Above This Grave (The Cloven Pack Series: Book Three)

by D. Fischer

  She slides a bite into her mouth, her lips closing over the fork and sliding along the metal as she slowly pulls out. My mouth dries and my throat constructs.

  Shit.

  “You know a lot of people, don’t you,” she mumbles. I watch her eyes as her gaze travels around my face as if she’s seeing me for the first time. She double blinks, realizing what she said. “Not that that’s a bad thing. I’m not a gold digger.” Her hand flies to her forehead and she rubs her eyebrow. “It was just an observation. I didn’t mean to imply—”

  I place my hand atop hers. Heat travels between our skin and I watch as her breath seizes in her chest, her eyes on our joined hands. Wide, brown eyes raise to mine and her shoulders rise and fall as her breath quickens.

  “I know what you meant,” I murmur. I keep her gaze as I pick my fork back up and take another bite, chewing a bit more frantically. “You going to eat?” I ask after a moment of holding eye contact, pretending indifference to the effect she has on me. At least I know this isn’t a one-way street.

  Irene Scott

  I shift in my seat, uncomfortable with my aroused state. Every sensitive part of me is swollen, throbbing, and begging for attention. I try to focus out the car window, but it’s dark and there isn’t much to see. I turn my eyes back to the inside of Flint’s car. I suppose it’s the Pack’s car. The interior is nice with comfortable leather seats.

  Nervous, and my hands fidgeting because of it, I reach for the radio at the same time Flint does. Our hands touch and I automatically pull mine back. He turns to look at me, an eyebrow raised. He presses the button for the radio, soft jazz playing in the background. Switching his gaze between the road and me, he makes a decision and grabs my hand from my lap, folding it in his. His hands are large and calloused, and his thumb rubs slow circles on the back of my hand. My heart thuds impossibly fast and butterflies flutter in my stomach.

  Involuntarily, my mind goes straight to the gutter. Images of what his fingers could do jump through my mind. I squeeze my legs shut against the throbbing ache and my try my best to control my breathing.

  I watch as Flint’s lips turn up into a sly smile. “Does this affect you, Ira?”

  I clear my throat, my mouth dry, not willing to answer truthfully. “Is sex all you think about?”

  His eyebrows lower and the sly smile continues. “No. I also think about you naked.”

  I clench my jaw and he chuckles, understanding I’m stubborn enough not to admit what he does to me. “My fingers slide inside you. I pump in and out, watching you squirm, hearing you call my name. But I won’t let you come, not until I say so—not until you beg . . .” he begins.

  My lust-filled eyes turn to his, a small sweat beginning to bead on my lower back.

  “Do you like that?” he asks, jokes aside, desire filling his eyes as they travel down my body before they flit back to the road.

  Normally I wouldn’t like such dirty talk. But coming from my mate . . . How am I supposed to ignore this? The pull is so strong, our arousals so evident, only a fool would be oblivious.

  He pulls into the gravel drive and slows his speed as he reaches the garage. Pressing the button to open the large garage door, he drives the car inside and parks it. The garage door closes behind us and we’re left staring at each other in the dark. I watch as his eyes glow wolf. I’m sure mine do the same.

  He opens the car door and climbs out. His soft footsteps can be heard above my heavy breaths as he walks to my side of the car and opens my door.

  Placing my hand in his outstretched hand, I let him aid me out of the car. He shuts the door and takes a step closer to me, invading my space, his scent consuming my mind and vanishing my thoughts.

  Automatically, my eyes fall to his lips and I step back, bumping into the side of the car. He matches my step and rests his body against mine. My eyes travel up his face, my night vision having no difficulty seeing every detail, even when they reach his glowing eyes.

  He tucks a stray hair behind my ear, then brushes the back of his fingers down the side of my neck. I shiver, my breaths quicken.

  I rest my hands on his hips, my fingertips feeling the heat of his body. He takes my hand placement as a gesture to continue his advance. My heart pounds in my chest, I’m surprised he hasn’t commented on it yet.

  He places his free hand on the curve of my back, while the other curves around my jaw. I lean into it and my eyes flutter shut for a moment, breathing him in. His lips brush against mine and I respond, mimicking their movements.

  A content sigh escapes his lips, fanning my face. The kiss deepens as he tilts his head to the side, giving his tongue better access to mine. They tangle and twirl, a dance of their own.

  The hand around the curve of my back tightens as he pulls me flush against him. Needing skin contact, I slip my fingers under his shirt, trailing the skin. It’s soft, silky, and heat radiates between the skin and shirt. My hand travels up further, massaging the muscles along his back.

  I break the kiss momentarily, our breaths coming in heavy huffs heating the space around us, and grab the hem of his shirt, lifting it over his head. He raises his arms, his glowing eyes filled with such passionate desire, such determination and possession. He blinks in a slow motion, his long lashes fanning his under-eye.

  His hands return to me, lifting my own shirt over my head and unsnapping my bra. My bra falls to the floor next to my shirt. He takes a moment to let his gaze wander over my shirtless body, soaking me in, memorizing every detail. My nipples peek at the touchless attention.

  He lowers his mouth down on mine with a frenzied force, his hands gripping both sides of my face.

  I fumble with the button of his pants before it finally unhooks. Unzipping it, the sound barely heard above our breaths, I hear the slacks rustling down his legs before resting at his ankles. He kicks off his shoes, steps out of the pants, and uses his foot to fling them away.

  Pushing me back against the car, his body applying pressure and angling over mine, his hands leave my face as he rids me of my pants. They pool on the floor around my shoes.

  He slows the kissing, becoming more sensual and directing it with careful strokes of his tongue. His hands travel up my sides to the swell of my breast and back down to my hips. The heat they leave behind is undeniable. Hooking a finger on each side of my panties, he slips them off, and they fall, resting above my pants around my ankles.

  He breaks the kiss. “I’m going to enjoy this, Ira. I hope you’re a patient girl because I plan to take my time.”

  My clit twitches at his admission.

  His mouth gently pecks my neck, making trails of wet, hot, sensual brushes from my collar bone to the top of my breasts. His tongue slides around my left nipple in a slow manner; I moan as they harden further to the point of pinprick pain. He pauses, chuckling a little, before flicking his tongue against it. I grab his hair and push him toward my breast, wordlessly begging him to relieve the ache.

  He clucks his tongue. “I’ll be directing this orchestra, Ira.”

  He flicks his tongue again, before scraping his teeth across my nipple. Using his other hand, he tweaks the other, the pain such a pleasure. My head falls back momentarily, another moan escaping my mouth. My clit throbbing, impatient for its turn.

  After a minute of pure torture, he captures my nipple and sucks, rapidly flicking his tongue against it. I grip his shoulders, my nails digging in. The heat of his mouth, the pull of his suck, the electric currents from the assault, make my inner walls pulsate.

  He moves his mouth to the other nipple, repeating the same torment, before leaving my nipples wet and cold, alone in the open air, and travels kisses down my stomach before resting on his knees.

  Reaching my mound with his lips, he traces his tongue down the sides where it meets my thighs. I groan in discomfort, my need almost painful.

  He removes his mouth and glances up at me. A smug smile tugs at his lips before he unbuckles my shoes and slips them off, followed by my pants and underwe
ar.

  I spread my legs, wordlessly telling him what I want. What I need.

  His knees rest against the ground and he uses his fingers to spread my lips. I watch the erotic scene unfold, heavy breaths making my breasts rise and fall. He holds my eyes before he dives forward, sucking my clit and gently flicking his tongue as he does so.

  I moan and bury my hands in his hair. The scene is too much—sensationally unreal—to look away.

  Using one hand to keep my lips spread, he pushes a finger into me. I cry out, my legs quivering from the intrusion. My walls clamp around it, holding it in place as he rubs inside me.

  Heat boils in my lower abdomen, coiling and begging for release. Soft, breathy moans escape my mouth. “Flint . . .” I whimper, begging him to release the heat.

  He shoves another finger inside and roughly pumps his hand up and down. Tugging his hair, I feel the swelling of my lips travel to my walls. I whimper, my legs shaking so hard I’m surprised it’s not painful.

  The heat coils, stirs, builds, and then explodes. A pitchy groan, loud to my ears, develops deep within my chest and travels right out of my mouth. My fingers loosen their grip on his hair, running through the strands instead—a gentle caress. Warm liquid spreads over his fingers as I pulsate around them.

  His pumps slow as my climax fades before he retracts his fingers and stands up, leaving my wet clit to the exposed air. My walls continuously grip nothing, missing the fingers that stretched them.

  He smiles and presses his body back to mine. My nipples brush against his bare chest, his erection pressing against my abdomen, and he kisses me, forcing me to taste myself. He keeps the kiss slow, sensual, while I frantically try to push down his underwear. They hit the floor and he kicks them away.

  Lifting my leg around his waist, he rocks his erection against my swollen parts and I groan into his mouth. God, yes.

  Slow, tortured pressure continues as his shaft rubs, slicking against me. His precum drips below my belly button and he moans into my mouth. Heat coils again, the wicked assault so soon after my first climax, my clit already so sensitive. It builds with each rock of his hips, each rub, and I explode a second time. His mouth muffles my cries as he continues to rock.

  My climax subsides, my legs quivering from all the effort. He grips my ass and hoists the other leg over his hip and lifts me, never breaking the kiss. I tower over him as he carries me to his destination. Using it to my advantage, I kiss him deeper, my tongue fighting for battle. I keep a firm grip on his hair as he places me on a hard surface—the counter in the garage.

  His shaft presses against me again as he grips my hips, setting me on the edge of the surface. He places my hand on his dick and directs the pumping motion.

  Moaning into my mouth, a thrilling shiver spreads through my body. It excites me to bring such a sensation to him as he did to me.

  He directs my hand, placing his dick at my entrance. Slowly, with carefully measured practice, he inserts the tip and pushes inside. His hip bones meet my inner thighs when he’s fully sheathed, my walls clamping around him and refusing to let go.

  He sighs a groan as it pulsates around him. “So wet, so warm,” he mumbles, breaking the kiss.

  He looks into my eyes, my lips swollen from the kiss, before he pulls out and slides back in. I remove my hands from his hair and place them on the counter on both sides of my hips so I can watch his dick disappear. He pulls back again, moaning when my walls try to keep him in place, and slowly slides back in. The counter rocks as he does so, aiding him in the motion. My breasts jiggle each time he rocks.

  In . . . out . . . in . . . out. Each movement rubs against my swollen insides, the heat building once more. My breaths quicken, but by now, he knows what that means. “Cum for me, Ira.”

  I glance back into his eyes. His jaw is set, his face is firm, and he watches the reaction I’m having to his actions. My chest rises and falls in exaggerated motions and the heat releases. My walls become slick once more as it slides over his dick, and my scream echoes throughout the garage.

  “Fuck yeah,” Flint growls, pumping his hips faster, sending me into an orgasm. My cries of pleasure continue as I ride the waves of it. My walls pull and pull, his grunts encouraging it as his fingers dig into my hips. He slams home one last time, and I feel his dick pulsate inside me. Several mumbled, “Oh God,” and “shit,” leaves his lips.

  My orgasm subsides, my heavy breathing remains. The pulsating stills and his eyes meet mine. The beginning of the mating clicks into place, warmth spreading from my heart throughout my system. It fills an ache, a discomfort I didn’t know was there. I feel whole, sane, without trouble. Suddenly the world makes sense. My purpose feels set. This is where I belong.

  A small smile spreads across his lips, smug about finally having me.

  But reality hits and the consequences of what I’ve done slams home. My breathing quiets, but my frantic heart continues to beat.

  What have I done?

  ChapterNine

  Flint Rockland

  Dyson, Romaine, and I stand around the fire ring. Thousands of sparkling, twinkling stars dot and pattern the black sky, the full moon the only thing lighting our path. It calls to my wolf—he’s eager to play and bask in its glory. I ignore his urges for now, not fully trusting him yet. He’s been quiet the last few hours.

  Since Irene and I began the mating, his mood has made a drastic change. He feels as protective as ever, but not for my life, for his mate’s life as well. His cynical side is gone, he’s more grounded.

  Romaine places the wood just so, getting the pit ready for the bonfire. I shift my gaze to Irene who sits with the rest of the Pack on the back porch.

  She holds my gaze, answering something Kenna has asked her. Her arms are crossed over her chest, her eyebrows slightly pinched. She’s upset. Why, I’m not sure. I’m pulled away before I can investigate the reason for my mate’s agitation.

  Romaine slaps me on the back. “Congratulations, man.”

  I nod my thanks to him, a small smile lifting my cheeks.

  Dyson shifts uncomfortably beside me. I spare him a glance before returning back to Romaine. “How are you settling in?”

  He nods his head. “Good. It’s a far stretch from where we came from. I’m grateful for you guys taking us in.”

  This time, I slap him on the back. “It’s good to have you.”

  Victoria, one of the new wolves, calls his name. Romaine hands me the matches before gripping my shoulder in a meaningful gesture, his eyes pointedly flicking to Dyson, and jogs to the deck.

  A deep breath forces its way through my nose and I turn to Dyson. Round three. “How are you holding up?”

  Dyson shifts his weight again. “I’m doing alright,” he says, his voice emotionless. He’s lying, giving me what I want to hear.

  I go to light the fire, thinking over my next words carefully so he doesn’t walk away. I can’t continue to hold this grudge. I’ve got a mate to think about now. Holding onto the past . . . I don’t want to do it anymore.

  Lighting the newspaper under the logs, I stand back and watch as it is engulfed in flames. “Look, man, I’m sorry.”

  Dyson stills his movements and glances at me. “For what?”

  “For taking all this,” I wave my hand around in a small circle, “out on you. That wasn’t fair of me. You went through the same thing I did.”

  Dyson holds his stare, his expression blank as I glance at him before returning my eyes to the growing fire. I watch as the flames lick up the logs, attempting to bring them down into its fiery pits of hell.

  “Thanks,” he says in a quiet voice.

  I bump my shoulder against his, feeling more like myself than I have in months. “So, what have you been up to?”

  Dyson shrugs and turns to the fire. “Not a whole lot. Research. A lot of video games, I guess. Trying to get right with myself.”

  I nod. I understand that. “Yeah.”

  “What about you?” he asks.

 
I shrug. “Also trying to screw my head on straight.”

  The silence stretches on before he breaks it. “How’s your wolf?” Dyson mumbles. “I’m sorry I didn’t visit you when he was like that. I should have, but I figured it’d make it worse.”

  It probably would have. Even now, my wolf is keeping a close eye on Dyson, not fully trusting him.

  “He’s fine. The mating has calmed him down.” I switch the subject. “You ready for a fire?” I ask, attempting a smile.

  Dyson shifts his weight again. “Actually, I have an errand to run, but I’ll be back.”

  Before I can ask him about this errand and his nervous, antsy feet, he squeezes my shoulder. “I love you, man. Treat your mate right, okay? Don’t waste a moment with her.” He leaves, heading back toward the parking garage. I watch as he walks, his head lowered, his hands in his pockets, and a frown on my face.

  I have no plans of going back to my old lifestyle. That person no longer exists. My mate will get more than she deserves. I’ll see to that.

  Irene Scott

  Evo kisses Kenna on the cheek and lifts himself off his chair, heading down the deck toward Flint. Dyson had just left and Flint is staring at the space where he once was. I watch him, the wheels turning in his head are practically visible.

  Evo joins him and strikes up a conversation. The rest of the men follow, shoving each other jokingly down the steps and laughing all the way over to the bonfire ring.

  The women remain quiet around me, content on watching the men be men.

  The fire blazes, the orange flames lick the air trying to grasp anything to feed itself, always hungry for more.

  Flint angles himself to fully face Evo, and I get the full profile of his face. He smiles, his white teeth glinting in the pale moon light. The shadowing flickers of the fire dance across his skin, his clothes. Evo slaps him on his back, a manly gesture for a job well done. Flint laughs, that throaty noise full of joy reaches my ears and fills my heart. How can my heart possibly hold so much?