Twin Alphas: Claimed (A BBW Werewolf Romance)

by Georgette St. Clair

  She heard a faint rustling, and then Clayton was taking her hands, pulling her to her feet. She could barely hold back a whimper at the loss of Holt’s warmth and was about to protest, but Clayton grasped the hem of her shirt and whipped it over her head in one swift motion.

  The handkerchief covering her eyes briefly slipped and she had a glimpse of smooth, muscular flesh and caramel eyes that smoldered with undisguised lust. She realized Clayton had taken off his shirt...and then it registered that he had taken off her shirt, and with a yelp she crossed her arms over her torso to cover herself, burning with embarrassment.

  “Don’t do that.” Clayton’s voice was low and soft, but there was a note of command in his

  “Wh-what? Don’t do what?” Amelia couldn’t keep the quiver out of her voice. She was blind.

  She was trembling with excitement and, suddenly, with nerves. The thought of these beautiful, magnetic men looking at her pale, imperfect body made her stomach lurch in a way that had nothing to do with arousal.

  “Don’t hide from us.” Holt’s voice came from behind her and she felt the heat of his naked chest against her back. “You’re beautiful.” He unsnapped her lacy bra then crowded in behind her, sliding the straps over her shoulders.

  “Gorgeous,” echoed Clayton. He ran his hand up the side of her thigh. “Those hips...” He unwrapped her arms from her body, skated his fingers over her ample belly. “Those curves...” Then he ran a finger around her nipple where it strained against the lacy fabric of her bra, pert and furled.

  “Your breasts.”

  He peeled the cups from her breasts and she caught her breath as the scratchy fabric caught against her pebbled nipples. He lowered his head and briefly sucked one rosy peak into the warmth of his mouth, sending a bolt of lust directly to Amelia’s pussy. She mewled.

  Suddenly she realized she didn’t feel any of the self-conscious awkwardness she’d come to

  think of as part of sex. With these men, between these men, hearing the hoarse approval and need in their voices, feeling the way their bodies responded to her, she felt nothing but desired.

  She caught her breath as she felt Holt’s erect cock pressed against the ample swell of her ass, as Clayton stepped in, crowding her with his hard body.

  Suddenly feeling wanton and abandoned, she wrapped her arms around his neck, allowing her full breasts to press against his chest. He pushed his hips against her, letting her feel the impressive size of his erection, and she moaned. As her lips parted, he lowered his head and kissed

  She squeezed her thighs together, trying to ease the ache in her pussy. Her panties were

  drenched and her nipples were pebbled against Clayton’s chest, tingling and needy. Clayton ran his palms up between their bodies, stroking the soft flesh of her belly then squeezing her breasts and groaning into her mouth as their yielding roundness filled his big hands.

  Holt ground against her buttocks, grasping her full hips and moving against her in a dance of desire as the heat of his breath washed over the sensitive curve between her throat and her shoulder.

  She was surrounded by their scent, musky and animal. Their quick, excited breathing echoed in her ears and every graze, every touch, every whisper and sensation seemed amplified by the fact that she couldn’t see the beautiful men who were worshipping her body.

  When they led her over to the bearskin rug and helped her to lie down, she luxuriated in the feel of the thick, silky fur against her buttocks. She ran her fingers into the dense pile, then jumped as she heard the pop of a Champagne cork.

  Someone knelt behind her, settling her ass between his spread thighs and pulling her back to rest against him. Even with her eyes closed, she knew from the sure confidence of his touch that it was Clayton, and she gloried in his strength as he ran his hands over her breasts, stroking and soothing, then plucking at her nipples to make them stand to attention before moving his fingers in hypnotic circles and spirals again.

  She felt Holt’s hands on her thighs, gently guiding them open, and couldn’t help moving to cover herself with her hands as she realized he would be able to see the slick pinkness of her pussy, the glistening moisture of her excitement. But Holt caught her hands and placed them firmly at her sides, where she twisted her fingers into the dense fur of the rug again.

  Clayton’s hands left her...then she squealed as a splash of cold liquid hit her skin, trickling

  between her breasts and pooling in the deep hollow of her navel. The heady smell of Champagne hit her nostrils and she could feel the tiny bubbles tickling against her skin and fizzing in her belly button. All thoughts of self-consciousness gone, she giggled and writhed, and heard twin chuckles of amusement and appreciation in reply. Then her laughter and her breath were stolen when Holt moved up her body and began to lap the stickiness from her sternum. Her heart hammered against her ribcage as he took her nipple between his teeth and teased it, first gently and then with a playful nip that made her arch toward him. For mindless moments she was lost.

  Behind her Clayton growled playfully and pulled her back against him again. She realized he’d taken advantage of her distraction to strip when she felt the heavy length of his cock pressing against her spine, and her head swam with the idea that a man like him wanted her so badly – that men like these wanted her. Unable to resist, she lifted one hand to push the blindfold away from her eyes and watched as Holt moved down her body to drink the Champagne from her belly button. He swirled his tongue into the sensitive hollow and Amelia arched toward him again.

  He worked his way down between her parted thighs and, lips still sticky with champagne, lapped at her pussy. His tongue rasped tantalizingly over her tight opening and she gave a hoarse moan in a voice she hardly recognized as her own. He sucked on her clitoris as though the tiny, sensitive bud was a sweet little candy, and pleasure rolled through her body, so intense it left her gasping and writhing and damp with sweat.

  Clayton kissed the nape of her neck and the twin sensations – one mouth on her spine and the other between her legs – sent tendrils of heat swirling through her. A sweet, desperate pleasure started to build in her pelvis and she flexed her hips, trying to get closer to Holt’s busily working lips and tongue.

  Lapping at her clitoris, he brought his hand up and slowly, with maddening pressure, worked one finger into her tight channel, bearing irresistibly into her. She felt her private muscles clenching against him, greedy to have him inside her.

  He broke away, gasping, to murmur, “You’re so wet,” and his hot breath on her intimate flesh almost sent her tumbling over the edge into orgasm.

  Then they were pulling her, turning her, stroking her fleshy thighs and squeezing her buttocks, murmuring sweet nothings, and she found herself on all fours, panting with exertion and need, tilting her hips in wanton, animal invitation.

  Behind her Holt growled and ran his tongue up, over her clit, dipping briefly into her sopping, clenching channel and over the intimate puckered flesh of her anus, making her squeak with a combination of surprise and unbearable arousal.

  As she opened her eyes she found Clayton kneeling in front of her, his penis erect and straining just in front of her parted lips. A pearly bead of moisture trembled on the tip and she opened her mouth to swirl her tongue over the head of his dick.

  He ran his fingers into the shining locks of her dark hair, not drawing her towards him but holding himself perfectly still as he allowed her to take him deeper. His hoarse, low cry sent pulses of pleasure trembling through her body just as Holt positioned the head of his cock against her pulsing, needy flesh.

  She found herself unable to breathe as she sucked on Clayton’s cock and Holt entered her in a single, smooth thrust. Her pussy clenched and she trembled from head to toe for glorious, tortured moments. She was so full, unable to move or think, until they both pulled back and she was left empty and panting, her head hanging, shoulders heaving.

  Then Holt kneaded the soft flesh of her generous ass and he entered her again
. His breath came in short, sharp bursts and she could feel the tension in his body, the rigid control he was exercising to keep from thrusting into her hard enough to hurt

  She felt a wild pressure growing – a tingling heaviness that built and built in her belly, pulsed in her clit. She cried out again and again, her voice harsh, her pussy clutching at Holt’s cock.

  He guided her to her knees, bringing her back against his body. He pumped rapidly, desperately, kneading her breasts, and came with a rough shout, continuing to pound into her until he collapsed back, tumbling her down with him in a sweaty, sated tangle of limbs. He moaned his contentment and clutched her to him when she tried to move away, his body strong and sure beneath her spine.

  Clayton followed them down, fisting his straining dick, his handsome face locked in hard lines of arousal. His eyes, like coffee with a swirl of caramel, strong and yet sweet, held hers as he shuddered and spilled himself over his hand and onto the softness of her belly.

  As he supported himself above them on straining arms he allowed his head to drop against her collarbone and put his lips against her throat. He inhaled deeply, as though taking in her scent, then rolled to the side and off her body. Amelia took the opportunity to disentangle herself from Holt, who snuggled back contentedly against her side.

  Propping himself up on one elbow, Clayton gently took Amelia’s hand and raised it to his lips. He gently kissed each finger, then turned it over and pressed a kiss to her palm, her wrist. He moved up her arm and paused at the crook of her elbow. A bone-deep shiver of pleasure went through Amelia as he sank his teeth into the soft flesh then pulled away, leaving a neat double crescent of tooth marks. He swiped a drop of blood away with the flat of his tongue, then looked up at her, his toffee-colored eyes glazed with sated desire and primal satisfaction.

  “Now you’re ours,” he whispered. “Truly ours.” He gently kissed the love bite Holt had left on her throat.

  “Ours,” his brother echoed from his place at Amelia’s side, wrapping one possessive arm over her stomach.

  Amelia closed her eyes and let herself sink into their possessive embrace. Yours, she thought. Only yours. But only for a little while.

  Chapter Seven

  She woke up in a tangle of limbs. She didn’t know where Holt began and Clayton ended. Muscular arms and legs were flung across her. Sunlight poured through the window, and she lay there breathing in the scent of their animal-like musk and the heavy smell of sex in the air.

  She ached all over, in the most pleasant, delicious fashion imaginable. Pushing her hair back out of her face, she sat up, looked from side to side, and saw that Clayton was on her left, and Holt was on her right. Good to know. All their blankets were on the floor, but that was okay. They’d kept her plenty warm.

  She could feel the love bites pulsing on her neck and her arms, but they didn’t hurt. There was an oddly pleasurable feel to it.

  Somewhere, far away, a rooster crowed.

  Holt sat bolt upright. Then Clayton shot up.

  “Damn it! Opening ceremonies!” he groaned.

  “Opening ceremonies?” she echoed, looking around the room and rubbing her eyes. The clock on the wall said 7:00 a.m.

  “7:. The Elders don’t really seem to be clear on the concept that there’s a hell of a lot of mating going on here, and some people might want to sleep in a little bit, maybe.” Clayton staggered out of bed and rubbed sleep from his eyes. He stumbled into the living room, with Amelia and Holt trailing behind him and yawning.

  “Wasn’t yesterday the first day of the festival?” she asked, rubbing her face with her hands and hiding a huge yawn.

  “Everybody checks in a day early, so they have time to get properly settled in.” Holt quickly unzipped his suitcase and rooted around for clean clothes.

  “Holt! Why didn’t you get up and make us breakfast, you bonehead?” Clayton groused, as he quickly pulled on his pants.

  “Why didn’t you? What kind of impression are you making on our mate?” Holt snapped back. Amelia ran over to her overnight bag, pulled out a flowery dress, sweater, and underwear, and dressed quickly.. Ugh. She felt sticky and sweaty, and she desperately needed a shower, but apparently she wouldn’t have time before they rushed out.

  “Me? You always make breakfast! If there’s going to be a change in plan, you should have-”

  “Hey!” Amelia yelled. “Settle down, guys. How long will it take us to walk to place where they’re holding the ceremonies?” She was already dashing over to the cupboards.

  “Ten or fifteen minutes,” Clayton said.

  She pulled out a box of pancake mix. “We’ll walk fast. Holt, put on coffee. Clayton, get me some eggs. Move! Chop chop!”

  Clayton grinned at Holt as he ran over to the refrigerator to grab the eggs. “I like her. She’s all right. Shall we keep her?”

  Holt smirked back at him. “I was planning on it, brother.”

  It suddenly occurred to her that she’d heard them refer to her as “their mate”. What exactly did that entail? She needed to find out, and soon. It was a huge pain in the ass not being able to ask direct questions.

  She quickly pulled out a bowl, measuring cup, and spoon from the drawers and cupboards, and set them on the kitchen counter.

  “Sorry, I am totally forgetting my manners. How did you sleep?” Holt asked her.

  She grinned at him. “Least amount of sleep I ever had. Best night I ever had.”

  Holt broke into a smile brighter than the sun. “Well, that just made my morning.”

  They all moved fast, falling into a natural rhythm as if they were a long time married – couple? Triple? What would one call such an arrangement?

  Clayton cracked eggs into the bowl and she dumped in pancake mix. Holt had already started the coffee, and now he was spraying a pan with non stick spray and turning on the grill.

  They have non-stick spray, she marveled. It’s even the same brand that I use. She needed to pull out her camera and take a bunch of pictures today, she reminded herself.

  “Our dads claimed our mom right here at this ceremony, twenty six years ago,” Holt said cheerfully, as she poured pancake batter onto the sizzling hot frying pan. “We were born nine months later. They didn’t waste any time. You know how it is. When it’s right, it’s right.”

  “How many in your family?” she asked, as she deftly flipped pancakes.

  “Ten kids, total,” Holt said. “Six of our brothers are married already. Of course, it’s easier for them to find mates, since they’re Beta, and they don’t have to go through all this claiming ceremony stuff.”

  “Right. Naturally,” Amelia agreed, as if she had a clue what they were talking about. A beta. Well, wolf packs had an Alpha and a Beta. So, with werewolf families, there were twin Alphas and then the rest were Betas, apparently. Were all Alphas twins? It seemed that way.

  “You’ll meet them, of course,” Clayton added. “Right after this week’s over, I’m thinking.”

  “I can’t wait,” she said brightly, because she couldn’t think of anything else to say. She felt a wave of gloom wash over her. If only all of this was real. If only she could really be mated to them forever. A huge, happy family, with kids everywhere and not one but two incredibly handsome, loving men who were totally devoted to her…

  “Here’s your coffee, drink fast,” Holt said, handing her a coffee cup. She forced a smile.

  “You okay?” he asked, looking concerned.

  “I’m totally fine. Just tired. Maybe I’ll nap later.”

  They gulped down their pancakes and coffee, and rushed out the door. Amelia ran her fingers through her tangled hair. “Dear God, what I wouldn’t give for an invisibility spell right now,” she groaned.

  “You’re the prettiest girl at the festival,” Holt said, his arm slung protectively around her shoulders.

  “You have terrible eyesight. I like that about you,” Amelia said breathlessly, as they broke into a jog.

  The opening ceremonies were held i
n a huge open field, with a round raised stage. Speakers hung on tall poles, and Amelia noticed Mages standing by each pole. They must be there to ensure that the speakers were getting enough power. She’d heard the phrase “Spellectricity” several times since she’d been here; apparently, the Mages provided the power source, but they had to continually renew it. As far as she could tell, they drew their power from something called Ley Lines, which ran underneath the Earth in a vast network that stretched throughout the whole planet, and they used it to provide power for everything from people’s homes to cars to airplanes.

  There was a huge crowd gathered for the opening ceremony, many of them looking as sleep rumpled as she was, which made her feel better.

  She spotted a fair number of women who had the same kind of love bites that she did, visible on their necks and arms. The women all had sleepy, deeply satisfied smiles on their face – probably just like hers.

  She watched as a dozen wolves marched down the aisle that led up onto the stage, climbed the stairs, and ambled over to a microphone stand. There were a couple of dozen humans standing on the stage; about a dozen of them were holding up crimson robes.

  Noticing that there were plenty of people in the crowd with their cell phone cameras and video cameras trained on the central dais, she grabbed her camera and trained it on the crowd and began recording.

  “Tourist,” Holt teased.

  You have no idea, she thought.

  “Hey, this a momentous occasion,” she said.

  Across the way, she saw Mackenzie. Mackenzie was standing alone, arms folded across her chest. Her demeanor had completely changed. Yesterday she’d been all perky and happy; today her expression was pure misery.