Damnation: Reckless Desires (Blue Moon Saloon Book 1) Read online

  Chapter Thirteen

  Jess closed her eyes and focused everything on the kiss. Just as she had in the forest, when she’d shut everything out to follow her nose. Except this time, she was following her soul, and her soul led to him.

  To Simon. Her Simon. Her bear.

  Maybe seeing him in bear form did it. Maybe it was the fact that she’d kept her wolf locked away for so long. She didn’t know which — only that she needed him. Wanted him. Loved him.

  She took a deep breath between kisses and said it out loud. “I need you. I want you. I love you.”

  Simon’s lips trembled. He didn’t speak, but his thoughts shot straight into her mind. I love you. He cupped her face in both hands and looked her in the eye. Never stopped. Never will.

  He leaned forward, pushing her back against the wall. Tilted his head and fit his lips over hers as only he could. His lips were dry on the outside, soft on the inside, like the honey on the edge of a honey jar and the amber liquid within. His tongue moved like honey, too, slow and steady and sweet, and his fingers threaded into her hair.

  When he pulled back, it was with a sureness and serenity she hadn’t seen since she’d first stepped foot in the saloon. And she felt it, too. Sure. Serene.

  The left corner of his mouth twitched. His hands tightened around her waist as his eyes narrowed on her lips. She wrapped her arms around his neck and hauled him in. She hauled in a deep breath, too, because she knew she’d need it for this kiss.

  A blink of the eye later, he had her hard against the wall. Hard against his body. Hard in every way, except for his lips, which started moving over hers. But when she whimpered and wrapped her leg around his, his kisses grew hotter, deeper. Needier.

  His tongue swept the corners of her mouth. His fingers knotted in her hair, tilting her head right. His heart pounded against hers, and all the time his bear chanted into her mind.

  This is mine, the bear puffed. You are mine.

  She whimpered for more, burning up in the best possible way. Clearing her mind of everything but the solid wall of muscle under her hands.

  Safe, his bear rumbled to her wolf. Will always keep you safe.

  If she’d been in animal form, she’d have flicked her tail and licked his face. It had been so long. Six months of running. Three years of missing him. A lifetime of wishing.

  “Simon…” She clutched his shirt — his dusty, sooty shirt — and wrestled it over that thick chest. Fought it over those round shoulders. Then she stopped, trapping his hands. She stroked his cheeks with her thumbs.

  “What are you doing, my little she-wolf?” he whispered.

  “Touching you.” She circled his ears, traced the bridge of his nose. Testing him, maybe. Would his bear trust her even when she had him wrapped up like that?

  His mouth curled into an indulgent smile. “Then touch. Take. Tickle. Whatever you want.”

  She grinned a little, picturing how a tickle might go. He’d have her hog-tied in her own shirt in two seconds flat if she tried that. Which didn’t sound too bad, but her lips were greedy for another kiss.

  More, her wolf begged. More.

  She pulled the shirt off and threw it aside.

  He blinked like a bear emerging from a den into sunshine with eyes that said she was his sunshine.

  “Now you,” he rumbled, tugging the hem of her shirt.

  Her ash-covered, smoky shirt. The second she became aware of it, she wanted it gone. But he put his hands over hers and made her do it slowly. Dragged his hands over every inch of her curves, while his eyes glowed brighter and brighter.

  Mine, his bear sang into her mind. This is mine.

  He was marking her. Claiming her. Branding her with his touch.

  She inhaled, letting her chest expand into his hands.

  The shirt fluttered over her head and joined his somewhere across the room. Almost in a different universe. He didn’t tease her with it the way she’d teased him, but the second his eyes focused on her bra, she knew he’d take his revenge.

  “Pretty.” His voice was husky as he ran a finger along the edge of the black lace.

  “You like?” She coaxed him closer.

  He nodded and traced the underside with his thumbs. “I like.”

  He reached all the way around the back, and she thought he’d free her of it at last. But he just growled under his breath and went right on circling the edges, torturing her. “I like.”

  “Then touch. Take, damn it. Tickle, if you like.” She said it breathlessly, almost pleading for relief. The heat inside her body all rushed to her core, and her wolf begged for more.

  His fingers twitched against her skin, and he hummed. “Soon. Very soon.”

  He nuzzled her chin, then her neck as his thumbs continued their long, even strokes. His fingers slid over the cups of her bra, teasing more than tickling. Then they dragged across the silk and pressed down on her nipples as she writhed under his touch.

  “Simon, please…”

  The kiss he planted on her collarbone turned into a nip, then a suck. A diversion, as it turned out, because a second later, he had the bra strap over her shoulder. The right cup hung loose.

  “My, my,” he growled. “What does my perfect she-wolf have here?” His lips followed his eyes toward the soft flesh of her breast.

  My wolf. A week ago, she’d have whacked him over the head for that. Now, it made her soul sing.

  My bear! My man! My mate!

  She tipped her head right and watched him dip lower, lower. Thick fingers explored the inside of the cup.

  “You’re supposed to be touching me, not the bra.”

  “Ah, but I like this bra. I like…touching…it.” He turned his fingers as he spoke the last two words and slid them over her skin.

  She inhaled sharply, trying to keep her lusty wolf under control.

  “So touch some more.”

  Her knees wobbled under her, and just like that, he lowered her to the mattress. So smoothly, so seamlessly, she barely noticed until she was flat on her back and sinking into it.

  “Okay?” he whispered.

  “Perfect. Beautiful,” she mumbled, tugging his head into place.

  The bra strap was down by her elbow, and he flipped the cup down. Took her breast easily in his mitt of a hand and toyed with it. Teased the nipple until it stood out like a button, then smoothed it over and started again, murmuring, “Perfect. Beautiful…”

  In one long, hot drag, he sanded his chin down her flesh and kissed. Licked. Rubbed with his stubble, then soothed with his tongue until she was totally, utterly on fire.

  “Yes…” she moaned.

  His mouth worked her hard — almost painfully hard — but even that didn’t seem like enough.

  She was barely aware of him working the button of her jeans, pushing them down. Guiding her feet out of them and her panties, and she only vaguely registered lying naked but for the bra.

  Until his fingers started exploring, that is.

  He kneeled over her, suckling at her breast, twisting and nipping and rubbing one side on the skin, the other through the silk. Broad fingers slid up her legs, then down, guiding her legs apart while his other hand discarded her bra. Up and down, in a long line from her knee to her hip. Then the curve of her thigh, and then between.

  “Simon…” she murmured as he traced her folds.

  He spread his palm over her, too wide to penetrate, and let it dance. Let the motion pull her sensitive flesh. Teased her open, thrilling her even without touching her. Until finally, finally, he curled a finger and slid it inside.

  “Yes, Simon…”

  Two fingers. Still not enough. She writhed on his hand as her vision blurred.

  “More…”

  “Jess…”

  No one could say her name the way he did. No one could make her heart soar like this man.

  She moved faster. “Yes…”

  Three fingers.

  “More!”

  He circled. Plunged deeper. Dragge
d in and out.

  She was close, so close to shattering. Wanted to, so badly. But it wasn’t enough. Nothing would be enough until she had the real thing.

  “Simon, please…” She groped at his jeans. “I need this. I mean… I mean…”

  His lips quirked, and his eyes gleamed. Her bear was hungry for more, too.

  “I need this, too.” His voice went husky as he guided her hand to his crotch. “I need you.”

  She cupped the front of his jeans. Rubbed up and down. Got on her knees a second later to use both hands on the stubborn zipper.

  “Jesus,” she muttered. “I might have to go after this with my teeth.”

  Lust flickered in his eyes. “I wouldn’t mind.”

  She grinned at him and flashed a toothy smile, letting her canines extend just a tiny bit. “Wolf teeth?”

  “Maybe not,” he joked. Then he caught a breath, and she froze, reading his thoughts.

  A bite. Her bite. The mating bite. They’d come close a couple of times, way back when. They’d barely held their beasts back from it at times. She flicked her tongue over her lips and watched the pulse beat in his neck. Right there. Right there…

  His thumb caressed the hollow of her neck, and she knew he was thinking the same thing. Right here…

  Mated shifters called the exchange of mating bites the greatest high of their lives, and she could picture it so well. Instinct told her just how it would work. She’d sink her teeth in and carefully, slowly penetrate. Hold on tight and taste him, then keep her tongue over the wound until it closed. She’d do all that while he was buried inside her at the height of sex, and then they’d crash-land into a new life as a mated pair. She’d never be lost or lonely again.

  So close… the moonlight seemed to whisper as it flowed into the room.

  So close… Simon’s mouth cracked open as he focused on her neck.

  So easy… Her wolf nodded along.

  She leaned closer, and Simon held his breath. Leaving it up to her. The high of her life, there for the taking…

  Every atom in her body wanted it. Begged for it. But her mind…

  “Too soon,” she whispered, shaking herself out of the moonspell.

  Simon’s nostrils flicked wide, and then he shook his head, too. “Too soon,” he agreed.

  The last time they’d come this close, they’d decided to wait for exactly the right time.

  “Not yet,” she whispered, drawing a grin from him.

  “Not yet.”

  “But this…” she said, flicking an eyebrow up and reaching for his jeans. “This is not going to wait.”

  He laughed and watched as she worked the button open and the zipper down. Watched her as she slipped a hand inside to touch him, then let his eyes slide shut.

  “Perfect,” he murmured.

  Perfect, just like she remembered. The thick, heated feel of him in her hand. The tingle in the air as both of them became more and more aroused. The need, throbbing deep inside.

  It took ages to get the jeans off him, but what did she expect of undressing a bear? His thighs bulged with muscle, and his rear was hard and round. When he sat up to help her, a boxy line of muscle stood up along the length of his abdomen. But when she finally got him out of those jeans… Heaven. Finally, she had her mate again, skin to skin.

  She stroked the length of him, guiding him closer as they both rolled. His weight pressed her into the mattress, and their eyes locked.

  Love you. Need you. Want you. She sent the sentiment straight into his mind.

  He nudged her legs wider. Love you. Nestled the head of his cock against her entrance. Need you. Pulled her arms up over her head. Want you.

  She’d barely nodded before he plunged in.

  “Yes!” she cried at the searing inner pain.

  “Watch me,” Simon whispered. “Keep your eyes open. Look at me.”

  She hadn’t even noticed closing them, being so intent on the sweet slide inside. The feel of him stretching her, filling her.

  “Yes…” she mumbled breathlessly.

  When he drew out, it was sweet torture. Then he pushed back in, and that was even better. Her whole body screamed with satisfaction at the feel of him right where he belonged.

  “Perfect,” he rasped.

  “Simon…” She pulled her legs higher and tightened her fingers around his.

  He rolled his hips and nestled deeper, then pulled back and hammered in again. Then he settled into a rhythm of one slow slide followed by a hard push that she matched with tiny bucks and cries. She kept his hands captive and squeezed him inside until he was groaning with her. The shadows in the room danced faster, too, and a vein stood out on his brow. His biceps bulged, keeping him balanced over her with just the right pressure. Just the right everything.

  “Simon,” she pleaded, tightening her legs. Pumping him as hard as he pumped into her, panting his name.

  “God, Jess…” he groaned through gritted teeth, driving her right to the edge. His next thrust was so hard, so fast, she slid up the bed.

  Her blood rushed through her veins. Her teeth bit into her lip, but that was only part of the pleasure-pain. Her mouth opened in the silent cry. Every nerve in her body wound tighter and tighter, spiraling out of control. Simon was moving so fast, filling her so deep…

  “Yes…” she moaned as the rush overtook her. “Yes…”

  Simon panted beside her ear, still going. His balls slapped against her skin. Then he went stiff all over and groaned so deeply, it was more vibration than sound.

  “Jess…” The softest, most longing sound she’d ever heard from a bear.

  He collapsed over her, and she wrapped her arms and legs around him, keeping him close.

  Keeping him forever, her wolf hummed, rolling in drowsy bliss.

  He wiped them both off with a shirt, rolled behind her, and spooned her close. Stroked a thumb over her hand, and she stroked back. Saying nothing, feeling everything. Falling gently, peacefully into the sweet silence of sleep.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “You’re serious.” Soren looked him square in the eye.

  Simon stared right back. Yes, he was serious. Dead serious.

  “She’s my mate.”

  Soren gave him a stern look and took another sip of his coffee. Bland coffee Simon had already given up on sipping because it was nowhere near as good as the coffee Jess made. But that’s what he got for dragging his brother halfway across town to a corner diner on a Sunday afternoon.

  A Sunday afternoon that followed the best sleep of his life. He’d managed to get Jess to sleep in, too, and even if what they’d been up to wasn’t only sleep, he’d never felt as rested or as good in his life.

  Yep, the best sleep of his life and the best muffin a bear ever did eat. A blueberry oatmeal muffin that burst with juice and sweetness and love. Jess had slipped out of bed an hour before him — obviously, he’d have to work on her definition of sleeping in — and baked a fresh batch, just for him.

  It had pretty much been the best morning ever, stretching long past noon. The saloon didn’t open until late on Sundays, so there was no rush. Plenty of time to touch, to kiss, and finally, to eat breakfast. It was bliss until Soren stomped downstairs, muttering something about coffee.

  Jess had walked by him with a friendly, “Good morning.”

  “Morning,” Soren mumbled back.

  Jessica’s scent had trailed half a step behind her, thick with the heavy musk of bear. Of satisfaction. Of sex.

  Soren’s head whipped around. To Jess then back to Simon, then to Jess again. Soren’s eyes grew wide, and he batted Simon in the chest.

  You telling me that you and she… Soren blurted into his mind. Another accusation. You…you…

  The fire in his eyes made it clear Soren knew exactly what verb followed the You.

  Which was what had brought him and Soren to the diner, because the conversation they had to have might stand a better chance of avoiding an all-out fight in a place like this. The two
of them were squeezed into a booth way in the corner of the diner, glaring at each other over the Formica table, grateful for the boisterous softball team seated at the opposite side of the establishment, providing enough noise to cover their conversation.

  “How could I not be serious about Jess?” Simon said.

  “I mean more than serious. I mean sure,” Soren snapped.

  “Sure, I’m sure. You got a problem with that?” He leaned forward and showed his teeth. His regular human teeth, but his bear fangs weren’t far from extending, judging from the pressure on his gums.

  Soren bristled, unimpressed. Really bristled with considerably more hair showing on his arms and neck than normally would. Both of them were a breath away from shifting, itching to fight.

  Simon didn’t blink. If he had to fight his brother into accepting the truth, he would. Never mind that his older brother beat him every time they’d fought, either as kids or men. He’d take Soren on. He’d do what he had to. He’d do anything he had to do.

  Like flexing his fingers against the table, fighting to keep his claws sheathed. Why the hell was Soren so bitter about the idea?

  Somewhere across the diner, a woman laughed, and they both looked up. An older woman patted the shoulder of the man next to her in an easy, practiced motion she’d probably repeated over the past twenty or thirty years.

  They both watched for a second, and when Soren turned back, Simon saw him in a new light.

  Maybe Soren wasn’t so much mad as sad. Still in mourning, as he always would be, for his lost mate.

  Simon sucked in a long, dry breath and started again, in a whisper this time.

  “Look, if it were Sarah…”

  Soren’s head snapped up, his eyes fierce.

  Simon plowed on. “If it were Sarah, wouldn’t you risk anything to get her back?”

  The fire in Soren’s eyes burned brighter, then slowly died out. He dipped his chin so far, it nearly touched his chest. “I’d die for her.” Then he winced and closed his eyes. He didn’t say the rest, but it was written all over his face. But I didn’t. I failed.