Wild: A Savage Alpha Shifters Romance Read online

  All sorts of questions float through me about him and his existence.

  What the heck is gonna happen to me?

  I need to go. Like soon. I have to get back to my car, find a way to get it towed, and get back home. It’s Saturday afternoon now and the boutique’s grand opening is Monday, so ideally Sunday morning would be a good time to get home. I told Megan we would need to leave the cabin of ill repute at the crack of dawn Sunday (before, when I thought it was a swanky chalet) and she agreed that’d work for her. I wonder, idly, if she’s staying the whole weekend and who she’s going to get a ride back with.

  My car is too far down that embankment to be spotted. She won’t be looking for me as she leaves.

  I’ll see her each day this week for an hour as we crisscross shifts just for that hour to ensure everything is smooth. After that, we’ll be ships passing in the night with a five to ten-minute crossover to hand over responsibilities. Our boss doesn’t want any hiccups during opening week that would taint our reputation. I’m going to be all business with her. It’ll be like this weekend didn’t even happen and it’ll certainly be like the friendship we’d cultivated didn’t happen. I’m not risking my job or the respect I have from my boss for her. Her true colors were revealed to me this weekend and it won’t take long for Becks to see her nature, too.

  My thoughts of work and how Megan got me into this mess I’m in are interrupted when I feel the bed move as he climbs back on. He’s got a knee between my legs and the other beside my hip. He lifts my hand and I draw in a sharp hiss of breath.

  “I’m sorry about your wrist, Ivy,” he says softly.

  I roll my eyes. The brute doesn’t know his own strength. I know he didn’t mean it. I also wonder why I didn’t just drive, despite him being in the back of the truck. I could’ve driven until I got to a police station and laid on the horn. Why didn’t I?

  “I’ll be careful in future, Ivy,” he vows.

  I’m thinking whatever but he leans over and puts his mouth to my wrist and for some reason this makes hot tears prick my eyes. I feel those soft, warm lips tenderly pucker as he drops a kiss there.

  After releasing my hand, he grips my waist and gently turns me over onto my back. Our eyes meet as his fingers caress my jaw. He stares deep and time seems to be of no consequence because I have no idea how long our eyes stay locked before his fingers slide down my face, then down my arm to my hip, which he squeezes briefly and then his hand slides under my bottom and into my yoga pants as his mouth descends toward mine.

  “Saying that, I also need to say… you,” he says against my mouth, “don’t,” he drops a kiss there, “leave me.” His fingers slide further down the back of my pants and find my slipperiness.

  I’m suddenly aware I’m panting, unable to tear my eyes away.

  “You’re mine,” he tells me, sliding fingers inside me.

  I swallow and grab his shoulders.

  There’s no hesitation in his touch. None. He touches me like he has the right to do so. I don’t want to find it so arousing, but I do.

  He leans sideways to kiss the inside of my wrist again.

  God, his skin is hot. It’s burning hot through the flannel of his shirt.

  “I claimed you, Ivy, because I knew it was the only thing I could do the second I caught your scent. I’ve never claimed anyone else the way I’ve claimed you. I never will. It’s my job to protect you. To provide for you. To fill you with me.”

  I draw in air until my lungs are full.

  “To punish you, when you need correction,” he adds, and then his fingers are gone and I’m quickly flipped to my belly, which has bottomed out.

  “Tyson…” I breathe out, trying to protest, but my pants are being yanked down and he bites my bottom. Hard.

  I squeal.

  “Ow! Fucking ouch!” I exclaim.

  I hear his zipper and then feel the tip of his cock glide through my crack down to my center.

  He slams inside.

  I should’ve been dry. I should’ve been bone-dry. I wasn’t. He got zero resistance from my body.

  I cry out into the crook of my arm, smushed into the pillow.

  I feel it immediately grow inside me and begin to pulse against my g-spot, first slowly, and then faster. Holy shit. I’m trembling and crying out a climax in about the count of twenty.

  His hand slips under me and then strong, hot fingers play with my clit at the same time, and I come on top of coming with a cacophony of sensations thrumming through me, pulsing inside me. Heat envelopes me and it feels like sparks must be bursting from my clit, scorching the sheets underneath me.

  “Holy fucking shit,” I groan as hot liquid fills me.

  Just when I think I’m about to pass out from climaxing so hard, he’s rubbing that spot on my neck. This makes me cry out harder. The sensations just go on and on and on. Higher and higher. My body is shaking. It should be ebbing now, but he’s grinding against my body with that throbbing cock inside me and he can’t pull out because it grew inside me.

  With the grinding motion, he just keeps pulsing against that spot inside and to top it all off, he’s making the sexiest purring sound in between grunts.

  “Ty…Ty… Tyson, too much. Too much,” I squeak out.

  “No. Take more,” he demands and then he’s twisted sideways to reach those bitemarks with his mouth and sucking on that spot. It’s too much. Too, too much. I’m crying while I’m coming because it’s just insanely intense.

  He needs to stop.

  He comes even more. More of that hot liquid spills from me and finally the fullness subsides just a little bit and I’m feeling relieved that I can come back down to earth. But I’m feeling that way too soon because instead of him rolling over after he pulls out, instead he flips me to my back, and then he rams inside again, eyes ablaze and jaw ticking.

  Holy shit. This has to stop.

  He’s not gonna stop.

  How is he still hard?

  Sensation tears through me like an inferno.

  “Stop,” I breathe.

  He pulls out, hauls my legs up so the backs of my ankles are resting on his pecks, and he’s slamming inside again, spearing me with that heavy, hard cock.

  “Please. St-top. Ty-Tyson, please. Stop.” My whole body is buzzing and I’m having convulsion-like tremors as my vagina spasms, spilling out hot liquid while he continues to hammer it into me.

  “No,” he snarls. “You’re gonna learn, Ivy.”

  He knots inside me again. A-fucking gain.

  Learn what? Learn what it means to be fucked to death?

  18

  Tyson

  She feels so tight, so right. Her little pussy is hugging my cock so hard, squeezing around me with intention, telling me I should never be outside of her despite what her mouth says. This pussy is the boss. It wants all I want to give it and I’m going to keep giving it. This perfect creature is mine. Her beautiful tits are bouncing, the tips like ripe raspberries pointing at me, begging me to taste them. I’m too busy knotting inside her and groaning as the sensation of warmth floods me and makes my balls empty inside her again. I stare at her tits as they bounce, listening to her whimpers and her pleading with my name, and with a short version of my name that she seems to use when she’s either coming hard or pleading with me to stop. She shortens my name to Ty. I like it when she does that. When she does that, she feels me inside her, feels me owning her.

  Finally, my knot subsides and I’m again moving both in and out as she flops listlessly, tears spilling from her beautiful bluebell-colored irises.

  I lick one ripe raspberry nipple, then the other and caress where I’ve put my mark on her and this makes her whimper some more.

  “Please, please,” she whispers, eyes closed and her body shaking.

  The sun is setting and my stomach needs food. I’ll have to stop fucking her long enough to get food into my little mate as well as into myself.

  I kiss her.

  “Please stop. I can’t take any
more,” she cries out and her body is limp. She’s exhausted.

  I’ve brought her to climax more than half a dozen times.

  “You’re mine, Ivy. Your body is mine and your heart will be, too. You don’t leave me,” I remind her.

  Her eyelashes flutter and she winces as I pull out, my cock ready to take a break if it must. Finally, the muscles inside her pussy are no longer tightening around me. She needs a break.

  I want more, but she’s eaten so little today and it’s approaching night. There’s also a chill in the air since I hadn’t rebuilt the fires when we got back from town. The kitchen is filled with the food we bought. I only put the meat and the other cold items in the fridge; everything else is in bags on the floor and on the countertop and table.

  I rise and stretch out my back muscles and she whimpers again and pulls her legs together but her eyes on me are appreciative. My little Ivy likes my body. I like hers, too.

  “Ow,” she whispers, eyes closing, and then she shivers.

  I lift the blanket over her and caress her face while I give her a low purr, which makes a smile spread across her face. She likes when I make that sound. I’ve never made it in my life before. I only make it for her.

  It’s a sound that I somehow know comes from my wolf, my wolf who would normally, in spring times when I’ve had to shift to man form, be whining and pining to come out and run. At night, I ran when I wasn’t mounting a female. My wolf wants to run and leap with jubilation at the fact that I have her. It also wants to celebrate by hunting and feasting, then returning so I can mount her again.

  I know I can’t run and feast as wolf until I know that she’s not going to try to leave me and that no one will attempt to harm her. That Riley Savage was here today and that he with others from that forbidden village congregated on the end of my road doesn’t sit well. This is miles away from their village and there’s no reason they should be here other than to interfere with my life. It makes me want to hunt them all down, destroy every single heartbeat in that village. But what stops me from raining blood on all of them is likely the niggle that weighs on me about the female that was there today when I caught up with Ivy. She was there with them, the tone of an accord, not under duress. Her scent calls to me in a foreign way. And her scent invades my mind because it’s as if memories are trying to surface.

  I didn’t allow myself to look at her, but I knew she was there, and I felt something from her that I shook off, that I shake off again now.

  Memories of my infancy are too far away to know for sure if that’s her. I left that village too young to remember anything or anyone, but maybe scents from the past did imprint on me. Perhaps they imprint on all shifters. I never asked my uncle about it. I asked no questions when I got to the village and they submitted, when I remembered when I’d scented one of their females before. I push the thoughts away. I can’t give them any time now, or my mind will spin, and the red haze of anger could l strike like lightning down my spine. When that happens it takes over and I become nothing but the urge to hunt and kill. It can’t be allowed to spin when I have Ivy to think of first.

  I find this odd. The wolf in me has always been dominant over the man in me until now. Now, I feel that something is shifting. Instead of that wolf being angry that it’ll take second place in my priorities because Ivy is first, it’s happy that I have her and content to wait until it’s safe to come out. Unless it needs out to protect her, then I know it’ll thrust its way forward as it has been doing.

  I pull jeans on, remembering that uncle told me clothing on a man was something females preferred outside fucking, and make my way to the kitchen.

  I look through all the food she chose and half of it I don’t even recognize, though I notice she bought all sorts of fresh fruit as well as frozen fruit and fruit in cans like the fruit I’ve bought before.

  I bite into a long yellow fruit or vegetable and the inside is squishy and pleasant. The outside isn’t. I spit the rind into the sink and dig the rest of the inside out. I like it.

  I wonder if she wants one.

  19

  Ivy

  I dozed for a few minutes, I guess, and when I open my eyes, it’s because I smell food. As that registers I also become aware of all the leftover cum between my legs. The bed is wet and it’s gonna get gross, or grosser, if I don’t clean it. I need another shower.

  Tyson’s coming toward me with a plate in his hand, and the sight of him bare-chested, jeans sitting low on his hips, and eyes on me in that way of his has my belly doing a flip-flop.

  I sit up and bite my lip. My stomach rumbles.

  He sits on the edge of the bed and I see what’s on the plate. A giant T-bone steak, cut into cubes, the bone on the side. Steam rises from it.

  He picks up a cube with his fingers and puts it into my mouth.

  He cooked this over fire, obviously as it’s smoky, looks rather charred, and it’s bland. I don’t think he’s used any spices.

  It’s tender, though. I chew and swallow.

  “Good?” he asks.

  I wrinkle up my nose.

  “Not good?” He frowns and takes a bite.

  He shrugs and takes another bite and then puts another cube to my lips. “You need to eat.”

  “It’s not very…” I scrunch up my face again.

  He leaves with the plate.

  I’m gathering the quilt around me and am about to get up, when he’s back with a banana in his hand.

  “You need to try this! This is delicious.” He bites the end off and lets it fall out of his mouth onto his hand.

  I double-blink at the craziness of it.

  Instead of peeling it, he digs two fingers into the opening in the top of the banana and scoops some of the fruit out of the peel before he brings his fingers to my mouth.

  I accept. How crazy am I for accepting food from his fingers? I give my head a shake at the ridiculousness. He’s so… disarming.

  He smiles and licks his lips. “It’s good, right?”

  I swallow. “It’s a banana,” I state.

  “And it’s good.” He squeezes an inch or two down to make some more ooze out.

  “Here.” I take it and show him how the peel comes down, one petal at a time, and he gives me a giant smile and breaks a piece off and shoves it in between my lips, making me startle before sticking the rest of it in his mouth.

  “That’s so good,” he says around a whole mouthful of banana.

  I can’t help it; this makes me giggle.

  He smiles and looks at me with questions in his eyes as he chews.

  “I need a shower,” I tell him, sobering.

  He swallows and shakes his head. “First, you need to eat.”

  “I’ll eat. I’ll take a shower and then I’ll cook us something. Something with flavor.”

  He stares at the banana peel in his hand.

  “I like bananas, too, Tyson, but not for dinner.”

  What’s his story? How does he know how to drive a truck but not how to peel a banana? He paid for groceries. He can build a fire and he obviously has basic survival skills.

  He shrugs. “I’ll take a shower, too.”

  He drops the banana peel and then drops his jeans, steps out of them, and grabs my hand, pulling me out of the bed. I scramble to reach for the quilt so I can cover myself, but he doesn’t seem the least bit worried about us both being naked. Of course not.

  I’m tugged into the bathroom where I’m feeling very bashful. I’m naked and I need to pee.

  “Wait until I finish,” I tell him and try to nudge him out of the bathroom.

  “I’ll take a shower with you,” he’s decided.

  “Okay, but wait until I use the bathroom.”

  He tilts his head, confused.

  “I need to use the toilet,” I clarify.

  “Okay, use it.” He moves to the shower and turns it on and then gets inside and pulls the curtain over.

  I stare at the white curtain with the faded purple flowers for a minute and
then realize that there’s something of a cultural barrier here. I sit on the toilet and go about my business.

  His head pokes out and he looks at me.

  Oh shit, I want to shrivel up and die right now.

  “Don’t try to leave!” He points and then he’s behind the curtain again.

  I say nothing.

  “Or I’ll need to teach you some more,” he adds loudly.

  I glare at the curtain and after wiping with toilet tissue from the dusty-looking toilet paper roll, I flush.

  “Oh! Brrrr” This comes from behind the shower curtain and I grin. The water turned cold. Serves him right.

  I pull the curtain aside and he’s shivering, holding his biceps with his hands, and standing back from the water stream.

  He looks at me with alarm and holds his hand out to halt me. “Wait, Ivy. It’s gone cold. It shouldn’t. The hot water might be broken. Oh. That’s better. Come.” He grabs my hand and I climb into the tub. He’s immediately washing me with the striped green bar of soap that he slides over me, everywhere, including between my legs. It falls from his hand and he keeps going with soapy palms, rubbing up and down and up and down between my legs. I squeak and try to cross them, but he’s adamant and focused on his task. He then reaches for the shampoo bottle and squirts some standard green 2-in-1 shampoo into my hair and lathers it up, smiling at me.

  He starts purring happily as he’s playing with the bubbles in my hair.

  I close my eyes and soak in the feeling of his fingers on my scalp. Then those fingers are on my breasts, so I take over pushing water back down the length of my hair under the stream but then I feel a hot mouth close around my nipple. His fingers walk their way between my legs.

  “No, I’d like to stay clean for a bit,” I tell him. I squeeze my thighs in an effort to deny him access while I also squeeze the excess water from my hair. I move past him to get him in front of the flowing water and grab the shampoo and squirt it into his hair.

  “Your turn,” I say, deciding on a distraction.

  It works, I guess, because he smiles. He’s too tall for me to reach his scalp properly.

  He slides a little on the slippery soap he dropped, and he catches himself by grabbing the shower curtain, tearing half of it off the shower rod. His look of panic vanishes, and he stares down at the offending bar of soap and lifts it. “Slippery,” he says and tosses it over into the sink.