Wolf Island (Sinful Wolf Pack Romances)

We arrive on the other side in one of my family’s many homes. I have no intention of bumping into any of my family members, so I hurry her through the house, eager to get into my car.

She drags her feet, and looks around in fascination, trying to stop in front of every painting. When we get to the lower hallway she suddenly gasps and points at a statue of the archangel Mikail.

“Are you one of the angelli?”

“Don’t ask questions.”

I stride out to the car, giving her no choice but to follow.

Making the arrangements for where I need to send her has been no easy task, especially given that I had just a day to make plans. Luckily for me my contacts have been watching Aeron Balthazar and his family for years, waiting for the day that there might be an opportunity for me to take advantage of.

And that is how I know that the mighty Geoffre Balthazar, alpha of the Balthazar pack and beloved uncle to Aeron, has called a pack gathering on Balthazar Island.

I plan to take full advantage of this rare situation. The crowd will be the perfect cover for sending Lola in as somebody’s date. My contact has arranged it all. Some idiot down on his luck was more than happy to take my money. He is under strict instructions to keep his hands off my girl.

The timing of this gathering bothers me. I had warned my mother that the Balthazars were plotting something, however she thought me overzealous.

At least this gathering means there will be wild parties for the younger people. And when Aeron sees his Lola turn up on the arm of some muscle-bound hunk, jealousy will get half the job done.

But in order to fit in with the werewolves she will need some help. So our first stop is an exclusive boutique that I have taken several of my former lovers to. I intend for her to dress to impress.

I pull up outside the boutique and toss my keys at the valet. As we walk into the store, Lola’s eyes go wide as she sees the array of luxurious dresses. Her delight makes me smile. Her gaze settles on a slinky sexy little electric-blue number.

“You want to try it on?” I murmur into her ear.

She gasps as if she had forgotten I was there, and her cheeks flush red. She shakes her head.

I cannot help but give a soft mocking laugh. “Sure you do.”

“No,” she says firmly.

But now I want to see her in that dress. I need to see it cling to the luscious curves of her breasts and her tiny waist.

“You want to impress him, don’t you?” I purr. “These are the kind of things the other women will be wearing. The kind of women he’s been dating these past few years.”

There is a sudden tearful gleam in her big eyes, but her lashes quickly flutter down to cover it.

Her hands reach out and longingly stroke the shimmering blue fabric. She has a good eye. I have had enough women to know that the color will highlight her flawlessly pale skin, and the skirt is short enough to show off her gorgeous long legs.

The thought of those legs wrapped around me make my cock harden in my pants.

“She’ll try this one,” I say abruptly to the fussing shop assistant, nodding at the blue dress. “And those.”

I point at a bright yellow sundress, and a sexy floaty red thing. A girl like her should wear bold cuts, and colors that are as passionate as she is, not the mousy, prim things she was wearing last night.

“Get her some lingerie,” I order the assistant.

While Lola disappears into a cubicle to try them on, I lounge impatiently on a plush chair in the fitting room. She is hidden from sight by a velvet curtain. I want to tear the stupid thing aside so I can feast my hungry gaze on her.

She pokes her head out after a short while. I take this is as a sign to yank the curtain aside. My heart lurches. She is in the sexy blue number. She looks good enough to eat. The short skirt skims the curves of her ass, and it is all I can do to not run my hands over those delectable globes.

She stands awkwardly, looking embarrassed. I lead her by the hand towards the full length mirror on the wall outside the cubicle.

“Look at yourself,” I murmur into her ear. I tip her chin up until she is gazing straight at the mirror. “You’re beautiful.”

Those pale cheeks of hers flush an adorable pink. I want to kiss them and reassure her that she deserves to wear dresses like this all of the time.

Fool! The mix of innocence and minx in her has obviously driven me to distraction. I remind myself that she has been lusting for another man. If she is stupid enough to still want him, then she damn well deserves what she is asking for.

I want to tear the dress off her, but instead I hand her the red one.

“Put this on,” I dare her.

Her eyes connect with mine in the mirror. She starts to walk into the curtained cubicle.

“Playing the shy virgin now?” I say mockingly. I hate that she wants to hide herself from my sight.

I sprawl back on my chair and raise my eyebrow, challenging her to get changed in front of me.

Her hand twitches as if she is going to yank the curtain closed.

“Coward,” I murmur. “Did he like you to be meek?”

The blazing look she gives me is fiery enough to singe a lesser man.

Glaring, she unzips her dress with a flourish. It drops to the floor and she looks at me defiantly. She is wearing an almost sheer pink bra and tiny sweet lacy panties underneath. A mix of angelic and devilish, her bare flesh almost – but not quite – visible underneath.

Damn the shop assistant for bringing her the kind of lingerie that she knows I like my women to wear.

Lola is trying to look daring but she is breathing hard, whether in shyness or arousal I cannot tell.

My eyes move up her nearly naked figure, starting at her feet and travelling up her long legs, lingering for a second on the almost see-through panties, then up her tapered waist. My eyes rest on her tits, and I can see that her nipples are getting hard. I wonder if she knows I can see the pink buds showing through the sheer fabric?

I give her a cool smile and crook my finger at her to see how daring she is feeling. Her eyes flash. She walks towards me slowly, those luscious hips swaying beneath that small waist. My cock is fully hard now.

When she gets close enough for her legs to almost touch my knees, she stops as if uncertain of what to do next. I keep her gaze as I take hold of her little waist. I pull her in closer until she is standing between my thighs. I see her swallow hard.

Her breasts are at the height of my head, close enough for me to put my mouth on. And she knows it.

I stroke my hands up that tiny waist slowly, and then back down until my hands are cupping her luscious butt cheeks. In satisfaction I see her breathing quicken. Her breasts start to rise and fall rapidly.

With a groan, I jerk her closer and close my lips over one lace-covered nipple. I suck it into my mouth and lave it with my tongue. She pushes up against me as if urging me to suck harder. So I do, until the fabric is wet and her nipple is jutting out, firm and stiff.

Then I give the other breast the same treatment, and my hands explore her backside. My fingers tease and tug at the strip of cloth between her ass cheeks until her ass is clenching and unclenching in the motion a woman makes when she is desperate to be fucked.

And I want so badly to pull her onto my lap and free my cock so she can ride it. To give that sweet pussy her first taste of cock. But she has already made it clear it’s not really my cock that she’s been hungering for.

I take my mouth off her tit and survey my handiwork. I have left two soaked patches over each thrusting little nipple.

“You horny, baby?” I murmur, cruelly.

She nods, seeming in a daze

“Touch yourself,” I order.

“What?” Her sweet eyes go wide.

I take her hand and guide it under her panties and between the lips of her pussy. She fingers her clit, hesitantly at first, and then her rhythm builds to firm strokes. Her mouth opens as she pants. I sit back and watch as she frigs herself, all the while holding my gaze.

“Are you wet, baby?”

She nods, half looking ashamed and half as aroused as any woman I have ever seen. Her cheeks are flushed, her face glowing, and tiny wisps of soft black hair cling to her damp forehead. I want to brush them back. I want to cup that face in my hands and crush her lips to mine.

I place her other hand on her breast, and watch greedily as she cups it and tweaks the nipple between her fingers. Soon she is pulling at it rhythmically and gasping at each firm tug as if experiencing a mix of pleasure and pain. The hand between her thighs strokes faster and faster.

My breath hisses out from between my teeth. “You going to come for me, baby?”

She gives a little groan and nods.

“Do it exactly like that. Finger yourself. That’s so good, baby.”

She strokes her clit faster. I want to tell her to dip her fingers inside herself. Hell, I want to rip those panties off to get a proper look, but I force myself to stay still and keep my hands off her.

I am fascinated by the way she seems lost in her own pleasure. She gives a sharp cry as she comes, her hips jerking rapidly against the hand between her legs.

When her breath calms, the devil pays me a visit. I ask her coolly, “Who were you picturing in your head? Me or him?”

For a heartbeat she looks confused.

“Did I get you nice and wet for him?” I say harshly.

“What?” Her breath catches. She seems to come out of her daze.

“I don’t usually do other men these sorts of favors,” I tell her. “You be sure to tell him who to thank.”

Her cheeks go red. Anger this time.

“You bastard!” she whispers.

“Now, now, is that any way to speak to a man that you just came so hard for?”

I enjoy the look of scandalized outrage on her face.

Then suddenly I am desperate get the fuck out of here. I stalk out.

“Get her what you think is best,” I snap at the assistant. “Charge everything to my account.”