Page 90 of A Wolf in the Garden

He laughs, deep and rich. “You know I’m just going to be thinking the worst of you now, right?”

I shrug. “Think away. I can change if you think it’s a bad look for me to wear your shirt. It’s just solate. I’m not even bothering with a bra.” At this point in the evening, all I want to be is comfortable.

“You never need a bra anyway, not with those perky tits. Andno.Don’t change. I always want you smelling like me. Come here.” His dick has grown hard in the last thirty seconds, and he grabs my hand, pulling me forward into his arms. We haven’t had sex since our night in the glasshouse, which feels like forever ago even though it’s only been two days. Today we’ve been far too busy, scrambling to organise guest bedrooms and stock fridges, buying toys to entertain a toddler and a preschooler, doing everything we can to prepare for the arrival of his parents, his siblings, and his two nephews. The whole day has been stressful — just thinking about them coming here is stressful — but now we’re as ready as we’ll ever be, and all we have to do is wait for the guests to arrive.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.” His tongue is hot on my neck, his hands travelling up under the shirt to play with my nipples. “I’m going to make you come, and then I’m going to knot you, and it’s going to feel so fucking good. I don’t think you realise how much self-control I’ve exercised all day.” He takes my hand, leading it to his full, heavy balls, his teeth scraping my shoulder. “It’s almost the moon, after all. Last month I had you so many times in the lead up, and just knowing that fact and comparing it to this month has been torture.” His fingers shift my panties to the side, dancing over my clit, teasing, before sliding into the wet heat of my cunt, already dripping for him.

I kiss him hard. “You should have said something,” I say, running my lips along his jaw until I can latch my teeth on his earlobe. He groans, his cock pressing into my hand. With a growl he lifts me, tossing me on the bed, turning me until my head is buried in the pillows and my ass is in the air. I yelp as his teeth close on my ass cheek in a quick bite, the rumble of his laugh followed by a long, languorous lick over my clit, that special tongue of his being put toverygood use. Within minutes I am nothing but a quivering mess as he fucks me with his fingers, and when his tongue changes tempo, flicking my clitjust so, I explode with a cry, cunt pulsing against his lips.

“You taste so fucking good.”

I can’t reply. I’ve lost the ability to speak, moaning into the pillow under my face. The bed dips around my knees as he moves, and a moment later the head of his shaft drags through my slick folds, over my sensitive clit and back again, before he presses the first inch of his dick into my core. I’m still wearing my panties — simply shoved out of the way — and his shirt, and something about that, about his impatience, turns me on even more.

“I’m going to fuck you like a wolf,” he declares, one hand on my hip, the other at the back of my neck. It is a promise and a warning; this man will fuck me hard and rough, exactly the way I like it.

“Yes please,” I breathe, gasping at the first solid thrust.

* * *

Asecond shower ensures I’m not dripping with sweat, but as I feel the familiar leak of bodily fluids in my fresh panties at the same time as I hear the sound of the helicopter approaching, I resign myself to the fact that my in-laws and their wolf noses are always going to know — and always have known — too much about my sex life, and I might as well get over it with now.

We step outside, walking hand in hand up the gravel driveway to the top of the hill, where the helipad is located. Despite the fact that today isTuru, the day before the full moon, I can barely see the face of it now, its usual brightness nothing but a muted glow behind the thick layer of clouds that smother the sky tonight. The lights from the helicopter as it comes in to land are, by contrast, blinding, the sound obnoxiously loud on this quiet island night. Van already mentioned that the vineyard will probably incur a fine for allowing a helicopter to land outside of the regulated hours, but he can afford it, and at this late hour, it was the only practical way of getting all of the Livingstons from Auckland Airport on the mainland to Lost Moon.

“You’re going to be good, right?” I ask, nervously playing with the zip of my puffer jacket that I wear open over Van’s t-shirt and my leggings. Gumboots complete the outfit. All in all, it’s not exactly a fashionable choice for seeing everyone again, but they’ve already seen me wearing some truly hideous outfits during my childhood, so I’m not too inclined to care.

“I’ll be good,” Van replies. We stand well back of the mown ‘helipad,’ waiting for them all to disembark. I take one more step forward, waving my arms, and just as I thought, the motion sensor light on the side of the building near us switches on, lighting up the area well enough for me to see comfortably. Multiple pairs of glowing eyes blink in our direction, and a shiver runs down my spine in an involuntary prey response. Van’s hand slides under my jacket, pressing against my lower back, his lips against my ear. “Will you be okay?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s a lot of wolves to meet at once.”

I scoff, “Because I haven’t grown up with these people.” I can see Lacey’s sons now, two little figures, eyes quite literally lighting up as they glance our way. Lacey keeps a firm hand on each of them until the helicopter lifts well into the air, and then they’re let free, little legs tearing through the grass towards us.

“It’s different, seeing people post-Unravelling,” Van begins, but he’s cut off by the children.

“Uncle Van!”

“Uncle Vanny!”

“Hey, my boys!” Van crouches, arms open wide, grunting as each child slams into him. He picks them up, one arm per kid, three matching wolfish grins on their faces. The boys are chattering away, each one waving a toy in Van’s face, vying for his attention, and seeing him like this makes my heart ache in the strangest way. I don’t want childrenyet, not for years, but just this glimpse of him with kids — little boys that have the same dark hair, tanned skin, and gold eyes — fills me with a strange sense of hopeful longing.One day this could be us; this could be Van with our children.

“Ellie.”

I spin around, coming face to face with Lacey. She’s taller now —six feet!— and her frame is more muscular, like all wolf women, but it’s the same face that I always knew, the same smile. “Hey,” I say, suddenly shy.

“Hey.” Her eyes shine the same as her brother’s, and her teeth are just as sharp. Itisdifferent, seeing people you once knew transformed, but that goes for humans and non-humans alike. Age transforms people, life experience transforms people; no one is going to be exactly the same after nine years apart. I open my arms at the same time as she does, and we both laugh with relief as we hug. “Jeez, you reek of my brother,” she says quietly, scrunching her face in disgust, and I feel just as embarrassed as I knew I’d be, covering my eyes.

“Well, you’re gonna have to get over that pretty quickly.”

“Oh god, I don’t doubt it. Trust me, I know what wolf men are like, all they ever want to do is empty their balls into something.”

“Ten seconds,” Van interjects over the screeching laughter of his youngest nephew, who is currently swinging by the feet from Van’s hands. “It took youten secondsto bring up our S-E-X life.”

“What’s S-E-X?” Ronan, the older of the two boys, asks.

“It stands forSpace Exploration,” Lacey replies without missing a beat. “Your uncle is a real intrepid explorer. He likes deep caves and everything.”

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