Laurie’s Wolves(77)

The stroking over her clit wasn’t enough. In a frenzy, she shrugged out of her panties and whipped her shirt over her head. She was still under the covers, so no one would be able to see anything if they walked in. Plus, she couldn’t stop herself. She was past the point of no return. She needed release. And it didn’t matter how.

Shaking, she reached again for her nipples with both hands. She bit her lower lip and flicked the tips rapidly.

Her pussy pulsed with renewed need. Her legs fell open. She widened them.

Releasing her nipples, she smoothed her hands down her body and pressed her thighs open wider. As if she were a robot on autopilot, she spread her lower lips apart and arched her head back, exposing her neck to the visions of her men licking a path up her skin toward her ears.

It felt so fucking good. And she needed more.

She stroked a finger through her folds, coming off the bed. Her heels dug in deeper. She thrust her pussy upward. Sweet torture.

Unable to resist the need to come, she thrust two fingers into her channel and fucked herself hard and fast.

Not enough. It felt so good. Her vision swam. Her breath caught in her throat.

But it still wasn’t enough.

She reached for her clit with her other hand and rapidly flicked the tight nub.

Her mouth fell open wide. She squeezed her eyes shut against the light of day, causing her mates to come front and center in her visions.

The orgasm built.

Thrusting her fingers faster, she moaned softly.

So good.

So close.

Right on the edge. That place just before bliss. She held it. And she needed more. She needed to fall over the edge.

She fucked herself harder, her entire body stiff. The smell of her need filled the room. Lust. Female arousal. Potent.

Now.

Oh, God.

Now.

Please, God.

The ache in her belly grew worse. She tightened her muscles against the need. All her blood had congregated in her pussy.

She pinched her clit and cried out loud enough to have to bite her tongue. Too sensitive.

Her hand started to cramp. Her body shook violently.

She did not come.

In frustration, she finally stopped.

She flattened her body on the bed and let her hands fall to her sides. Breathing heavily, she shivered multiple times. Her body convulsed. Her pussy ached, her lower lips swollen with need.

She had to tent the sheet with her hand finally to get it off her clit and her nipples. They all three hurt. Too sensitive.

And the pain in her belly grew.

A tear ran down her face.

What was wrong with her?

Still she needed to come. Badly. Like a drug addict. The pressure on her sex was intense. Her blood stayed in the vicinity, engorging her lower lips, her clit, and the hood too. Even her ass squeezed in on itself with the need to be filled.

It wasn’t as though she had a vibrator on hand. She hadn’t fled Cambridge thinking about sex toys.

Besides, as her breathing slowed to a manageable pace, she admitted to herself that nothing would work. This was Nature’s way of ensuring she stayed with her mates.

She didn’t need anyone to tell her. She knew it in her soul.

Finally, she rolled onto her side and curled into a ball again, willing sleep to take her away from her need to be fucked.

She lay very still for a long time, squeezing her thighs together and trying to relax her belly. Nothing worked.

Her swollen breasts throbbed. Even the slightest touch was too much.

She didn’t move. Her mind conjured up nothing but visions of her mates fucking her in ways they had not yet explored. Hard. Fast. Deep.

She needed them to take her roughly.

And they were two hours away, probably pissed. Possibly in as much pain as her. Was she a bitch? Maybe.

God, just let it snow. A blizzard of unbelievable proportions would be nice about now.

She no longer wanted to prove she controlled the weather. She wanted to prove she did not.





Chapter Eighteen


Corbin tossed the paper he was staring at on his desk and closed his eyes for the billionth time, regretting it instantly. He had accomplished nothing all day. He finally hauled himself up and strode across the room to his boss’s office.

The sheriff lifted his head. “Still no word?”

Corbin had told Sheriff Richards about his plight first thing that morning. Thank God the man was a shifter, or today would have been far more difficult to explain. “Nothing.”

“Go home. You look like hell.”

Corbin tried to smile. He did not succeed. He felt like hell. Several people had asked him if he was coming down with something. When he’d gone to the restroom, he’d seen a man with flu-like symptoms in the mirror. He did not have the flu. He had a broken claiming. “I’m going to do that.”

“Take tomorrow. It’s Saturday. You’ll need it. Go get her.”

“I can’t.”