wrong with being here for a while,” he admits, his voice lowering seductively.
I run my fingers through the short black hair on his chest and laugh. “No, nothing wrong with that at all,” I agree. “I don’t need every detail; I’m sure there’s a lot of time spent on the toilet that’s not pertinent to our future lives together, and in your case, a good chunk of time scratching yourself in wolf form. You can skip all of that,” I tell him.
He laughs even harder and slaps my ass. I squeak in surprise and clench my thighs together as the sting moves from my cheek to my clit. I can practically smell the arousal that suddenly perfumes the room, but Torrez doesn’t acknowledge it.
“You want details, but not too many.” He trails off for a second. “Let’s see… I’m originally from a pack in Canada, but most of that pack, including my parents and four brothers, were wiped out in a fight over land with another pack.”
I sit up to stare at Torrez’s face, but he’s not wearing any hurt or sadness. He’s just stating the loss of his family as fact, just a part of his story. I run my hand over his cheek, and he leans into it slightly and nuzzles my palm. I rest my head back down on his chest and wait for him to say more.
“I migrated south with other survivors of my pack and broke off on my own with a couple of other bachelors when we came of age. We traveled a lot and ended up in Maine somehow. One of our group met his mate in the Silas pack. I was tired of roaming, so I petitioned Silas to join, and I’ve been there for about forty years now.”
I choke on air and sit up to cough. “You what? How old are you?”
“I’ll be 109 in January.”
13
“Holy shit!” I exclaim and try and then fail to process that number.
“Shifters live about four times the lifespan of humans. We age at the same rate as most nons until we hit puberty, and then it slows down. Did you not know that?” he asks confused.
He sits up next to me and watches my face. “I did not know that. I mean, it is what it is, but what are you doing with a twenty-two-year-old? Don’t you want to be with someone who can talk about the good ol’ days of prohibition and the discovery of the Americas and shit?”
He narrows his eyes at me and then pounces. He presses me back against the bed, and I laugh hysterically. He starts to tickle me, and I squeal and writhe to get away from him.
“The discovery of the Americas, really?” he demands.
“It’s not my fault you’re old!” I shout at him and wiggle to get away from his hands.
“I’m not old; by shifters’ standards, I’m like twenty-eight.”
“Yeah, but by my standards, you’re ancient as fuck. Oh man, just wait until the others find out. I can hear the geriatric jokes now.”
“Ancient or not, I can still kick all of your asses, so bring it,” he challenges.
“Pshhhh, I seem to recall fucking with that undefeated record you were so proud of.”
“I demand a rematch. I was too busy checking you out to fight properly,” he defends.
“Oh please, don’t make me break your jaw again. I can think of way better things I’d rather do with your mouth.” My smile is salacious, and I wag my eyebrows at him.
Heat replaces the amusement in Torrez’s eyes, and he leans down. “Is that right, Witch?” he asks against my lips.
I flick the seam of his lips with my tongue and reach down and palm his hardening cock. “Mmmm, so many better uses for that mouth of yours,” I tell him, and then I flip him onto his back.
He growls in approval, and I waste no time in lining him up and dropping myself down his thick length at a maddeningly slow pace. I watch as Torrez’s eyes grow hooded, his gaze fixed on where I’m connecting us. He loses his patience with my teasing pace and lifts his hips off the bed, pushing deep inside of me. I moan his name and push him back down on the bed. I lean forward and bite at his earlobe.
“You got to be bossy last time. It’s my turn,” I whisper in his ear.
I roll my hips back until he slides almost all the way out of me and then curl them forward