Wolf's Deal: A Nick Lupo Novella (The Nick Lupo Series) by W.D. Gagliani Page A

thought out of her mind,
which was occupied with the soft spread of lust rapidly turning to pleasure,
the warming of her flesh and tingling of her limbs.
    Half-naked
now, she opened up to him and when he took her, the intensity of his desire was
almost overwhelming. He thrust into her with the longing of a lonely man who has
given up on the possibility of companionship. She felt him reach deeply into
her and went with him, letting him give of himself until their flesh united
like molten rock flowing into a vessel. His hungry mouth found her nipples, tongue
swirling around first one and then the other, and she felt herself climbing the
slope that would lead to her release.
    Just then he
withdrew, leaving her so inexplicably empty that she gasped. Then they switched
positions, she sensing his need – and
her own – for him to thrust into her from behind, so he could reach
even deeper. On her elbows and knees, with him behind her, his rough but gentle
hands caressed her breasts and he leaned over her back so his mouth could meet
hers when she tilted her head to the side.
    And as their
furious rhythm increased, the heat spreading from body to body even as their
lips and tongues continued to meld together, Jessie had the fleeting thought
that she was glad she’d made the atypical evening trip after all. Sweat poured
off their skin, seemed to boil and evaporate. She groaned as the friction and
the pleasure grew nearly unbearable as he coaxed her to the plateau, and then
they were over. There was only the warmth of their connection, as they slowed
their pace and she stared into his intense and mysterious eyes, and then
nothing else at all.

 
 
    THE ARCHER

 
    His aunt
wasn’t a blood relation. She’d been his foster mom after… after they’d turned him away . After he’d been ground up, from one
system to another even less forgiving one, ground up and spit out, and then all
over again. He’d gone through six foster families before reaching Rose Billings
and her family, and while Rose herself was a fairly decent foster parent, her
three natural sons terrified him until...
    Until it had happened.
    Maybe he'd
snapped.
    He
remembered it well, and sometimes he wallowed
willingly in how good it made him feel. How he had resolved that particular
problem. Sometimes he could close his eyes and relive it, and he would be able
to smile.
    Randy was
the middle Billings boy, a cunning-eyed little bastard with a knack for causing
trouble he then invariably blamed on… others .
Whoever was around. The Archer caught hell from Rose or her alcoholic second
husband (another real asshole, that one, whose mean streak was a mile wide) a
hundred times for something he hadn’t done.
    An ink spill
on a new sofa?
    Grass burned
by spilled gasoline?
    A bicycle
wheel bent into a pretzel shape?
    A neighbor’s
pet dog accidentally killed by rat
poison?
    These and many
more were all brought to you by Randy, but someone else had paid the price. All
for Randy's amusement, the need for which seemed infinite and perverse.
    And though
Rose was indeed decent, as foster parents went, she despised rule-breakers, and
she never saw that Randy and occasionally his accomplice brothers were the
culprits. Their cons were well-imagined and well-executed, so when she looked
for the source of the problem, it was always him she saw. Her blinders caused the one foster child so much pain,
so much trouble he hadn't sought. Her punishments were arcane and tended to
last days – days without this privilege or that toy, days with an added
burden of endless chores, days made longer and more intolerable because they
gave Randy and his willing minions more opportunity to needle, sabotage, and
torture. And they took the opportunity, time after time, until Rose Billings
never saw anyone but him as the
problem in any scenario.
    So the boy
who would become the Archer had tasted the sharp end of one of the wide leather
belts handed down by the long-gone first husband. Sometimes