Mysteria Nights

stomach wasn’t as flat as it had been ten years before, she heard him murmur, “Your skin is like silk, and you taste like lavender-scented honey.”

She probably would have let him pull off her shorts then, but he slid down, until he knelt at her feet. Smiling at her, he took off her running shoes and socks. When he kissed the arch of her foot she had a moment to think about how desperately glad she was that she’d had a pedicure just two days ago, then he moved from her foot to her calf, kneading it much as he had done the day before. Only now he interspersed his caresses with soft kisses as he made his way slowly up her leg.

“Justin . . .” His name was a moan, and all thoughts of statutory rape and moral turpitude permanently flew from her mind.

“Sssh,” he breathed against the sensitive spot behind her knee. “Let me worship you like the goddess you are, and allow me to teach you what I’ve learned since I left your class.”

“A little role reversal?” she asked breathlessly, making no move to stop him as his lips grazed her inner thigh.

“Absolutely, Ms. Cox. It’s time you quit worrying about marriages and relationships and nonmagic and just relax and enjoy a man who appreciates what an exceptional woman you are and can make you feel as good as you deserve to feel.” He nuzzled the leg of her shorts up so that when he spoke his mouth moved, hot and insistent, against the very top of her inner thigh. “What I’ve learned is how to use my tongue and mouth to bring a woman to orgasm before I fill her body with mine and stroke her into another climax and then another.”

“Do you do this often?” The thought of the possibility that she might be just another in a long line of female conquests began to dissipate her horny haze.

“No,” he moaned, his mouth on her skin. “Don’t think that. It’s you I want to taste—you I want to pleasure. I’ve fantasized about you for years. You have no idea how much I want you and how special you are to me. Let me make my fantasies real. Let me taste you.”

When he pulled at the waist of her shorts, she willingly lifted to make his job easier. As she settled back against the blanket, her eyes were drawn over his shoulder to the darkening sky and she felt a little jolt as she realized how close it was to sunset . . . which would be followed by moonrise . . . and a nearly full moon rise at that.

Observant as ever, Justin read the new tension in her body. He saw her eyes fixed on the sky and the clear concern in her face.

“I promise that you have nothing to fear from me.”

Reluctantly, her gaze left the sky and met his eyes. “But when the full moon rises, you’re a wolf, aren’t you?”

“Actually, there’s always a little of the wolf in me, full moon or not,” he said, nipping her stomach gently and then lowering his head to taste her with a long lick of his tongue.

Her breath caught in surprise and she had to bite her lip to stifle a breathy moan.

He kissed her thigh and then smiled up at her. “Remember, your magic is nonmagic. Which means I am unable to shift my shape around you. I am in man form right now, and as long as I’m close to you I’ll stay in that form.” He nuzzled her thigh and kissed her again. “Let me make love to you, my sweet Candy,” his voice caressed her name. “Let me be your lover.”

“I know exactly what you need . . . a werewolf lover.” Godiva’s voice whispered through her mind. Maybe her friend was right. And why not? Justin appreciated her. He listened to her and made her feel beautiful and desirable. What was wrong with her taking a young, virile lover who wanted to worship her like a goddess? . . .

With a triumphant smile, she made her decision.

“If you can’t change form as long as I’m close to you, I guess the right answer is for me to keep you very close to me.” She pulled the young werewolf to her and let his victorious growl vibrate against her naked skin.

Justin had been right. He had learned a hell of a lot since he’d left her classroom. And his tongue . . . not only did he use it between her legs with such enthusiasm that her vibrator would forever after seem a weak substitute, but his ability to listen (amazingly enough) hadn’t stopped when his dick hardened. He listened and responded when she showed him the secret place low on her stomach that was so ultrasensitive. He paid attention to that spot at the base of her neck. And his kisses . . . his kisses were an erotic adventure.

When he’d brought her to climax three times he finally moaned that he couldn’t wait anymore, and she’d reveled in the hard length of him as she guided him within her slick, ready folds. He’d tried to hold back—tried not to be too rough. She’d bit him on the shoulder and told him fiercely that she wasn’t a breakable young girl—that she wanted him—all of him. His growl had been sensual music. She gripped his hard hips with her legs and met his thrusts with equal strength, urging him on until he cried her name and spent himself within her.

Seven

Godiva had known what she was talking about. Having a werewolf lover was spectacular. Especially such a young werewolf lover. God, she’d almost forgotten the incredibly sexy strength of a young man’s body. And recovery time! Jeesh. That boy had been better than a recharged vibrator. Way better. She was so glad it was the weekend and there was no school the next day. They’d made love for hours, and he was still nibbling at her neck when he’d walked her home. She jumped the steps into her house two at a time. He made her feel twenty again. No! She took that back. She didn’t feel twenty again—no way did she want to feel that stupid and unconfident again. Justin made her feel fabulous and forty, which was exactly what she was.

Candice had taken a long bath, delighted with the unaccustomed soreness of her body. And then, replete, she’d slept till noon. Noon! And only woke up then because her cell phone had toned at her, telling her she had a text message. She flipped it open, feeling a rush of pleasure even before she saw the text.

Are you busy tonight? I have a surprise for you.

What was he up to now? She grinned and replied:

More spidey sense?

His reply was a single word.

Better

She laughed out loud. This was fun! And, no. She wasn’t going to go on and on with herself about how long it’d been since she’d had this kind of fun . . . and that she might be having too much fun too soon. No. She was just going to enjoy herself.

I think I can fit you into my schedule.

She waited impatiently for the tone that signaled his reply, and when it came it sounded like beautiful music—even though she was completely aware of how ridiculously romantic that seemed.

Be on your deck at dusk. And be ready . . .

Be on her deck at dusk? And be ready for what? But she forced herself not to text him back and ask for details. She wanted to break her old habits. She overanalyzed things (“things” being defined as “men”). She knew she did it, and she knew she had gotten worse as she’d gotten older.

“Not this time,” she muttered as she fixed herself a cup of her favorite green tea and stuck a couple pieces