Deuces Wild

by Celia Kyle

  “Not quite. We’ll move fast, but we’ll have an escort.”

  He wasn’t ready to suffer through his debriefing, unsure of how his superiors would take his actions.

  “Right.” She snorted. Well, almost. The quick inhale was immediately followed by a fierce, bone-jarring cough. Elly bent over, mouth wide as hacking wheezes racked her body, arms wrapped around her middle. The sheen of tears sliding down her cheeks broke him and he rushed to her, embraced her shoulders.

  Reaching for the bedside table, he snagged a tissue and pressed it into her hand. She grabbed it without hesitation and held it to her mouth. It felt like hours before the attack ceased and he noticed blood coating the tissue when she pulled it from her lips.

  Internal bleeding.

  Deuce checked his watch. If he called them in now, he’d have an hour to get her ready for movement.

  He crumpled the tissue and stalked to the garbage can, tossing it into the trash before returning his attention to her. “I have a plan, but you’ll have to listen.”

  “And why should I trust you?”

  He gritted his teeth. Part of him respected her strength in dealing with the situation. She hadn’t stopped fighting. Not when Alistair beat her nor when the bear had handed her over to Deuce to be raped.

  “Elly, I’m gonna get you out of here. Alive and in better shape than you are now.” He softened his tone. “I have a few friends, but I need you to trust me for a little while.”

  Deuce couldn’t reveal his true mission, couldn’t tell her that, based on information obtained from a rogue Ridgeville pride member, he’d infiltrated Freedom. He’d been undercover for ten months, monitoring the group from the inside and feeding intel to the council through his handler, Stone Redd. He’d managed to keep his nose pretty clean, but he couldn’t see a sure-fire way to get his mate out of the mansion unharmed.

  Unless he called in Stone.

  A hard pounding on his door interrupted his borderline plea.

  “Deuce, man, how’s that pussy?” Alistair’s voice boomed through the solid wood.

  In two steps he was gripping Elly’s shoulders. “Scream,” he hissed.

  “Wha—”

  Damn it, he’d have to scare her, force her to give him the reaction he needed. He wrapped his hand around her throat and bared his teeth, driving the lion to lend his assistance. The beast balked at his demand and Deuce wrestled the cat into submission. Fangs burst from his gums and his fingers turned into deadly claws.

  Elly’s eyes widened and a bloodcurdling scream rose from her throat. “No!” She scratched his arm, true fear in her eyes, and she fought against him. “No!”

  “Give it to her good, man.”

  Deuce released his hold, heart breaking as she crab walked across the bed and away from him. “Fuck off, asshole!”

  A deep chuckle was the only response he received as he listened for anything, or anyone, else that may linger on the other side of the door.

  Deuce returned his attention to the sweet squirrel and held up his hands, palms out, trying to show her he wasn’t dangerous. “I needed him to believe I was hurting you. That’s all. I didn’t injure you, Elly. I scared you a little, but it was necessary.”

  He could see the trembles that traveled through her body, but couldn’t do a damn thing about them. With a sigh, he let his shoulders slump. He’d fix this thing between them. Later. Like when he got her to safety.

  “Alistair is going to come back. He’s going to want to come in here and look for proof of our…encounter.” He swallowed the bile that rose into his throat. “And I need you healed enough to move without agony.”

  “I’m not—”

  He shook his head. “No, you’re not. He pointed toward the small door on the other side of the room. Go into the bathroom, wash up, and shift. At least twice. I know it’s gonna hurt.” Carly had griped, more than once, about going from big curvy woman to little furry bunny. It wasn’t an enjoyable experience. “But I need you in the best shape possible.”

  “What about…” The trembles had left her body and he took it as a sign she was beginning to trust him. Just a little.

  But what about proof? He knew what she asked and the necessity sickened him. He needed the scent of sex to fill the room, the musky aroma of cum to permeate the air.

  “I need at least…” He glanced at his watch. Any other day, with his mate so close, he’d get hard and come in less than a minute. But with danger looming over their heads? He wasn’t sure he’d even be able to perform. “Give me fifteen minutes.”

  If he couldn’t finish the job in that amount of time, it wasn’t happening.

  “Are you gonna…” She gestured toward his groin and he gave her a half smile.

  “Yeah.”

  Pale pink tinged her cheeks, visible in spite of the purple spots coating her skin. “Oh.”

  “Go clean up.” He stepped away from the bed, putting space between them, and she took advantage of the distance. She grunted but moved with surprising agility when making her way off the bed and into the bathroom.

  He waited until the door closed with a low snick before turning his attention to his groin, particularly his soft cock.

  Fuck.

  *

  Elly fought the tide of panic that had been running rampant through her from the moment Alistair had snatched her from her home in Colwich, West Virginia.

  She knew why the leader had kidnapped her: her father was the colony’s Alpha. But he was also the brother of a member of the council, which made her the council member’s niece. From what she’d overheard, Freedom was trying to get the council to back off.

  She’d been shuttled from Freedom location to Freedom location until they’d finally settled her at this mansion with Alistair.

  Shit. Alistair McCain. A panic attack lurked at the edge of her consciousness, waiting to pounce the moment she eased her control. Pain, fucking agony, throbbed and pulsed in time with her heartbeat.

  But she’d been strong. She’d fought her guards, the men who’d groped her when no one was looking. Oh, she’d ended up with a fat lip, black eye, and broken nose… God, she wished she could smell the air around her.

  Terror had gripped her the moment she’d been captured, but her father’s teachings and strength bolstered her the instant a gun touched her temple. His words had floated through her mind at that moment, the memory of him having knocked her down while they sparred.

  There’s fighting and there’s dying. Martins die fighting. So get off your ass and hit me, damn it.

  With the door standing between her and Deuce, she took a moment to breathe, to release a bit of the tension she’d been carrying. She leaned against the solid surface, letting her body slump against the wood. Part of her wanted to believe the lion, ached to put a little trust in him.

  He hadn’t touched her, raped her. He’d… Her heart skipped a beat. He’d lain on top of her, his hips pressed intimately against hers, and his hardness had been unmistakable. But he hadn’t pushed. He’d obviously quickly recognized his body’s reaction to their closeness and then rolled from her.

  What would he have done had he known her body responded to his?

  Elly’s pussy had warmed with his nearness, her body reacting to him, and she hadn’t been able to figure out why. She’d been near hot guys before—shifters didn’t exactly come in “ugly”—but it had been nothing like her response to Deuce. It’d been instantaneous, a blink, and she ached to rub all over him.

  She pushed away from the door and pulled at her clothes, anxious to push her feelings aside. She needed to get clean and shift, and if Deuce was to be trusted, she’d soon be free.

  Groaning, she tugged on her T-shirt and lifted it over her head, biting back a cry when her ribs protested. She knew what Deuce was doing out in his bedroom, knew the man was creating the scent of sex and cum.

  He’s jacking off. He’s stroking himself until he comes and—

  She wondered what he was thinking about. Her? He�
�d gotten hard when he’d lain atop her. Was he imagining her battered body? Maybe he pictured her bruise-free.

  She pushed the thoughts from her mind and her inner squirrel chittered in agreement. The little beastie, for some reason, trusted Deuce and urged her to hurry things along so they could get back to the massive lion. Her squirrel was determined to scamper back into the man’s presence.

  Even with her fury, she’d recognized her attraction to him. She appreciated his barely constrained strength, piercing green eyes, and long dark hair. His body bore scars of past fights and more muscles than she’d ever seen.

  But his beast would eat her as an appetizer. A crunchy little snack.

  Divested of her clothes, she turned on the shower, and it only took a few brief moments to warm. Beneath the spray, her body lost some of its throbbing tension, water washing away dirty blood and some of the worry she’d been carrying.

  A man intent on harm wouldn’t have sent her to get clean and heal. He wouldn’t have “handled” the issue of scent on his own.

  She’d lend him a little trust. For now.

  Before long, she stepped out of the shower, clean and anxious to shift and heal her body. Parts of her wouldn’t be the same. She had no illusions her nose would suddenly straighten and be perfect once again with a shift or two. And she wasn’t sure she’d ever want it corrected. The flaw would be a daily reminder of her strength. She hadn’t given up, not once.

  Refreshed from her shower, she stood before the mirror and cataloged her injuries. The nose was obvious, as well as the black eye and bruise on her jaw. The handprints on her throat weren’t very pretty. A boot print—or four—peppered her ribs. There was another on her hip. A glance at her thighs revealed much of the same.

  Well, she could always get a job as a punching bag.

  Taking a deep breath, she called her squirrel forward, coaxed it into seizing control and changing her body to that of her animal. Her shift wasn’t pretty, or painless, but it was a gift she hadn’t ever regretted. Running through the forest, hopping from tree to tree and connecting with nature was priceless.

  Painful pinpricks slithered over her skin. The crack and pop of bones filled the room. Her body reshaped, jabs of agony shooting through her as muscles shortened and molded to her new form.

  The torture continued, the world growing while she shrank, and eventually she was eight inches tall. Panting, she lay on the bathroom carpet for a moment, catching her breath, begging for the strength to shift back to human. The difference between one hundred seventy-five pounds and five pounds was a lot. Now she had to do it in reverse.

  She rested on her side and the residual hurt slowly eased from her body, the pain no longer plucking her nerves. She scented the air, disappointed her sense of smell was still on the fritz. Maybe she would have to get the break fixed.

  She rolled to her feet, flicked her tail, and poked her squirrel—they had to get a move on. The little beast grumbled but relented control, allowed the shift to reverse itself. The crack and crunch of bone was different this time, limbs stretching and reaching as she returned to her five foot five inch height. Her breasts became bountiful once again; her hips spread wide and thighs filled out until her chunky frame reemerged.

  Damn it. Every time she shifted, she prayed to come back the tiniest bit thinner.

  The squirrel clicked and chittered as if saying “dream on.” Little furry beyotch.

  Elly needed to focus. She still had to repeat the process, growing a tail and then back again. A glance in the mirror revealed that most of her bruises were gone, but the ache in her ribs remained. Her nose was tender, and just like when she was shifted, her sniffer was out of commission.

  Okay, once more.

  She beckoned the squirrel closer, coaxing it to help her along once again, but a curse from the other room broke her concentration.

  “Motherfucker.” Deuce was growling. “Cooperate, damn it.”

  A heated blush overtook Elly’s body. Was he having…trouble? No. She shook her head. No, he’d been perfectly hard when he’d been atop her, his thick cock pressed against her stomach. He shouldn’t have problems—

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

  She wondered if fifteen minutes were up. Wondered if she should—

  No. Just no. He’d been kind and promised to help her get free, but that wasn’t reason enough to help things along. Guys had been jerking off alone for centuries. She was sure he could complete the job by his lonesome.

  “Goddamn it.” His growl was deeper, heavier, and sprinkled with a hint of animal.

  Maybe he couldn’t take care of it himself.

  She nibbled her lower lip, surprised at the lack of pain, and wondered if she should go out there. She wouldn’t sleep with him. But she could…something.

  No. Could she?

  Growls, grumbles, and groans reached her, frustration growing more and more prevalent in his sounds.

  He wasn’t doing it for the pleasure of the act; he was trying to help save her. She’d recognized the truth in his words. If Alistair returned and the scent of sex didn’t hang heavy in the air, there’d be trouble.

  She had to get touchy-feely with the enemy.

  Or was he?

  Elly didn’t want to examine her feelings, didn’t want to admit there was a chance he wasn’t quite the foe he appeared to be.

  Another growl came through the hollow wood and she pushed away her hesitation. She grabbed her clothes, yanking them on as fast as she could, and then rushed into the bedroom.

  And froze.

  Deuce was still dressed in his T-shirt and jeans, boots still tied to his feet. But his cock, his large, soft cock was in full view.

  “Damn it, Elly. I said fifteen minutes.” He propped his hands on his hips, apparently comfortable with his exposed dick. Well, she supposed, if she had a prick and it was that big, she would be pretty relaxed too.

  She tore her gaze from his groin, forcing her squirrel to come along with her since the stupid thing wanted to keep ogling his package, and then waved toward his, uh, flagpole. “You haven’t…”

  A pale blush filled his cheeks. “No. You can’t smell anything?”

  “No.” She licked her lips, glancing at his cock once again. Beneath her studying stare, his shaft twitched and thickened. “But, uh—” How did one go about offering services? “Um, with me here…” She gestured to his now half-hard cock. “You’re uh, yeah.”

  This had been a mistake. It’d sounded wonderful behind closed doors, but in reality, she was so not this girl.

  “Elly, for the love of god, please go back into the bathroom.” He didn’t sound angry. No, it was more desperate, needy.

  “I-I want to help. Not all the way help, but a little.” She glanced at his thick dick, length jutting from his jeans. “A little, not so little help.”

  “Elly, you can’t… I don’t… I’m saving you, damn it. I’m not about to molest you.”

  She took a step toward him and he sucked in a shallow breath, held it as she continued her approach. She made him hard and he needed to be hard to come, and he needed to come just in case…

  Elly closed the distance between them until she was tucked against him, his arm over her shoulders. She reached for his straining erection and wrapped her fingers around his thickness. A soft hiss encouraged her and she tightened her fist for the barest of moments before beginning her illicit seduction.

  It was wrong, wicked, and then somewhere in between. She shouldn’t want to touch him, shouldn’t want to give him pleasure, but she couldn’t help herself. He’d scared her, but everything about her situation frightened her. Yet he’d done nothing to her, was actually trying to prevent intimacy.

  That singular truth set her free. If it were any other time and place, she would have thanked god for his reaction to her presence. She decided to embrace the situation.

  She slid her hand along his length, stroking his cock from base to tip and back again. On her next rise, she squeezed just below the h
ead and ran her thumb over his slit, gathering the bead of moisture that’d formed there.

  “Elly.” The word was somewhere between a plea and a moan.

  Elly did it again, down, up, squeeze, and stroke.

  “Fuck, yes,” he hissed, and a part of her liked that he responded in that way.

  For her body was reacting to him. Her pussy heated once again, aching and moistening with a flutter of desire. She was torn between scorn and worry and longing.

  But he was simply one of her captors.

  Who’s helping me escape.

  She wouldn’t dwell on her feelings. Getting him off was a necessity. Nothing else. She could examine her body’s responses another day. Or rather, another night. Beneath the covers.

  Using his sounds as a guide, she increased her pressure and pace, splitting her attention between the beautiful cock in her hand and his face. Pure pleasure coated his features, something between bliss and pain sliding over his expression as she jerked his dick.

  Before long, Deuce’s hips moved in tandem with her caress, compelling her to increase the force behind her ministrations. He upped the speed until he was fucking the circle of her fingers. The precum leaking from the tip of his cock lubricated his passage.

  It was Deuce’s words that made everything so much worse. The syllables that reached into her jeans and rubbed her mound, flicked her clit and sank deep into her core.

  “Yes… Give it to me… Fuck your pussy… So deep… Take my cock…” He was panting, body heaving and jerking in an ever-increasing rhythm. “God, Elly… So hot and tight… Gonna come in your cunt… Gonna…”

  Her pussy spasmed, the barest hint of an orgasm, and Deuce came on her hand. She imagined the musky scent of his release filling the air as his creamy cum spurted from his cock. His hips lurched and body shuddered as the last remnants of his climax slithered through him until he stood still, panting beside her.

  Gingerly, she released his softening cock and held her cum-soaked hand away from her body. It’d been…something. And she wasn’t quite ready to dissect her feelings. She didn’t want to think of the tremors of her barely there orgasm when she’d heard her name on his lips and his desire to come in her… No. She wasn’t thinking about it.