by Mina Carter
“It’ll be okay, Red. Just breathe. It’ll feel good in a moment,” he promised, brushing a kiss across her temple. “God, you’re so fucking tight. Hold still, okay babe? Just need to concentrate.”
She laughed, a shaky, jerky sound as she waited for the burn to recede. “What happens if I don’t hold still?”
He dropped his head, resting his forehead against her shoulder. His soft chuckle of amusement was music to her ears. “You move, I’ll come like a horny teenager jerking off to his first porn vid and this’ll be the quickest damn seduction out there.”
His frank admission hit her in her already vulnerable heart. Honesty and laughter; the two biggest aphrodisiacs out there. If she was on a hunt for Mr. Happily Ever After, Kyle Roberts would so be at the top of her list.
Obediently she held still for as long as she could, but soon the burning wore off, became the itch to move, then the need to move. A need so strong it clawed at her, demanded she give in. Try as she might, she couldn’t help the tiny jerk of her hips. It was the smallest movement but it caused the most delicious friction as his cock slid against the tight walls of her cunt, pleasure cascading through her body like a chain reaction.
“Ohhh…”
“Fuck!”
The dam broke. Almost before the word had dropped from his lips he pulled back, powering into her with a force that rocked the couch under them. Unable to do anything else, she held on, clinging to him as he set up a hard and fast pace that stole her breath and slammed the couch into the wall like a hammer nailing wood. Only he wasn’t nailing wood, he was nailing her…with a need that bordered on feral and all the stamina of youth and his wolf blood.
It was fast, it was furious. And it felt so fucking good that she wasn’t surprised when her body tightened, a second climax building out of nowhere to claim her. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she dug her nails into his back and screamed his name again as she came harder than she could ever recall.
Her body convulsed, pussy clamping down on his cock to milk him relentlessly. He groaned, the rhythm of his hips stuttering as his shaft pulsed in the tight confines of her body. Three heavy thrusts later, he slammed a last time into her body and stiffened, roaring his release into the night as he bathed the neck of her womb with his hot seed.
Chapter Three
Kristen woke with a crick in her neck, a dead leg and a cold ass. Grunting, she shifted position and reached for a pillow to stuff over her face, fully prepared to burrow in and forget about the incoming day. In no way, shape or form a morning person, she preferred to ignore everything until the shrill summons of the alarm forced her from her bed. Instead of cool cotton and fluffiness, her hand contacted hard, male muscle. There was a man in her bed.
Her eyes snapped open and she frowned. That wasn’t her ceiling. Nor was her bed quite so uncomfortable. Turning her head, she found herself looking at a strong neck and a stubbled male jaw. Her gaze moved up past lips that looked a little too full but somehow fit into the masculine face.
Kyle Roberts.
Her eyes widened as memory returned to banish sleep with all the finesse of a high speed train crash.
Oh. My. God. She’d slept with the young mechanic who’d come to her rescue like some latter-day white knight. Although as a descriptive term, ‘slept’ came nowhere near what they’d done. Until a few hours ago, when they’d collapsed on the small lumpy couch, sleep had been the furthest thing from either of their minds.
She looked around the small office. Heat built in her cheeks as her gaze swept over all the surfaces they’d ‘visited’. He’d been insatiable, youth and the fabled stamina of a werewolf meaning she had aches in areas she’d virtually forgotten existed. Not that anyone could count his age against him. He might be younger than she was, but there was nothing of the boy in his manner…or in his love making.
Gently, she extricated herself from his arms and moved around the small room, recovering her clothing and getting dressed. He didn’t stir, his breathing slow and regular even when she slipped out of the door, her purse over her shoulder and her cell phone already in hand.
The early morning sun greeted her from its position just over the horizon, bathing everything around her in the soft, warm light of the arriving day. For a moment she just stood there, breathing in the crisp, clean morning air. Air that wasn’t polluted by the smog of the city, nor carried the sound of traffic from cities that never slept. Instead the soft melody of birdsong was the only sound as she thumbed her phone on and accessed her contact list.
Kelli’s number was near the top, easily dialled with another swipe of her thumb. Kristen jiggled from one foot to the other as she waited for her friend to pick up. It was early, yeah, but she knew Kelli would be awake. Different time zones and Kelli having a young daughter meant they had to grab chats at the strangest times.
“Hey Kris. How you doin’?”
The familiar greeting made Kristen smile as she tucked her phone between her chin and shoulder and walked around the corner of the building. The big rescue truck was still there, her little yellow car perched on the back. The straps didn’t cover the doors, so she’d be able to recover her bag easy enough.
“Hey Kels, I’m good. Just in a bit of a bind. You know the Roberts garage in Katy? Any chance you can pick me up from there?”
“Huh. Hmm, yeah sure.” Kelli sounded a little confused but took the news in stride as Kristen had known she would. She’d always been practical and reliable but marriage and motherhood had rendered her virtually unflappable. “When do you need picking up?”
Kristen grimaced. “How about now?”
* * *
Holy Crap. You fucked Kyle Roberts, didn’t you?
Later that evening, as she sat in Honey’s Bar and Grill nursing her drink, the words Kelli had uttered as soon as Kristen had slid into the passenger seat of her pickup truck wouldn’t leave her alone. The ride back to Kelli and Max’s place had been short but filled with a game of twenty questions that would have left the Spanish inquisition impressed, right before they tried to hire her.
You are aware how possessive wolves are, aren’t you? For Christ’s sake, Kris, that’ll be it. You won’t be able to hook up with anyone in Stratton if Kyle’s got a claim on you.
Irritation rumbled up into her throat as Kristen rolled her almost empty tumbler around and around on its base, rim held between her slender fingers as she glowered. She’d spent one night with the guy for fuck’s sake. It wasn’t like they were joined at the damn hip or planning to ride off into the wide, blue yonder and bloody elope.
“Quite a growl you got there, sweet stuffs. For sayin’ you’re the wrong species and all.”
A deep voice interrupted her mental grumbling as a glass, a filled one, clunked down on the table in front of her. She looked up in surprise as a tall, heavily muscled guy spun the seat opposite and straddled it. Like Kelli and Kyle, he was a wolf. Only shifters had that particular brand of fuck-me gorgeousness going on, an animal magnetism that showed through even when they were in human form. Not that this guy needed it.
Tall and heart-stoppingly handsome, he was all male-ripped goodness that normally would have had her eyes popping out of her head as she drooled for a taste. The sort of body that wouldn’t have looked out of place on one of her film sets, the ones with the bad-boy gangsters. Normally she didn’t go for the shaven-headed type, but there was just something about this guy that would get the attention of every red-blooded female on set.
But she didn’t miss the pain in his eyes as he sliced a glance across to a loud crowd over the other side of the bar. She turned, seeing a young woman holding court in the middle of a group of young men. Human men. Understanding rolled through her as she turned back to him.
“Seems you got enough trouble of the human variety going on, sure you want to add more? I’m not exactly social tonight,” she warned, abandoning her empty glass and wrapping her fingers around the new one. Lifting it, she took a sip. Clever guy, he’d obviously asked
the bartender. Another shifter, if she was any judge, but obviously not ‘Honey’, not unless his parents had some strange ideas about gender-appropriate names.
He shrugged and slugged half his drink back in one swallow. “You’re female. Just you sitting there’ll piss her off. God knows why, she doesn’t want me so what does she care?”
Kristen eyed the glass as the heavy base of the tumbler clunked against the table. Whisky. Neat, if she was any judge, and it didn’t look like it was his first, third or even seventh.
“Let me guess. She’s young, female. She doesn’t want you, but she doesn’t want anyone else to have you either. Some women are bitches like that.” She huffed and took a healthy swallow. Vodka and lime, her tipple of choice, burned all the way down to her stomach. It was her second, so she’d have to be careful now. Unlike the wolf sitting opposite, her human physiology wouldn’t burn the alcohol out of her system before she got falling down drunk.
“You see, that’s it.” He sighed and ran a hand over his shaven head. “You get it. Why do you get it? Women like you—” he cut off, grimacing. “Sorry, didn’t mean that how it sounded.”
She shrugged one shoulder and took another drink. Letting him talk his problems out took her mind off her own. At least he hadn’t taken one look at her like Kelli had, wrinkled his nose and blurted out the name of the guy she’d just slept with. The three showers she’d taken had obviously enabled her to pass the sniff test.
“I mean, you’re…beautiful. Gorgeous. Like you should be in movies or something.” He squinted at her. “In fact, you kinda look like that Krystal chick. You know, the one in ‘Shadow-Soldiers’ and ‘Running Out of Time’? But she’s a blonde and you…” He motioned towards her siren-red hair. For once, Kristen was glad a guy was half-cut. She hated to be recognised. Mistaken identity worked just as well the other way around and she’d made sure there were no trails linking Krystal Kerr back to Stratton.
“Yeah, well. You know what they say about beauty.” She downed the rest of her drink and put the glass down on the table. He looked at her in expectation as she stood and held her hand out. “It’s just skin-deep. It’s what’s inside that counts. Wanna dance with me?”
* * *
The day had gone from bad to worse, a fact Kyle knew was reflected in the set of his features as he pulled into the dusty lot behind Honey’s bar and parked up. He’d gone from dreams of heaven, of having Krystal Kerr…no, Kristen Mann she’d called herself…in his arms, to waking and finding them empty. Oh, she’d been there. Of that he had no doubt. The scent of their joining, the hot, sweaty monkey-sex they’d had on practically every horizontal surface in the room hung in the air to taunt him. But the woman herself was gone, the leather on the couch where she’d lain beside him cool and empty.
As if that wasn’t bad enough, his uncle had picked up on the fact that Kyle hadn’t been home and brought a ‘guest’ back to the office. One breath in and the craggy old face had spilt into a grin, then he’d rounded on Kyle with an unholy relish. Damn that bear sense of smell. Not as good as a wolf’s but still plenty sensitive enough to know what had happened, even though Kyle had showered out back and gotten a fresh change of clothes from his locker.
He’d escaped the office only to find a little note tucked under the wiper-blade of his car.
Thanks for last night. I’ll be in touch about the car. K xx
Thanks. She’d thanked him? He grumbled under his breath again as his long legs ate up the distance between his truck and the door to the bar. He’d have preferred her staying for round two, or even stopping long enough for a chat rather than running out like she’d been scalded.
He sighed as he pushed the door to the bar open. He’d run out on enough one night stands on boys’ nights out over in the nearest big town back east, Calderton. Figured it was about time for it to happen to him. So why did he feel like his heart had been squeezed like a grapefruit in a juicer?
Didn’t matter. If she could run out on him like that, then she wasn’t worth it. Like her movie persona, all glitz and no substance. And if he told himself that a few more times, then he might just believe it. He headed over to the bar and met Honey’s bright turquoise gaze.
“What’ll it be, handsome?”
He smiled at her soft drawl, watching as she wiped at a glass with a soft cloth. Every young guy in the area had thought themselves in love with Honey at one point or another. The bar owner, she epitomised the adult world for every young buck. Purveyor of alcohol with a rack… Feeling a dark gaze on him, Kyle so didn’t go there, lifting his head to catch the eyes of a dangerous looking guy at the end of the bar.
Blake Carlisle had been the town’s bad boy, right up until Honey had leg-shackled him a few years ago. Now he was the only bouncer the bar needed, a shifter with mad skills when it came to a brawl, even if it was to break them up these days. Since no one knew exactly what kind of shifter Blake was, no one wanted to take him on in a fight. Last thing a guy needed was to get himself into a punch-up with something like one of the fabled dragon-shifters. Hot water just didn’t cover it and were-bones were no more fire-resistant than human ones.
Nodding to Blake, Kyle returned his attention to Honey. “Something strong, and keep ‘em coming, would ya, doll?”
“Bad day?”
As always Honey’s voice was mellow and sympathetic as she moved around behind the bar. Kyle nodded, suppressing a groan as he rubbed the back of his neck.
“You could say that, yeah.”
After waking up alone and dealing with his uncle, it had just gotten worse. Rush job after rush job had kept his nose to the grind-stone all day, but even being busy hadn’t stopped him from brooding. She hadn’t left a number, just thanked him. Sucked to be the one night stand who wanted more. He ground his teeth again as Honey slid a drink in front of him, grabbed the tumbler and sucked it down in one long swallow.
He needed to get plastered and get laid. No, scratch getting laid. No one could ever compare to Kristen. Even though she was older than he was, and human, she’d more than matched him for passion. He made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat as Honey recovered his glass and refilled it. He’d got it bad. Even now he could hear her light, tinkling laughter. Teasing him, taunting him…
“Just look at her, all over him. It’s fucking disgusting,” a disgruntled female voice huffed behind him, a stool jostling against the back of his.
The double shot of vodka he’d just inhaled worked its way through his system, settling into his limbs as he took a second to place the voice. Jenna Scott. A nasty little piece of work who’d married into the pack without realising that once you were bit, there was no way back. Ever. She’d blamed her husband for all the parts of her new nature she didn’t like, then divorced him loudly and messily. Kyle shook his head as he wrapped a big hand around his glass. None of the pack liked Jenna, not after what she’d done to Riley and the sooner Max, the pack alpha, got her a place in one of the other packs, the better.
“Pretending like she’s that film star. As if Krystal Kerr would be seen dead in a place like this. Or be all over him of all people.” Jenna was still in full flow and Kyle had all but stopped listening but at her last sentence, he froze.
Krystal…Kristen. Here. All over someone.
Fury whipped up out of nowhere, even though he knew he had no right to be angry. She was her own person; who she decided to spend time with was her concern.
“I mean, come on. Riley of all people?”
His glass crashed down on the table as the growl ripped free from his throat. The crowd around him moved out of the way, silence falling over the near side of the bar as he turned, zeroing in on the dance floor. There she was, just as Jenna said. Kristen. He paused for a moment to drink in the sight of her. All those gorgeous curves, the cropped red curls, the delicate curve of her neck…snuggly wrapped up in the arms of another man.
Jealousy exploded through him, feeding the rage that brought his wolf almost to the surface. Kyle stor
med across the room, his anger swirling around him like a dark cape, the need to do violence, to tear his woman from the other man’s arms uppermost in his mind. Fuck being understanding. Fuck all that bullshit about her being her own person.
She was his, dammit.
He’d claimed her last night, with his body if not his bite. She had surrendered to him, shuddered in pleasure beneath him, wrapped around his cock. She’d screamed his fucking name as she came. His name, not Riley’s. Not any other wolf’s.
His.
As pack enforcer Riley wasn’t a wolf who could be crept up on easily, and this time proved no different. Before Kyle got within ten feet, he lifted his head, arms still around Kristen, to spear him with a direct look. His eyes were human, not the amber of his wolf, but Kyle didn’t care. Nor did he care that Riley was one of his oldest friends. The guy had his paws on Kyle’s woman and that was enough to have a warning growl spilling from his lips.
Amber burst through Riley’s eyes like the rising sun, his wolf called and evident, ready to leap from his human form within a second as he faced Kyle down. The woman in his arms must have registered the change in the air because she stiffened, her movements slowing from the beat of the music, and looked over her shoulder.
“Get your hands off her. Now.”
Riley lifted his chin, amber eyes sparkling in challenge as his lip curled. “Make me.”
The rest of the room was silent, all watching the standoff taking place in the middle of the dance floor. To his left, Kyle caught sight of Blake moving into position, the leather-clad bouncer looking grim. He should do, he was used to breaking up fights between the youngsters drunk on being allowed adult freedoms for the first time, but a fight between wolves like Kyle and Riley… It wasn’t going to be pretty.