by Dizzy Hooper
Swallowing hard, I nod to myself. I place my hand in his.
At once, electricity zips up my arm. It crackles along my spine, sending heat in its wake. The empty, needy places inside me pulse, aching for relief, but I keep my feet.
"Welcome," the male says. He smiles, and it shows his gleaming, pointed teeth.
He pulls me inside. The younger one, Landen is at my back, taking my bag from me. Instead of the flurry of having my clothes torn away, he gently helps me remove my coat. His fingers brush the back of my neck, my collarbones, my wrists, and every point of contact sends another wave of arousal flowing through me. That the other male is still standing so close only heightens the ache.
But other than these glancing touches, they leave a respectful distance. Landen hands my bag to the other man, then goes to hang my coat.
"Come," the man says. "I'll show you to your room."
"My…room?"
"You can't go back out in that storm. You'll stay here, with us."
Oh. Oh, God. "I can't possibly."
Command enters his tone, but there's no attempt to dominate or force. "You can. And you will." Something in his expression softens. He reaches out and brushes a lock of my hair back from my face. It's another grazing touch that sends shimmers of warmth flowing in its wake. "You look exhausted. Come. Rest."
The moment he says it, the reality of his pronouncement hits me. I'm suddenly tired to my bones. The weight of the day crashes over me. Hours of travel, followed by my father's betrayal and the scorn of his new mate. Abandonment, exile. The crushing loss of my pack is a different kind of burning, searing my heart and leaving a hole where home pack family used to live. All the miles I put between my former family's grounds and myself haven't helped at all, and my shoulders shake with the fatigue of white-knuckled driving, of keeping going because there was nothing else to do.
And then there's the pain of my looming season. Low muscle aches and cramps as my body prepares itself to be bred. The heaviness of my breasts and the tension of not throwing myself at the feet of any willing member of my species with a cock that could fill my empty places.
"Come," the man repeats again.
My tired eyes refocus to find him standing a foot away, ready to lead the way.
I pause only long enough to ask, "What's your name?"
"Colt. Yours?"
"Jessica."
"Jessica." My name sounds positively sinful on his tongue. "Welcome. Now…"
I put my hand in Colt's and he shores me up. He and Landen lead me up the stairs and down a hallway lined with wood panelling and the most beautiful paintings of animals and forests, lakes and mountains and skies.
A door opens, revealing a simply appointed guest room. They lead me to a queen sized bed and urge me to sit. As Colt pulls down the covers, Landen kneels at my feet. His gaze is full of heat as he stares up at me. His warm hands slide over my calves to my boots. He undoes the zipper on the side of each, then peels them down. Even through my socks, his touch leaves my body singing. He sets the boots aside and places his palms on my knees. My legs spread of their own, and he sways forward, and I want him to. God, I want those sinful lips on my most private, unseen parts. I want his tongue on me and Colt in me—I want it now.
Colt puts his hand on my shoulder, and climax almost takes me on the spot. His gaze says he wants what I want, wants to push me down onto this bed and drive inside.
But all he does is caress the side of my face. He signals to Landen, who stands, and the ache inside me flares, my disappointment crushing.
Then, together, they lay me down. My head hits the pillow, and the exhaustion of the day hits me all over again. My eyes are suddenly too heavy to blink.
Warm covers fall over me, cocooning me. The mattress beneath me is soft and welcoming. Two hands take their turns stroking my cheek.
A soft, gravelly voice whispers, "Sleep."
And I do.
Chapter 4
In my dream, I'm not alone.
The bed dips beneath me as a pair of strong thighs come to straddle my chest. I'm miraculously naked, and so is the male on top of me. I've never seen a cock up close and personal before, but this one is beautiful, large and hard, deep veins running up the side. Fluid bubbles at the tip, and the sign of arousal makes my own flare hot.
But then it's quenched. I arch as another body pins my legs, spreading them to settle in between. Fingers spread my lower lips apart even as the man astride my chest rubs his cock over my face.
"Open," he urges, a hand at my jaw.
He feeds me his length. The taste of him coats my throat, and I moan as hot breath washes over my pussy. I lick and am rewarded with a tongue. Fingers press inside, and I suck the tip of the thickness pressing in.
One man fucks my mouth, slow and gentle, while the other fucks my cunt with his fingers, and I'm in ecstasy, writhing and panting. I look up into glowing blue eyes, and it's perfect, just right.
Except it's not. Something's missing.
I realize what it is a moment later as a growl splits the air. I'm tossed onto all fours, and this is every shifter female's dream. I present my pussy to be used, my body for breeding. Hot hands take hold of my thighs, and then even hotter flesh presses up against my opening.
New scents cloud my senses, and yes, yes—I throw my head back as that cock searches within my folds, and then it's there. I'm breached, impaled, as this perfect lover drives in deep. Mated, something clicks into place inside me.
But then my other lovers return. My hair is yanked back. A thumb at my jaw urges my lips to part, and there's that beautiful cock again. It slides into my throat, while a mouth attaches to my clit. The man behind me fucks in hard, filling me completely, while the cock between my lips slides deeper, and I'm claimed, taken. The lips on my clit part, a clever tongue working just precisely where it needs to be, and it's perfect, perfect. I shove back into it, chasing an impossible release, only it isn't there.
I'm empty.
I howl, thrashing.
And then I'm awake. Alone.
My clothes are still in place, but they've all but been soaked through. I'm wet and aching, desperate. I roll over in the bed and fit my hand between my legs. Through the denim of my jeans, it's not enough, but I'm so close. I rub and rub, chasing the feeling, but I need more.
I need a hard cock in my cunt, hot skin on mine, I need a bite. I want wet come dripping from me as I'm taken again and again by every man in this pack until I'm swollen with it. Until I quicken, the seed taken root in my womb, and I imagine it.
Sitting on a thick cock until it pumps me full.
I rub harder and harder, and in the distance, there's another howling cry. Waves of scent invade my nose, golden notes seeping into my lungs, making me feel safe and wanted.
My orgasm takes me by surprise. The release rolls through me, but with only a fraction of the usual relief. I whimper as I still my hand, clenching down on nothing. The steady pressure pulls me through the aftershocks, but the emptiness inside me still cries out.
I collapse back into the bed and imagine I hear footsteps outside the door. If they were ever there in the first place, they recede quickly, along with the scent that drove me over the edge.
Climax, as unsatisfying as it was, calms my blood. Exhaustion is a thick blanket lying over me, pinning me down.
Restless, I close my eyes, until a fitful sleep claims me again.
Chapter 5
When I wake again, there's no confusion. The rest of my sleep was dreamless, and I open my eyes to the bedroom I was deposited in last night with a clear sense of where I am and who I'm with—as well as who I'm not with.
The scents of the house and of the males who took me in last night are a texture on the air, but they're not overwhelming. My season is even closer, but I feel in control of it. Maybe it was the furtive late night orgasm. Maybe it's the feeling of safety I have here in this room, or the rest my body and mind so clearly needed, but I'm calm. Aroused and wanting, but calm.
I stretch and push the covers back. Pale light seeps into the room from the edges of the thick, red curtains. I rise and peek behind them at a world gone white. At least three feet of snow blanket the world. My stomach dips. The owners of this house insisted I stay with them last night, but it's going to be another day or two before I have any chance of getting my car dug out and towed to civilization. The thought should strike panic into my heart, but it washes over me. All the scents around me speak of protection. I will not be violated here.
As for what might happen with my consent, though…
A shiver travels up my spine, spreading the delicious heat of anticipation through my frame. Images from my dirty dreams last night flash before my eyes, and a part of me is ready to strip off my clothes and wander downstairs to make them a reality. Would Colt and Landen truly take me, like that? One in my mouth while another eats my hungry pussy out?
Would the mysterious third alpha truly appear to claim me? I can't get pregnant right now, but my womb still throbs with the thought of his seed, his pups. His mark.
Shifters are free to mate with anyone they please. A wolf can take a variety of partners, right up until the moment she finds the one—or in some, rare cases the more-than-one. Poly bonds are unusual, but they happen.
All it takes is a compatible male or males and a good, long fucking during the female's season, and then the claiming bite. I touch my neck and close my eyes. Phantom jaws close around that tender skin. Teeth pierce flesh, drawing blood, only to be licked away, and my own mouth floods with wetness, ready to return the mark.
I force my eyes open and take a step back from the window. The curtain falls closed, plunging the room into dimness once more. My fantasies go dark as well.
A claiming bite is no joke. It's nothing to be messed with. It's forever—for as long as the members of the bond survive. The loss of one can devastate the other. Many who lose their mate follow soon after.
Or, like my father, in the wake of my mother's passing, they wither into shriveled versions of themselves. They become easy prey for those who would use or manipulate them.
Or turn them against their daughters.
For a moment, physical pain crushes my ribs. Can it really only have been yesterday that I was cast out? The betrayal sears me, and the loss remains a hole in my chest, but it feels distant.
I thought my father turning me away was the worst thing that could happen, but it led me here. So maybe it will be okay.
Clarity of purpose settles over me. I cross the room and grab my bag from where one of the men deposited it for me last night. I open the door and sniff, then peek my head out. The hall is as empty as my nose led me to believe. I wander out and try a couple of doors. The first few are either locked or lead to other, unoccupied bedrooms, but the last one I turn leads to a spacious bathroom.
I close myself in and regard myself in the mirror. My long, dark hair is a fright, and impressions of my pillow stand out against the paleness of my cheek. I turn away and start up the shower.
I strip slowly, allowing myself to enjoy the way my body is primed for once. I peel off my sweater and my top, still damp with the sweat of last night's dream. As my bra falls to the floor, I take a moment to run my hands over my breasts. They're full and warm, heavier than usual with the ripeness of my season. When I pinch my nipples between my index finger and thumb, pleasure radiates out, and warmth flows to the place between my legs. I shimmy out of my jeans and socks and the soaked, sticky fabric of my panties. The scent of my sex takes over the room, and I suck in a breath. If my own arousal is this clear to me, it must be a wall of desire to the men carrying on their lives in this house.
I slip my fingers through the slickness of my lower lips, pressing just inside. The zing of heat takes my breath away, and when I circle my clit, my knees threaten to go out beneath me. I could come so easily, but I pull my hands away.
I haven't decided what I'm going to do. The clear light of day will help to show me the way—I hope. There's still the option to shift and flee into the snow. To turn my back on this place that has welcomed me in and brought my season to its peak, ignore the intoxicating scents of strong, ready males.
Or I can invite them in. Bend over and show them my wet, dripping cunt and tell them to take me how they will.
First, though, a shower.
I step under the spray and let the water dance across my curves. The heat is delicious on my sore muscles and hypersensitive skin. I take the time to touch my breasts and pussy some more, coaxing myself to a higher state of pleasure, but I don't allow it to spill over. Instead, I wash myself. Scrub my hair and my face.
When I'm done, I step out into a room full of steam. I dry myself off with one of the towels that have been left out. Every brush of the soft fabric over my skin sends more tickles of arousal flickering through my womb.
It's even worse when I fish the spare set of clothing from my bag. I brought only comfortable clothes, leggings and a long shirt. Everything is soft. The lacy, skimpy panties I drag up my legs hug my hips, and I'm not entirely sure why I bothered with them. They're instantly drenched with my juices. My bra barely contains my needy breasts. Covering my skin is torture, but I endure it.
A quick brush through of my hair and a bit of lip gloss and I'm ready to go.
Three virile males—and one huge decision—await me.
Chapter 6
It's not difficult to follow the trail of scents in the house to its heart. I travel down the stairs and around a corner. My blurred impressions of the space from last night are born out. It's immaculately clean and shows wealth without being tacky. A distinctly masculine aura fills the place, but there's room for feminine touches—or there would be, if a female decided to take up residence here.
I stop before I can get too far ahead of myself.
The smell of bacon frying and fresh coffee and sizzling butter draw me on. I push open a swinging door to find myself in a roomy, airy kitchen filled with modern appliances. Dark wood cabinets line the place, with slate floors and granite countertops.
But that's all just window dressing. The real attractions are the two men at work.
I stop. Their scents are stronger here, and while I'm still fairly self-possessed, being in the same room with them drives my awareness to the sultry space between my thighs and the fullness of my breasts.
They turn as one at my entrance. Twin pairs of eyes take me in, and nostrils flare. My own scent has surely doubled overnight. My ripeness is close, now.
But they remain where they are. Landen's golden hair is damp from a shower as he stands at the stove, pouring out batter for pancakes, while Colt squeezes oranges near the sink. They're both dressed casually in work worn jeans. Landen's T-shirt shows off his lean build, while Colt's thermal henley clings to his bulk, the ropy muscles of his broad shoulders on full display. They're unfairly sexy and handsome, and my mind spins into dizzy indecision.
I want to turn and run.
I want to rip off my clothes and throw myself over the counter, let them take their turns fucking me hard and deep from behind until I'm filled up with their come.
I want to finally, finally meet their missing alpha and ask him for his claim.
For a minute, we all stand there in silence, staring each other down. Anticipation dances in their eyes, like they can see my conflict and they're ready to jump into action for any of the possible outcomes.
Would they hunt me down if I ran? Pin me in place and take what I was too afraid to give?
The thought excites me, but I immediately dismiss it. I don't know these men at all, but no. They would never.
Not unless I asked them to…
I blink away the images that idea conjures up. The moment stretches, taffy thick and slow. Its weight is almost crushing.
Finally, I clear my throat. "Thank you," I stammer out. "For the hospitality last night."
Colt sets down what's left of an orange half and turns to me. "Of course." His gaze travels m
y body, his eyes dark. "I hope you were…comfortable?"
That's hardly how I would describe a night of filthy dreams, but I nod. "Very."
"You look"—Landen's throat bobs—"well rested."
Desire drips from his tone, and he doesn't mean well rested at all, does he? Oh, God. They could probably hear me coming with my own hand between my legs. They could probably smell the heat of my climax for miles.
"I am. I—I feel much better. Thank you."
And I'm confident of my welcome. Last night, they insisted that I come in, that I stay with them and rest.
But the tiniest of niggling doubts pulls at my brain. I chew the inside of my lip. "I can try to get a tow truck today. I don't want to be in your way."
"Nonsense." Colt's nostrils flare.
"But—"
Smoothly, Landen explains, "It'll take days for them to get these back roads cleared. I'm afraid you're stuck with us. Not that we'd keep you here…"
The possessive way that Colt is eying me makes me wonder, but he nods tightly in agreement.
"If you want to go…" Colt offers. He gestures out at the swaths of snow that cover the landscape.
"No." My refusal is out of my mouth before I can think it through.
A week, huddled in my wolf form in the throws of sexual desperation, out in the cold alone? When I could be here?
When they're all but offering to see to my needs?
My clit twitches, a fresh wave of wetness soaking my panties anew.
"No, thank you," I clarify.
Landen smiles that boyish grin and returns to his work. With mesmerizing efficiency, he pours the rest of the batter, then flips the bacon and the pancakes that have been sitting on the griddle a little too long.
"Good." Colt nods, then similarly finishes what he was doing. He deals with the last of the oranges, then takes the pitcher of fresh-squeezed juice in hand. With his free arm, he gestures around the kitchen. "We weren't sure what you liked for breakfast."
"So we made a little bit of everything," Landen finishes.