by Mia Thorne
She thought she couldn't blush any harder, but he was touching her like she was a work of art, as if the compliments weren't just an attempt to flatter her. He sounded like he believed every word.
"Where do you blush?" Mac whispered the words in her ear, low and hot, as he began to peel down the bodice of her gown, baring her breasts. "Everywhere?"
She wanted to turn her face to him, but she couldn't look away from Connor. His laid-back ease had vanished, and so had any impression of him as an eager puppy. Something about him was shifting, like the wolf was flowing into him, making him wilder. More dangerous.
As she watched, he lifted his hand and licked his thumb. Her breath caught, then escaped in a shocked moan when he rubbed a wet circle around her nipple. He did it again, his low voice curling around her. "I can't wait to find out."
Mac reached past her and clenched his fingers tight in Connor's hair. "You good?"
Connor answered with a smile, slow and lazy. "Oh, yeah."
Mac's growl rumbled against her back as he pushed Connor down—
To his knees.
Grace had always bristled when someone tried to do the same to her, but Connor seemed pleased. He even smiled up at her as he gathered the hem of her nightgown and rubbed it against her skin.
Awareness washed over her. In the back of her head, she'd been certain this would happen quickly. Mac could have taken her on the floor and she would have been relieved, any pain from her first time washed away in the satisfaction of finally, finally, having this aching need met.
But now Connor was on his knees, his face close to her pussy, and her heart was racing out of control. Because they weren't just going to fuck her.
They were going to make it good.
Mac took over, hauling the rumpled satin up over her head, stripping her bare. It slithered to the floor, forgotten, as he rubbed his chin over the spot where her neck met her shoulder. The rough scratch of stubble both distracted her from and heightened her anticipation, and Grace shivered.
"Look at his eyes," he commanded, tilting her head forward until her gaze locked with Connor's. "He's been dying to do this. He didn't hope—he didn't dare—but he wants this more than anything else in the whole fucking world."
Why? She started to form the word, but Connor's hands swept up her thighs, and her world narrowed to his thumbs as they moved higher and higher…
He stopped just shy of her pussy, and she whimpered. The ache was all-consuming now, intense enough to make her squirm in Mac's grasp as she tried to get closer. "Please—" Mac's arms tightened, and her arousal soared. "God, just do it."
"We've got you," Connor murmured, stroking her inner thigh. "Mac knows what your wolf needs. You trust him, don't you?"
It barely even sounded like a question. As if Connor trusted Mac, and so everyone else should, too. And Grace did, with the instincts that had brought her here to begin with. She nodded jerkily and turned blindly toward Mac, pressing her face to his.
He nuzzled her cheek as his hands settled on her hips. "It could be fast," he told her, "and it would still help. You wouldn't burn anymore. But this is better."
His voice soothed her. She relaxed against his chest, closed her eyes, and stopped struggling with herself.
"That's it." Connor was so close, she could feel his breath against her leg. His fingers brushed her knee and pushed gently. "Open for me."
She did, fighting back another wave of self-consciousness. There was naked, and then there was this—exposed, the extent of her arousal impossible to hide.
Connor pressed a kiss to her skin and groaned. "Fuck, Mac. She's so wet."
"Wet enough to fuck?" The words vibrated against Grace's lips—wicked, all for her, even though they were directed at the man kneeling at her feet.
Connor's fingers crept higher. His knuckles grazed her pussy, and Grace's toes curled. "Probably. But I can make her wetter."
"How does she taste?"
Grace opened her eyes in time to watch Connor drag his tongue slowly up the inside of her thigh. "Like she needs to come."
Oh God, she did—and she didn't know how. But as Connor's mouth slid higher, and his tongue touched her—stroking with taunting gentleness that made her knees buckle—she realized it didn't matter.
They knew what she needed.
"Say it." Mac coaxed her mouth open with his thumb on her lower lip. "Tell him how it feels."
There was nothing to cling to as she trembled, nothing but them. She clutched Mac's arm with one hand and sank the other into Connor's hair. He moaned, and she felt it, felt the vibrations as his tongue found her clit.
She choked on his name and pulled his hair, trying to haul him closer. He chuckled, low and hoarse, and retreated, licking back down and teasing her with light touches. It wasn't enough, so she tugged harder and found one word. Just one. "Please."
Connor moaned again. "She's yanking my hair harder than you do."
"Good." Mac kissed her ear, a glancing, almost chaste brush completely at odds with the low, honeyed tone of his voice. "Nothing to be scared of here, Gracie. Your body knows. So do you."
"Grace." Connor waited until her eyes met his to stroke his thumbs over her pussy. "I'm gonna start slow. When you want more, you pull my hair. Okay?"
"Okay—" she started, but her breath seized when he spread his thumbs, parting her outer lips. His breath whispered over her, and she was so flushed, so wet, that she shivered.
And then he licked her.
Her hips jerked, and her fingers tightened reflexively. She tried to pull back, but Mac was a solid wall behind her. There was nowhere to escape, just pleasure that deepened as Connor licked her again.
Mac held her still, held her up. "Say the word, Grace, and it can all stop. But I don't think that's what you want."
"No—" Her voice broke as Connor's tongue returned to her clit. Bright pleasure shot through her, so intense she twisted in helpless confusion. "It's just so much."
Connor's thumb replaced his lips, rubbing in slow, firm circles that had her shaking all over. "Look at me, Grace," he commanded, the words edged in a growl.
She did. Dark, serious eyes stared back, utterly focused on her. "You've never come before, have you?"
Shame gripped her, but lying was pointless. "No."
Satisfaction filled Connor's expression, a delight so possessive and all-consuming that her embarrassment vanished. "Good," he rasped, stroking faster. The shaky feeling expanded, until Mac's grip was the only thing keeping her upright.
"Your mouth, Con," he murmured, drawing out the words. "Now."
Connor pulled away. Grace cried out at the loss, teetering on the knife's edge between pleasure and frustration. But his lips returned in the next moment, not soft and teasing this time but open and hot.
When he sucked her clit between them, she cried out again, and all of the maddening heat beneath her skin exploded outward.
It was nothing like she'd imagined. Sweet and sharp at the same time, and the relief—like sitting down for the first time after an endless double shift, only multiplied by a thousand. A hundred thousand. Some part of her had been needing this since the first time she went into heat, a whole damn year of thwarted tension.
And it still wasn't enough. Because she was empty, her body squeezing tight around nothing, and even as Connor used his clever tongue to drag her toward a second peak, she knew she needed—
"More?" Mac's hand drifted down, over her belly, between her thighs, until his fingertips nudged Connor's tongue.
Connor licked him—licked them both—and eased back. As if Mac's fingers weren't dizzying enough, Connor's joined them, stroking down until the tip of one edged into her body.
She clenched, shuddering, and he hissed out a breath. "Fuck, she's tight."
"It's her first time." Mac licked her ear, lingering on the delicate shell until she shuddered again. "This will feel good, but only one thing will soothe the heat, Gracie. We'll make you ready, if you trust us."
&nb
sp; Yes. She turned her head, seeking his mouth. Her lips grazed his jaw instead, and she moaned against him as Connor eased his finger back and then pumped it deeper, twisting gently as her body stretched.
"Slow," Connor whispered against her hip. His free hand skated over her hip and down her leg. "That's what you deserve. To be held. Touched all over, until we know every spot that makes you melt."
"Plenty of time for that." Mac tipped her head back and fused his open mouth to hers.
Desire twisted. Desire, and something more—impatience, though she couldn't tell if that was her wolf, or just her. She dug her teeth into Mac's lower lip and growled.
"Don't want to wait?" His low chuckle was full of sheer masculine awareness. "What if I promise you'll love every minute of it?"
She panted, struggling to catch her breath—a nearly impossible challenge with Connor working a second finger into her. "Don't you want to fuck me?"
His laughter vanished. He moved lightning-fast, gripping her chin with fingers still slick from stroking her clit. Everything about him was hard, suddenly—not just his body against hers, but his voice, as well. "Look me in the eyes, Gracie, and ask me again."
She didn't have to. Hunger roughened his expression. His cock ground against her lower back, unyielding and so much bigger than the fingers already filling her to a point just shy of discomfort.
Trust wasn't just letting them touch her. It was letting them decide when and how and how much—because she was a woman and a wolf, and they would take care of her. All of her.
She wet her lips and relaxed in his grasp. "I'll wait."
"For what, sweetheart?" His words gentled. "To get fucked? You want more than that, don't you?"
She barely understood what she wanted. The world had ceased to exist outside of this room and this feeling, the certainty that after years of pain and hunger and fear, she'd stumbled into a place of safety. "I want the fever to stop."
His touch gentled too, until he was caressing her jaw, light and soothing. "We can do that. Con?"
Connor hummed, his mouth already on her again. Hot, hard licks, his tongue rasping over her sensitized clit as his fingers curved inside her. He brushed a spot that made her jerk in Mac's arms, and she choked on a cry when he touched it again.
"That's it," Connor growled, easing back. When he thrust his hand against her again, she felt a third finger pushing inside, and she no longer cared about the possibility of pain. She was so wet it barely hurt, and she was trembling, desperate as she stared up into Mac's eyes.
Connor was still talking, his lips caressing her as he grasped her hip. "You're so close to ready, sweet girl. If you could see her, Mac. Taking three fingers and squeezing them so hot."
"I can see it." He brushed the curve of her cheekbone and swept over her lashes to the corner of her eye. "Right here."
The pressure building inside her this time was big and dangerous, looming larger when Connor found that spot again. Her hand was still buried in his hair, and she was too desperate to be self-conscious. She tugged, pulling him closer.
He didn't resist. He closed his lips around her clit and sucked with a roughness that proved to be exactly what she needed. Fire flooded her veins, dragging pleasure with it. When her pussy clenched this time, Connor's fingers were there, pushing deep and heightening the sensation.
So good. So full. She came—moaning, shuddering—but she knew Mac was right. This would make her feel good, but it wouldn't help the fever.
Only one thing could.
Mac groaned and slid his arms around her, holding her so tightly against his body that it took her several fevered heartbeats to realize her knees had given way, and he was holding her up. Then Connor surged up and lifted her into his arms, like she was the princess in a fairy tale.
A dirty, dirty fairy tale—because he carried her to the bed.
The sheets were cool and soothing against her feverish skin. Still panting, she turned to one side and buried her cheek in a pillow that carried Mac's soothing, beautiful scent. Connor's scent lingered beneath it, fainter but unmistakable—and unsurprising. They were too practiced at this, too smooth. She wasn't the first woman they'd taken to bed together.
The realization stirred feral jealousy.
"Such a fierce look." Mac slid onto the bed and licked her nipple, one quick flash of renewed heat, before stretching out beside her, still clad in his jeans.
"She's tough." Connor stood next to the bed, his hands on his belt. She watched as he unbuckled the leather and popped open the button on his fly. "She's looking at me like she wants to pounce."
It was so playful. His smile, the teasing glint in his eyes. She'd never imagined fucking could be anything beyond bodies and base instinct, but if the darkness in her responded to Mac, something else responded to Connor. He made her want to play, too.
She didn't know how, any more than she knew how to fuck. But she had that quiet voice that had guided her all her life—the wolf. Her wolf.
And her wolf wanted.
She rocked to her knees, facing Connor. The cure to the fever's wild ache was trapped behind that straining denim, so she reached for his zipper. "I'm burning up."
Connor slipped his fingers through her hair and twisted them tight. "You're killing me, Grace. I wanted to go slow."
"Going slow is killing me." She dragged at his jeans, pausing to trace her fingers along the edge of his boxers. His cock stood out beneath the fabric, looking every bit as big as Mac's had felt grinding against her back. "Please, Connor. Please."
He bit out a curse and tugged her head up with the fist in her hair. "Mac—"
"You heard the lady." There was a stern command lurking beneath the words. His hands ran lazily over her body—her bare hip, her spine, the curve of her ass—and he held her still as he cupped her pussy and teased his thumb just inside her. "She's ready."
"Okay, sweetheart." Connor released her with a glancing kiss to her forehead and stepped back. In seconds he'd kicked free of his clothing, leaving him lean and naked and beautiful.
He came back to the bed and sprawled in front of her, one hand extended. "Come here."
Grace hesitated. She'd expected him to take Mac's place behind her, or maybe flip her onto her back and shove her legs wide. But he was the one on his back, his cock thrusting up, hard and intimidating, and she didn't know to take him.
Mac guided her, urging one leg over Connor's, moving her hips until she was pressed against his bare cock. The base ground against her clit with every movement, and she gasped and braced her hands on Connor's broad chest.
"Hey." He cupped her cheek and rubbed his thumb over her lower lip. "If you can't wait, this is the best way. You take as much of me as you can, as quick or as slow as you can. And Grace?"
Speaking parted her lips, brushing them against the pad of his thumb like a kiss. "Yes?"
He smiled and rolled his hips, driving a gasp from her. "Once I've got your pussy clenching around every damn inch of my cock, I'll fuck you as hard as you want."
"That's a promise, Gracie." Mac gathered her hair away from her neck and pressed a kiss to her shoulder. "Nothing you don't need. But if it's too much, if it scares you—"
Growling, she whipped her head around and silenced him with a fierce nip to his jaw. "I want this. Help me."
He gripped her hips, his fingers digging in to her ample curves. He lifted her slowly, and the hard length of Connor's cock slid against her, gliding, caressing. Finally, the blunt head slipped between her pussy lips to nestle at her entrance.
Mac held her there forever, so close to bliss that she whimpered and squirmed. It was Connor who finally moved, gripping the base of his shaft as he pushed up—and into her.
His cock was huge, so much bigger than his fingers. Grace panted and tried to relax, but he had already frozen with a groan. "Fuck, honey, if you squeeze me that tight I won't last until I'm all the way inside you."
She didn't want him to last. She didn't understand why, but she was cert
ain relief would come not with her release, but his. She dug her fingernails into Connor's chest and fought Mac's grip. "I can take you. Now."
"Then show him." Mac slowly relaxed his grip on her, leaving her to hold herself over Connor. "Don't tell him. Take it."
Mac hovered behind her, ready to guide her if she faltered. Connor lay beneath her, his muscles tense, his features twisted into agonized pleasure—but he remained still, as if he'd give her all damn night even if it killed him.
This moment was hers. So she took it.
Connor groaned as soon as she moved, and she joined him. Sliding down onto his cock was exquisite—the ache, the stretch, the friction, as if his hard flesh could touch a hundred places his fingers had yet to find. "Oh—"
"Yeah." Connor gripped her thigh with his free hand as his thumb swept over her skin in slow, soothing arcs. "This is what you wanted all along, isn't it, sweetheart?"
"Yes." She eased up a little, and shuddered as she rolled back down, taking him even deeper. The fever was riding her now, the urge to be full—to be mated—overriding everything else. Even the pain was inconsequential compared to the satisfaction of having him inside her.
And then the pain vanished entirely, driven away by the slow, slick pressure of Mac's fingertips on her clit.
Her body clenched. Connor bit off a curse and thrust up, driving all the way home. Pleasure and pain, rough and gentle—the dual sensations left her arching into Mac's arms as his touch sent bliss spinning through her.
"Beautiful." Mac folded his free hand around her shoulder and drew her to his chest. "You're fucking gorgeous, Gracie."
She'd never cared for the nickname, but every time Mac rumbled it, her heart jumped. It was intimate, possessive, just like his grip on her body and the commanding touch between her thighs.
She was beautiful. She felt it in her bones as she moved her hips to meet Connor's next thrust. "Oh God, oh God—"
"Do it," Connor growled, grinding up into her. "You came all over my tongue. Now come around my cock."
Mac's growl was lower, darker. "Watch yourself, Con."
Connor dug his head back into the pillows with a rough, desperate laugh. "You wouldn't be saying that if you were inside her. She's perfect, man. Fucking perfect."