by Anya Nowlan
Stripe For Love
Shifter Grove Brides
Anya Nowlan
Contents
Copyright
1. Layla
2. Layla
3. Atlas
4. Layla
5. Atlas
6. Layla
7. Layla
8. Atlas
9. Layla
Epilogue
Also by Anya Nowlan
A Bear Victory Excerpt
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About the Author
Copyright © 2016 Anya Nowlan
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Stripe for Love
Shifter Grove Brides
All rights reserved.
No part of this work may be used, reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means by anyone but the purchaser for their own personal use. This book may not be reproduced in any form without the express written permission of Anya Nowlan. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material is prohibited without the express written permission of the author.
Cover © Jack of Covers
You can find all of my books here:
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One
Layla
How the hell did I get here, she wondered as his strong hands gripped her hips, kissing a line down her stomach and stopping at her navel, his tongue teasing her and making her whimper against his touch.
Her hands were coiled in his thick, sandy-blond hair and when he looked up, she couldn’t quell the gasp she felt tingling in her throat every damn time he gave her that wicked look. His grayish-golden eyes were so mesmerizing that she couldn’t look away, but when he moved down even further, she had to, because her body was twitching already.
Layla threw her head back, bucking her hips up to him, her pussy wet and ready for him, nearly begging him to take her. There was this raw masculinity about him, this mysterious guy she’d met on a regular night out, while just passing through Idaho on her way to Seattle to settle into a whole new life and a whole new job.
She wasn’t even sure if she could remember his name, because the tequila shots they’d ended up sharing had gone down really fast and the conversation flowed far too easily to focus on little things like “What do you do” and “Where are you from” and “No, really, what was your name again?” When he pressed his wide, lush lips on the top of her thong, trailing kisses along the fabric and then onto her thick thighs, she whimpered a little, gripping his hair harder.
“Shh, bad kitty. Patience is where it’s at,” he said, his deep, full voice sending another happy jolt of desire bursting through her.
He grinned, hovering so close to her pussy that she could feel his hot breath on her thighs. It made them shiver. It made her shiver, all over. When she saw the glint of pure wolfish desire in him, she could remember his name as easily as hers. Atlas. The man who could hold the world on his shoulders.
She was definitely willing to let him take a crack at hers.
With a breathy whine, she relaxed against the covers and he set another soft kiss on her inner thigh, so delicate compared to the roughness of his hands. He had to be a blue-collar type, someone who worked long, hard days and then played rough later. Layla had nothing against being a part of his relaxation right now, even though she’d never done something like this before.
Just go home with someone so easily? Or, well not even her home, his home. It was insane. The good, rational girl inside of her was mortified, and the bad girl was having the time of her life. Especially now that Atlas tugged her skimpy thong aside and lapped his wide tongue across her wet, glistening pussy.
“Oh my God,” Layla yelped, opening her legs wider as a reaction. “Do that again!”
He chuckled, but complied, looping his arms underneath her and holding her up with his hands on her ass, licking up the full length of her slit again and then pausing at her clit, sucking it in and luxuriating attention on it. She shuddered with relief, finally having him exactly where she needed him, where she’d wanted him since he’d given her that wry smirk and a look that told her she was the only woman he was going to be watching all night.
And he’d been the only man she’d had eyes for too. He’d sent over a drink about five minutes after she got to the bar, and another five later he had joined her in conversation at her booth. There’d been no awkwardness, no hemming and hawing about what to say. The conversation flowed beautifully and soon enough, she’d found herself sitting close to this wide-shouldered, tall beast of a man, hanging off of his every word, and he appeared to do much the same.
Atlas sucked her clit into his mouth and she whimpered, squeezing her thighs together now because it was too damn much, but he wouldn’t let her. His grip was strong—not to hurt, but to make her stand still—and she had to, raising her head to watch him eat her pussy like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted.
One hand let go of her thigh and she almost protested, but then two thick fingers were pushed into her pussy oh so slowly that any words she might have wanted to speak were muddled into a whiny little sound that made no sense to anyone. Well, maybe Atlas, because she could hear his dark chuckle, one that made her pulse even more for him.
He started pumping his fingers in and out of her and she luxuriated in the feeling of them scissoring inside of her, opening her up for him as his tongue still danced on her clit. Layla had never had a one-night stand, but she was thoroughly enjoying this one. Even before he pulled his fingers out of her, slick with her juices, she was already regretting the fact that she’d have to keep going to Seattle the next morning.
Atlas moved up and let go of her, leaving Layla on her back in the sheets, her bra still on, the thong pushed to the side. She watched him slowly track up her body, his hot tongue tracing a line from her clit to her chest and then her lips, kissing her when he got there. She could taste herself on him and hell if it didn’t taste sexy. Sucking his tongue into her mouth, her hands roamed over his muscular, big torso.
With a perfect six-pack and a chest right out of some bodybuilder’s dream, he was heavenly, all muscle and strength, looking like he could carry logs on his back all day and not break a sweat.
What did he say he does again? Lumberjack? Miner? Something manly like that, Layla decided, not that it mattered much.
“Have you been a good girl?” Atlas asked, cocking a brow at her.
She nodded immediately, grinning.
“Good. Lick yourself off of me,” he commanded, pressing his fingers to her lips.
She opened her mouth and did so gladly, sucking the digits into her mouth and cleaning them with her tongue, her blue eyes locked on his and her hands going down to his belt buckle, undoing it quickly. It was unfair how much she wanted him at that point, but it was one of those times where she knew her eagerness for something fun wasn’t going to leave her disappointed.
He smirked as she pulled the zipper down and then slinked her hand into his boxers, gripping his cock.
“Fuck, you’re so big,” she sighed, blushing at her own words.
“Gotta be to take care of your appetite, baby,” he said, almost purring.
Layla’s hand worked up and down his cock, spreading pr
e-cum with the tip of her thumb and making him groan, a rumbly sound that she wanted to hear again. She gripped him harder, willing him to want it so bad that he’d stop teasing her. Atlas pushed down one strap of her bra and then the other before pulling down the cups and revealing her generous breasts. Her small nipples were already tight, puckering with anticipation.
He pinched one of them and she whimpered into the touch, her body spasming. Then, he lowered his head and took it in his mouth, sucking on it until her hand was working him so hard she could feel the veins pulse and throb underneath her touch. That was when she couldn’t take it anymore, this mystery man she’d come to want more than anyone else she’d ever known.
Layla helped him when he snapped off her thong and when he stood up for a moment to take off his worn jeans and boxers, she took another moment to admire him. He was a predator, smooth movements but rough edges, danger wafting off of him. He had to be some kind of a shifter, she was sure of it. Regular men just didn’t get that… big. Shoulders or… well, the other thing.
She bit her lip as he dove back onto the bed, kissing her ravenously as he parted her legs with his thigh, making her legs go up around his hips. The swollen head of his cock pressed against her tight pussy and the anticipation was killing her. She grinded against him as he fisted one hand in her hair, the other going to her stomach, palm flat against her side.
“Do you want this, baby?” he asked, his eyes ablaze.
“I need this,” Layla confessed, breathing heavy.
That was what he’d wanted to hear. Slowly, excruciatingly so, he pushed into her, making Layla lose any understanding of space or time or what pleasure used to feel like. She spread around him, his girth stretching her on the very precipice of pleasure and pain, and it was amazing.
“You feel so good, baby,” he murmured, his forehead against her chest as he worked himself in, until he’d speared her completely and Layla had lost any capability of speech.
She could only cling to him, nails digging into him as he began thrusting into her, his rhythm becoming faster with each stroke. After a few motions, she finally got control of her vocal chords back, screaming out her excitement like she didn’t care if anyone could ever hear it. He felt so damn good, so solid, so strong as he took her, pounding her into the sheets like a jackhammer.
Her nails raked across him, making him growl, and she did it once more just to hear him do it again. She caught his eyes flashing gold for a moment and she gasped, before smiling wide. A shifter. Of course he was. Layla kissed him again, pulling him to her by his hair, making him yank back on hers for her insolence. Fuck it felt good.
Suddenly, he pulled out of her for a moment, throwing her legs on his shoulders and then pushing in again, going deeper this time because he was folding her in half. She was a whimpering mess by the time Atlas bottomed out, her pussy milking him eagerly, wanting more and more of him until she thought she’d just explode around him. And of course that’s exactly what he wanted.
“Atlas,” she mewled, getting a dark, shadowy look from him, his eyes golden again, and this time staying that way.
Layla stared at him in wonder, her core pulsating painfully in her, her whole body screwed to a fever pitch. When he let go of her hair and pinched one of her nipples between his thumb and forefinger instead, Layla couldn’t control it any longer.
She came with a wail that could have shaken the house from its foundation, while the small muscles in her pussy contracting around Atlas’s cock demanded that he join in her release. Every thrust made a slapping noise, and Layla was drenched in her juices. She gripped him, like she was going to fall and never make her way back again if she weren’t holding onto him.
“Atlas!” she squealed, and he came with a roar, an honest-to-God roar, his thick cum spewing into her pussy, filling her up until they both lay spent in one another’s arms.
They were slick with sweat and yet Layla dropped her forehead against Atlas’s chest as he rolled them over, leaving her on his stomach, his cock still slowly throbbing inside of her, half-hard and still big as hell. It took several minutes before she could say a damn thing, her breath ragged and her body shuddering while his arms went around her, cuddling her against him in the safest, warmest embrace.
“That was amazing,” she whispered, hazy-eyed and spent.
“We’re only going to keep going,” Atlas said with a laugh, one tinted with something amused, but completely non-judgmental.
“I have to drive all day tomorrow,” Layla protested, but it came with a grin.
“So we’ll get you a cup of coffee when you need to go.”
Well, she’d never been a big haggler. Especially when she wanted something as bad as she wanted Atlas.
Two
Layla
Sixteen months later…
“Adrian!” Layla shrieked as she watched the small, dusty-blond haired boy teeter on the edge of the couch, his expression cross and thoughtful, about to fall off.
She practically dove to catch the child, nimble and fast as he was for his age of just a year and some on top of that, but she wasn’t quick enough. The boy was almost always faster than she was when he was getting into trouble.
Instead of falling on the rug and hurting himself, he simply rolled backward as if nothing had happened at all, giggling like the little fiend that he was. Layla fell on her knees next to him, a relieved smile on her lips. One thing she would never get used to was the way these shifter babies bounced back from everything. Like they were invincible!
“Listen here, mister! You can’t go around scaring Mommy like that,” she chided with a soft voice, picking him up and standing up along with him.
He had the stormiest, most interesting eyes.
Just like his daddy, she thought with a pang of regret, biting down on her lip for a moment as the memory of the big, warm, wicked man came back to her from the depths of her memories.
He smiled at her like she was the only woman he ever wished to see, while a glint burned in his eyes that seemed to tell her that he wished to make it so. She could never forget those eyes, especially now, when her own son would look at her with the same gray and gold eyes, flecks of yellow littered in them like stars in the sky.
She scruffed his head with a sigh, standing up in her small two-room apartment in Seattle, pushing Adrian on her hip as she made her way to the kitchen. It was almost dinner time and if Layla knew anything about her sister, it was that she was punctual. Any minute now, the mother of three with laughing eyes and a wild disposition would come flying in through the front door, probably dragging all of her podlings along with her for a happy, loud, Sunday night dinner.
Layla had just made it to the kitchen and deposited the little boy in the high chair, one that he was swiftly growing out of and barely fit into at this point, when the door slammed in the hallway. Layla smiled, kissing Adrian on the forehead as she picked up his stuffed dinosaur from the kitchen table and handed it to him.
“Right on time. Auntie Lily is never late!” she said in a sing-song voice, and walked to the kitchen door to greet her sister.
“Oh my God, I thought I’d never get here!” Lily said, thrusting a bottle of white wine into Layla’s hands and pushing past her in a flurry of motion.
It always seemed like the older Nash sister was in a rush, tumbling from one important thing to the next, never making it seem like she was going to make it but always succeeding perfectly. It was something Layla had never picked up. She was far too driven by her whims to have everything on lockdown like Lily did. But it was good to have someone in the family who knew what they were doing all the time!
“No kids today, Lill? Adrian was looking forward to running around with Teddy, I think,” Layla said, considering the bottle that had found its way into her arms.
Understanding dawned on her. Of course!
“So Thaddeus is babysitting tonight, I understand?” Layla asked with a grin, finding Lily taking a casserole and some freshly made buns out of the ba
g she had been carrying.
“Exactly! So uncork that baby and let’s kick our feet up! You know I don’t get a lot of opportunities for this so I fully intend to enjoy it,” Lily said, scooping food on plates like there was someone chasing after her.
Layla knew what that meant. It meant Lily was going to stuff them all full of food, sing Adrian to sleep like she sometimes did, and then they were going to gossip.
Yay! she thought with a lot of glee.
* * *
It was an hour and a half later that Layla found herself sprawled out on her dark blue couch in the living room, nursing her third glass of wine while Lily was on her fourth. They’d just gotten Adrian down and were enjoying a moment of pure quiet, something so rare for young mothers. Layla’s eyes were closed and even when Lily started talking, she wouldn’t open them for a few moments. Not until it dawned on her what the topic of conversation was about.
“You know that guy you can’t shut up about?” Lily asked.
“Hmm?” Layla replied noncommittally, head resting on the cushions and her hand slowly stirring the glass with lazy motions, making the wine roll.
“I’ve been looking for him,” Lily said, her voice sounding sly.
“Looking for who?” Layla asked, a faint frown crossing her brows.
“Your Prince Charming! The man in the plaid! Storm-Eyes! You know!”
“Atlas?” Layla asked, suddenly fully awake, her eyes snapping open.
“That’s the one,” Lily said smugly, grinning. “Atlas. Do you know how hard it is to find a guy who you only know by his first name and a description from a lovesick sister? I can tell you, it’s damn hard!”
Layla’s mouth fell open in shock, the wine forgotten.
Atlas? How could she find him?