Touch of the Werewolf by Lani Aames by Lani Aames - Read Online

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Touch of the Werewolf - Lani Aames

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Erich caught a whiff of her scent. The mixture of her natural musk and the same perfume she’d worn all those years ago brought back the bittersweet memories. He stepped in even closer until he could feel her warm breath at the base of his throat. I wish I’d had the right to want you to remember me.

You had the right, Riviera said softly, and tears glistened in her eyes by the light through the café window. And I never forgot. How could I forget?

I never forgot you either. Erich couldn’t keep from touching her any longer. His hands slid up over her shoulders and neck until his fingertips traced the lines of her face, her silken skin cooled by the night air. He hadn’t forgotten a single curve or arch. Touching her was like coming home.

She trembled when he reached behind her and pulled her ponytail free. Her hair fell in thick, dark waves around her neck and shoulders, and the sudden aroma of floral shampoo filled his nostrils…

How he wanted her. More than he’d wanted her the first time he’d kissed her eight years ago, and as much as he’d wanted her five years ago when he’d taken her to his motel bed and made her his even though he knew it was the worst thing he could do to her.

She tossed her hair back in one quick motion and looked up at him again. Her full lips parted provocatively, the pink tip of her tongue darting out to wet her bottom lip.

He bent his head to taste her damp lip and fell into the essence of her all over again. Their lips crushed together, tongues dancing, breaths mingling. His arms surrounded her and he couldn’t remember why he’d ever let her leave them. How could he have ever looked into her tear-streaked face and said no?

She dropped the moonstone against her chest and slid her arms underneath his jacket and around his waist…

Erich… she murmured against his lips.

He pulled away long enough to ask, Do you want to stop?

She hesitated, then shook her head, her hair once again cascading over her shoulder, shadowing her face. Not now. Not tonight.

Not ever, he wanted to add, but he was afraid he might frighten her away with the promise she’d wanted from him at one time but he’d been incapable of making.


A long time ago

The witch studied the naked man bound to the split face of a rectangular slab of rock.

Iron spikes had been driven into the four corners with a thick leather strap attached to every one, binding each of his limbs and holding him fast. The man—long, lean, and hard with muscle—would not be able to escape, but the witch frowned.

Unlike others before him, he didn’t struggle against his bonds or scream hollow threats until the spittle flew from his lips and ran down his chin. His member was half-erect instead of shriveled with terror…as if he might achieve full arousal if what stood before him interested him in any way.

The man watched her as closely as she watched him, and unease rippled through her like water over pebbles in a stream.

Things existed in these mountains of which even she did not know, and for the first time in her long life she was afraid she might confront one of them this night. She tore her gaze away from his and glanced at the sky.

A thick swirl of black clouds swathed the night. Earlier, she placed lighted torches around the sacrificial clearing, but now the storm closed in, the rising wind distorting the flames.

She brushed back the long strands of her silver hair that whipped into her face and looked at the man again. Warm, golden light from the torches flickered over his taut tanned skin. He didn’t move or make a sound, and his golden brown eyes never left her. He didn’t seem disturbed by the storm, her presence, or his predicament. Her frown turned into a smile. His courage and strength would enhance her powers more than any of the others before him.

She pulled a silver knife from a hidden pocket in her black robe and reached for the tie at her throat. She felt the full moon, like quicksilver dancing in her veins, near its peak in the sky. The time drew nigh.

I am sorry, she said softly as she dropped her robe, revealing her naked body.

Her knee-length silver hair cascaded over her shoulders, the ends fluttering in the blustery air. Although she was far older, her body was as beautiful as a woman in her prime. She ran her hands over her firm breasts, across her ribs, and down to the thick triangle of silver curls. She slipped the handle of the knife into her wetness, swirling it over her swollen nub, visually stimulating the man who watched her and building her own sexual energy.

You are a magnificent specimen. Her arousal made her voice faint and breathless. If I were younger, I would be foolishly tempted to keep you for myself.

She walked around the stone slab and stood at his side. Her free hand grasped his erection and rubbed up and down. His member grew long and rigid under her expert ministrations. She threw back her head and closed her eyes, reveling in the sensations that rippled through her body. Her hips undulated against the knife handle, and her hand pumped his erection with hard, quick strokes. Her breath came in shortened gasps, but as she neared her release, she pulled both hands free. She shuddered at the abrupt end to her self-pleasuring.

You have a beautiful cock. I’ll enjoy my ride tonight.

He remained silent. By now, the others had begun blubbering promises of everything they had or could do for her. She’d never been cruel enough to laugh at them, but none of them had anything she wanted or needed—except his life.

Her limbs aquiver, she climbed the stone steps beside the altar and placed one foot on either side of his magnificent body. She lowered herself slowly, until the tip of his cock touched her throbbing center. He breathed heavily now, the only change she noticed.

You want me, don’t you?

She didn’t expect him to respond, and he didn’t disappoint her. With a deep moan, she thrust herself downward until she had taken him inside her completely. His hips jerked once, then he stilled. She flexed her inner muscles