by Lynn Hagen
He couldn’t seem to get close enough to Quinn, but damn if Stevie didn’t try. They ended up moving backward, and the next thing Stevie knew, they were falling onto the bed.
No pressure. That was what Quinn had said. But the pressure building inside Stevie was becoming too much. Logic had crashed and burned as he climbed up Quinn’s body, settling on the guy’s hips, sharing a kiss that splintered Stevie’s mind.
Quinn’s hands roamed Stevie’s back, his hair, his sides, touching everywhere until he reached the hem of Stevie’s shirt and lifted it upward. Quinn’s chest was already bare, and Stevie wanted to feel his own skin against…his mate’s.
His mate.
Those two words had the power to terrify Stevie before. But now they brought comfort, a wash of security that he would take. That he needed and craved at the moment.
Stevie whimpered into Quinn’s mouth when their bare skin touched, when he felt the heat radiating off Quinn and the muscles under his hands. The god-like way Quinn kissed him sent ripples of pleasure through Stevie.
Their denim-covered erections met, grinding, both men groaning, getting lost in each other, and to hell with the consequences. But there wouldn’t be a price to pay.
Not yet.
Stevie still had a little less than two weeks before he could conceive, and why not enjoy that time? That freedom of fucking with abandon without any worries?
After indulging in a few more seconds of that amazing kiss, Stevie broke away and latched onto one of Quinn’s nipples. He settled on Quinn’s thigh, trapping it between his legs, riding the taut muscles while getting himself off.
Quinn hissed, grabbed Stevie’s sides, and steadied him, his intense, lustful gaze watching him.
The thrill shot down Stevie’s spine. He gave the neglected nipple some attention, gently biting, teasing, licking the hard flesh as he kept his gaze locked with Quinn’s.
A tiny part of Stevie’s brain begged him to stop this, to not get a taste of Quinn, because this couldn’t last, and once definitely wouldn’t be enough. Stevie would want more. So much more. But could he quit Quinn in two weeks? Could he deny his mate what they both wanted?
Another sound of crashing thunder. Closer this time. Small pelts of rain hit the window. The sound of the hot Georgia storm spurred Stevie on. He rolled from Quinn and onto his back, shoving at his jeans and underwear.
Quinn helped, peeling the material down Stevie’s legs. He was on his knees, tossing Stevie’s clothes aside. His beefy hand curled around Stevie’s dick, lightly squeezing, rending a gasp from him.
Stevie scooted backward, and Quinn settled between his legs, tossing Stevie’s legs over his shoulder before devouring his cock. Stevie cried out, arched his back, and wiggled his legs as he grabbed fistfuls of Quinn’s hair.
He’d never had anyone bring him so close to orgasm so fast. The crest of his climax was right there, ready to explode. When Quinn wet a finger and worked it into Stevie’s ass, Stevie shouted Quinn’s name, his cum shooting down his mate’s throat.
But Stevie’s cock didn’t soften. It was still rock-hard and ready to play. The beauty of youth. Enjoy it while it lasted, because in five years, from what Stevie had heard, keeping an erection after an orgasm would be damn near impossible.
Stevie squeaked when Quinn rolled him over to his stomach. He spread his legs and waited to see what his mate would do. Quinn parted Stevie’s cheeks and devoured his ass, eating him up as though Stevie were a buffet.
He got to his knees, shoving his ass into Quinn’s face, dying from the sheer pleasure. The storm outside had grown stronger, and so had Stevie’s need to get fucked.
“Quinn…please.”
“Right there with you, kitten.” Quinn’s large body covered Stevie’s. The blunt head of his mate’s cock pressed against his hole.
“Lube!”
“Got it covered.” Something spurted at Stevie’s ass. The band of muscles began to relax. Stevie gasped, confused, unsure if he should make Quinn stop.
There was no going back. Quinn inched his way inside Stevie, moving back and forth, rocking Stevie’s fucking world as his cock stretched Stevie wide.
Stevie pressed his forehead into the bedding, groaning, taking every inch Quinn had to offer. His mate blanketed him, curling his body around Stevie’s as he bottomed out.
“Fuck.” Quinn hissed against Stevie’s back. “Just give me a second. I’ve never wanted anyone this badly before, and I don’t want things to end before they get started.”
Stevie panted on all fours, waiting for Quinn to move. He felt his mate’s cock pulsing deep in his ass, driving Stevie insane.
Quinn kissed along his shoulders then pulled back before slamming forward, making Stevie cry out. They picked up a rhythm as Quinn reared back, grabbing Stevie’s hips.
The pleasure was almost too much. Stevie shoved backward, matching Quinn’s thrusts, curling his fingers into the blanket as if that could anchor him.
Stevie never wanted this to end. It was the best sex he’d ever had. Lust and adrenaline surged through Stevie, making him slam his ass against Quinn’s hips, needing that perfect ending to this. Because as much as he wanted this to last, Stevie knew it couldn’t.
Then Quinn struck, his sharp canines slicing through Stevie’s shoulder. Stevie started to panic until he remembered he still had almost two weeks. The pleasure surrounded him in waves of heat as he came for the second time, convulsing under Quinn as his seed spilled to the blanket below him.
Quinn growled into Stevie’s skin, his hips moving faster, acting like the wild animal that he was and reminding Stevie that he wasn’t with a human.
Quinn shoved his cock deep, pulled his canines free, and roared his release. He rocked slowly inside Stevie’s ass and pressed his forehead against Stevie’s back.
When Quinn rolled to his side, he took Stevie with him. His mate curled around him as Stevie listened to the storm outside. The sound matched his insides—turbulent, rolling, crashing emotions that wouldn’t subside.
He knew they shouldn’t have had sex, but he didn’t regret one second. If he would have to die next week, then Stevie was glad he’d had a taste of Quinn O’Brien.
Stevie cried out and rolled to his stomach when it felt as though his back was on fire. Quinn shot up and looked down at him. “Your birthmark is burning bright,” he said. He furrowed his brows. “Now it’s not, but your panthera mark has gone from a strawberry red to black, and now it looks more like a panther than it did before.”
Stevie had no idea what was going on, but his gut told him that whatever was happening couldn’t be good.
Chapter Six
“What do you think we can do about this?” Quinn looked toward the backdoor. The rain had yet to let up, and he saw pools of water in the backyard.
He kept reassuring Stevie that he would protect him, but Quinn hadn’t a clue how to go about doing it. He could track Neal down and take the son of a bitch out, but that wouldn’t stop Mr. Bodega from sending someone else.
Mr. Bodega’s complaint was legit. Cliff Tucker had welched on his debt. Fine. He could take his pound of flesh from Stevie’s dad. That wasn’t any of Quinn’s business, and he didn’t give a rat’s ass what happened to the drunken, abusive asshole.
But the guy was targeting Stevie, someone who had nothing to do with his dad’s degenerate behavior. “Maybe I can talk to Mr. Bodega,” Quinn said. “Make him see reason.”
Hayward cut his eyes at Quinn. His features were neutral, a mask covering his true feelings. Quinn’s brother had never been the fun-loving type, not one to laugh much, but something had happened to him in the past ten years since the O’Brien men had been apart.
Hayward lived inside his own head now. Worse than before. He hardly said much, was always watching them, and Quinn hated that his brother was so closed off.
“You say this Bodega guy took Stevie’s mom?” Hayward asked.
“According to Stevie’s dad.”
“I’m not mo
unting a rescue until I have all the facts.” Hayward smoothed his hand down his beard. “It would be suicidal to hard-charge into enemy territory, especially if she’s not there.”
“I don’t know Cliff Tucker,” Quinn said. “So I can’t say for sure if she really was taken.”
Quinn wouldn’t doubt that Cliff was lying. Anyone who had drank that much for so many years might have a lot of holes in their memory. For all Quinn knew, Stevie’s mom had finally had enough and left her husband.
Whatever the case, he wanted Stevie protected, happy, because that what his mate deserved.
“I’ll try to figure out if she’s there.” Hayward looked toward the kitchen doorway, which made Quinn turn around. There was no one was there, but then Nash walked in.
“What’re you guys talking about?” He grabbed a cup from the counter and poured himself a cup of coffee, sighing at his first sip.
It was early morning, and outside was getting lighter. The sun wasn’t going to shine today. More rain was predicted, and the heavy clouds still lingered.
As Nash and Hayward talked, Quinn thought about Stevie, about last night and how they’d had mind-blowing sex. How his mate had curled into Quinn afterward, as though it had been the most natural thing to do.
They just had to get past this disastrous situation, and Quinn would keep reaffirming to his mate how happy they could be together. How much joy a family could bring them.
“You’re definitely not going to see him,” Nash said, bringing Quinn out of his thoughts. “Men like that can’t be reasoned with.”
Quinn had worked as a bouncer in countless bars and clubs, had made good money in underground fights. If it were just about beating the shit out of Bodega to settle this matter, Quinn would win hands down. But he didn’t have the skillset to plan some covert operation that would shut Bodega down for good.
“I’m open to any ideas,” he said. “Other than the one where I fork over the money to pay Cliff’s debt. I’ll do it if I have to, but the thought of pulling Cliff out of the fire sours my gut.”
In the end, if Quinn had to, he would pay Bodega off. He’d do whatever he had to in order to keep Stevie safe. But what about Cliff’s next debt or the debt after that? Stevie’s father wouldn’t walk away from his gambling addiction just because he was free and clear.
It would be a never-ending cycle until Quinn was flat broke, and no goddamn way would he let that happen. He’d bury Cliff’s body before he allowed the man to drain him dry.
The scent hit Quinn first. The pheromones that called to panthers, telling them there was a primed and ready panthera mate going through the change.
Hayward jerked forward from his resting spot near the counter. Nash sniffed the air then turned his head toward the kitchen entryway. Since Nash was already mated, the scent wouldn’t affect him like it was affecting Hayward and Quinn.
A deep, penetrating growl ripped from Quinn’s chest as Stevie came into the kitchen. He had a hand pressed to his stomach, and sweat covering him.
“I don’t feel so well,” Stevie said.
How? Stevie still had a little over a week before his birthday. He shouldn’t be going through the changes that would ready his body to carry a child.
“I’m calling Keller.” Nash set his coffee mug aside and swiped his phone from the counter. Everyone in the kitchen knew when Stevie’s birthday was. Quinn had told them. This shouldn’t be happening.
Quinn cut a glance at Hayward, who seemed composed, but one false move and he would rip his bother apart.
“I’m fine,” Hayward snapped. “Stop looking at me like that.”
Quinn recalled when Layne had been in heat. The human had entered the kitchen, and Keller and Quinn had nearly lost it. He wasn’t sure how Hayward was holding himself together. The pheromones were the one thing that could cloud a panther’s mind, a subconscious urge to procreate that brought out the baser instincts.
Hayward should be going crazy by now to get to Stevie. Quinn was having a hard time not throwing his mate over the kitchen table and fucking him until neither of them could walk.
“Hang on,” Nash said. “I’m putting you on speaker. Now repeat what you just told me.”
“You should’ve put me on speaker to begin with so I didn’t have to repeat myself,” Keller groused. Their brother was an ER doctor in California. He’d returned for their aunt’s funeral but had gone back afterward.
Quinn really wished Keller was there with them.
“Like I said, it’s unusual, but it can happen,” Keller said over the phone. “What we go through, what humans with the panthera mark go through, isn’t exact science. It’s like a woman giving birth two weeks before or after her due date. Nature has its own schedule, and there’s nothing we can do about it.”
“So this is for real?” Quinn asked. “Stevie’s body is going through the change?”
“And there is also a possibility that, after the change, he’ll be pregnant. Not to sound too personal,” Keller said, “but I assume you two already had sex, which means your sperm is already inside him, ready to fertilize.”
“You didn’t have to get that technical.” Quinn grimaced.
“I’m just giving it to you straight,” Keller said. “Aunt Beatrice might’ve sat us down and given us the talk about all this, but as a medical professional, I dug deeper. There have been a few cases where the panthera mate conceived when the change happened. I’m just telling you it’s possible, so watch out for that.”
Quinn looked over at Stevie, who had gone pale and sat there slack-jawed. “I’m pregnant?”
“You might be,” Keller said.
“Thanks.” Nash hung up.
Stevie jerked from his chair, looked as though he was about to argue, than dropped to all fours, crying out. Quinn scooped his mate into his arms.
“I’ll make Aunt Beatrice’s soup,” Nash said. “It helped Layne. For now give him a cool bath because he’s going to start sweating badly.”
With a nod, Quinn left the kitchen and took the stairs two at a time, praying Stevie didn’t hate him for this.
* * * *
Stevie was a big ball of freaking out. On the inside, everything was chaotic. A mess. Screaming his fool head off. On the outside, he was calm, quiet, and staring out his bedroom window. He’d gone through the conversion, and he never wanted to feel that level of pain again.
It had felt as though his stomach was being gutted.
Stevie also believed that everything happened for a reason. The bad luck of Neal and Bodega had fallen onto his shoulders, nearly crushing him with terror.
He was still afraid.
Deathly afraid.
But right on the heels of that, Quinn had been there. Trying to pick up the pieces, asking Stevie what was wrong.
Now they were mated, and Stevie could possibly be pregnant. His life was so screwed up right now. The odd thing was, even with all the chaos rioting around inside him, Stevie felt a sort of calm taking over.
He could either flip out or pull his big boy pants up and deal with this. After all, Neal and Bodega were his father’s mess, his father’s failures, and Stevie needed to stop panicking.
That wouldn’t do him any good.
Solutions. That was what he needed.
What Stevie needed to do was talk to Bodega, let the guy know that he had nothing to do with his rotten father and that debt shouldn’t be over his head but his old man’s.
And if the guy had Stevie’s mom, she needed to be released. All of this was on Cliff’s shoulders. All of it. The drinking. The abuse. The gambling. Stevie would never understand how he’d come from such parents.
How sad was it that Stevie shouldn’t even be standing by the window? Neal could be outside somewhere, ready to take a shot at him. The thought curdled his stomach as he moved away from the window and headed for the bedroom door.
In the hallway Stevie ran into Layne.
“How are you feeling?” Layne hugged him, careful of the sleeping baby
strapped to his chest. “I know this is all crazy, but it’ll work itself out.”
“I need a damn drink,” Stevie said when he pulled from the hug. “And a new set of parents.”
Layne smiled. “You know you’ll always have my mom and dad. They’d do anything for you.”
“I actually want to see them,” Stevie said. “I miss your mom and dad.”
“You miss their cooking,” Layne teased. He held up a small bag of cheese puffs, and Stevie snatched the bag, diving right in. He munched like crazy when he was stressed, and there hadn’t been any snacks in the house.
“Thank you so much.” He licked the cheese powder from his fingers as they walked down the steps. Quinn, Nomad, and Nash were in the kitchen, talking among themselves.
When Stevie and Layne walked in, the room fell silent. Quinn and Nomad looked Stevie over, while Nash pulled Layne into his arms, kissing the top of their sleeping babe’s head.
Something was going on. Stevie felt it in his gut. He looked Quinn over, and everything inside Stevie seemed to come to life. He wasn’t in heat, like Layne said he would be, but he definitely wouldn’t mind taking his mate upstairs and having mind-blowing sex.
“We’re gonna take you to your house,” Quinn said. “Thought maybe a few things from home would be nice for you.”
“Aren’t you sweet and thoughtful.” Stevie crossed the room and leaned into Quinn. “Wait, who is we?”
Quinn tilted his head toward Nomad. “With Neal on the loose, we’re not taking any chances.”
“Go grab the diaper bag,” Nash said to Layne. “We’re going to see your folks.”
Layne’s eyes lit up as he walked from the kitchen, Nash following behind him.
“I hate this,” Stevie said. “I can’t even walk out the front door and go wherever I want. I need babysitters because of some thug with a gun.”
Nomad walked out, leaving Stevie and Quinn alone.
“I know, babe.” Quinn gave him a quick kiss. “But until this is settled, get used to an escort.”