Wild Ones: Prowl Read Free Page B

fullness of her breasts and the supple flex of limbs.
    Lainey tipped her head back and ran the sponge along her throat, then raised her arm to skate the sponge down her smooth flesh. She might be closer to forty than thirty, but age mattered not a bit when a woman knew how to use her charms -- knew, and enjoyed to the fullest.
    A small wuff! outside made her laugh.
    “You wait your turn,” she murmured. She drew the sponge in a line down her belly, trailing fragrant soapsuds in its wake, and turned to look over her shoulder at the wolves framed in her front window. Lingering there, she smoothed the sponge down one shoulder and the tops of her breasts.
    Oh yes. Want. No less recognizable from wolfen eyes than from a man’s, because while these might be wolves they had a man’s intelligence, a man’s needs, and a man’s desires.
    Just as Lainey had a woman’s.
    She closed her eyes in pleasure and basked in the still warmth of the night that embraced her, the beads of water that ran down her skin, and the quiet crackling of the fire. Imagined the press of lips to her body, the touch of a worthy man’s hands, and the stroke of his tongue, wherever he and she pleased. The daydreaming made her breasts ache and her cunt slick, eager for the wolves who were men. Who would take her first? It’d be fun, finding out.
    You wait your turn , she’d said, and she’d meant it.
    But she wouldn’t make them wait too long.
    * * *
    Lainey settled the robe back over her shoulders. Her skin was still damp from the bath, but she’d dry, and she rather liked the way the fabric clung to her now, displaying her breasts, her hard nipples, and the curve of her waist.
    It’d gone silent outside. Surely they hadn’t gone. Lainey hadn’t known them for a day, but she was certain the wolves wouldn’t grow bored and lope away. She’d retired because she wanted to, not because she’d lost her ability to hold a man’s attention.
    She padded barefooted to the window and laid her palm against the glass. Outside, two of Leman’s three moons shone bright as chips of ice. They waxed toward full in a sky of black velvet sprinkled with diamond stars -- a sky that looked as lush and rich in its darkness as a panther’s pelt. Below it, her fields spread out as far as the eye could see even in this cool night’s light. Wheat, left to grow wild, not harvested for two years or more, coming back from seed and sweeping out in an ocean of gold.
    Yet amongst all those riches, she saw no wolves.
    Then she heard a rustle. A growl. Playful barks and the rustling rush of a chase through the tall stalks of gold. Lainey chuckled. “All right. You made me look. Rascals, both of you.”
    She didn’t mind. Not as long as she could take her fill of watching them, and Lainey could see them more clearly now, tumbling through the tall wheat grass as if they were puppies. They didn’t look alike as wolves any more than they had as men, one long and sturdy and silver-black, one almost russet and smaller, but lean and wiry, tough as nails, like the man, she’d bet.
    Were there more to their pack? Doubtful. Lone wolves, she’d say. A pair of outcasts who’d joined together to make a pack of their own. Maybe for more than one reason. Every now and again, after one or the other scored a point, Lainey could see affection in the way the one comforted the other, then nipped his flank to get him back in the chase.
    Once, when they stood in a mostly bare spot of soft earth, illuminated by moonlight, she saw the russet wolf licking and biting at the muzzle of the silver-black wolf.
    If they were men, they’d be wrapped about one another and taking their time with a hard, sweet kiss. Lainey hummed, well pleased. Most men she’d known pretended to scorn those who loved their own sex as well as the other. Most of those men had been denying desires of their own.
    How good it was to see two souls enjoying themselves as they liked, with no one to tell them no, that’s not