Fiona leaned her forehead against the welcome coolness of the window—the glass banishing, if only for a moment, the heated pain in her head. Whether from the fever or from the strain of being away from her mate for so long, she didn't know—and didn't care. The snow piled outside her hut served to both alleviate the ache in her head and, at the same time, contribute to it…making it even more unlikely Jarrod would be able to return to her this night.
With a sigh, she drew the curtains tight against the darkness outside and padded barefoot across the floor to stir the stew simmering at the back of the fire. A stew she had made hoping beyond hope the snow would hold off long enough for Jarrod to get home from his mission. She curled up on the fur rug beside the flames, gazing deeply into them—emptying her mind so she could receive a sign, any sign, of where her husband's whereabouts.
All she saw were the red and orange tongues as they licked the wood, consuming it. Her head ached too much for the visions to come through. Unwilling to go to the emptiness of her bed, she pulled a spread from the couch over her body and closed her eyes—hoping to at least dream of her husband if she couldn't have him in reality.
Fiona woke stiff and aching—the fireplace containing only cold ashes and the scorched remnants of what was once a stew. How long had she slept? Fiona pushed the hair out of her face and rose from the floor, stretching the knots out of her back as she did so. Sunlight peeked around the edges of the curtain, and she drew them back.
The view from her window, instead of being the piles of white she expected, showed a luscious meadow, verdant and alive with color as wild flowers danced in the slight breeze. Two small children ran among the flowers as Jarrod chased after them. What on earth? She and Jarrod hadn't been blessed with children from their union, though goddess knew they had tried hard enough, making love every day they were together. She shook her head to clear it, and Jarrod—as if he had been summoned by the motion—looked over and waved his hand.
The door slamming open drew Fiona out of her dream. She threw the covers off and rushed over to close the door against the snow and wintery wind pouring in. A lupine howl cut through the storm, echoing in her ears and her heart stuttered. Jarrod was out there…in the storm. Grabbing her woolen shawl off the peg next to the door, she went to find her husband, trying to keep the warm wool around her as the wind whipped it.
"Jarrod!" His answering howl was closer and she stayed where she was, the warmth and light from the open door a beacon.
The black wolf limped to her, changing into his human as he entered the warmth of the cabin. She latched the door and wrapped her shawl around him, leading him to the fire as he shivered in her arms. No words were needed as she undressed and pressed her body against his—the heat from her skin serving to warm him.
After many minutes after his skin was once again warm to the touch, he stirred and nuzzled into her neck. She felt his cock respond to the feel of her body pressing against him, and her fingers reached down to stroked the hard length of him. Her nipples pebbled as he moved down her body and drew first one, then the other into his mouth…suckling as if starved. His tongue rasped over them and she drew in a ragged breath, her desire for him overwhelming her. Her center grew moist with the cream of her arousal and her gut tightened with need.
With a quick move that belied his earlier tired limping, he knelt between her legs and raised her hips to meet his mouth. He stroked the length of her with his tongue before sucking her clit between his lips. She shuddered and grasped the fur of the rug tightly as she bucked convulsively against his ministrations. His tongue plunged into her inner core, lapping audibly at the juices that poured out of her. Her thighs quivered as she raced toward completion, but she needed more.
“Jarrod, please…” her hoarse whisper said everything and he lifted his gaze to hers; dark, feral eyes boring through her.
“You are mine, Fiona.”
“For always.” Her hips sunk back to the floor as his strong grasp on her relaxed and the wildness in his eyes softened to love.
His hands slid up her thighs, her waist and came to rest on either side of her rib cage. He hovered over her for one long moment, and then his cock replaced his tongue in one quick plunge, filling her deeply, touching her womb. A low primal moan issued from his throat and he grasped her hips tightly with his hands. Fiona wrapped her legs around him, pulling him as deep as she could get him, and wishing she could take more. His gaze fastened on hers as he moved in the age-old dance of their lovemaking.
Fiona's pussy clutched around him as her climax built in concert with his nearly frantic pumping and, as his seed emptied into her, her own cry of release echoed through the cabin.
They lay spent—entwined in each other's arms—and she gazed into the fire once again. Two small faces smiled back at her and she pulled Jarrod's hands protectively over her belly and fell into a contented sleep.
About the author: Jennifer Katherine Shepherd, or Jenny Kat to her friends, writes erotic romance for the fanciful in mind. Her stories are seldom set in the everyday world, but in worlds far away. No matter how far away the worlds are, though, romance is romance. Passions ignite when Jenny Kat’s characters get together. When Jenny Kat’s characters aren’t keeping her busy telling their stories, she enjoys skinny-dipping in her pool, sipping exotic drinks brought to her by her Cabana boy, Carlos, and dreaming up new fantasies on far-away worlds. Visit her at http://www.menagerieauthors.com or http://www.menagerieauthors.blogspot.com