Today's guest is Norsetastic favourite Samantha MacLeod with a piece from her new book, The Wolf's Lover:
Karen McDonald buried her past.
Five years after her divorce, Karen is a wildlife biologist studying wolves in Yellowstone National Park. But when the wolf she tranquilizes turns into a man - a man she recognizes from the recurring dreams which have haunted her for years - her rational, scientific world gives way to something stranger and far more dangerous.
The man is Vali, son of Loki. He was imprisoned thousands of years ago, cursed to live inside a wolf’s body. Now Vali tells Karen he’s being hunted...and he’s hunting as well.
Because something has awoken beneath the volcanic caldera of Yellowstone, an ancient power that could spell the end of everything, unless Karen is willing to risk her life, and unearth the secrets of her past, to save her world.
But it’s not springtime, my brain insisted. It’s August. And I’m in Yellowstone. I rubbed my eyes and the aspen grove came into focus. Wildflowers bobbed in the gentle breeze.
“Dreaming,” I whispered. “Of course, I’m dreaming again.”
I took a few steps. The aspens’ heart-shaped leaves rustled above me. Their speckled white and black trunks shimmered in the sunlight.
My breath caught in my throat when I saw him. He stood in the middle of a small clearing, the wildflowers reaching to his knees. He was staring into the sky, completely naked. His dark curls tumbled to the middle of his back. He wasn’t exactly my type, some distant, rational part of my brain realized. I’d always ended up with nerdy, intellectual guys who wore smaller size jeans than me.
But my dream lover was different. He was muscular, enormous, and wild. Something about his eyes and the way his body moved spoke of raw animal strength and barely contained power.
What the hell was my subconscious doing, inventing him?
He turned as if he’d heard me, and our eyes met. His face lit with a smile that made my heart stutter. Maybe not exactly my type, but damn, he was gorgeous. That smile could rival the summer sun.
His muscles rippled in the dappled sunlight as he crossed the meadow. He didn’t stop in front of me, didn’t even bother with a greeting. Instead, he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me to his chest, kissing me deeply, hungrily. My body surged with heat, and I opened my mouth to him.
“I didn’t think I’d see you again,” he growled into my neck.
His breath was warm on my skin, and I laughed at the absurdity of his statement. How could my own dream lover be surprised to see me?
He sighed into my hair. “I’ve missed you.”
“I saw you last night,” I said, giggling as his hips pressed into mine.
“Oh, but it’s been a very long day.” He ran his face along my neck and I closed my eyes, pleasure rippling through me in slow waves as his hands traveled my back.
“You always wear clothes,” he sighed.
I frowned and looked down. Yes, I was certainly wearing clothes. Black polypro pants and a maroon silk turtleneck. The same outfit I wore as I climbed into my sleeping bag.
“Huh. Guess I don’t have much of an imagination,” I muttered.
My dream lover tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. “They are...nice clothes,” he said.
I snorted and pulled out of his arms long enough to yank my shirt over my head.
“This place used to be different,” I said as I stepped out of my pants. “It was—”
“Pine trees, correct? And a bed of moss.” He pulled me into his arms. Now the heat of his arousal pressed directly against the soft skin of my stomach. I shivered as he ran his fingers up my back and along my neck. He smelled good, musky and wild, with a hint of sweetness. Like clover flowers, or honey.
“There was a stream, too. Do you remember?” he asked.
I smiled. I did remember the stream in the pine forest, the setting for all those dreams that left me panting and drenched with sweat. I turned to tell my dream lover what I remembered, and his lips pressed against mine. I opened my mouth to welcome his kiss as my body melted against his chest.
His fingers gently pinched my nipples, and I moaned into his mouth.
He pulled away grinning, then dropped to his knees before me. “Damn, I missed your taste,” he growled.
He ran his tongue over the crest of my sex and I gasped. I plunged my fingers into his hair as my hips rocked against his mouth.
“Oh, God, yes,” I said.
My dream lover was always crazy about giving me oral; some nights that was all we would do. Because apparently, I don’t have much of an imagination, I thought, before his lips and tongue became so distracting I could no longer think of anything.
My body burned against him, the pleasure rolling through me in great, red waves, making my legs tremble until I lost all sense of balance; the only thing holding me up were his strong arms around my waist, cupping my ass. He moved slowly inside me, his tongue tracing circles around my clit, his animalistic moans of pleasure against my legs sending shivers through my entire body. My eyes closed, and I rocked my head back, the muscles in my abdomen tightening—
“Mmmm, you’re close,” he murmured.
I whimpered. The air in the aspen grove felt almost cold against my suddenly exposed flesh. He raised his hand to my sex, tracing it with his thumb, and my body trembled so violently I would have fallen if he hadn’t braced his shoulders against my legs.
“I want to keep you there,” he said. “Just about to come.”
He turned to kiss the inside of my thigh as his thumb circled my clit, pressing hard enough to make me shudder, but not hard enough for release.
“Y—Yes,” I said.
The entire aspen grove spun around me. I closed my eyes, my body aching, my hips straining against his hand. I couldn’t think, couldn’t speak. His lips moved over my thighs like butterfly wings, covering my skin with light, chaste kisses as his fingers teased my clit. I tried to ask him for more, but my mouth had forgotten how to form words.
“I love doing this to you,” he said. His breath was hot against my skin.
I moaned, my fingers sinking into his hair as if it were the only thing keeping me from floating away.
His kisses traveled across my hips, tracing the edge of my dark pubic curls. One of his fingers slipped inside me, then another, and I whimpered. His thumb was still tantalizingly soft and delicate. I pressed my hips against him, my entire body resting against his strong shoulders.
“More,” I gasped. “Please!”
His thumb dropped away, and he pressed his mouth between my legs, his tongue devouring my clit, his fingers moving deep inside me. The energy he’d so carefully built exploded like firecrackers through my body, blinding me with a hot, red flood of pleasure. I came so hard I screamed. My legs collapsed, and I folded into his arms.
Buy The Wolf's Lover at:
Amazon US :: Amazon UK
Born and raised in Colorado, Samantha MacLeod has lived in every time zone in the US, and London. She has a bachelor’s degree from Colby College and an M.A. from the University of Chicago; yes, the U. of C. really is where fun comes to die.
Samantha lives with her husband and two small children in the woods of southern Maine. When she’s not shoveling snow or writing steamy sex scenes, Samantha can be found teaching college composition and philosophy to undergraduates who have no idea she leads a double life as an erotica author.
Samantha MacLeod's website
Amazon author page