Spirit of the Wolf Read Online Free PDF Page A

to, she grasped his shoulders for balance. After wiping her sex juices on her naked flank, he hauled his cock out of its hiding place and rammed it into her.
    Just like that. No asking if she was ready. No condom.
    “Wait!” She wanted to pull back but couldn’t make the move. “You promised—”
    “Shut up.”
    Again with the command. Even more unsettling, he dug his fingers into her hip bones. Using his hold to keep her in place, he powered into her. If not for his grip, she would have fallen off the box.
    And her hands gripping his shoulders—don’t forget that.
    One powerful thrust, then another. Hammering at her and her caring about nothing except his cock’s commands.
    She could fight, claw at his shoulders, scream maybe.
    But she didn’t want to, damn it.
    She needed this man’s cock plowing deep and strong and full into her, over and over, both of them sweating, the sun beating down, his hat sliding forward and then falling off.
    More. Even more. Her knees locking and now her ankles chafing from the denim. Back protesting from arching deep. Careful to keep her pussy in alignment.
    “Shit!” he bellowed. “Shit!”
    Matt was coming. Hard. Wet heat spewing into her. Coating her channel with his cum.
    Determined to keep up with him, she went deep inside, looking for the release she craved, touched it, lost it.
    “Shit!”
    More of his ejaculate filled her. When he pulled back, some escaped to dribble down the inside of her thigh. Until now, she’d been denied this part of sex, had told herself that was how it needed to be. But this was the real thing. Primal sex.
    “Ah, shit.”
    He again rammed into her, grunting as he did, his fingers vising her hips. She returned his strength with all she had, and her fingers ground into his collarbone. She belatedly remembered to clamp down on his cock, but it was too late. He was beginning to soften.
    Was done.

3
     
    B eing dressed again—well, minus the bra—helped restore Cat. At least she no longer felt so vulnerable.
    Unfortunately, having her body covered did little to shake off her unease and tension.
    Like hers, Matt’s jeans were back up around his waist. He’d retrieved his hat. As she shook what dust she could off her bra, it occurred to her that he hadn’t removed his shirt. Had that been because he’d been in such a hurry to get to the main act, or had he deliberately stripped her while remaining virtually intact clotheswise himself? Granted, this was far from their first quickie, but if her memory was serving her right, they’d always done equal amounts of stripping.
    Shaking her head, she tucked her bra into a back pocket. Only then did she allow herself to focus on Matt. He’d walked over to Ginger and hoisted himself into the saddle without first letting the mare smell him. As a result, Ginger’s head was high and white showed in her eyes.
    “Careful,” she warned as she joined them. “Give her a chance to figure out who you are.”
    He didn’t look down. “I know what I’m doing.”
    “Do you?” she snapped. “You couldn’t prove it by me today. What are you going to do? Take her for a run?”
    He frowned. Before he could respond, if that had been his intention, his cell phone rang. After pulling it out of a front pocket, he shielded the faceplate so he could read what was displayed there.
    “Beale,” he said.
    Although she wasn’t concerned that Ginger would take advantage of Matt’s inattention, Cat took hold of the reins so Matt could concentrate on the conversation. He did more listening than talking, his responses punctuated by three damns. Finally he said, “I’m on my way,” and hung up.
    “What is it?” she asked.
    “Dead calf.” He pointed toward the hills. “Slaughtered.”
    “No! Does Beale know what—”
    “Not human.”
    A cougar attack was a remote possibility, although usually cougars concentrated on smaller game. Coyotes could have done the deed but probably only if the calf was already