Seduced By A Wolf

Chapter One

A knock sounded at the front door. Eight-thirty. He’s right on time.

Von Washington wiped sweaty palms on her plum colored lingerie and took a deep breath to settle her nerves. Counting slowly to ten, and then to twenty, she waited until his second knock came, this one more impatient than the first.

“Coming!” Hands trembling, Von mussed her hair before going to the door. After a quick glance to confirm her guest’s identity, she flipped the locks and stood to the side, allowing the wood to partially hide her.

Derrick Wilkins Jr. strode inside. “What took you so long to answer the door? And why are you dressed like that?” he added the moment he spotted her, his displeasure evident.

Von closed the door and gave a fake yawn, raising her arms above her head in a manner that caused her thigh-length satin robe to gape. As planned, Derrick’s gaze scanned the length of her scantily clad body.

“Sorry, honey. I didn’t sleep well last night and things got so stressful at work, I forgot you were stopping by. All I wanted to do when I arrived home was take a shower and relax. I must have fallen asleep.” Von sent up a silent prayer, repenting for the blatant lie.

His expression immediately changed from stern to concerned. “If you’re that tired, I should go.” Derrick spun around on one foot and headed back toward the door.

Alarmed, Von spoke quickly. “Don’t be silly. You’re here now.” She placed her hands on his arms as he drew even with her. “Besides, I want to hear how the meeting went.”

His eyes filling with the passion of the fervent, Derrick allowed himself to be led further into the living room and over to the couch. He unclipped his phone and laid it on the coffee table before sitting, all the while launching into what turned out to be a thirty-minute dialogue on the mission trip to Haiti their church planned to take and the good he hoped to accomplish.

Having heard it all before, Von settled beside him on the couch and listened with half an ear, interjecting encouraging sounds at the appropriate moments. Mentally she considered her next move. This seduction business wasn’t as easy as the television and movies made it sound.

Arms stretching languidly, she opened her mouth and arched her chest in an exaggerated fake yawn, shifting closer to him as she relaxed. Still he talked, hands gesturing as he expounded on his favorite theme—helping the rebuilding of Haiti, particularly the schools.

About halfway into Derrick’s monologue, Von turned sleepily toward him, casually resting her arm along the back of the couch while lifting her leg onto the couch cushion. Her knee now lay centimeters from his muscular, khaki encased thigh. As planned, the position caused her robe to fall open, revealing a long, lean, shapely brown thigh.

Finally Derrick laid a hand on her exposed skin, rubbing slightly as he murmured, “Listen to me, boring you by going on and on about my day.”

Tenderly cupping his narrow jaw with its five o’clock shadow, she disagreed. “You didn’t bore me. You’re passionate about what’s important to you. I like that in a man,” she finished with a mischievous grin.

His gaze traveled over her again, lingering on the tantalizing amount of cleavage bared by the short, low-cut chemise she wore. He slid his arm around her waist, pulling her to him as he said in a deep, husky voice, “You’re very important to me and I find I’m extremely passionate about you.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” she managed to say before his lips claimed hers in a scorching kiss.

Von circled his neck with her arms and moved in closer.

When her satin covered puckered nipples made contact with his chest, Derrick groaned hungrily. “You’re killing me,” he complained as he dropped kisses along her jaw.

She leaned her head to the side to give him access. So far, so good. Maybe this time... She immediately shut down that thought, not wanting to jinx herself.

Derrick buried his face in the curve of her neck and sent his hands skimming all over her body. He shoved at the robe until she lowered her arms, allowing it to drop off her shoulders. As he caressed the skin of her back, he murmured, “Your skin is so soft, like silk.”

Von hid a small smile as she helped the satiny material slide all the way down so that it pooled on the cushion behind her. In the process, she accidentally maneuvered one of her loose spaghetti straps so that it fell to the crook of her elbow, leaving one breast almost completely exposed.

Derrick immediately noticed, staring like a man in a trance. For a moment he seemed frozen in place. Then he lunged forward, knocking her back to the couch and covering her body with his as he latched onto her nipple, suckling hard.

She clutched his head, holding him to her and moved restlessly beneath him. That hard part of him pressed right against her mound, showing her how much Derrick wanted her. The sensation of his mouth tugging at her breast while his hips rubbed insistently against her clit caused the crotch of her bikini panties to dampen. Derrick switched sides, lavishing the same attention on her neglected nipple as he had the first, and he sent his hand tunneling between their bodies and into her underwear. Von moaned her approval as she willingly and eagerly spread her legs wider, opening herself completely to him.

Yes! Now they were cooking. It was about time.

The only sound in the room was their heavy breathing, grunts and moans, and the hiss of air escaping the couch cushions as they moved around. Derrick rose to his knees above her and wrestled with his belt, his eyes glued to her body. She glanced down, aware of the picture she made: breasts exposed, gown hiked to her waist, thighs spread wide, panties low on her hips with the barest hint of pubic hair showing. She looked like a complete and utter wanton and that’s exactly how she felt.

The buckle jingled as he finally managed to pull it free. His hand was on the zipper, the button already undone, when Handel’s Hallelujah Chorus blasted out, jarring in the heavy silence. Noooooo! Von’s wide-eyed gaze met his. Derrick visibly struggled with himself. His glance bounced back and forth between the phone on the glass coffee table and her body, laid out like an offering. Pick me. Just this once, put me first, she mentally pleaded.

On the fourth ring, he lunged for the table and scooped up his phone. “Yeah?” His body jerked straight, almost coming to attention as he stood. “Yes, sir...No, sir...I was in the bathroom...Vondalyn, sir?” His guilty gaze slid to her and then darted away. “I was just leaving...” He tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder and began rapidly straightening his clothes. “Tonight?” His voice rose in pitch and he half-turned his back so she couldn’t read his expression. His shoulders bunched. “No, sir, I didn’t mean to raise...yes, sir...” His grip on the phone tightened. Von frowned. “...okay—I mean, yes, sir...all right...goodbye.”

Derrick bent his head, shoulders slumped dejectedly. He seemed almost resigned as he sank slowly onto the couch beside her with his eyes closed. If he held that phone any tighter, it would break. She wanted to ease his tension but didn’t know what to do. Instead, with an inward sigh, Von propped up on her elbows and waited, already knowing what came next.

When he opened his eyes, he looked everywhere but at her. “Cover up,” he ordered harshly.

Von tugged on her panties, pulling them back into position. The act of sitting up caused her nightgown to fall around her hips. Then she pulled on her straps so that her breasts were covered.

He bent over at the waist with his hands dangling between his spread legs. “I’m sorry I pounced on you,” he said, his gaze on the carpeted floor. “You’re a real lady, a virtuous woman. I should have restrained myself, not forced my animalistic passions upon you.” Derrick cast a quick glance in her direction then jumped to his feet. “I’ll see myself out.”

He was gone before she could get her mouth to work.

“Sooooo, how did it go?” her cousin Marketta asked in a silky voice.

Von growled and buried her head under her pillow, phone still held to her ear.

“That good, huh?”

She pushed the pillow out of the way and rolled over onto her back, covering her eyes with her forearm. “He came over...”

“And?”

“I had on the lingerie, the set you helped me pick out. Acted like I fell asleep and forgot he was coming over.”

“Good, good,” she said encouragingly. “Did he believe it?”

Von rolled her eyes. “Of course he did. I’m a good girl. I’d never set out to seduce a man.”

Marketta laughed. Then Von told her the rest of what happened.

“Let me get this straight. That bastard had you spread out before him like a Christmas feast and got up and left because HIS DADDY CALLED?”

Von winced and briefly pulled the phone away from her ear. “Watch the eardrum, please.”

“Sorry, girl, but dang...”

“His father, the pastor,” she reminded Marketta.

“Whom he’s deathly afraid of, but girl, it shouldn’t have mattered if it was the Pope calling if he was about to get—”

“Derrick isn’t afraid of his dad. He simply has a great deal of respect for him. You know he plans to take Pastor Wilkins’s place as head of the church one day. That’s why he went to seminary.”

“Yeah, yeah, praise the Lord and all that jazz. Von, you two are engaged, and have been for six months. God is the one who created sex and he made it gooood. ”

“He created sex for marriage,” she corrected.

“You and Derrick are in a committed relationship,” Marketta continued like she hadn’t spoken. “There’s nothing wrong with you taking a test drive. We’re talking for-ev-er here. That’s a long damn time. It’ll be too late after saying ‘I Do’ to realize you made a mistake, and with his father and your soft heart, divorce isn’t an option.”

“It’s not a mistake, Marketta. I love Derrick and he loves me,” she responded softly.

“Oh, sweetie, I know you love him, but are you in love with him? Derrick’s the only boyfriend you’ve ever had and while it’s commendable that you stuck with him while he was deployed overseas, doing so froze your social development. You didn’t date—in high school or college—and don’t get me started on that whole college business. I still say you made a mistake by not going off to school.”

“Pastor Wilkins asked me to attend college locally,” Von reminded in the tone of a person who’s had this discussion many, many times before with the same results.

“And that’s another thing. You and Derrick have been together a long damn time, since you were fifteen. The man’s going to be your father-in-law and you still call him Pastor Wilkins,” she complained.

That’s because Derrick Wilkins Senior gave her the willies. He was not a man she wanted to get on the bad side of. Fortunately, he approved of her and Derrick’s marriage. “What do you want me to call him, Dad?”

“Well, why not?”

“We just don’t have that type of relationship,” Von explained.

“That’s because the man is a stuck-up old fart who belongs in the dinosaur era. He believes children should be seen and not heard, and the only good woman is one on her back, preferably with her legs spread wide open.”

“Marketta!”

“Within the sanctity of marriage, of course,” she added wryly.

“Pastor Wilkins isn’t that bad. Yes, he’s a bit old fashioned in his views on women, but it’s all scriptural.”

Marketta snorted. “Honey, he uses that bible of his like a weapon against people, and honestly, a person could find scripture to support just about any stance they want to take. That doesn’t mean it’s right.”

Von didn’t know what to say to that. Marketta was usually flippant when it came to anything to do with religion. This flash of insight she’d spouted made Von uncomfortable, mostly because in her heart of hearts, she agreed. Troubled, she sat up and moved to the edge of the bed.

Marketta sighed, then said in a soft voice, “Von, everybody that says ‘Hallelujah’ ain’t saved, and toting a bible don’t make you a Christian. Some of them preachers are the freakiest demons in suits you ever want to meet. I haven’t decided which camp your Pastor Dee falls in, but I’m telling you something about that man ain’t right and it scares me that your boy Derrick wants to be just like him.”

Von said nothing. When the silence became uncomfortable, her cousin said, “Look, I got nothing against religion. We live in the Bible belt, after all, and Lord knows our family could use us some Jesus in our lives, me included. All I’m saying is read the bible for yourself and make your own decisions. Don’t be letting nobody control you, telling you what to believe and how to live. You’ve got a mind. Use it. And as for sex, if you want to go to your marriage bed a virgin, then do it. But make sure it’s what you want to do, not some rule someone imposed upon you, or ’cause you’re scared of being like your momma.” She sighed. “All right. Lecture over. We cool?”

“Yes.”

“You know I got your back, right?”

Von smiled, and it came through into her voice. “Of course.”

“Good. Now when’s the last time you heard from the hunk?”

“Sean?”

“Sean?” Marketta mimicked her in a high voice. “Of course, Sean. Don’t get me wrong. Your boy Derrick’s fine and all that. I’ll give him his props, but Sean? Mmm-mm! I could lick that white boy from head-to-toe. You know vanilla was always my favorite flavor of ice cream. ”

Von laughed at Marketta’s dramatics and walked over to her dresser. She picked up the picture frame holding the photo of a Sean and Derrick in Army fatigue pants and tank tops, holding automatic rifles while the hot, desert sun shone down upon them. They looked like every woman’s bad boy fantasy come to life. Derrick, with his smooth dark skin and intense golden-brown eyes, and Sean with his deep, golden tan and equally intense dark brown eyes, both gazed in the camera, serious faced and sexy.

Then she remembered and the laughter dried up. “It’s been months and I’m worried. No email, no letters—nothing. That’s not like him.”

Derrick had met Sean in boot camp and the two had become fast friends. When he learned Sean had no family, at Derrick’s insistence, she’d begun writing and emailing Sean as well. Though they’d never met face-to-face, over the last eight years they’d become great pen pals. In some ways, Sean knew her better than Derrick. With him, she could say anything and there was no censure, no judgment. Unlike Derrick, who could sometimes get a little preachy. Occupational hazard, she guessed.

“Ah, man, that bites. Hope he’s okay,” Marketta stated.

“Me, too.”

“Well, look, I know you like to get your sleep on when it’s your day off, so I’ll let you go. You think about what I said.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Von smarted, making a snappy salute in the mirror.

“Fool.” Marketta laughed and disconnected the call.

Von put the cordless phone in its cradle and went into the bathroom to shower. Though it was still early, only eight, she was too alert to return to bed now.

As she showered, Von considered Marketta’s words. Her cousin had a good heart, although the way she spoke sometimes, a person who didn’t know her would have difficulty believing it. Her main concern was that Von hadn’t experienced life. Marketta thought she was too sheltered and if she married Derrick now, Von would regret it later on. She wanted her to get out there and experiment, taste freedom, enjoy a bit of variety and then, if Derrick was still who Von wanted, marry him with a clear conscious knowing she’d made the best choice.

Knowing that Von’s mother’s lifestyle of drugs and men had put her off the idea of sleeping around, Marketta pushed instead for Von to take the plunge with Derrick, see what he was like as a lover before she said ‘I do.’ Something Von agreed with, but not for the reasons Marketta stated.

She and Derrick had been a couple since she was fifteen and he eighteen. At the time, she’d been spending most of her time at Marketta’s trying to avoid her momma’s various live-in boyfriends who thought breaking in a ‘pretty young thing’ was a wonderful idea. Sex was the last thing on her mind, and she’d been happy to finally find a boyfriend, a senior no less, who respected her values. Who respected her, and wasn’t just spouting words to lower her guard so he could get into her pants. They held hands and kissed, but Derrick wasn’t touchy-feely like other guys. It was wonderful.

Like her, Derrick came from a single parent home, only he lived with his father while she lived with her mother. Derrick didn’t like talking about his mother. It upset him every time the subject came up. Since she pretty much felt the same way about hers, it was simply another level where they’d connected.

After a few months of seeing each other, Derrick had taken her home to meet his father. Pastor Derrick had invited her to attend their church, and she’d gone, not knowing what to expect. Only knowing her agreement seemed to make Derrick happy.

Their relationship had lasted through Derrick’s four years of military service. Derrick had started hinting at marriage while he was in seminary. The wedding was still a year away since Derrick wanted a chance to settle in his new position as junior pastor of the church before marrying. But Von was getting impatient. Did Derrick want her because he loved her as much as she loved him, or because she made the ‘perfect’ minister’s wife and his daddy approved of her?

Pastor Wilkins had spent the last eight years training Von to be Derrick’s wife. Monitoring where she went, who she hung out with, influencing what college she attended and even which career she chose, and making sure there was no other man in the picture. Since she loved Derrick and knew even in high school that he was the one she wanted to marry, Von hadn’t minded—much.

In fact, she owed Derrick’s father a great deal. Understanding that her home situation was undesirable, he’d pulled some strings and used his connections to help her get her first efficiency apartment, despite her young age. He’d taken her around and helped her get decent furnishings dirt cheap, and been instrumental in helping her find work in what eventually became her field of study—respiratory therapy. He’d even talked one of the church members into giving Von her first car.

But now that she was older with her own career, her own apartment, and her own life, Von was troubled by how much of their lives Derrick Senior still seemed to dictate. That’s why she’d begun listening to Marketta more and more. Well, that and the fact that she was twenty-six and no longer a scared teenager. Von wanted to know what she and Derrick were missing out on.

While still a virgin, Von was no stranger to sexual pleasure. She’d learned self-gratification, but wanted to know what sex would be like with the man she loved. She thought Derrick felt the same way. Sometimes their necking would turn into heavy petting. Derrick always called a halt before things got too far, but with each session it was getting harder and harder for Von to hold back, longer to regain her balance. It bugged her that Derrick seemed to have so much control. Last night was the first time she’d seen him crack.

If only his daddy hadn’t called...

The man must be psychic. Every time she and Derrick came close to crossing any lines, the phone rang. Who was she kidding? Maybe it was God using Pastor Wilkins to keep them from making a huge mistake.

Sighing, she turned off the shower, dried off and went into the room to dress. She had a lot of chores to do today and they wouldn’t get done with her sitting around the apartment.