by Anne Marsh
“Ten minutes,” one of the twins assured her. He leaned back against the side of the boat, arms extended, fingers hitting the spray. His twin driving the boat kept a sure hand on the motor as he took them straight up the water.
“Five if I open her up.” Her driver flashed her a wicked grin. “You like speed, sha? That’s fine with me.”
She didn’t need to speed things up. No, she needed to slow them down.
Rafer grumbled behind her. “Dre, he always goes fast.”
Dre—that told her which twin must have been the driver—mouthed a cheerful obscenity then looked at her and bit back his next words. “Sorry, sha.”
She didn’t mind the good-natured cursing. Strangely, his discomfort eased her own. The Breaux brothers were nervous too. Confident and sure on the water—and undoubtedly in bed—they circled around her like they weren’t sure what would please her. Funny, but she wasn’t sure herself.
Landry looked at her and leaned in. His hand on her knee was an unexpected incursion into her space, and she jumped. Rafer stilled behind her and then relaxed, so she gave herself a moment to settle and simply feel the warm weight of that hand. Landry didn’t move any further, just left his hand right where it was.
“You know how to drive a boat?” Landry asked.
Her gaze dropped to his sun-darkened fingers and stayed there. His fingers were blunt and strong, cut up some from handling fishing lines but capable, like the man.
“Sure,” she admitted.
“So if you decide you need to leave—” if and not when, “—you can take this boat. Or, I’ll take you. All you got to do is ask, okay?”
An answering rumble came from the man holding her. “She can ask me, too.”
“Any of us,” Jackson clarified, and they all nodded, like something had been decided.
Right.
Mama Jolie hadn’t warned her off the Breaux brothers. Rather, she’d encouraged Lark to look twice in their direction. That had to count for something, didn’t it?
Landry pulled back. An unidentifiable emotion—disappointment?—flashed in his eyes.
“Okay,” she said. “Thanks.”
The boat slowed, and Dre carefully guided them beneath a thick carpet of Spanish moss. The waterway suddenly tightened up, and the next five minutes was a complex maze of twists and turns. No way she navigated this unfamiliar on her own.
Like he sensed her nerves—hell, he was part wolf, so for all she knew, he smelled her fear—Rafer brushed his mouth over her ear. “Any one of us will take you back, chère. We reach the dock and you decide this was a bad idea? You just say so. All I wan’ for you tonight is pleasure.”
“With you,” she said.”
“That would be a real good start,” he agreed.
A second chance.
Or six?
“Imagine it, chère,” Rafer ordered as Dre killed the motor and the boat finally slowed, his voice a harsh, animalistic growl in her ear. “One of us, two of us—all of us. Just tell us who you want. What you want.”
The hunting camp loomed out of the shadows, a collection of boat docks, houseboats, and cabins on crazy-ass stilts planted deep in the dark water where the bayou carved the lush swampland into a maze of rivers. Coming here was insane.
And yet she had no regrets.
“All right,” she said, taking the hand Dag shoved down at her. She let him pull her up onto the dock. “Dag. And Rafer.”
~~~~
Rafer saw the savage satisfaction flood Dag’s black eyes.
After swinging himself up onto the dock, Rafer picked Lark up again, cradling her against his chest as he carried her to his houseboat. He wasn’t ready to let go of her yet, and their boat ride had been too short. When he inhaled, her flowery essence teased his senses. No other male. Just detergent and flowers. That was good. This was for her, but he didn’t know how his wolf would react if it scented a human male on her things. On her.
Except it didn’t matter how he felt, did it? He had too many rough edges. So, although she wouldn’t be choosing him permanently tonight, maybe she’d choose Dag. Dag deserved her. Needed her. Still, his own balls tightened as she pressed backwards, unconsciously rubbing her ass against him. He’d soothe her fears, ease the way for Dag to stake his claim.
Dag stepped inside the cabin behind them and closed the door.
Tonight was about choice. Lark’s choice. She’d choose the mate she wanted, so his job was to make sure she wanted. A lot. He got her real comfortable on his bed, settling her back against his chest and sliding his hands beneath her T-shirt.
She gasped, her hands covering his.
“Jus’ one touch,” he promised. “You don’ like this, and I stop.” He meant it, too.
The muscles in her neck relaxed, and she flowed into him. “Yes.” Her voice was hoarse but sure. “Okay, then.”
He slid the shirt over her head. Her bra was a wicked scrap of white cotton and lace, the cups molding her breasts. Dag moved closer, and Rafer flicked his fingers against the tiny clasp. The cotton cups parted with a whisper of sound, spilling her breasts into his brother’s waiting hands.
“You’re beautiful,” Rafer praised, losing himself in her hair. “You know how pretty you look, lettin’ him tongue those sweet nipples of yours?”
She shook her head, her eyes fluttering closed. He would have liked to watch the sensations, the awareness unfolding in her gaze, but if he was fortunate, there would be other nights to watch as she came. If Dag shared.
Dag sucked a pink nipple into his mouth, and damned if his brother didn’t look like a man who’d just discovered heaven. Her reaction was pure delight, too. She gave a startled cry, like she hadn’t known such a simple touch could set her on fire. The scent of her arousal flooded the air, and she buried her hands deep in Dag’s hair.
“Maple-sugar sweet,” Dag growled, rocking back on his heels and lifting his head.
She whimpered as he took his mouth away from her breast. She didn’t want him to go, but Rafer wanted her greedier, so he reached down and slipped her running pants lower. He’d have liked to taste her for himself, but she was still shy. The sight of her in those lacy panties almost had him coming. She was impossibly feminine, lying there, waiting for their touch.
“Watch my brother,” he crooned against her skin as Dag finished removing her pants and shoes, and she shuddered, as if his words had a one-way connection to her pussy and he’d lit her on fire. “See how much he wants you, chère?”
Rafer settled his fingers against the back of her neck, cupping her, holding her still for that kiss that was coming. He let his own hand glide down, over her stomach and the lacy scrap of her bikini panties until he was touching her. First on top of her panties. Then beneath, while her breath caught and her body froze, pushing against his in silent demand.
Fuck, the impossible, fiery feel of her almost undid him. His fingers parted her gently, easily, dipping into swollen, wet flesh. He’d expected the urgency of the mating heat. He hadn’t, however, expected this need to bury himself in her, learn her.
Reluctantly, he slid his finger free, making room for his brother.
Dag moved between her legs, drawing the soaked scrap of cotton and lace down. She opened up for him with a sigh, as if she’d been waiting for this for too long. Rafer drank in the erotic sight of her pussy, the pale strip of golden hair and the slick, wet folds. The teasing moisture of her arousal. She was so wet. Had she already come that evening? His wolf growled, angry someone else might have seen to her, and he nipped her ear.
She gasped at the small sting of pleasure-pain, pushing back into his hold.
“You want this,” he said. She had no idea what she did to him, to them all.
She needed his Pack, even if she wasn’t ready to give them the words yet. He wanted to coax, to tease until she was trembling, too wet to remember all the reasons why she should say no.
Before she could protest, Dag sank into her sweet pussy, licking her. Her scent drove R
afer crazy. She rode his brother’s tongue, the soft moans slipping from her as her fists tightened by her sides. She liked this, liked his brother’s touch, but that wasn’t enough. Rafer wanted more, wanted her to let go entirely and lose herself in the orgasm he sensed building inside her.
“Fuck,” Dag growled, “she’s so tight.”
When Dag tucked a single finger inside her opening, she bucked in Rafer’s arms. Cried out hoarsely as if the sensations burning through were too much, as if she was afraid.
Behind them, the cabin door opened. Closed. His Pack had joined them.
He whispered rough reassurances. “Enjoy this for us, chère.” He held her in place, anchoring her with his arm. Not letting her hide from the pleasure. “See us.”
Her head came up at his whispered command, and he knew she sensed those hot eyes on her, the Pack watching from the room’s shadows.
“Rafer,” she gasped, her eyes widening in shock.
He bent his head to hers, the words spilling from his mouth. How pretty she was as she rode his brother’s tongue. How he wanted his turn, couldn’t wait to taste her. Then, because he had to have some piece of her for himself, he dropped one hand between them. Using her juices, he drew a slick path along the hidden channel of her ass until he found that secret hole and worked his finger against her. Her low, sweet moan told him she liked that. She bucked, taking him deeper inside, the tight ring giving way beneath his penetrating touch. He needed this much of her.
His hard-on was killing him, but he wasn’t going to sink into her, so he’d take what he could get. Coax what pleasure he could.
Their Alpha took her mouth in a hard kiss when she came riding Dag’s mouth and Rafer’s finger.
“Choose,” Luc ordered when he freed her mouth. “Choose a mate.”
She hesitated. And then, to Rafer’s shock, she did.
“Rafer,” she said and leaned back. “Give him to me.”
Chapter Six
His brothers left, the flimsy door to the houseboat’s cabin shutting behind them. The mated pair was heart and soul of the Pack. In the wild, the males ran together until one found his female and paired off with her. Then, the all-male pack would break up, going their separate ways. If she wouldn’t share, wouldn’t accept his brothers, that would happen here too.
That was tomorrow’s challenge. Tonight, all Rafer had to do was love her.
Easy enough to do.
The houseboat rocked around them, the water moving them here and there in a familiar rhythm. He knew this song, this motion. Somewhere out in the bayou, a male alligator roared and a higher-pitched juvenile answered.
The primitive urge to see to her needs had him stiffening. He hadn’t planned this. He’d wanted this night for Dag. Instead, here he was, and honesty compelled Rafer to admit he wanted to mark her as his.
Crouching, he spread her out on his bed. Her skin was soft, and he gave in to the urge to run his hands along her arms, over her back. It had been months since he’d had a lover, and his wolf growled with anticipation. The glands in the pads of his feet and hands and beneath his chin swelled, and with each long, telltale stroke, he covered her in his spicy scent.
After tonight, there would be no question as to whom she belonged.
She was his.
She was naked, her pretty body bare for him, the pink flush of feminine arousal a siren’s call he couldn’t resist. As soon as he took his hands off her, though, she pushed upright on one elbow. The movement forced the tender curve of her breast against her arm. He wanted to lean down and tongue that hard nipple, to push her back down.
Instead, he moved away. He wouldn’t be an animal, wouldn’t fall on her like a beast and take her. He’d be more than his wolf side, even if that meant holding back when his cock demanded he press closer, slide against hers. Into her. She inhaled when he left her, rolling over to follow him as if she too didn’t want that space between them anymore.
“Now what?” She tugged the edges of his quilt around her, covering up all those delicious curves.
He growled before he could stop himself, and her eyes widened. “I like looking at you. Don’t cover up, chère.”
She stiffened, her fingers tightening on the well-worn flannel. He liked thinking about all that soft brushing against her.
Despite his request, however, the quilt didn’t move from where she clutched it, suddenly shy. Her brown eyes kept right on watching him, darting between him and the door where his brothers had disappeared. “Are they really gone?”
That husky whisper teased his senses like fingers gliding up and down his cock. She hadn’t touched him yet, not really. Just the sweet, hot weight of her body pressing back against his as he’d held her while his brother loved her. As he slipped inside her tight ass. The smile tugging at his lips wasn’t nice. He didn’t feel nice. His desire for this woman was pure torment, and he was going to touch a whole hell of a lot more. He had the entire night to enjoy her, give her pleasure.
Until she came for him.
Or drove him fucking crazy with that pleasure.
“You don’t want the audience, chère?” Just the two of them now, although he’d give her whatever she needed. She hesitated, and damned if she wasn’t actually thinking his suggestion over. Could she accept his Pack, enjoy their lush sensuality? Could he be that lucky?
“I’ve never done that before,” she admitted. “I’ve never let anyone else watch.”
He smoothed a hand over her shoulder, letting his fingers find that creamy skin. “Then tonight’s your lucky night, chère. Whatever fantasies you’ve been dreamin’, you just tell me.”
The quilt slipped lower as she looked up at him, and her smile was something else. She lit him up from the inside out with her happy curiosity. He put some distance between them real quick then, got the hell away from her, because he couldn’t stay near and not touch her. And she wasn’t ready for that. Not yet.
“This night is for you,” he promised. “Whatever you want. All you have to do is ask.”
Hell, yeah.
The silence stretched between them while she thought his offer over. Carefully, he collected her clothing from the floor where his brothers had tossed it, folding and setting the small pile neatly to one side. In the morning, she’d be glad to have her clothes. Humans were strangely bashful about their bodies. And as a new mate with an unfamiliar Pack, she would be shyer than most.
“Come over here,” she demanded just when he thought he’d have to give in and go to her. Her eyes got real busy watching the clothes he’d set down close enough for her to see but not close enough to encourage her to do a cover-up.
Because he wasn’t done looking at her.
He stalked towards her. At last. “Make sure you know what you’re askin’ for.”
“This is my fantasy,” she argued. “I get to decide what happens.”
His hands fisted on his thighs. He was painfully aware of the thick erection punching up from his groin. Waiting was killing him. Every primal instinct he possessed urged him to take her and mark her so deep with his scent that the Pack had no more questions about who she belonged to. He’d be under her skin, in her blood. With every breath his Pack took, they’d know.
Lark Andrews belonged with him.
She eyed him. Hungrily. Hell, she was more wolf than he was in that moment. “Come. Closer.”
“Be sure, chère.”
He froze, ready to pounce.
~~~~
“I’m sure.” Liquid warmth pooled in her belly and lower. She couldn’t be surer. She’d never had dreams like this, never felt so wickedly sexy. She’d come once already, but watching him move confidently towards the bed made her think once wouldn’t be enough.
She’d been so alone. The farm consumed every waking minute, and at night all she wanted to do was sleep. No time for a lover, even if she could have found a man willing to play second to Pink Cosmo Farm.
She wanted this, wanted Rafer.
She relished her sexy
awareness of her nudity. Her body was already sure, tuned to the man whose slow glide ate up the empty space between them.
Rafer was fiercely beautiful, his face more than half savage. He wasn’t tame. He’d give orders and expect her to follow them.
Alpha to her bitch.
Just for tonight, that was a game she could play. Just for tonight, letting someone else take charge was a delicious treat. Tomorrow, she’d have the bank and the farm and a thousand other responsibilities to see to.
Tonight, Rafer wanted to take care of her.
She shoved to her feet. Earlier, he’d been all wolf. Dominant and sure. His hard hands positioning her for his pleasure. God, she’d never come so fast. She’d meet him halfway now, though. Wouldn’t wait passively for what he could give her.
She wanted to take him, every hot inch of him. Maybe she had a wolfish side, too.
He drew her back down onto the quilts, one arm pulling her into his body. The other arm captured her head, his fingers tangling in her hair. She was pinned. Dominated. But not trapped. Her hands curled into his powerful shoulders as he kissed her, his mouth covering over hers.
He stroked, his mouth and tongue devouring hers, as he pressed himself against her hip.
She reached for him, needing to wrap her fingers around his cock, but he moved first, capturing her hands above her head. Holding her still for him.
“Let me,” he growled.
One big hand cupped her breast. God, there was no forgetting that wicked, knowing touch. Gentler now, his knuckles brushing the tender curve still made her shiver as he stroked upwards. He found her nipple, and sensation shot through her, fiercer and more urgent.
He’d touched her before, but this was better. She could see his face, watch the fierce pleasure consuming him as he concentrated on her exposed skin, his mouth and fingers teasing her flesh. She turned her body into his, pressing herself skin to skin with the man holding her so carefully.
He lifted his head, and her pussy clenched in anticipation. “You know what it was like for me to watch?”
“Tell me,” she demanded. The hot spark of emotion in his eyes fed the hunger in her, made her feel impossibly sexy and beautiful. As if tonight she was the center of his universe.