Bounty [Dominant Wolves, Submissive Mates 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Natalie Acres

  She puckered those painted lips and ran her fingers around their shape. She reached for his cock and pumped him up and down, staring at him as if she had other ideas in mind and she expected him to know all about those.

  “Well? Ya gonna tell me or ya reckon I’m good for a guess?”

  Daisy took a deep breath. “Whores like it when a man pays for time and uses their togetherness occasions wisely. If we can enjoy ourselves, the men who pay us end up with a reputation of sorts.”

  Grant pushed his cock through her loose fist, loving the way she manipulated his arousal, toyed with him a bit. “Go on. I’m a-listen’. How’s a customer get a good reputation with whores? And why would he want one?”

  Daisy brushed her lips against his. “Well you see, Marshal. Whores are like men in one respect. After a day spent lying on our backs, we all get together to swap stories. That way we can figure out which customers do a bang-up job and which fellas beat the devil around the stump.” She looked down at his cock. “Sometimes literally.”

  “Are you a-tryin’ to insult me?”

  “No, Marshal. I wouldn’t dream of it.” She released his cock and turned to the desk. She pushed all the clutter out of her way and lifted her dress. A second later she leaned across the desktop and rose to her elbows. Peering over her shoulder, she fluttered her eyelashes and patted her hip. “I like telling good stories, Marshal.”

  He gulped. Eying the prettiest bottom he had ever seen, he wondered why a woman like Daisy hadn’t offered to strip as soon as they’d moved past introductions. If she’d told him she had all that sweet goodness underneath layers of material and better yet, hadn’t bothered to wear pantaloons, why, he would’ve already been driving Miss Daisy toward a yelp and a whimper.

  “What are you waiting for, Marshal?” She shook her behind at him. “It’s never too late to start impressing upon a gal.”

  “You are right indeed. By the time I’m through with ya, Miss Daisy, you’ll know you’ve been with a lover to the manner born.”

  “I have no doubts.” She released a moan as soon as he slipped inside her. “And if you do this right, I’ll make sure every woman from here to Tombstone knows you’re the kind of fella who gives a girl a rip-roarin’ good time.

  Chapter Three

  Grant had just taken his second balls-deep stroke when the door behind him slammed. “Shut your blasted eyes and wait a minute or two. I’ll have my fill soon.”

  “No problem, Marshal. Go ahead and enjoy that Calico Queen.”

  Daisy ducked her head. Her entire lower body went into a full rotation and she yelped like she was having a grand ole time.

  “Yep, Siree, Daisy. Squeeze, honey.” He grunted a time or two as he thrust his penis high inside her pussy. “Hmm yes, darlin’. I see what ya mean now. Ya sure do like having a man’s cock inside ya. That’s good, sugar. Real nice right there. Ain’t it?”

  He pushed against the back of her head, forcing her face down against the desk. He then came in from behind a little harder, rubbing the head of his cock against what must’ve been her sensitive spot. With each gentle stroke, she moaned something fierce. She bucked against him and just carried on like a wild woman in the middle of the prairie.

  The new angle sent prickling sensations through his shaft. He whimpered like a newborn calf. Her pussy sucked at his dick as if that part of her body was deliberately trying to draw out his release drip by drip.

  “Yep, sireee! After this, you’ll polish the pearl whenever you think of me.” He picked up speed and pounded inside her over and over again. “Hmm yeah. Here we go, honey. Hang on to the desk. An explosion is comin’!”

  His release shot through his slit. He thumped inside her with recklessness, hammering with firm, solid thrusts. His body trembled and his cock jerked as he emptied a year’s worth of stored reserves into her quivering pussy.

  Their ragged breaths found a matched tempo as beads of sweat dripped off his brow. Unable to help himself, Grant pushed one last time, hoping he could stay buried inside her until her pussy’s continual pulsing subsided.

  “Don’t mind us, Marshal,” a raspy—and familiar—voice said.

  “I ain’t minding ya a’tall, but if ya had any decency to ya, you’d turn tail and…” A recognizable woodsy scent filled the air. At the same time, he realized why the voice sounded so familiar. And that’s when another thought hit him, too. He only knew of one man who called prostitutes Calico Queens. “Jock Corrigan.”

  His body slumped against Daisy’s. He scanned the area in front of him, on a frantic search for the fellow behind the voice.

  “Hello, Grant.” A gun was cocked. “Frank Smith. Remember me?” Before Grant could reach for his weapon—not that he would’ve been able to secure a grip, since his hips were bare—a pistol’s muzzle mashed against his temple.

  The jangle of spurs matching the slow gait of one recognizable cowboy alerted Grant to Jock’s whereabouts. He approached from the left. “Do the lady a favor and let her go ahead and leave, Grant.”

  “We can’t do that, Jock,” Frank said. “We’ve got a few plans for this one. Remember?” A second later, he leaned close to Grant’s ear. “Pull on out, Grant. Keep the girl covered up so we don’t see anything we shouldn’t.”

  Grant scanned the jail again, hoping he might spot a gun nearby. Nothing caught his attention. He backed away from Daisy and yanked her skirts over her hips, trying to keep her somewhat respectable. He owed her that much, since she’d given him a good bit of pleasure.

  If it was a man’s time to pass in his chips, going out with a last fuck seemed right nice. At least he could go to the grave knowing he’d left a woman with a few lasting memories.

  Twitching violently, Daisy nervously ran her flattened hands across her stomach. “You’re gonna kill me, too?”

  “Lady, if I wanted you dead, there’d already be a couple of holes dug behind the jail.”

  “Holes? You mean graves?” Grant perked right up. Straightening his spine, he glared at Jock. “Suppose you came here to finish the job ya didn’t get done right the first time?”

  “Yep, siree,” Frank drawled, mimicking Grant. “We’ve already selected a tombstone and everything.”

  “I didn’t once ask ya a question, Frank. I was a-lookin’ at Jock.”

  “We share thoughts,” Frank said, taking a jab, since it was obvious Grant was still bitter over the joining of packs.

  Jock held his arm out to Daisy. “Follow me, ma’am. You don’t need to see this.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.” She crossed her arms over her bosom.

  “Hear that, Jock? The lady ain’t gonna leave.” Grant shimmied his shoulders. “I reckon I gave ya one of them there memorable experiences, huh, Daisy?” He sniffed as he buttoned his breeches. “I knew I had it in me. When my casket is open for a-viewin’ in the town’s center, ya tell all them whores about me. Will ya? Ya tell ’em, you hit pay dirt when ya spent a few hours with me.” He took a minute to decide between right and wrong. As much as he’d like for Daisy to stick around, he hated for the little thing to have to stand as a witness. It was hard to say how brutal his death might be, but knowing Frank Smith, it wouldn’t be a clean death. After some consideration, he added “Ya go on, woman. I don’t want these two bad men to splatter blood on your nice dress.”

  Frank and Jock snorted at his comment. Jock rolled his eyes.

  Daisy tilted her head and wagged her slender finger at Grant’s desk.

  Grant stood a little taller and forced his shoulders back. He might have been a marked man, but he wasn’t going to meet his maker with his head down. No, siree. He’d leave this earth with his head held high.

  Daisy’s lips twitched and her nostrils flared. She waved her hand at his desk once more.

  Grant took a deep breath. Bless poor Daisy’s heart. God love her soul. She’d obviously fallen just head over heels in love with him after he’d given her the whole kit and caboodle. “I know, doll. If I had another day to live,
tomorrow I’d come back here and ogle that desk with the fondest of memories, too.” He forced a feigned smile. “You are welcome to come back here and re-miss anytime you—”

  “Reminisce?” Jock asked, laughing.

  “Ya shut your trap, Jock Corrigan! We ain’t friends no more. Ya done lost your right to correct my way of talkin’.” Grant turned to Daisy and took her hand in his. He took a calming breath and placed Daisy’s palm on his chest. “I leave ya with the sweetest of memories.”

  “Oh for the love of God,” Daisy said, yanking her arm free and rolling her eyes. “Trust me, Marshal. That’s not what interests me about the desk.”

  “Well of course it is. Women have a particular fondness for out and outer experiences.”

  “Frank?” Daisy tapped her foot and tilted her head at the desk.

  “What?” Grant’s gaze hopped between Frank and Daisy. “The two of ya know each other?”

  Frank pressed the gun a little tighter against Grant’s head. Through gritted teeth, he said, “You picked the right whore at the wrong time. As for her hitting pay dirt, you are right on the money there, son.”

  “I…I don’t understand.”

  Frank tilted his head at Daisy. “Go on. Help yourself, Daisy. You deserve a premium wage after today.”

  Daisy gathered up her skirts and scooped the coins in the layered material. “You won’t ask me twice.”

  “Just ya wait there a minute ya chiselin’ whore! That’s every last cent I have to my name!”

  “That’s okay, sugar. Don’t you fret.” Daisy patted his arm in passing. “Where you’re going, you won’t need any money. Maybe you should take a better look at who’s holdin’ that gun to your head. He resembles the one who has a bounty on his, a bounty you placed there. I’m guessin’ he’s not too happy about that.”

  Chapter Four

  “For the better part of the last six months, I’ve tried to figure out what made you into such a bitter person. All I can figure is you had big ideas for Carla.”

  “Troubles between me and you run a little deeper than your woman’s pussy,” Grant said.

  Jock took a sudden leap. “Why you lowdown…”

  “Then what was the problem?” Frank asked, slinging his arm against Jock’s middle to ward off a fight.

  “One warning is all you get, Grant,” Jock said, the fury tightly strewn through every last word.

  “Have a seat there, Grant.” Frank pointed at the chair behind the desk and took a step backward, making sure he kept his gun trained on Grant’s chest.

  “Don’t mind if I do.” He claimed his spot.

  “Answer the question. Why were our personal affairs your business?”

  “You and Jock here pirootin’ around with the same woman. At the same time!”

  “And that concerned you…why?” Frank asked, frowning.

  “It ain’t right.”

  Jock snorted. “But consorting with whores is a different story?”

  “I didn’t consort with no whore!” Grant bellowed. “She’s a blasted thief!”

  “I didn’t see a thief here,” Jock said. “Did you, Frank?”

  “Nope. I did not. In fact, I even heard our friend here propose marriage.”

  Jock played along. “He did indeed.”

  “Marriage?” Grant gulped. “That damning word ain’t never fell from these lips. I’ll promise ya that.”

  “It just did,” Frank said, thumbing the air behind him and loving the opportunity unfolding before them. He’d relay silent messages to the pack and tell them to send Heck to Laramie. He had a task in mind for him. “Do me a favor, Jock. Fetch Daisy when she comes out of the bank across the street.”

  “How’d ya know she was—” Grant stopped blabbing. “Ya set this up.”

  “Listen there, why don’t cha? Not only is the good marshal charming, but he’s also intelligent.” Frank fluttered his eyelashes, mocking Grant. “Is the priest here yet?”

  “Not yet,” Jock said. He peered out the window. “Be right back.”

  A minute later, he returned with Daisy. Grant looked pale. Daisy wasn’t exactly in high spirits.

  “Did you fill her in?” Frank asked.

  “I’ll let you do the honors,” Jock said.

  Frank took a deep breath, tossed his pistol aside, and grabbed the arms of Grant’s chair. Leaning forward, Frank glowered at his enemy, the man who had put a high price on his head. “Listen to me, Grant, and you listen well. You’re going to marry Daisy. The two of you are going to take a minute and plan a wonderful life, a beautiful future, but before that happens, you’re going to do the right thing by her.”

  “I am.” It was a question, but Grant apparently couldn’t manage enough enthusiasm to pitch his voice another octave.

  “You are.”

  “Then what?” He shot Jock a sideways glance. “The two of ya expect me to just ride on out of here and go set down roots someplace else?”

  “No,” Frank said, reaching for his pistol again. “After you say your vows, profess your love for one another, and make believers out of the witnesses—me and Jock will be present of course— you’ll have a fatal accident.”

  “I will.”

  “You will.” He glanced at Jock. “I still haven’t decided exactly how we should do this.”

  “Remember he has nine lives.”

  Frank massaged his jaw. “That’s true. He may have a few more left, so we can’t leave his fate to the prairie’s dog soldiers.”

  “Ya think killing me will do away with that bounty?”

  “No, but with you out of the way, this weeping widow will be a believable witness. See, Grant, after you’re dead and buried, Daisy here is going to be your voice from the grave.”

  “She is.”

  “She most definitely is,” Frank said.

  “And what will her voice say, exactly?”

  Frank gave Grant’s jaw a good ’ole boy slap. “Why, she’s gonna stand before this town and tell them what she overheard.”

  “Which is?”

  “That you lied about me and Jock. That we were your friends and you never meant to cause us any harm. You told her you were just full as a tick the day you put a bounty on our heads and your last wish was for your grieving widow to make your sins right so you could enter the next life as a redeemed man.”

  * * * *

  Back in WolfDen, Heck sat on the banks of the Laramie River. He hated this part of spending time with Carla. Not only did he have to listen to her frolicking around in the river, but he also had to listen to the jabs from his pack members as they placed bets on his loyalty.

  A shifter’s curse was the ongoing ramble in his head. Not only was he privy to other pack members’ thoughts, but he also heard intimate exchanges between mates, too. Those conversations were what drove a fellow mad when he was inches away from a bathing beauty.

  Desperate to shut out the overflow of voices, he tried again to dismiss the jumbled mix of conversations, most of which revolved around one topic—what was Heck doing while his pack masters’ woman bathed. Was he looking the other way? Was he pretending not to notice her as she swam the river? Did she spread her legs and bathe the kitty right in front of him or did she swim near the trees in hopes of maintaining some modesty?

  He tried to think about food. If he thought about filling his belly, no one could tap into his head and figure out what he was thinking, let alone seeing.

  At the moment, Carla was putting on quite the show, floating around on her back with her fingers stuffed in her pussy. He didn’t know that because he was watching. He realized as much because he could hear her thoughts. He was one of the few in the pack who could play around in her head.

  Jock and Frank should’ve been the only two shifters with such a privilege. Pack masters were in tune with their mates and vice versa. Pack Alphas’ women couldn’t always sense the other members’ feelings or understand their thoughts, but Carla could read almost anyone’s mind. Jock had once explained it as
a gift. Carla often claimed it was a curse.

  Heck often wondered if the reason he was in tune with Carla was because her care had often been left to him. He guarded her when Frank and Jock were away. He’d often sensed her loneliness and her insatiable need for her mates. Still, he’d never mentioned her unhappiness to Jock or Frank. They would’ve considered his connection with Carla a threat. Plus, as far as Heck knew, Carla didn’t realize he could hear what she was thinking.

  A big splash in the distance put Heck on high alert. He whipped around in time to see a huge grizzly bear entering the river.

  “Carla!” Fear pumped through his veins. He sprinted to the riverbank. “Woman! Pay attention!”

  The bear waded through the dark waters, weaving his way to the middle of the river. The beast had already closed the distance between them by the time Carla spotted him.

  Heck waved his arms. “Get out of there!”

  “Heck!” Carla attempted to splash the bear away but the grizzly kept pursuing her.

  “Get in deep water!” Heck yelled, kicking off his boots and shucking his breeches.

  “Bears can swim!” she screamed.

  The bear seemed overly agitated. He slapped at the water and blew out noisy breaths, huffing and puffing as he stalked his prey.

  Carla was too frightened to help herself. She couldn’t swim out beyond the point where her feet could touch.

  In his head, Heck kept hearing Carla’s repetitive thoughts. Bears could outswim a human. Heck would save her. Bears could outswim a human. Heck would save her.

  Without a moment to spare, Heck yanked off his shirt and phased in midair, plunging into the river. Taking advantage of his gigantic werewolf form and strength, he swam to Carla’s side.

  She grabbed two handfuls of his fur and pulled herself up and out of the water. As soon as she slung her body over his back, he swam with all his might, staying at least two strides ahead of the bear when they first emerged on the other side of the river.