Masters of the Hunt: Fated and Forbidden

by Sarra Cannon

  Then she jerked against Dre, pressing down hard on him and pulling away. Too much, not enough, but he steadied her, holding her in place while he sucked and kissed and she rode out the spasms of her orgasm sealed to his mouth.

  — —

  Landry notched his cock against her swollen entrance, rubbing her cream around her opening as he eased in. She’d thought she was done, that this was their turn, but she’d been wrong. There was that zing of pleasure again, and then she was starting back up as his dick stretched the small space, and she gave around him as he pressed in deeper.

  “You okay?”

  “Oh yeah.” The words sighed out of her, and Landry chuckled. His face was tight, though, like he didn’t want to hang on anymore. Like he was more than ready to take her. That was good. She pushed down on him, and he slammed all the way inside her.

  “You waiting for an invitation?” Her own daring delighted her. She was teasing him like he’d teased her, and she couldn’t help savoring the small growl that escaped from him. He wouldn’t be holding back any longer.

  “Darlin’, you’re jus’ askin’ for trouble.”

  He pulled back, then pushed in deep again. Firm. Commanding. Not hurting her—no, her slick flesh parted greedily around the length of him—but letting her know who was taking whom now.

  He pounded into her, each firm thrust making her moan. And behind her, oh God, behind her Dre was moving too, now. He slid his cock through the cheeks of her ass, his big hands cupping and separating her to give him full access.

  The lemony scent of hotel lotion filled the air.

  His finger followed his cock, circling her rear opening with the lotion. Pressing in slowly. Landry’s steady thrusts pushed her back onto Dre’s finger, and he sank into her ass up to his knuckle. The burning pop of the muscles as she let him in had her gasping.

  “Mary Jane?” Dre growled his question against her ear as he drew back some. “You wan’ this, darlin’?”

  His finger pushed back in, stroking deeper and finding some dark, wicked spot. He was bigger than a finger, and he wanted inside. His hand smoothed her ass cheeks, the small stretch tugging erotically on her pussy. Oh, God. Landry moved faster, harder, and that was what she needed.

  She moaned Dre’s name and felt his smile against her back.

  “You got to give me the words. I’m not doin’ anythin’ until you tell me what you wan’.”

  A second finger joined the first. That wasn’t waiting. She knew she should say something, but the fullness was unbelievable, his second finger pushing steadily deeper into her rear channel. And, God, that warm burn was a painful pleasure, a delicious stretch that fired her senses.

  He pulled back, timing his thrusts to match Landry’s.

  “Fuck me,” she whispered. “Just a little.”

  Landry’s hands gripped her hips, steadying her as Dre moved behind her. He put his hot, lubed length against her ass. For a moment she panicked—he was too big, the sensation too much—and then there was more of that pleasurable burn as the tight ring of muscles gave beneath his sensual assault.

  “Relax, sha.” Landry reached for her. Cupping her jaw, he brought her face to his for a sweet, distracting kiss.

  But oh God, nothing could distract her from the burning fullness in her rear or the sensation of being doubly filled. Doubly penetrated. She clenched tentatively around Landry, and he groaned.

  “You’re killin’ me, sha.”

  “We’re goin’ to take care of you now.” Dre growled the promise against her ear.

  He pushed in, pulled back, as he slowly invaded her rear. In. Out. Deeper until he was seated all the way inside her.

  Landry stroked his hands over her. Caressing her throat, her breasts. Down her sides and over her belly to where they were intimately fused. All three of them moved together now in a sexy rhythm she set. Forward, onto Landry’s thick cock impaling her from the front. Push backward onto Dre.

  Pleasure speared through her, the sensations so intense they were almost painful.

  So good.

  “Yeah,” Landry groaned. “You take us, sha. Show us how you like it.”

  She did. She was holding them both deep inside, almost touching. She moved faster, and they followed.

  “You show me,” she demanded fiercely. “Show me what you like.”

  Dre pounded into her harder, faster, taking her ass. Pulling out and pushing in, each powerful thrust drove her down onto Landry’s cock. And Landry gave as good as his brother, slamming in and out of her pussy, the sensual impact driving her higher and higher.

  There.

  Sensation ripped through her. Pleasure. The burn. Wrapped up in two pairs of arms, she held tight as the sensual storm broke over them and she came apart, hollering their names.

  — —

  The motel queen wasn’t made for three, but Dre and Landry didn’t seem to mind. They sprawled over and around her, curled up like a pack of puppies. She was the one who was still awake.

  Landry had wrapped himself around her, his face buried in her throat. Dre’s arm tucked her against his side. Her body was a sensual blend of sore and relaxed. Her Breauxs had touched every part of her, inside and out. She carried their scent on her skin, inhaled it with every breath. Surrounded. Part of her wanted to take them both on again, to learn first one brother then the other like they’d learned her. Make Dre and Landry lose their iron control. Next time. Maybe there’d be a next time and she’d have her chance.

  Oh God. This had so not been a good idea.

  She inched out from beneath the tangle of arms and legs. Someone’s hand tightened on her waist, stroking. She held her breath, but then the fingers relaxed and let her go.

  They were fantastic lovers.

  Good men.

  And she was suffocating. She wanted out and away, because this kind of closeness was too much, too fast. Slinking out of their hotel room and doing the walk of shame back to the dock half-dressed, half-mussed, would be simpler than sticking around for morning-after chitchat.

  Even before things had gotten going last night, she’d known taking on the Breaux brothers was a mistake. No matter how pretty they were on the outside, they were big, dominant males. They’d taken charge in bed quick enough. Hell, she hadn’t known she could come like that. Too bad she still didn’t know what they really wanted. Her instincts were clamoring, though. That fight on the boat had been bad enough, but that wasn’t all. She knew it, the same way she knew the bayou and the tides and her boats. Change wasn’t done coming here.

  And that was the only reason she didn’t flip the lock on that door.

  She needed to understand this vamp business because she knew a threat when she saw one.

  A different kind of threat than the one sprawled in the bed. Those boys threatened her sensual equilibrium and they promised to deal a deathblow to her pride, but they’d never hurt her. Not physically. The question was, did they both want to keep on seeing her? Or was this a one-night stand? Maybe in the morning they’d all go their separate ways. She’d thought Landry had been interested in her, but he could have been preparing her for a twosome.

  She didn’t want to be one more notch on their collective bedpost.

  Too much thinking meant too much worrying, and no way would she climb back into that bed and lay there sleepless. Instead, she pulled on a T-shirt and panties, curling up in the chair by the front window. When she nudged the curtain aside, that strange, blue-moon light was long gone now, leaving the parking lot and dark hotel rooms, the bayou lapping two hundred yards away. The Bayou Sweetie was out there. She still had time to grab the rest of her clothes and hightail it. Be back out on the water and far, far away by the time Dre and Landry woke up.

  Maybe.

  And maybe she needed to admit the truth, if only to herself. She was scared, and the shit that had happened out on the bayou was only part of it. Right now, that violent hand-to-hand seemed like a bad dream, a memory partially washed down the drain with her shower ear
lier that night. No, Dre and Landry had given her plenty to think about.

  She liked the way they’d touched her. That was the plain truth of it. They’d taken care of her, first on the boat and then in bed. She’d spent years proving to herself that she could stand on her own two feet, and then in one day they’d sweet-talked their way onboard, and she’d caved.

  Landry shifted, the sheet pulling away from the hard, muscled chest she’d had her hands all over earlier. The light from the parking lot was more than enough to make out the scars wrapped around his rib cage. Those marks were pale silver lines now, but something had clawed him real good. The bayou was a harsh place to live, dealing out hurt like nobody’s business, but no one Mary Jane knew had scars like that. He’d been places, done things she couldn’t imagine.

  Like fighting vamps.

  Landry had killed on the bank. Without hesitating. At best, he was some kind of cold-blooded killer. Her own daddy dearest had hit without hesitating, and Landry hadn’t pulled his punches, either. That worried her. He hadn’t shown her anything but gentleness, true, but he had that other side.

  So did Dre.

  She hugged her knees to her chest, the cold from the ancient AC cranking away finally seeping in. Searching for her clothes was item number one on her to-do list, because sitting around without her panties smacked of vulnerability. Or sexy. Hell, she wanted pants. And a suit of armor. Because she had a feeling that when Dre and Landry woke up, things would heat up again and she’d be right back to moaning please and more.

  That would be fun, but it wasn’t a good idea.

  Or was it?

  What was she doing here? She eyed the door and then the bed. Hell. She should have been able to figure this out. Either she stuck around for the sex or she didn’t. She deserved a little adventure and she’d had it.

  Adventures ended, though, because otherwise you’d drop dead from the endless adrenaline rush. You had to come down from the high.

  “Mary Jane?” The low question came from the bed. Busted. Landry’s golden eyes glowed in the semidark as he watched her sit there and stew. “You need somethin’, sha?”

  Those eyes were a wake-up call. Her boys weren’t human. They were werewolves. They fought and they killed and, no matter how good the sex was, the three of them came from two different worlds.

  She needed to keep her distance.

  When she didn’t answer right away, Dre sat up in the bed. “She’s in a motel room with two werewolves,” he pointed out. “I’m guessin’ she’s gettin’ a head start on the morning-after regrets.”

  Funny how he read her so well. Before she could find the words she needed, Dre crossed the room swiftly, scooping her up and depositing her gently back in the bed.

  Landry pulled her into his arms, rubbing away the chill and erasing the distance she’d put between them. “You got to sleep now, honey. We’ll do all the talkin’ you wan’ in the morning.”

  Chapter 9

  As she picked through the breakfast buffet in Styrofoam that Landry had brought her, Mary Jane kept her mind firmly on the food. Eggs and coffee and toast. She wasn’t thinking about anything else, and she definitely wasn’t letting the memories back in. No, she picked at squares of cantaloupe while Dre and Landry worked their way though an impossible quantity of bacon and steak. Hell, those boys could eat. Going out to eat would have been easier, would have helped defuse the tension building between them, but she wasn’t turning down breakfast. Dine and dash, though? Yeah, that was in her plans.

  “We need to talk,” Landry said finally, closing the lid on the box he’d emptied, and she thought, Uh-oh. Here it comes. He’d trot out the canned speech about thanks for the good time and see you around.

  “No worries,” she said, cutting him off. This would be easier if she got the goodbyes going herself. “Last night was great, but I’m not expecting a repeat, okay? It’s probably best if you all don’t come back to the boat.”

  Of course, without the extra crew, filling her contract would be impossible. Even if the Breauxs had been ready to ship out, though, she didn’t think it was happening. She needed to check in with the parish sheriff. Even with Riley back, there would be follow-up steps to take. She was sure of it. Plus, her mechanic might not want to go back out into the bayou after her experience yesterday. Damn it, she needed to see the other woman, needed to see for herself that she was okay.

  “That’s not what I was goin’ to say.” Landry looked at his brother. “Dre and I, we’re not goin’ anywhere. We were hopin’ you’d come back with us to our camp.”

  She hadn’t seen that coming. “You want to play sleepover?”

  Landry shook his head. “We wan’ you to move in.”

  “With us,” Dre added, in case Landry’s invitation hadn’t been perfectly clear.

  She got it. “You invite all your lovers back to your camp?”

  Dre gave her what she was coming to think of as the look. “You’d be our first.”

  “Uh-huh.” She couldn’t keep the skepticism out of her voice as she shoved her plate back. She didn’t know where this inner bitch was coming from, but damned if the words weren’t piling out of her mouth now. “That’s awfully fast.”

  “Maybe,” Landry allowed. “But I’m sure. So’s Dre.”

  “Yeah.” Dre added his deep rumble to his brother’s invitation. “Come back with us. Please.”

  “We look at you,” Landry explained, “and we know, sha. You belong with us. You’re ours. We’re yours. It’s not complicated.”

  “Last night wasn’t some kind of game?” She wrapped her fingers around the paper cup of coffee, letting the warmth sink into her skin. She was out of her league. Again.

  Landry shook his head. “That’s not who we are, Mary Jane. We’re not just looking for a good time in bed. We want you.”

  “All of you,” Dre drawled.

  Theirs. Hers. She was no rocket scientist, but their voices broadcast possessiveness, and that meant trouble. She didn’t like confrontation, but that didn’t make her a doormat, either. Anything she did with the Breauxs, she’d do it standing on her own two feet.

  “Choose,” Landry said, giving her his small smile. He’d fixed her coffee the way she liked it, creamy and sweet. “Choose us both, okay?”

  “Maybe I already did.” She smiled. Things were looking up. They wanted more. She wanted more. All she needed now was to get on the bayou, and life would be back in order.

  “You all seen Riley this morning? Did she have to swing back by the sheriff’s first?” It wasn’t like her mechanic to be late to the party. “Is she freaked out about last night? Tell me where you left her, and we’ll stop by and pick her up.”

  Her own memories of last night were now more confused blur than crystal-clear eyewitness testimony, so she only hoped that Riley had been able to give the 4-1-1 to the parish sheriff. The fight and its aftermath felt more like a nightmare remembered after waking up. Most of it was fading, leaving a few sharp images her mind played on an endless loop. The gun coming up. Shells hitting the deck. Dre’s face as he rushed their attackers.

  “Before we get started today,” she continued, “we should probably check in with the sheriff ourselves and see if there’s anything else he needs from us.”

  If that kind of attack happened to other fishermen and she said nothing? Then that was her fault. She’d learned the hard way that speaking up was important. Sometimes it was all a person could do.

  Dre watched her carefully. “Can’t do that, sha.”

  “Excuse me?” Prickles of alarm ran up and down her spine. This wasn’t sounding good. “You went after Riley and that guy. The vamp. You said she was okay.”

  Landry cursed. “I did go after him.”

  “And?” Here came the kick in the teeth.

  “And he got away, okay.” His voice was tight.

  “You let her go?” She couldn’t keep the incredulity out of her voice, and Landry swore again. Holy crap, where was Riley? Landry had promised t
o go after her—and then he’d said she was fine. How could he not bring Riley back and keep that kind of information to himself? “Where is she?”

  “The vamps took her deep into the bayou.” He grabbed for her hands again as she bolted to her feet. “I got the Pack on this, Mary Jane. They’re going to find her. That’s a promise.”

  “Then we need to go to the sheriff now. Tell him what happened and get him to help. That’s what you do. The sheriff has an office right here.”

  What was she supposed to do now? She’d spent the night having hot sex while Riley was out there somewhere in the bayou, in trouble. How could she not know that her friend was hurting and needed her? How could she have failed her so?

  Dre didn’t budge. “We don’ go to the police.”

  “I do.” She moved double-time. She wasn't sure where she could go, but she definitely wasn’t going back to bed with either of the Breauxs, wasn’t making herself naked and needy all over again. That part of their relationship was over.

  “You don’t.” Dre paused and looked over at her. “Not happening.” There was no give at all in his voice. Last night’s playful lover was gone.

  “You can't stop me,” she pointed out, when he didn't volunteer any more words. He unzipped the duffel bag he’d hauled onboard yesterday—God, had all this happened since yesterday?—giving her an eyeful of an arsenal. The man didn’t pack boxers or T-shirts. No. He was carrying enough knives for ten men. Then again, the way he was loading up on weapons, Armageddon appeared to be waiting in the bayou. Maybe it was. What the hell did she really know about this world she'd landed in?

  He gave her a look that was all wanna bet? but kept right on strapping a blade to his forearm.