“You don’t have to try, McDade,” she bit back.
And then he kissed her.
He had her pinned against the cruiser, crushing her little body with his. Even through the layers of coats and clothing, he could feel just how soft her curves were. He attacked her lips, reveling in her bitter, smoky taste, biting and nipping as he slipped his tongue into her mouth.
He gripped her mercilessly, wanting to punish her and encourage her at the same time. God, he wanted to take her into her motel room and fuck her senseless. He wanted to make the headboard bang against the wall and wake up the neighbors. He wanted her to scream out his name as his cock filled her again and again.
He groaned into the kiss as he felt her cold little fingers snake up under his coat collar and touch the hot flesh of his neck. He wanted to suck on those fingers and warm them up. He wanted to suck on every part of her and make her burn.
Hitching her higher against the cruiser, he kept crushing her with kisses, wanting to bruise her lips with his need, to kiss away all the acid from her tongue and hear sweeter sounds coming from it. He grabbed her thigh and yanked it around his hips, feeling like a teenager about to come when she wrapped her other leg around him and ground her pussy against his cock.
He fisted a handful of that burning red hair, holding her head in place as he relentlessly kissed her, learning the feel of her tongue, the ridges of her teeth, the patterns on the roof of her mouth. She squirmed against him, and he was barely aware of her trying to pull away.
“Breathe!” she gasped into the kiss, and he realized he had to let her have air.
He could do that, moving to taste her cheeks, her jawline, kissing, licking, and nipping his way to her ear.
“Oh God,” she gasped again as he found a sensitive spot just behind her earlobe. She was writhing against him as he nipped and sucked at the spot, and it took all of his control not to come in his pants like a kid as her body melted and molded against his.
“Hey!” a loud cry broke through the night, and the annoying beam of a flashlight hit his eyes, making him squint into the light.
“That you, McDade?”
He recognized the motel manager lady and swallowed a mouthful of swear words as he felt Trisha stiffen against him and jump down from his hips.
“Yeah, Nguyen,” he called out, not bothering to mask the irritation in his voice. “Everything’s fine.”
“Okay, fine,” she called back. “But get a room. This decent place.”
He ground his teeth as his cock throbbed against his zipper. He felt Trisha beginning to squirm and struggle to get free of his arms. He looked down at her and frowned.
“I don’t know what the hell that was,” Trisha snapped at him, her blue eyes blazing with fury, even though he could still see in the dim light of the parking lot that she was flushed and aroused. “But, it’s not going to happen again. Keep your hands off me, McDade.”
“What, you scared, Blacke?” he bit back, hurt and stung by her words.
“What on earth would I be scared of?” she replied scornfully, wrenching herself out of his grip and storming off to the door of her room.
“Yourself,” he whispered as he watched her disappear inside.
* * * *
Trisha stared at her computer screen. Avant-garde jazz vocals from Patricia Barber crooned and whispered in the background. She spread pictures, autopsy reports, and maps around her on the bed.
She took several deep breaths and tried to get her mind to slip into the right groove—the dreamy, contemplative, instinct-driven slide that would often give her the moment of insight that was the key to the profile.
Nothing worked. All her mind kept doing was replaying the two kisses, getting her body in on the act.
She seemed to feel Ger’s gentle, searching hands. The passionate reverence of his kiss had made her feel soft and feminine and fragile in a way she really had never experienced. Ian’s kiss had revealed a man who wasn’t afraid of her or intimidated by her, who, in fact, seemed to want to challenge her sensual boundaries.
She frowned and leaned back against the pillows, fighting off the surge of desire that rippled through her at the thought of Ger and Ian’s lips on her body, maybe even at the same time. Whoa. No, what was she thinking? Aside from the fact that the idea of a threesome felt somehow deviant, there was no way she was going to get involved with a professional colleague like Sheriff Ian McDade. Ger could have been different, if only he wasn’t living in this backwater town.
Well, this was obviously it. The moment had come, as it came in every profiler’s life, where she had finally lost it. No matter that she had tried to avoid relationships and having children in order to spare others from her fucked-up life. The stress of the job had finally come home to roost.
She was in a motel room in some Godforsaken town in Maine, on the trail of a crazy killer, and daydreaming about a threesome with two brothers.
Suddenly, early retirement didn’t seem like such a joke.
She needed a cigarette and some fresh air. The irony did not escape her, but somehow, the small act of self-destructive defiance with smoking made her feel human enough in a life that required her to feel less and less human to survive. Besides, it wasn’t like she was trying to survive for any husbands or kids.
Husbands?
Oh hell.
She stuffed her feet and pajama bottoms into her boots and put the key in her pocket. Just as a precaution, because her Spidey-sense had been twitching ever since she’d arrived in Elkville, she slid her holster and gun on before wrapping her sweatshirt around her.
The cold air bit her skin and made her eyes feel like the tears were freezing over her eyeballs. She shivered on the sidewalk in front of her door, glancing nervously around.
Then, she heard it.
She swore she heard it.
What the fuck was that?
* * * *
He could smell her all the way across the parking lot. Pepper and smoke. He sneezed, covering his muzzle with his paw. He eyed her narrowly, trying to minimize his inhalations so as not to sneeze more. He had seen the way her head had shot up at that.
Well, she didn’t have to worry. He wasn’t going to do anything to her tonight. Not right now. Not yet. No, that would be stupid, and he was not stupid, no matter what his mother said.
Tonight was just about looking, seeing and smelling the enemy. That’s all. It hadn’t been hard to find the FBI agent. There were only two open motels in Elkville this time of year, and there was no way Ian McDade would have let her stay in Blue Moon.
He slunk on the snow with silent paws, around the cars, edging closer to the open area of the parking lot. He was careful to stay in the shadows. With his preternatural eyesight, it was easy to study her.
She didn’t look like much. Average with a sourpuss face and all that nasty red hair. Oh, and what was that…what exactly was that under her sweatshirt?
A gun?
She thought a gun would protect her? If he wanted her dead, she’d never see him coming. This would be the one time he would kill in his wolf form. It would be safest and quickest. He would just have to resist the urge to snap his jaws into her soft, succulent…
The blunt side force knocked a grunting growl out of him, but it was rage that got the wet, loud, snarling snap from his throat.
He started at the other wolf in the shadows. One breath was all it took for him to recognize the scent. Ger McDade. He thought faster than he ever had in his life.
He lay down and exposed his belly to Ger, stretching out his neck to signal submission. He’d have to find Ger tomorrow and make something up. Oh yes. The idea came as if someone had switched on a light at one end of a gallery and all the lights had gone on, with all the complexities and needs of his lie laid out for him to see.
Ger moved over and snuffled him, making a low, almost inaudible rumbling sound in his throat.
He jumped up and bowed his head, making sure to tuck his tail between his legs. Then aft
er a dismissive huff of breath from Ger, he scampered off into the dark.
With lots of food for thought.
Chapter 5
Trisha had only ever drawn her gun with the intent to shoot three times during her entire career.
This was time number four and the first time she actually thought she would have to shoot. Whatever it was growling out there in the dark had the capability to attack her, and from the sound of it, the intent to attack her as well.
She threw down her cigarette, heart pounding as she drew her gun. She squinted into the darkness, trying to pick out shapes…shapes lower to the ground, shapes capable of growling like that.
Her mind raced. She was almost certain she heard more than one animal growling out there. Those growls sounded like a big dog, or more likely a wolf. She didn’t buy McDade’s big dog theory, and she was damn sure that McDade himself didn’t buy it either. Why was he trying to bullshit her about that? At least the animal out there wasn’t a serial killer hiding in the dark waiting to grab her and drag her off to the woods. Animals presented their own problems, though. They were harder to shoot at because they moved faster than humans, and coupled with the fact that she couldn’t see what direction the wolf would be coming from…
“Blacke!”
Trisha’s heart jumped into her throat, and she nearly bit her tongue off as Ian McDade ran out of the darkness and into the harsh fluorescent light of the parking lot.
“Jesus Christ, McDade!” she shrieked. “Watch out! There’s a wolf or something out there.”
He ran to her side, and she snarled inwardly at the sense of safety and reassurance that spread through her as he wrapped his arm around her shoulder.
“Stray dogs, Blacke,” he murmured into her hair. “They won’t hurt you. We have a problem with them around here.”
“Bullshit!” she spat, jerking out of his grasp, keeping her eyes on the parking lot. “I grew up in Montana. I know a fucking wolf when I hear one.”
She got a grim satisfaction from feeling McDade stiffen by her side. A movement in the parking lot, the sound of something scraping against snow, had her raising her gun and pointing in the direction of the sound.
“Wait, Trisha!” Ger called out, stepping into the light. “Don’t shoot. It’s just me.”
She stared, wide-eyed at the fact that the man was barefoot and wearing just jeans and a T-shirt. Crazy-ass Mainers. With big, strong shoulders, narrow waists, and eyes to die for.
Cautiously, she lowered her gun as Ger came over to her.
“What are you doing out here?” she asked him, her voice softer than she meant it to be. “You must be freezing.”
“I’m checking on you,” Ger replied. “Just like Ian is.”
She turned back to Ian, who stood behind her…much too close behind her for comfort. In fact, she just noticed that he had put his hands on her shoulders and was warming her with his body from behind. Facing front, she found Ger had stepped in to close the distance between them as well, his hands slipping to her waist.
Dazedly, she flipped the safety on her gun and fumbled it back into her holster. The warmth of the two men’s bodies surrounded her, and the lack of heavy coats and layers allowed her to feel far too much of their hands on her body.
“I was worried about you,” Ger whispered, pulling her body to his, teasing open her sweatshirt so that the only thing that was between them was her tank top.
He was all heat and hardness. His hands felt enormous on her waist, giving her the oddest sensation of being small and feminine. She felt his cock and the ridge of his zipper press against her pussy folds, rolling and tickling her clit. Drops of lead-heavy lust fell to the pit of her stomach as he slowly ran his big hands up her chest and over her breasts, his work-roughened hands catching on the fabric of her tank top. His hands came to cup her face, and he leaned in without hesitation, pulling her lips to his and then engulfing her in a hot, demanding kiss.
Trisha was quickly melting into a frighteningly unorganized puddle of thoughtless lust when she realized that Ian was moving in on her as well. Her pussy clenched and released as she reacted to the sensation of Ian’s rock hard cock pressed between her ass cheeks. Gasping from shock and pleasure, she realized that the feeling of two cocks rolling and pushing against her front and back filled her with a blisteringly white-hot desire she had never in her life experienced. Every nerve in her body was shivering and shimmering, and her pussy and ass felt achingly empty.
Ian molded himself to her back, wrapping his arm around her waist and teasing her by letting his fingertips dip just inside the waistband of her pajamas. Slowly, he began to grind his cock against her ass, and the movement forced her to grind her pussy against Ger’s cock.
“Ungh!” It took Trisha a moment to realize the desire-drenched sound had come from her, and the only reason she could make the sound was that Ger had relinquished her mouth for her neck.
“So beautiful,” Ger murmured, deliberately nipping and licking his way down from behind her ear to her collarbone. “So damn beautiful.”
“God yes!” Ian’s voice rumbled in her ear even as she felt the vibration of his speech against her back.
Trisha couldn’t say anything because thought was impossible and speech would only end in verbal goo. She was uncaring, mindlessly hungry for this wild new pleasure she instinctively sensed was just over the edge of…of something. Something big. Something amazing. Something…
“Ohhh!” Her voice sounded a million miles away among the stars. Having two men touch her, their hands everywhere, was the most carnally indulgent assault she could imagine.
She felt Ger’s hands slip away from her neck, brush her breasts, and come to settle on her hips, the fabric of her waistband clenched in his fingers. Ian had slid his hands up to her breasts and was cupping them and holding them up as if to present them. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she realized she wasn’t wearing a bra but couldn’t find a good reason to care.
“She’s perfect,” Ger breathed before he traced his tongue over the swells of her breasts. He grabbed the neck of her tank and pulled it down over one breast, sucking her nipple into his mouth.
“Oh Gah!” Articulation was impossible for her as Ger rolled her nipple on the edges of his teeth, his tongue digging into the supersensitive tip. She felt her legs go to jelly as Ian’s fingers began to pinch and roll her other nipple.
“Beautiful, baby,” Ian hummed, his baritone filling her mind as he licked the shell of her ear and gently teethed and teased her lobe. “Goddamn beautiful.”
She whimpered and squirmed and launched herself into a bowed arch as Ger firmly thrust his hand down her pants and into her panties, his fingers easily finding her clit and pussy. He slowly stroked her clit with his thumb while he slipped first one, then two, and finally three fingers into her. With his hand, he pumped and rocked her, forcing her back even harder against Ian’s cock at her ass.
“This is so right, love,” Ger gasped, the strain of his own withheld desire showing plainly on his face. “You were meant for us, and we were meant for you.”
Ger’s words rattled oddly around her head, desire keeping her from being able to process their meaning fully. Ian said nothing but continued to worry one breast. He then slipped his hand down the backside of her pants, squeezing her ass cheek and dipping his own fingers into her moisture.
The feelings were too much. Too many hands, tongues, fingers, cocks. She couldn’t think. She couldn’t breathe. She was pressing herself into the knife’s edge of pleasure, waiting for the cut that would let all the joy and flow of her climax through.
She felt Ian’s finger at her asshole and tried to stiffen, but she couldn’t. She wanted to be filled there. It wasn’t a decision. It wasn’t a concern. It was a simple, primal need.
Ian’s finger was large but slick going in, burning and stretching her in ways that taunted her with dark, unspoken desires.
“Please, oh God!” she slurred out, now trying to buck wildly betwe
en the fingers in her pussy and the fingers in her ass. Lips on her nipples, fingers on her nipples, lips on her neck, fingers on her hips, cocks and fingers and tongues and…ohhhhh!
Her pleasure contracted, coiling the spring tight before launching her into a bliss she felt like she would die from. The experience was pure, so brutally intense, so amazing. It was almost like a religious experience.
She couldn’t open her eyes or move. She didn’t even want to, didn’t care where she was or who it was that scooped her up in his arms. Somebody fumbled in her pocket, and she heard a man’s voice murmur, “We had better get her inside, it’s freezing out here.”
Suddenly, there was light on her eyelids, and the air was warm. Music was playing in the background. Jazz. Vocals. A woman’s throbbing, crooning voice with puzzling lyrics that pieced into poetry.
The man still held her, showing no signs of fatigue.
There was a long silence that finally puzzled her enough to make her open her eyes.
Trisha looked up at Ian McDade’s handsome, serious face. She watched his jaw tighten and a slight muscle work in the corner. She looked over at Ger, who stood at the foot of her bed, frowning down at it.
Then, she looked down at her bed, at the scattered autopsy photos, crime scene photos, lab reports, and forensic results.
And everything slammed home.
What the fuck had she just done? Outside? With two men? Outside? In plain view of whoever was watching? Outside? With two men? Hell! Fuck! Shit!
“Put me down, McDade,” she snapped, acute shame coursing through her body.
Ian obliged wordlessly and set her on her feet, but he kept a protective, steadying arm around her waist.
“What the hell was that?” Trisha snapped, glaring at Ger.
“It was…” Ger’s voice trailed off as his expression grew troubled.
“Inappropriate,” she finished for him, huffing and running her fingers through her hair, stopping to gather fistfuls in bemused anger. “What the hell, guys? That was…that wasn’t right. I didn’t, um, ask you for it.”
Blacke and Blue Page 4