Grinding for the Coyote Page 4

  “I really shouldn’t,” she said. “It’s a little late.”

  Adalyn shrugged. “A little bit, but one drink won’t hurt,” she said. “I mean, it’s the least I can do since you gave me a ride.”

  “One.” Samarra agreed with a smile.

  Adalyn stepped inside. “Will wine be okay?”

  “Fine.”

  Adalyn crossed the room to her galley kitchen and washed her hands before taking two goblets from a cabinet and wine from the fridge. She poured them each a half glass. Sam was admiring her small collection of pictures on the wall.

  “No family?” she called.

  “No. My mother kicked me out when I was fourteen. I haven’t talked to her since, and my father left us for another woman when I was two.”

  “What? Why in the hell would she kick you out?” Sam demanded.

  She shrugged, soaking up the outrage in Samarra’s voice. “Boyfriend number six tried to rape me, and I hit him with a lamp before I took a hammer to his hand.”

  Sam laughed. “Way to show him.” Her humor faded quickly and concern filled her copper gaze. “I don’t understand why she kicked you out for that.”

  Adalyn held out the glass and their fingers touched sending tendrils of electricity coursing through her. She gasped and drew back quickly, sloshing wine onto her dress. Something like knowledge flashed in Sam’s gaze, and she felt a growl reverberate through her.

  Goddess. What was that?

  She looked away. “My mother was the kind of woman who’d rather have a cruel man than no man. Most of her lovers didn’t want children any more than she wanted me. I was only useful when there was no man or no girlfriend to get drunk and party with.” Her mother had taken short breaks from men and partying. During those times she drank less and was a half-way decent mother.

  She’d been in a perpetual state of confusion by her mother at first, but by the time she was eleven she was used to it. And her mother’s conditional love.

  “What did you do after that?” Sam asked.

  “I got a job at a burger joint and lived in by-the-week motels,” she said softly. “I hated the smell of grease and old food, but ironically I quit that to wait tables when I was seventeen. Now, I’m taking off my clothes for money. Least the pay’s better.” She heard the deprecation in her voice and struggled for something to cover it and stave off the question she saw in Samarra’s eyes. “What about you?”

  “Mallory and Sydney are like sisters to me.” She took a sip of the wine.

  “You’re an orphan?” She frowned. The very thought of Samarra being completely alone in the world tugged at her heart.

  “Yes.” Sam nodded and there was a haunted look in her eyes, and the tone of her voice told Adalyn not to ask.

  Someone with a worst childhood than her?

  Two damaged dolls from different worlds. What could they have in common besides their scars?

  Adalyn sat down on the couch and removed her canvas sneakers. She pushed them under the old wood coffee table and sat back. Then pushed her hair over her shoulder as she studied Sam.

  “Sydney let you back to the lounge?”

  Sam took another sip of wine and set the glass on the coffee table. “Why don’t we have that lunch tomorrow?”

  She frowned. “I don’t get up until eleven or twelve.”

  “I’ll pick you up at two.” Sam smiled.

  “Okay.” One lunch wouldn’t hurt. Sam would see just how boring she really was and move on to Valerie.

  “Walk me out then,” Sam commanded, extending a hand to her.

  Adalyn took it and walked her to the door. Once there, Sam turned to her and caressed her cheek. Adalyn shivered, the touch making her blood heat.

  Sam brushed her lips against Adalyn’s lightly and Adalyn’s lips parted, but Sam didn’t kiss her. Her stomach clenched, and she hoped her disappointment didn’t show in her face.

  “Adalyn, I shouldn’t kiss you,” she murmured. “I just might not be able to stop especially after last night.”

  She flushed. “Oh.” Was that truth or a ploy to get her into bed? Did it matter?

  Her bed was where she wanted Samarra, and maybe if they just had sex and got it over with this odd spinning out of control feeling she got around Samarra would just vanish. The chemistry fueling her lust would fade like a storm.

  “You smell so good though I can’t resist.” Sam claimed Adalyn’s mouth with a soft moan. Adalyn’s tongue stroked against Sam’s, and Sam deepened the kiss.

  Adalyn sighed as she stroked her fingers over Sam’s nape and speared them into the thick wavy locks to drag her head closer.

  Sam pressed her against the wall next to the door and put one hand on it, the other at Adalyn’s waist. Adalyn snuggled closer and Samarra’s hand clenched at her hip. Sam was a delicious weight of feminine muscle against her, and Adalyn savored the feel of her, the spice of her scent.

  Sam broke the kiss, and Adalyn’s lashes fluttered up. Her body was catching fire and her thoughts were slipping into a haze where only this moment and her need to lose herself in the heady desire mattered.

  “Don’t stop,” Adalyn murmured softly. Her voice held a plea she couldn’t be ashamed of. It had been over nine months since she’d last enjoyed a woman’s kiss, and the caress of her hand.

  She wanted to believe any woman would have done, but Sam drew her like a moth to a flame. She made Adalyn hunger for more than her near-solitary existence where she was too cautious, too fearful to allow a lover into her life.

  Sam made her remember the life she’d ached for before the murders, before the fire, and before the conversation that put her on the run for her life. Right now, right here though, a slice of that happiness she’d once ached for was within her grasp.

  So Adalyn reached out to stroke a finger over Sam’s jaw, asking silently for what she wanted.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to stop?” Sam asked softly.

  Adalyn trailed kisses along Samarra’s jaw. “I’m sure.” She answered with her lips against Samarra’s, her gaze locked with hers. Adalyn claimed Samarra’s lips for a slow kiss.

  Sam let her play, as their tongues came together in a duel that drew a breathless moan from Adalyn. Her hands shook as they stroked down Sam’s back to rest on the tight rise of her ass.

  Adalyn backed slowly away before turning and gliding to her bedroom where she flipped on the light. She turned in time to see Samarra joining her.

  Adalyn pulled the combs holding her hair in place free so her hair tumbled down around her face, cascading over her shoulders.

  Samarra’s gaze burned on her, and Adalyn’s skin heated even more. She felt powerful and desired as Samarra stalked closer.

  “Do you want me to dance for you?” Adalyn asked demurely.

  Chapter Seven

  “Not tonight,” Samarra rasped out. “I want you to undress.”

  Adalyn gave her a slow smile and lifted her arm to release a tiny little hook at the side of her dress before gliding the zipper down. She pushed the sleeves off her shoulders and let the dress fall to pool at her feet.

  Samarra’s breathing came faster now, her shoulders rising and falling rapidly. Adalyn stepped out of the dress, clad only in panties and a matching bra of delicate silk. She caressed her fingers down the valley of her breasts to her stomach.

  “I want you naked, so I can enjoy every inch of you, please,” she said She knew Samarra liked being in charge, and she didn’t really mind being dominated by this sexy woman.

  For a moment, Sam just stood there watching her with unreadable dark copper eyes, and then unbuttoned her shirt taking her time with the buttons of her vest. She discarded it and tugged at the silk of her tie until the knot came undone. She tossed it aside and pulled her shirt tail from her pants before unbuttoning it.

  It seemed like every muscle in her body was tense, and she’d forgotten how to breathe as she waited for Sam to remove the shirt. Her skin was the perfect shade of brown with red undertones.
The lacy black bra cupping her breasts was an interesting juxtaposition to her suits that intrigued Adalyn.

  She tossed the shirt aside revealing a band of black ink on her upper arm circling it like a bracelet. She made out carefully drawn bind runes, on either side of a paw. She identified some of runes, power and strength, combined into designs she didn’t understand but lost interest in as Samarra unzipped her pants. The heat inside her intensified as Sam flicked the button free before pushing them down over her hips. The sleek black boy shorts were a lacy complement to the bra and Adalyn all but lost her breath at the muscled beauty and curious style of the woman before her.

  “You’re so luscious, Samarra. I want to lick you all over,” Adalyn said softly.

  Sam caressed her cheek and then trailed a finger over Adalyn’s throat down to her collarbone. “That’ll have to wait because I am going to eat you up, darlin’,” she murmured and brushed the straps of Adalyn’s bra aside before releasing the front clasp. She cupped the full mounds, the pert pink tips standing at attention.

  Samarra ran her thumbs over the peaks before pinching one and then the other. She slapped one breast and then the other, watching them jiggle before giving them another swat.

  “Such a pretty blush,” she said and pinched a taught tip hard enough to draw a cry from Adalyn. Sam lowered her head and traced her tongue around the pale pink areola and then blew over the nipple before closing her teeth over it and scraping lightly.

  “Uh-ahh,” Adalyn cried softly as pleasure rambled through from the bite of pain. Samarra sucked the succulent flesh, pulling hard on the nipple.

  Adalyn pushed her fingers into Samarra’s hair and drew her head closer.

  Sam caught the nipple between her teeth to the tune of a harsh gust of air and tugged lightly. She released the taut flesh and turned her head to lash the other nipple with her tongue’s tip before taking it into her mouth and sucking.

  Adalyn’s head rolled back on her shoulders as bliss caressed her.

  Sam pushed Adalyn back onto the bed and moved over her. She claimed her mouth softly. The kiss was hot and sweet before Sam broke it to kiss her way down to Adalyn’s nearly flat stomach. She drew her tongue around Adalyn’s navel and down to her lower belly.

  Fabric ripped and Samarra moved between her thighs. Pushing them further apart, Samarra used the fingers of one hand to part the flushed lips of Adalyn’s pussy and run her tongue up the juicy slit.

  “Mmm. I’ve been dying for a taste of you,” Sam said and drew her tongue around the nubbin before gliding the tip down one side only to flick it up the other side.

  Adalyn’s breath came faster and sensation suffused her. “Samarra,” she cried raggedly. Sam gave Adalyn’s mound a light tap and Adalyn shivered. Samarra hit her again, this time her hand striking Adalyn’s clit.

  “Samarra,” she cried out, trembling as waves of rapture washed over her.

  Sam drew a finger around the opening of Adalyn’s body. “Your pussy smells so sweet,” she said and pushed the tip of her finger into the dripping entrance.

  Adalyn groaned. “Please give me more.”

  Samarra chuckled and pushed her finger deeper. Samarra hissed. “Damn you’re tight as a sweet dream,” she said and lowered her head to lick over Adalyn’s clit. She closed her lips over it sucking it as she pressed two fingers into Adalyn’s pussy.

  Adalyn arched up thrusting her pussy closer to Samarra’s face as she moaned. “God. Oh god!” she screamed.

  Sam rested the flat of her tongue against Adalyn’s clit and pressed as she fucked her harder.

  Adalyn writhed against her hand, gripped her hair and whimpered.

  “Oh fuck. It’s so good. It’s good, Samarra!” She mewled as Sam fucked her faster, slamming her fingers in, stroking them against that sweet spot that threw Adalyn over the edge with a scream.

  ****

  Sam came to her knees as Adalyn trembled beneath the force of her orgasms. She reached into her briefs and gripped the dildo made of cyberskin. The material was soft with the warmth of human skin.

  Sam pulled it free and positioned the mushroom head at the entrance of Adalyn’s body. She thrust into her wet and ready pussy and began to fuck her.

  “Samarra!” Adalyn draped one leg over Samarra’s hips.

  “You want me?” Sam asked.

  “Yes,” she cried. “So bad.”

  Sam thrust into her and the back edge of the dildo pressed against her clit, hitting it just right with each stroke. She groaned. “Oh fuck,” she cried.

  Sam set up a steady rhythm of hard strokes that drew harsh cries from them both as pleasure took them over. Adalyn’s hands glided up Sam’s back and down it, her nails raking her skin as they both got lost in the passion.

  “Oh, my Goddess!” Adalyn cried and a second orgasm was torn from her.

  “Adalyn!” Sam chanted her name as she came, her body trembling from the force of her orgasm.

  Chapter Eight

  He got to his feet and fought the urge to snarl as he turned his back on his computer. Disgust made his stomach twist and bile rise in his throat.

  Two women fucking wasn’t the most attractive sight to him. Now, two men taking a woman, that was beautiful.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Cargo demanded coolly before throwing the woman working with them a questioning glance. Curtis’s brother was the building manager and both brothers had been recruited to help in the surveillance and capture of Adalyn Wolf. The only reason he was still here was because the woman had asked him to stay and make sure the cameras were all working.

  “Nothing,” Curtis muttered.

  “Too late for second thoughts,” she told him coldly. “Besides you and your brother owe us a favor.”

  “I just can’t believe she’s gay,” he said angrily. “I took her out to dinner.”

  “So what?” the woman demanded. “Even lesbians eat dinner, but rest assured, Curt, the only dick she wants is that nice little cyberskin Summerfield had on tonight.”

  “Why would a woman want a toy when she could have the real thing?” he demanded petulantly.

  The dude looked horrified and Cargo studied him with as much humor as he saw filling the woman’s eyes now.

  “It feels like the real thing,” she told him with a throaty laugh. “The construction is superb. The veins feel better than those on a real dick. These ones, if it’s a Mia original as it appears to be, can be can even be pierced, they can be worn all the time with maximum comfort, and they stay hard. So, hmm—a real dick that goes limp or a fake one that’s always ready for action—tough decision.” She laughed, and he growled at her.

  “Bitches,” he muttered. “Nothing can replace the real thing.”

  Her gaze raked down his body. “We aren’t stuck with the size we’re born with either. If a woman wants something bigger or something smaller, her lover can give her that too.”

  “Sounds like someone’s getting the short end of the stick to me,” he taunted.

  “Not hardly,” she murmured, the humor wrapping around her words. “The cock’s made to hit the wearer’s clit with every thrust, so both parties get what they came for.”

  He snorted. “I don’t believe you.”

  She shrugged. “I guess strap-on packing butches give you straight men complexes.”

  “Hardly,” he muttered. “I’ve got the goods.” He grabbed the bulge between his thighs.

  Cargo shook his head as he turned back to the screen. Some men had issues with lesbians but as a hyena male he’d grown up around dominant women with dicks unlike the outraged coyote.

  Dominant hyena females were born intersex and had a little more testosterone and body strength than other female shifters. It gave them an edge over women as well as hyena males, but that little gift of nature wasn’t everything.

  He frowned as he took a closer look at the women on the screen. The dominant was inked. He could make out a few of the lines of the tat on her arm that told a story he’d heard from an old
Indian in Oklahoma a few years ago. He’d been down there with his brother on vacation.

  Indians viewed the coyote as a trickster in general, but the ones he’d met had viewed the animal as a creature of powerful medicine.

  Strong, intelligent, and brave the coyote was a creature of cunning. It was an animal of magick that could survive even in impossible odds. Descended from the wolf, any shifter of coyote blood was a fierce fighter that stood its ground like the wolf.

  The Indian-born coyote shifters were a deadly foe that would stand against a pack of hyenas and win.

  “What if that’s her life mate?” Cargo asked carefully. The Indian had been with one. He’d seen the markings on the woman’s wrist. They were similar to the ones on Adalyn’s lower back. A paw with claw marks on each side. The Indian’s were deep and pronounced, but the slashes on Adalyn’s back were faint as if they were just developing. However, it was an indication she was mating.

  “Tough on Summerfield,” the woman told him in a hard tone. “She’ll just have to die too.”

  “Coyotes aren’t that hard to kill anyway,” Curtis muttered, his gaze on the computer now.

  Cargo saw that killing look in his eyes and slanted a look at the screen again. He didn’t exactly agree but he wasn’t an egocentric prick either. He had to admit though judging by the marks on Adalyn’s lower back his old packmate’s boss had targeted the wrong girl.

  “You need to find out if they’re mates,” Cargo told them. “Because if they are, you’re about to hit a snag.”

  “Coyotes don’t mate for life,” the woman said in disdain.

  “Under some circumstances,” Curtis told her with a shrug. “They are descendants of the wolf—inferior but nonetheless they have the possibility.”

  “Nothing changes!” the woman snapped. “Adalyn dies and now Summerfield does too end of story.”

  “It’s so not going to be that easy,” Cargo told her. “You better do your research and make some new plans Stan.”

  “Over dramatic much.” The woman rolled her eyes.