by Celia Kyle
Jacob slid past a lithe body, long hair hiding pointed ears, with a sweet ethereal face. Fae, but not. The woodsy scent came from this man. Yum. He hadn’t been with a male in a while. Even a woman’s ass couldn’t compare to that of a male. The hard planes, muscles that were strong and hard, pushing and pulling. Yes, this man would do nicely.
He snuck in behind the dancing man, his groin pressed against the stranger’s ass. The closer he got to this man, the harder he became. His cock throbbed, making itself known in his jeans, pushing against the fabric.
He licked and nuzzled the man’s neck, teeth scraping the pale, almost glowing skin. “Hello, beautiful.” He nibbled the man’s earlobe, tongue tracing his ear.
The man’s hips stilled for a moment before they resumed their gyrating motion, ass pushing into his groin. Then he moaned. “Jacob.”
Oh, he’d know that voice anywhere. He remembered now. Sometimes it took a moaning, groaning voice and the sound of his name, but he always remembered his past lovers. He’d lost count, but at least he remembered their names.
“Avery.” Sweet, eager, lustful Avery. “Come with me, Avery.” Jacob wrapped his arm around Avery’s waist, his palm landing on the hardened cock hiding behind the man’s zipper. “You know you want to.”
The man spun in Jacob’s arms, a thigh insinuating itself between his legs. He played along, grabbing Avery’s ass, pulling him close, erections rubbing while they rode each other’s thighs.
Avery leaned forward, and Jacob leaned down for the shorter man. “Want, Jacob. It’s been too long.”
“Come on, baby.” Everyone was “baby.” Made sex easier. He didn’t have to remember their names while he came deep inside their mouths, pussies, asses.
He twined his fingers with Avery’s and led him toward the back of the club. Alleyways. They made for great sex. Gritty, dirty, hard and fast. All of Jacob’s favorites.
The back door, black to blend in with the walls, swung open easily on silent hinges. Not that anyone in the club paid them a bit of notice. Nor would they had the door been rusted shut and Jacob plowed into it as a bear. They were caught up in their own little worlds of sexual conquest.
“This way.” He drew Avery away from the back door, deeper into the shadows toward the end of the alleyway. Darkness enveloped him, hiding them from curious eyes. He pulled Avery forward and pushed the man against the brick wall. Before the smaller man had a chance to blink, Jacob was on him, tugging and pulling and stroking every inch of his body he could reach. Smooth, taut skin rippled and bunched beneath his hands.
He crushed their lips together in a fierce mockery of a kiss and took possession of Avery’s mouth. He licked and tasted every inch of the man’s mouth, savoring the woodland flavor, the fresh spring rain and new fallen snow. Tongues dueled and fought, discovering ... rediscovering.
Avery clawed at him, nails digging into the skin of his arms, shoulders, back, and Jacob reveled in the man’s need. His cock throbbed and ached and he rolled his hips against the smaller man’s, needing the extra pressure, the pleasure.
Avery tore his mouth away. “Want, Jacob. Need.”
Jacob’s bear agreed wholeheartedly. He wanted and needed just as much.
Jacob stepped back just enough to spin Avery around, pressing the man’s chest against the red, roughhewn brick. Oh, how he envied the scratching sting the brick was sure to give Avery.
The other man went along with Jacob’s rough treatment, shifting and moving exactly as he desired. Within moments Avery was posed exactly as Jacob desired, legs spread, ass out, chest forward and arms wide against the wall.
Jacob reached around his lover and unsnapped the man’s jeans, stroking the hard prick that nearly jumped into his hand. Long and thick, the tip was covered in pre-come, showing without words just how close and ready Avery truly was. “Ready, baby?” Avery whimpered. Ah, now he remembered. Sweet little Fae didn’t say much when they got close to kick-off.
Jacob pumped the dick in his hand from root to tip, the musk of sex and sweat filling his nose with each and every stroke. With one last squeeze, he abandoned that heavenly cock and popped the button on his own jeans and slipped the zipper down, anxious to free his own dick. His cock popped free, eager, hard and ready. The cool night air chilled the pre-come leaking from the head of his dick and he couldn’t wait to slip inside Avery’s warmth.
He dug in his pocket for a condom and the small packet of lube he pocketed before leaving the house. A quick tear and slip and he was sheathed in latex. “Baby, you ready for me or do you need some slick?” Because if he remembered correctly...
“Ready. Always ready.” Avery panted, pushing his ass back toward him.
Avery had to have been a Boy Scout in a past life. The man always came out with his asshole pre-lubricated. It was better than any condom Jacob could ever buy.
Before Jacob had a moment to say the words, those small hands yanked and pulled on Avery’s pants, baring that perfect ass for him. Avery tipped his hips, exposing the puckered hole and the glistening, clear substance surrounding his opening.
“Oh, baby.” Never had there been a more perfect sight. That smooth furrow, pink and winking at him with Avery’s every breath. Just gorgeous. He wished he hadn’t been so eager, wished he hadn’t been so hurried and ready to fuck this man. If he’d taken some time, he’d be able to bury his face between those ass cheeks and lick and nibble that hole for hours on end.
“Come on, Jacob.” Avery whined--so pretty. “Fuck me, already.” The smaller man turned his head to look him in the eyes. “Or I’ll find a bear who can.”
Oh, little pushy bottom. He’d have to make some time for Avery after tonight. The man was just cruising for a four-hour fuck session with Jacob. Crui-sing. He’d be happy to oblige. Later.
Jacob placed his hand in the center of Avery’s back, forcing the man’s cheek against the stone wall. With his other hand, he grasped the base of his cock and placed the tip of his dick at Avery’s hole. Avery’s heat kissed the head of his dick, winking and begging him to press hard and deep. Holding his breath, he pressed forward, gasping while the man beneath him moaned.
Halfway in he paused and eased back before pushing forward once more. In and out. Two inches forward, one inch back. Jacob was large by Were standards and was fucking huge when compared to men. He wanted Avery to ride the sting, not endure pain.
The slick heat enveloped his cock the deeper he went, the scorching temperature coaxing his pleasure higher with each thrust and retreat. Like a velvet glove, Avery wrapped around him, milking him and stroking him with his inner walls. The musky scent of their sex surrounded them, filling his nose and lungs with that deep earthy scent that clung to males.
In and out he plunged, riding the sweet bit of Fae ass that opened for him, pounding, balls slapping against Avery’s with each and every thrust. Forward and back and forward again, he sunk into Avery. The man moaned and groaned, panting light and breathing heavy, lost in the pleasure of their coupling.
When the Fae started rocking and thrusting back against him, Jacob let loose, burying himself to the hilt with every shift forward and nearly coming entirely out with each shift back. Each breath meant an increase in pace, in force. He rode Avery hard, pumping and fucking and just flying and feeling.
His orgasm built from his toes. Tiny muscles tightening and spasming. Getting ready to jump off the cliff of pleasure and stop just short of pain. Those electric shocks of ecstasy shimmied and slid along each of Jacob’s nerves, gliding up his body, along his spine, and then settled back around his groin.
His body tight, muscles bunched and working hard, Jacob reached around Avery’s waist and grabbed the pulsing prick. He pumped the man’s hard cock. “Give it to me, baby. Give it.”
“Oh ... oh!”
Warm spunk covered Jacob’s hand, and that tender ass clamped down around his cock. He continued his punishing pace, urging his orgasm closer and higher. He needed this, wanted it, had to have it.
&n
bsp; The pure unadulterated pleasure and ecstasy pulsed and bloomed, exploding from the head of his prick, filling the condom with his come. One, two, three more pumps and the pleasure he’d felt almost turned into pain. Almost...
Jacob rested on Avery’s back for a moment, breathing in their combined scents, savoring the closeness of another body.
“Uh, Jacob? Can you... ’Cause I’ve got a date inside and he could be, you know ... the one or something.”
Right. Right. He wasn’t that guy. “Yeah, baby.”
Jacob pulled free of Avery’s body with a soft pop. Probably with a lot less finesse than he should have, but that was the nature of his beast. Bears got growly when they were pissed whether it was rational or not. He rolled the condom off, tied the end and tossed it further down the alleyway. Not like there were a lot of trashcans in a mostly deserted alley anyway.
It didn’t matter that he shouldn’t be pissed. He’d gotten exactly what he craved: some no-strings sex. Jacob was the town’s “good-time” guy. He never wanted to be that other guy. Right?
Chapter Three
Meg stared at the empty soda can, tiny bubbles popping and snapping in the bottom as the minutes ticked by. She waited, wondering, planning and plotting. Tick-tock tick-tock. Seconds and minutes turned into half an hour and then a full hour passed.
Her ass grew numb, resting on the concrete curb of Sapodilla Avenue. Cars zoomed by, their tires coming perilously close to her toes, exhaust teasing and filling her nose. The lion inside hated this world of quick and fast machinery. Not a pride vehicle in sight, but that didn’t mean anything.
She’d wait a little longer.
The phone on her hip, the newest, pinkest phone in creation, buzzed, and she pulled it from the holster at her hip. The ringtone, The Cat Came Back, told her it was her favorite cousin Gigi. “Heya.”
Gigi popped her gum in Meg’s ear, and she could practically smell the watermelon Double Bubble bubble gum. “Heya. Q-tip heads are hunting for ya. Coming home soon?” Gigi hated the setup of the pride almost as much as she did.
Meg checked her watch, the dazzling diamonds and platinum mocked her. Because who would give a twenty-something a thirty thousand dollar watch and not care, right? Wrong.
One hour and fourteen minutes. Twenty minutes longer than her last after-mating excursion. The “Q-tip heads”, as Gigi often called them, were getting more and more lax with each passing absence. After a phone call, she usually had another hour before they’d physically come hunting for her. One Mercedes, a Lexus and a BMW, all in black, would come roaring down the two-lane road, their drivers hunting for little ole her. To the average onlooker, it’d appear that she’d won the hot guy lottery. Lincoln, Marcus and Nicholas were all tall, blond, built and good-looking. Not an ugly one in the bunch. At least, not on the outside.
It was time. Meg unfolded herself from the curb outside the drugstore and tossed the empty can into the nearby garbage.
“Meggie-may?”
Gigi, right. “Yeah, tell their highnesses I’ll be going for a run. Then I’ll be home.” That’d give her at least two hours before they came hunting.
Gigi gasped. “B-bu--”
“Jogging, Gigi, geez. Not that kind of run.” God, she loved her cousin, and out of everyone she’d miss Gigi the most. Tears stung Meg’s eyes, but at least this time they didn’t accompany lube and someone’s cock. “I’ll see ya in a bit.”
“But, Meg, you don’t...”
“I’ll be home for dinner. Let the Q-tip clan know, will ya?” Before Gigi could question her or say more, Meg flipped the phone closed and tossed it into the garbage can. She’d really liked the pink too. Lincoln had especially ordered it for her.
With a shake of her head to dispel that niggling hint of regret building in her chest, she walked into the drugstore and thanked her maker that she lived in a beachside tourist trap. T-shirts and shorts lined one of the walls, along with several different styles of sandals. She figured her pride tracking chip was in her shoes, but couldn’t ever be sure. All of her old clothes had to go.
Meg bought a dazzling new top in the latest and greatest neon pink with a pair of matching shorts. Okay, they weren’t great, but at least they were GPS locator free. She also snagged a bathing suit to act as temporary undergarments and a pair of sandals as well as a small chintzy purse to hold her ID and what little cash remained.
Across the street, dressed in her pink neon clothes, Margaret Montgomery, lioness of the Atlanta pride, waltzed into the First Southern Bank.
The building, backed up to the ocean, had deep cherry furnishings and floor to ceiling curtains. It lived and breathed old money. Old furniture, old tapestries and old everything else. Hell, half the staff was twice her age. But it was the type of place the pride liked to bank, and thus, that’s where Margaret ended up placing her funds.
Meg filled out a withdrawal slip for five thousand dollars, and the old bat didn’t bat an eye at the amount. With her arthritic crippled hands, she counted out Meg’s bills after double checking her ID and gaining a signature.
It was her other transaction that caused the teeniest little problem with the bank manager.
“Come again, ma’am?” The bank manager, a short, portly fellow with a bit of a sweating problem, gaped at her. He flipped her wire order over in his hands to the tempo of his breathing. Flip. Flop. Flip. Flop.
She didn’t think she’d stuttered. And he was staring at her, so she was pretty sure she wasn’t being ignored like the Q-tips tended to do to her. The poor guy seemed actually perplexed. Huh?
“I’d like the balance of the account transferred to this account in Switzerland.” She pushed the piece of paper toward him once again. Maybe he just hadn’t read the printout. It’d taken her two months to get the account opened and prepared to accept funds. Doing everything in secret by phone and mail had been difficult due to living with so many others. She didn’t understand what the difficulty was now.
“All--” He tugged on his tie, and she furrowed her brow. Sweat was pouring down his neck and seeping into his dress shirt. “All of it, ma’am?”
Oh, goodie, he wasn’t a slow human, just a nervous one. “Yes, all of it.” She nodded, a single jerk of her head, to ensure he got the message.
The millions she’d collected as an unsuccessful breeder for the Atlanta pride were now on their way across the ocean into a tiny bank account that no one knew about, or could touch, but her. She was two steps closer to full autonomy. She just had another thousand miles or so to go to be fully independent.
After leaving the bank, Meg waved down a passing cab, white, not yellow in her area, and hopped into the backseat. “International airport, please.”
“Any particular terminal, miss?”
“Not sure yet. Heading there with hopes that I can snag a quick flight.” She smiled into the rearview mirror, thankful that he was treating her like ... a human.
“Where you headed?” The cabbie navigated through the busy streets, giving a quick honk here and there to get other cars moving when the light turned green, but otherwise it was smooth sailing.
“North Carolina.”
The cabbie nodded but didn’t say another word, so Meg turned her attention back to the journey she’d just begun and the woman who was willing to give her a chance.
Jacinda Fergus.
Meg dug into her new purse and pulled out the tattered and worn letter she’d practically memorized by now.
Dearest Meg,
After careful review of your application, I would like to cordially invite you to become a resident of Strange Hollow. Our small town located at the base of Mount Mitchell is the perfect place for a lioness looking to roam and settle on her own. The men of Strange Hollow understand and respect women as well as their ability to make their own decisions.
The town has three rules that I enforce myself:
1. Murder is punishable by death.
2. Rape is punishable by death.
3. Outcasts are
welcome. Elitists will be eaten on sight. This is not considered murder, but natural selection.
I don’t tell you any of this to frighten you, but to make sure you understand that any behaviors or horrors you may have suffered in the past are just that ... the past. You are welcome here with open arms and open hearts. Come home.
Yours,
Jacinda Fergus
Home. A real home where she could do as she wished, be loved as she wished and live as she wished without having the wills of the leading lions weighing heavily on her.
The cab jerked to a stop. “This’ll be your stop, miss.”
Meg pulled a few bills from her purse, handed them to the cabbie and jumped from the car. “Thank you!”
She was going home.
* * * *
Or, maybe she wasn’t.
The flight had been easy enough to arrange. Everyone in the airport had been willing to accept cash as payment. The flight, her meals, items from the gift store, all of it had been purchased with cash.
The rental car was another story.
Meg took a deep, calming breath, ignoring the hideous stench of jet fuel and car exhaust that surrounded her. The rental car office was on the outskirts of the airport, but with all the car traffic it reeked of the office’s bread and butter. With every swish of the automatic doors, more of the smell seeped into the office. Mix in a bit of the jet fuel fumes from the airport, and her lioness was perilously close to jumping across the counter and gutting the attendant.
“Ma’am, please understand--”
Kill now? Her lioness could be a bloodthirsty bitch.
No, not yet. We’ll get through this.
“No. I don’t understand, sir.” She used the last word as a slur. The man, boy, behind the counter couldn’t be more than nineteen, and the snot-nosed little rodent was what stood between her and her home. She pushed up on her tiptoes, doing her best to intimidate the clerk with her size. The problem was that the counter was at least four and a half feet tall. Even on the tips of her toes she barely crested five feet. So, he just got to see more of her shoulders. But they were mean shoulders, darn it. “I was able to pay cash for my flight, my meals, everything, to get here and now you tell me that you can’t rent me a car without a credit card? That’s ludicrous.”