you—or if anyone finds out that I'm going out wearing underwear from the Big Boy Strip Club and Sex Show collection—you're in trouble.”

  “Oh?” she said, hopefully.

  “And not the fun tie-you-to-the-bed-and-spank-you kind of trouble either.”

  “Oh.”

  I worked the brush through her thick, luxurious hair until I was happy, then started to braid it. I worked from the front to the nape of her neck, pulling every strand into a pair of French braids, one on either side of her head.

  “Wow,” she said as I finished, gathering the loose hair together in a single braid that fell between her shoulder blades. “Where'd you learn to do that?”

  “Basic training. Every British soldier knows how to plait hair. It's one of the secret skills that wins us all of those wars.”

  She sighed.

  “Evasive answer means ex-girlfriend, right?”

  “Nope. I learned to do this for a girl who really was my friend, back when I was fourteen or fifteen.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  I finished off with a hair band and patted her on the shoulder.

  “Okay, stand up so I can look at you.”

  She patted the tightly-woven hair as she turned a full circle.

  “How do I look?”

  “Cute as a kitten in a boot,” I said with a smile. “Helmets.”

  “Pardon?”

  “I forgot the damn helmets. Back in a sec.”

  When I came back from my room with both of our helmets she was in the bathroom looking in the mirror.

  “Nice job, lover,” she said. �
��Way cuter than a kitten in a boot.”

  “Why thank you, my lady. I do so like to have skills.”

  “Who would have thought hairdressing would be one of them?” she asked.

  We left the room and rode down to the lobby. My bike was parked in the employee's car park around the back, which was just as I'd requested.

  Marie pulled on her helmet, buckling the chinstrap. I connected the radio in her pocket to the short wire that dangled from behind her right ear, and then repeated the procedure with my own. With the intercom system we would be able to talk to each other while we rode.

  I swung my leg over the bike. I loved my new toy. It was a Triumph Speed Triple 1050, matte black and mean looking. Marie climbed on behind me, her body pressing up against mine, her hands sliding around my waist.

  “Can you hear me, love?” I asked.

  “Yes, stud. Loud and clear.”

  Her voice was a little tinny through the tiny earpiece.

  “Okay, hold on.”

  Her arms tightened around me. I could have told her about the grab bars located on either side of the pillion seat but I preferred her grabbing onto me. So sue me.

  I pushed the bike forward, heard the stand clack up, and pushed a button. The three-cylinder engine roared into life. I pulled around to the front of the hotel.

  “Oh... God!” said Marie in a strained whisper.

  “Everything okay, love?” I asked.

  “Yeah, everything's good,” she said.

  “Okay,” I said, gunning the engine and pulling out into traffic.

  The journey didn't take too long, not on the bike, but as we moved out onto the M25 and I accelerated, flicking up through the gears, Marie's hands clenched on my jacket and she let out a whoop that made my ears ring.

  CHAPTER

  5

  The bike's engine lowered in pitch and Jack pulled us over to the curb. There was just something incredibly stimulating about being pressed up against my man, the inside of my thighs against his hips, my arms around his waist. The acceleration and cornering were exhilarating. My heart was pounding and my blood was racing. I felt like I could barely breathe.

  When we were stopped I climbed off on shaking legs. My whole body felt like it had been turned to water and I was breathing heavily.