by Various
A few minutes later, they hung up.
“He did it,” Bridget said.
“Sure looks that way,” Liam said. “That should be enough to damn him. If he ever shows up again. That, and what he did to Maeve and Fiona’s mom.”
“Yeah, if he ever shows up again, he’s dead,” Gavin said. “One way or another.”
They still had almost ten minutes to go before they would get to the hotel.
“We’re finally all together,” Liam said. “But we still have something to decide. Where we live.”
“I talked to my Alpha.” Gavin’s heart twinged. “He’s kicking me out. So we also need to find a pack.”
Bridget twisted in her seat so she faced him. “I have a pack. A pack, and family I want to live near. Why don’t you both come to Marysburg and join Stonewall?”
He had nothing against Marysburg, per se. It was small compared to northern Virginia, but he could handle that. Except for one thing. “My practice is up here.”
“So what you’re worried about is losing all the contacts and clients you’ve built up over the years?” Liam said.
“Yeah, and reputation, word of mouth…”
“Listen,” Liam said. “You can keep the Alexandria office open but go ahead and open one in Marysburg, too. You and I can run both of them together, commuting as needed. Over time, when we’ve built up contacts and clients in Marysburg, we can close the Alexandria office.”
That actually sounded like a decent idea. Except the commuting part, where they’d have to spend time away from each other. But that gave him a better idea. “Or, we can leave the Alexandria office open and I could train one or two of my old pack mates to run it for us. Then maybe we can get out of commuting sooner rather than later.”
“I like it,” Liam said.
It wasn’t what Gavin had originally planned. Heck, even when he’d first found Liam and Bridget, he’d been sure he didn’t want to leave his Alexandria business. He had wanted his mates but hadn’t wanted anything else to change. Now he accepted that things would have to change. He just had to make them change for the better.
They reached the hotel and a minute or two later they were in their room, pulling off their clothes. No finesse, no striptease. They stripped off every stitch before landing in a pile on the bed, their limbs and mouths and fingers all tangled into one.
Gavin cupped Bridget’s face with one hand, touching his forehead to hers. “Marry me.”
Chapter 10
Bridget’s face softened. “Yes.”
Liam’s hand came over Bridget’s body from the back to stroke Gavin’s hair. “And me.”
She smiled. “Of course. I love you both.”
Gavin rubbed his thumb across her cheekbone. “I love you, too.” His eyes met Liam’s. “And you.”
Liam kissed Bridget’s shoulder. “I love you both. Forever.”
Bridget leaned forward and pressed her lips against Gavin’s. The flame of passion sparked into an inferno. He held her cheek still so he could plunder her mouth.
Liam stroked up Gavin’s side—thigh, hip, waist, shoulder—then took the same path down Bridget’s side. At the same time, he nibbled on Bridget’s shoulder. She moaned in Gavin’s mouth.
“Want to come, sweetie?” Liam said.
Gavin felt Liam’s hand slide between him and Bridget, then settle over her mons.
Bridget didn’t answer, just moaned louder. Gavin kept kissing her, while his hand found its way around Liam’s back to squeeze his ass. Her breathing got shorter until she was practically panting in his mouth. Her eyes, when she opened them, looked unfocused and glazed.
“I think she’ll be coming soon,” Gavin said against her lips.
“She’s so wet,” Liam said. He ran his teeth over her shoulder, over his mark.
Bridget shuddered at the contact then her body tensed before shaking violently. Liam bit down harder. Her nails dug into Gavin’s back.
“Beautiful,” Gavin said. “Amazing.” And just the beginning. “I need to taste her. What do you think—want to share?” He couldn’t think of anything sexier than Liam and him licking Bridget’s pussy at the same time.
Liam pulled his teeth from her shoulder. “I like that idea.”
Bridget sighed. “Me too.”
Several seconds later, they’d rearranged themselves so the two men lay between Bridget’s legs, which were spread as wide as she could get them. Gavin leaned in so he could clamp his mouth around her clit. He tried to leave room for Liam, but it was still a tight fit as Liam slid his tongue over her lips and into her pussy, brushing the underside of Gavin’s chin in the process.
Bridget shivered and her thighs tensed.
“Close?” Gavin said. “So soon?”
“Just the thought of both of you down there, together…it’s really got me,” she said.
Good. Gavin licked her clit once then twice before taking it into his mouth again to suck on it.
***
Bridget’s hands came down to rest on each of their heads. She couldn’t imagine anything sexier than both of her men going down on her at the same time. As Gavin sucked her clit and Liam plunged his tongue into her pussy over and over, she struggled not to come. Not so soon. She wanted this to last.
Gavin started doing something with his tongue, a squiggly sort of move that shivered all over her clit while he continued to suck. She couldn’t hold on. She couldn’t even think.
Her body exploded again, hands tightening on her mates’ heads, thighs tensing around their cheeks as she shuddered uncontrollably. Gavin and Liam continued to lick and suck her until her body collapsed, limp.
Two heads popped up between her legs, gazing at her.
“I want us all three to be joined,” Gavin said. “How do you feel about anal sex?”
Before she could say anything, Liam said, “I’m interested.”
“I was thinking I’d be the one to take her from behind,” Gavin said.
“That’s not what I meant. I meant—you could take me from behind,” Liam said.
Well, that was a switch. She hadn’t been sure what her answer would be, but if Liam wanted to…as long as Gavin agreed, that worked for her.
Gavin and Liam gazed at each other. “What would that be like?” Gavin said.
“Can’t be that much different from anal sex with her, can it?”
“You’re probably tighter,” Gavin said.
“Not likely,” she said. “We’re both virgins. I mean, that way.”
Liam chuckled. “So, not much different.”
“You okay with that, Gavin?” Bridget said. “Because I’m not sure I’m ready for it, so if Liam wants to, I say we do that.”
Gavin shrugged. “All right. If that’s what you both want.”
Liam cupped Gavin’s cheek. “I want you to want it too.”
Gavin kissed his palm. “I do. I’m just…I’ve never done this before, either. With a man, I mean.”
“It’ll be fine. Promise.” Liam kissed him. Then Liam crawled over Bridget and got into position above her, his legs bent and a little wide, his cock poised at her pussy. “Ready, honey?”
“Of course.” She grinned.
Liam slid into her like he was coming home. She had a feeling this was how it would be for the rest of their lives, never feeling as at home as they did when they were joined together as one.
Gavin got off the bed and rummaged in his suitcase before coming back again. “Lube,” he said.
Bridget couldn’t see what Gavin was doing; she could only see the look on Liam’s face. He looked ecstatic. Not like excited or joyful, but ecstatic like he was in ecstasy, some sort of otherworldly trance-like state.
“How’s it feel?” Gavin said.
Liam rested his face against her throat and groaned.
“He looks like he’s enjoying it,” Bridget said.
Liam groaned again.
Gavin continued working Liam while Liam’s groaning and breathing both increased. Final
ly, Gavin said, “I think we’re ready. Tell me if it hurts too much.”
***
Liam couldn’t believe how good it had felt when Gavin slid his fingers in and out of his ass. He’d never had anyone play with him there before. And he’d always been curious. Now he knew—it felt amazing.
When Gavin pushed the head of his cock against Liam’s puckered star, Liam tried not to tense up. No doubt Gavin’s cock was bigger than his fingers. But that didn’t mean it couldn’t feel just as amazing.
Still, it was a tight fit. And at first, a burning sensation spread through his ass, making him want to pull away. But he didn’t. He just relaxed as much as he could and accepted Gavin’s cock.
It was almost like accepting Gavin into his life as much as accepting him into his body. That’s why he’d wanted to do this. He wanted to be completely joined with Gavin. And while the sixty-nine they’d shared had been amazing, it hadn’t been enough. Already, he could feel he’d made the right decision.
Gavin pushed in a little further. “Feel okay?”
“Yeah,” Liam whispered against Bridget’s neck. “More.”
Pumping his hips in very shallow strokes, Gavin pushed in a little further each time. “God, this feels good.” His fingers dug into Liam’s hips.
Gavin continued for another minute or two then stopped.
“What’s wrong?” Liam said.
“I’m in. All the way.” Gavin leaned forward so his chest touched Liam’s back. “Are you inside Bridget?”
“Completely,” she said.
“We’re joined,” Gavin said. His fingers brushed Bridget’s cheek. “This is perfect.” He pulled back to his knees and set up a rhythm, sliding in and out of Liam.
Liam made shallow thrusts into Bridget’s pussy, timing them with Gavin’s strokes. He rested his forehead on Bridget’s. “Good?”
“Good,” she said.
They kept going for several minutes without a word, the only sounds their labored breathing and the slapping of their bodies against each other. Liam had never felt so joined to two people before in his life. Now he understood all the stories. He understood his parents, and his mated friends. He knew he never wanted to be far from Gavin and Bridget. And he’d love them ‘til he died.
He kissed Bridget, putting all his feelings, all his love, into the kiss.
“Soon,” Gavin said.
“Soon,” Liam agreed, his lips still touching Bridget’s.
“Yes, soon,” she echoed.
Gavin slammed harder into Liam’s ass, once, twice, and the third time he stayed deep. He leaned over Liam and bit his shoulder, hard.
Liam’s orgasm crashed over him. He barely had the presence of mind to clamp his teeth in Bridget’s flesh before he lost all thought. He was only sensation, aching, tensing, releasing, shaking pleasure.
Moments later, Gavin withdrew. The three of them ended up curled together with Bridget in the middle.
“I love you,” they all said at the same time, then laughed.
Gavin touched Bridget’s cheek, then Liam’s.
Liam rested his hand on Gavin’s hip. He’d waited his whole life for his mates. And now he’d finally come home.
###
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‘Taking Heat’ by Emma Young
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Chapter 1
My elbows started to burn as the skin covering them was pinched between my bones and the cold laminate counter that ran the length of Hungry Pete’s Diner. Harkening back to an era that was long gone, the tiny restaurant was tucked away inside a long, stainless steel body with wide windows that gave every table a view full of thick trees and the occasional deer or two. Situated in the heart of Oregon’s pristine wilderness, the restaurant was a fixture in the town of Collins. Even my own grandma had pictures of her and her dad in front of the narrow building’s blinding facade with smiles plastered across their faces. She had been dead for years, but the picture lingered somewhere in the back of the dresser in my room.
Times weren’t always easy for the people of Collins. Originally a logging town, a series of corrupt mayors that were basically puppets for the timber barons effectively drove their promising economy right into the ground. It wasn’t recent enough for me to possibly remember, of course, but the effects of the town’s demise were still evident. Business was usually slow at Hungry Pete’s and was almost always limited to the town’s meager population of several hundred. People passed through from time to time, but Collins was never their final destination. Of those who called the place home, most of their ties with the local history ran deep. I was no exception.
Born twenty-one years before in the backseat of my father’s Dodge pickup on the way to the county hospital, I made my entrance into the world in much the same way as I ended up living it: early. I was named after one of my aunts, Roxanne, but never got a chance to meet her. I was only a few months old when she got hammered and slammed her car into a light pole head-on. Everyone who knew my mom told me that she was never the same after the accident. As I got older, it wasn’t hard to believe.
By the time I was ten, my mom, Carla, was a full-fledged alcoholic with a couple of DUIs under her belt. She had always been a stay-at-home mom, but she stopped venturing out at all before I was even out of elementary school. The bus picked me up in the mornings and dropped me off in the afternoons. We even had a deal with the little liquor store around the corner: mom sent me there every day with the cash for a handle of vodka, plus a generous “tip”. One of my earliest memories was the old man who worked there, Mr. Allen, helping me to zip my tiny backpack around the bottle’s tall neck before I jogged back home through the alley, as requested.
As for my dad, he wasn’t a whole lot better. I suppose that I was fortunate he didn’t like to drink, because the sheer amount of rage that he carried around on a daily basis was unfathomable to me. Unfortunately, I was always too afraid to ask him why he felt that way. He never talked about the cause for the mountains of spite that he carried for the world, nor did he ever apologize when he lost control and showed me “what for”.
Like it happens in any other small town, we weren’t immune to the rumors that flew. With a family like ours, it was bound to happen. Other kids at school liked to elbow me in the ribs during special events and ask where my mom was, even though they knew full well about my situation from their parents. They also told me things they heard about my dad when we were out on the playground: how he was an angry man with a piss-poor attitude and no friends to speak of. In a town where everyone knew everyone else, it was an embarrassing achievement to have pinned to my back for the entirety of my childhood.
From the beginning, it was obvious that I was more of a burden to my parents than anything. When I was old enough to start school--even in Kindergarten--I walked alone to the bus stop a half mile away. In the afternoons when I returned, I spent most of my time running around in the woods behind our tiny house. In a way, I knew its trails and secrets better than I did my own room. It was my place to get away from everything and let loose, whether it was scaling trees or “fishing” with a stick and some of dad’s weed-whacker line. Unsurprisingly, I didn’t catch much more than a few leaves and a solitary, red shoelace in all of my trips combined. When the sun started to set in the evenings, I made my way back inside to heat up whatever scraps I could pull together from our fridge. Sometimes, there was even enough to whip up a grilled cheese sandwich. On those nights, with a belly full of food and the faintest whisper of a sunburn whipped across my cheeks, I felt like a queen.
Needless to say, I grew up as thin as a rail. Fortunately, most of my more feminine features came in early. It wasn’t fortunate for my dad, however, who seemed to have a hard time grappling with the blossoming of a daughter that he never cared about in the first place. I never understood why the not-so-subtle protrusions on my chest and hips made h
im so afraid, but, in a way, I was glad. At least I knew that he felt something toward me, even if it was just trepidation.
Because of the distance that my dad eventually put between us and the distance between my mom and me that was always there, I was fiercely independent by the time I reached my early teens. It wasn’t that I was a rebel, so to speak, but I certainly went my own direction and had to make mistakes for myself. It was the only way I ever learned a lesson.
All my life--as far back as my memories went, anyway--it felt like the only person looking out for me was, well, me. When I had trouble in school, or when a boy made me cry, or even when I had greater questions about life, love and hardships, there was nowhere to turn. Eventually, I learned to lock away how painful the space between me and my family was by putting up a wall that kept us apart for good. Over time, mom and dad turned into simply Carla and Troy. There was no respect there, let alone love or admiration. Instead, we engaged in a years-long dance of avoidance and discomfort until everything came to a head one evening in the middle of my sophomore year at Collins High School. That was when my folks gave me an unexpected ultimatum: move with them to Omaha to live in a house with a distant aunt and her seven kids, or stay behind and fend for myself. After Troy’s hours were cut at work and Carla’s health started to deteriorate, they couldn’t do it on their own anymore. Unsurprisingly, they already seemed to favor one option over the other by the time the conversation came up.
“Besides,” I remembered my dad saying with the same burdened drawl that he’d perfected over the years. “I was old enough to survive when I was her age.”
It was still easy--as I leaned forward on the counter at Hungry Pete’s and looked at my reflection in a dented napkin dispenser--to see my mom’s face as she sat behind him on the couch, her hands shaking from the all-consuming desire to have another drink. I looked just like her, after all. From my mom’s chocolate, curly locks that glimmered with a fiery shade of red in the sun to the light kiss of freckles across the bridge of her nose and the muted brown of her irises, I was almost like her younger, more sober clone.