Taming Heather [Cariboo Lunewulf 1] by Lorie O'Clare

had captivated her, scared her and excited her all at the same time. Just a few years ago no one ever would have been able to make her believe that such creatures walked among them.
    Cream coated her fingers and she dipped into the source of her heat, surprised at how wet she was. She’d seen good-looking men before, but damn, none of them had turned her on the way Marc had. Granted none of them ever came on to her the way he had. Adjusting herself on her chair, she moved her fingers slowly in and out of her tight heat, wondering what it would be like if Marc were to do this to her.
    Her head fell back and she lifted one of her legs, propping her foot on her desk next to her laptop. She ran one hand over a swollen breast, squeezing it gently while she continued to masturbate.
    The ache to have her breasts fondled, tugged on slightly, made her want to cry out. More than anything she needed her nipples sucked on. Need surged through her like a wildfire.
    Marc wouldn’t do it this way, she decided. He would be rough, more demanding, pushing her quickly as far as she could go, and then demanding she go even further. He would be able to break through the protective wall that she kept around herself, force her to feel more than she’d ever felt in her life.
    Did she want her tidy life disturbed like that?
    She added a second finger, stretching her narrow hole and feeling the pressure build slowly inside her. Her fingernails brushed over her nipple. The sensation sent waves of need plummeting through her. Her muscles tightened around her fingers, which were soaked and buried deep inside her.
    Still she doubted this was how Marc would make her come. She pictured him as a man, his blue eyes tinted with hints of silver. Just imagining him set her soul on fire. So wild, a cop with a raw edge to him, and definitely more man than she’d ever known before.
    Already he’d pushed her boundaries, seen straight through her when she’d been at his house. Within minutes, he’d made demands of her, insisting on complete honesty. And she hadn’t even realized until he kicked her out that she was lying to him.
    What would he do to her if he fucked her?
    Her fingers weren’t enough. Glancing around her room, her mind fogged with lust and images of Marc torturing her, she noticed her hairbrush on her desk and reached for it. Using the handle, she pressed it against her soaked pussy, feeling its hardness slowly move inside her.
    “Oh, hell yes.” She bit her lip, sliding down in the chair so that she could move the brush handle in and out of her cunt.
    The bristles of the brush pushed against her palm but she didn’t care. And the handle wasn’t long enough. It didn’t reach that spot inside her that ached for relief. Imagining Marc naked, remembering how he had looked when he transformed at the edge of the woods the other night, sent her over the edge.
    His cock hadn’t been hard, but she pretended she held it in her hand. She would make it as hard as the brush handle, and ease it inside her. He would be able to fuck her until she screamed.
    And he’d push her, make demands of her that she wouldn’t think to do on her own. Just the thought of what he might make her do made her hot. Everything about Marc terrified her, and sent a thrill of excitement rushing through her.
    She began pounding the handle in and out of her, moving as fast as she could while her orgasm seeped through her. It wasn’t the climax she needed, but a small amount of relief crept through her.
    “Damn it,” she sighed, pulling her hairbrush out of her and staring at the cream-covered handle. “What are you going to do with yourself?”
    Her legs were wobbly when she stood, her mind still tormented with images of Marc. The way he’d looked when he’d opened his door earlier, not wearing a shirt, and with that chest hair that was just begging her to run her fingers through it—damn.
    She would be head over heels in trouble with Marc McAllister in her