Pawn Among Wolves Ch. 13

"Come on then, Picchu," he coaxed her softly.

She pounced on him.

He seized her as she landed, spinning her to face away from him, and immobilising her wrists briefly as he nibbled lovingly on her earlobe from behind, murmuring "mmm". She could feel the want, the excitement pounding higher through him, and he pushed his hard, racing erection against her thigh.

"I'll make it good," he promised huskily.

She growled as he released her and jumped to bounce off a tree trunk, twisting in mid-air to dive on him from above. Mac laughed softly while dodging aside and catching her swooping form, spinning her in his embrace, bending her back over his arm, hips crushed briefly against hers to emphasise the growing, insistent bulge surging against her while bruising her lips under his with a deep kiss, before twirling her on out of reach in an odd woodland waltz.

Gemma's head was whirling, the kiss and the feel of his muscular form pressed against her imprinted on her skin, panting through her veins. She blinked as she spun to a halt, free, swaying, trying to remember why she was fighting him.

Because I adore you, her mate whispered in her head. Because I'm aching to make you surrender to me, watch you melt helplessly under me when I win.

When?

She spun again as the fire shot through her, diving to grapple him around the knees, topple him, but he bent faster than she could see and grabbed her thighs, lifting them up, apart, so she was arched upside-down with her back to his front, her hands still on his knees, her thighs parted about his head, legs resting on his shoulders. He blew softly onto the aching, wet, wanting slit inches in front of his face, and Gemma yelped a long groan, heaving herself in an impossible strain of her abdomen to sit upright, grasping at his hair for balance.

She was sitting on his shoulders. Her legs were parted around his head, and Mac moaned in lust and clasped her buttocks in both palms hard, hauling her forwards to slide his stiffened tongue into her wet pussy, probing deeply, thrusting urgently.

Gemma arched backwards again with a gasping shriek. Her mind was lost, shimmering in heat; the distant sensation of cool turf against her back was a welcome contrast to the heat pouring through her, tide fighting higher at the swirl of his wet tongue licking, licking between her legs. Little snuffled grunts of excitement sounded in the air and a shock of pleasure seared through the girl lying legs splayed on her back, moisture rushing to coat that wet tongue as she realised that the eager noises weren't hers.

"Mac," she sighed, mind disconnected, focussed only on the skilful swipes of his tongue against her achingly aroused, melting flesh, fingers tangling in the thick, tawny locks

He stilled and lifted his head, eyes burning in arousal and satisfaction as he uncoiled above her, crouching astride one thigh, trembling in want.

"Is that a please?" her mate asked softly.

The anger flashed and Gemma was sitting upright, her teeth in the join of his neck, hands clamped around his shoulders. Mac remained perfectly still, an arm cradled across her back, a low moan escaping into the air as he trembled. Her stomach clenched at the checked power in him, the thickening, breath-taking scent of achingly aroused Alpha swamping her. Her Alpha. Who had just allowed her to bite him: delighted in it. His arousal was swelling impossibly against her thigh, and she trembled weakly in the rich scent of his pleasure flooding around her.

You are so delicious, his words scorched into her. This want hurts.

The words, the feeling behind the words and in his scent, the tremble of his skin were scorching through the wereem; she felt the tremble in her growing, melting through her as she pulled her teeth back, licking apologetically over the small wound, sealing it, her eyes losing focus as her limbs began to shake.

"Sorry," she almost whined. It was his own fault for being so damn smug. Licking gently over the bite, Gemma felt a strange, curdling mixture of guilt for hurting him, and intense pleasure for marking him. Her stomach was melting with a wish to surrender and pounce at the same time.

"Please?" Her voice was a gentle breath in the air, mind softening, melting, delighting in the knowledge of who she belonged to. Her mate had caught her, fought through her defences. She was so his.

Mac laughed softly, arousal and sheer joy pulsing stronger through his scent, and pulled back to kiss her gently on the nose.

He breathed harshly for a few seconds, pressing his forehead against her while she delighted in his struggle for control, feeling the burn of it across her skin, melting her.

"That was a beautiful dance," the deep voice was hoarse, rich with a deep note of joy, release. "May I have the next?"

Gemma moaned quietly into his chest widening her legs, silently pleading, but found herself in bewilderment on her feet, shifting human to a gentle brush of suggestion from his mind. Mac was humming, humming in delight, she could feel him fighting all of his carnal instincts in order to draw this out, savour the moment. She whined needfully while his right arm slid down to clasp her waist lightly, and his left pulled their clasped hands out. Gently, gracefully, he began to waltz through the first fallen leaves in the shimmering rays of the setting sun, twirling her skilfully around their small grassy stage.

No! Gemma's mind was thundering with lust, and she groaned and struggled to get closer, press against him, but he laughed huskily and twisted, guiding her instead through the steps of the dance until her blood began to pulse with the rhythm and her feet to move to his movements. Her blood was keening, melting down at his scent, his strength and grace, his gentleness. Mac, alight with lust, wanted to dance with his songmate.

A little smile was trembling on her lips and Gemma could feel her heart melting further, even as she relaxed fully into his embrace and spun, swayed, stepped delicately under his guiding hands, feeling his fierce tremble increasing as she danced to his rhythm. The gentle grace, heat and strength of her mate was penetrating every part of her, driving the heat higher, higher, and she had never felt so totally, completely melted by his touch. There was a low, continuous moan on the air, a counterpoint to the music he was humming, and her legs suddenly collapsed underneath her. She flopped onto the grass on her back, gasping in want, and groaned, "Please."

The word only surfaced as a hoarse pleading sound.

"My picchu," Mac murmured, dropping on one knee beside her and clasping her hands with his, drawing her back onto wobbly feet as he rose to his. "You led me a fine dance; I can still taste you on my lips as you escaped up that cliff," he murmured softly, a slight gravel hint to the words as he spun her so that her back was to him. "You don't think you're getting off that lightly, do you?"

Oh-oh.

His hands were cupped just in front of her naked breasts, delicately brushing the nipples as he swayed his hips against her from behind, now humming a soft dance tune.

"I love your breasts," he whispered. Gemma's glazed eyes tried to focus on the strong fingers teasing around her nipples, and she moaned at the tortuous brush of the fur on the backs of his fingers against her naked, aching flesh; her breasts were hairless, and very sensitive, as was her groin, only a soft, short band of fur outlining the top of her abdomen. His hands were large enough to cup the entirety of both mounds, and his hands closed tight briefly, squeezing aching flesh out between the fingers before he lifted them again and pinched the protruding, aching nipples, pulling them delicately outwards.

"Mmm", he murmured.

She moaned, "Please," again, almost incoherently, tilting her head back, sliding her hands up to clasp his head so that she could bend it down and kiss those smiling lips.

His hands drew hers gently over his head and a large palm clasped both of her wrists together, pulling them until her arms were stretched to almost full extent, only a slight bend in her elbows, while she was lost in the kiss.

Then Mac lifted his head as his other hand dropped to play with her aching breasts and nipples, holding her back against his achingly aroused form as he continued to bump and grind his heavy erection against her back, still humming softly.

"Oh I intend to please," he promised softly.

Gemma moaned, the shimmer running through her while his fingers brushed over her and she strained against the clasp around her wrists. She was panting heavily, squirming; her breasts were growing so tight under that light touch they felt like they would burst, the heavy, pulling ache painful, rich. Liquid arousal was coating her thighs and her belly was tightening, tightening in desperate want, making her grind back against him, trying to tempt him, tease him.

"Oh god Mac, please!" she gasped, tears lighting in her eyes at the tight, aching need in her skin, the surging need in her belly growing. "I'm sorry if you didn't like that dance I led you; that you were miserable with my juices on your lips because I escaped you."

Mac laughed softly, and lifted her off the ground by the grip on her wrists, pulling her gently back against him to rub his straining erection teasingly in the cleft of her buttocks, his naked, hard pole brushing lightly through her soft pubic curls from behind, agonisingly close to her begging, melting entrance . "I don't call this escaped, picchu. And you'll have to say sorry better than that," her mate teased, his breath gently gliding over the tingling skin of her neck.

Gemma moaned softly, feeling a flash of excitement and heated trepidation as she was held suspended, struggling to press closer to that hard throbbing flesh , but she managed to gulp, "You wish."

Then she yelped a groan as his cock slid gently over the entrance to her wet pussy from behind, gliding over her labia, tormenting her.

Her mate nipped her ear, and through the fog of lust she heard his voice soft with amusement, but with a note of challenge. "OK, I will now accept your apology when you say:" the tone dropped into a breathless, panting falsetto, ""Oh my most beloved Alpha, please accept my most wanton, worshipful apologies, and pray enjoy my body howsoever you desire, to atone for my fault"," he whispered. She could feel him smile against her ear as he finished the sentence.

Hah.

"Oh my most smug Alpha," cooed Gemma on a breathless, sarcastic warble, and then her breath left her entirely on a choke of feeling as his cock slid gently over her labia again, heat bursting in her head.

She whined.

God, no. She tried, she honestly tried to hold on to some semblance of reason, but his aroused scent was melting her defences, her body surrendering to the gentle brushes of his fingertips on her aroused, painful nipples. His fingers were tweaking the little peaks, she heard a long groan in the air, and felt the soft brush of that hard length between her thighs, surging against her, but not inside her. Torture. Squirming from her position suspended by that grip around her wrists, she hooked her feet on his knees to give herself some leverage, desperately trying to bend forwards, pushing her buttocks hard against his throbbing, huge length, bending further. But just as she almost hit the right angle he laughed softly and released the grip on her wrists, his hands dropping to grip her hips while the cool air rushed by her falling torso and her palms landed on the grass, head spinning.

Mac hitched her slightly higher, her legs were opening pleadingly, and he rubbed the moist tip of his hard, racing cock against the rigid, tingling bundle of nerves at the head of her cleft. Gemma yelped, almost unable to gasp in a breath against the choked feeling of need, "Please, Mac."

"Oh my most beloved Alpha," he prompted teasingly, lifting her legs wide to that he could see the head of his cock rubbing gently against her clit, his breath rasping harshly. Gemma groaned and collapsed, her arms giving way, welcoming the clean, moist scent of the grass in her nostrils as she nose-dived to the ground. Anything to dilute the haunting scent of his core-deep, heavenly enjoyment, the damn scent of aroused Alpha trembling through her, clouding her mind, obliterating her control.

She was not going to say that.

Want a bet?

"Licking your arousal off my lips - my cock was so hard that I hurt, picchu," he murmured gently, continuing to torment her with little nudges of his hard length against the erect, aching bud. "No-one has made me that painfully hard and left me; have you ever tried to run in that state?"

"Yes," she groaned the mumble, little pants of lust escaping as wriggling shocks of tight, painful lust rocked over her skin. She was going to come. She was going to come now. Ow, such a huge, tense explosion was building. Unimaginably vast, uncontainable. Any second now.

She screamed, "Oh!" in frustration as he dropped her legs and straightened to just walk away. Panting harshly, her eyes fastened greedily on the huge, swaying tower of taut, throbbing flesh standing between his legs. God, she needed him. Needed him now. Now.

Damn the wolf.

He stopped three paces away, smiling down at her, and she growled, but the urgent need in her belly was so tight, sucking away all her strength, all her will, focussing her solely on the desperate, throbbing ache between her thighs.

"Well, that was the first word," he smiled.

Grr.

Her fingers almost reached, almost managed to brush against the aching, slippery nub of her clit when he grabbed them and pulled them behind her, twisting both hands into a grip in one of his palms as he chuckled softly.

"Oh no, little mate," he said, "You are the one who badgered me into teaching you sexual control. So you have to accept my teaching methods. Only I get to give you release. And I'll give it when you beg properly."

She didn't want training NOW!

Damn him. Damn him. Damn him.

But a little wisp of admiration nudged at the back of her furious mind; her mate knew exactly what phrase she was going to struggle against for longest, hold out until she could barely see.

She was never going to say that.

Oh yes you are.

His free hand dipped between her thighs and he began to tease her aching flesh with subtle strokes of his fingers, pulling gently on her labia, tweaking her bud, intent on bringing her back to the brink.

Her legs parted wider, involuntarily, and she heard him take a deep, appreciative breath, inhaling her melting scent, his own simmering harshly through the air in response.

Dammit, her mind wisped as another surge of pleasure trembled through her aching flesh, he was so damn aroused too: why couldn't he lose control?

Her hips were lifting to the dance of his fingers, her voice panting hoarse begging noises as he dipped one inside and began to stroke her inner walls, then began to probe deeply, curving the digit to rub against her sweet spot from inside.

A plaintive, whimpered gargle from her tight, tight throat.

Her hips were desperately humping his fingers, the feeling building again, higher, even tighter coiled than before. Beautiful; just out of reach; one step closer; nearly.

And he snatched his fingers back out.

Gemma gave a hoarse, yelping snarl, wrenching her hands from his slackened grip and twisting in the air to snap at her tormentor while the rage flashed across her skin and mind, but she ended face down across his knees, wrists pressed together against the back of her neck, holding her head turned sideways on the grass, bared teeth and claws immobilised. His other hand was resting on her squirming buttocks, stroking gently.

"Oh no, my little wereem," he told her gently, "You cannot bite me either: not now. Maybe later I will allow you to."

Then he bent closer, hand caressing over her soft buttock cheeks and his chest pressing against her back while he whispered directly into her ear, "Oh picchu, you are going to be so hot and tight and wet when I mount you."

A tingle roared along her skin and the wolf in her simply melted at the heated words of her mate, flopping into surrender, whining with the need to present to him. Now. Damn.

A vague echo of despair: she was on her own in this. Help!

Another smile against her shoulder, and a finger tingled down between her thighs, teasing light caresses millimetres from her aching, throbbing empty core.

"Oh my most beloved Alpha," he purred, kissing her shoulder blade.

No no no no.

Oh my god.

His finger just grazed the edge of her slick labia, and Gemma jumped in his hands, a hoarse, harsh sound of need escaping.

"I surrender. I surrender," she gasped, opening her legs wide to him, balanced on her knees across his partially bent legs.

He kissed her skin softly again, and repeated, "Oh my most beloved Alpha."

That damn finger was now tapping and swirling lightly on the painfully erect bud, in time with the demanding surges of his rock-hard erection against her belly and the crease of her hip. Her blood seemed to be raging behind her eyes, blotting out the gathering dusk while her body shuddered as though in a fever, legs pulling wider, wider, silently begging. Her voice choked, hoarse sounds of pleading, and she thought dammit, before managing to gasp out, "Oh my most beloved Alpha, I surrender. Please."

"Please accept my most wanton, worshipful apologies," he reminded her.

Gemma flung back her head and howled, writhing in his grip, trying to get away, away from those damn, skilful fingers that were teasing her closer, closer to abject, pitiful surrender.

I won't tell anyone else you said it, he promised gently in her head. This surrender is just to me.

Dammit, she knew that! And he so wasn't getting it.

No no no. Oooh, those fingers expertly teasing her. The hard, delicious cock pressed promisingly against her stomach, the touch of it throbbing through her.

Oh god - now it sounded like there was an escaped wookie in the forest. Pleading, pleading with herself not to give in - but no, no, but she couldn't bear - he was going to stop again before he let her come, so close, so close. So huge, magnificent, the approaching explosion. Unbearable. Unmissable.

"Please, please accept my most wanton, worshipful apologies and enjoy my body however you wish: PLEASE," a little, desperate voice groaned in the air.

An incredible, beautiful melting feeling rushed along Gemma's skin with the scent he exuded when she finally gasped the words, heat flowing through every pore, a warm, delicious bubble of surrender relaxing her into total, burning pleasurable anticipation.

Thank-you, my picchu.

Mac was pressing soft kisses along her shoulders, breathing harshly against her skin as he gently folded her onto her knees on the grass in front of him and knelt between her legs, edging them wider apart to give him entry.

"I haven't had this painful an arousal in years," he murmured, his voice tight with control, "You are one deliciously stubborn little mate."

His throbbing erection was pressed tantalisingly at the entrance to her pussy, and arousal coursed higher through Mac at the sight of his wereem's wide open legs and trembling taut buttocks, the scent of her shining wet, fragrant pussy begging him silently. "I can't wait until you're on heat again," he growled softly, and began to coat the hard, swollen head of his organ in her slick juices, a little smile lifting his lips as he watched her sway and moan while he brushed against her swollen, aching lips.