Jackson laid her on the bed. Alain, his eyes shining silver, stripped off his clothes. Patrice lay back on her elbows, enjoying his hard body coming into view and the long cock that lifted to her.
Jackson slid out of his jeans and climbed on the bed. He knelt in the pillows behind Patrice and cradled her head in his lap.
Alain looked at them for a long time, the wolf flicking in and out of his eyes. Finally he climbed over Patrice, on all fours. His eyes were so intense that Patrice’s own wolf began to move inside her. She wanted the change.
“Not yet,” Jackson said softly. “Not until you’ve become ours completely.”
Alain lowered himself to her. He leaned down and licked her breasts, his tongue slowly tracing her aureoles. Jackson rose to straddle Patrice, and she had a nice view of his tight balls and cock sticking straight out.
“Alain,” he said in a low voice.
Alain raised his head. He studied Jackson’s cock hanging in front of him a moment, then closed his lips over it, taking it full in his mouth. Patrice gaped, her body heating to a frenzy as she watched Alain suckle him. She wanted to reach up and join them, but Alain had her pinned and all she could do was watch, frustrated.
Alain swirled his tongue around Jackson’s tip and the other man groaned.
“Let me,” Patrice begged. “Please.”
Jackson knelt back away from Alain, his cock long and thick and glistening. He remained out of Patrice’s reach and slanted Alain a gleeful look. “Want to?”
“Yes.”
Patrice didn’t know what he meant, but she thought it would be fun finding out. Alain got off the bed, making Patrice want to whimper in the cold, but he returned soon with a tube of lube and some towels.
“We want you,” Alain said. “Together. Can you take that?”
Patrice the ordinary woman probably could not have. What he suggested was amazing and, weeks ago, had no part in her world. But everything that had happened the last couple of days had given her the strength and the courage. Patrice had been willing to sacrifice herself for Alain, and Jackson had been willing to sacrifice himself for them both.
She got to her knees.
“What do I have to do?”
Alain lay down full length, his cock lying hard and dark against his abdomen. He reached for her, signaling with his fingers. “Come here, love.”
Patrice slid her leg over his hips. Alain smiled at her, his eyes sparkling and wicked. “I’ve always wanted to do this.”
“Me too,” Jackson said from behind Patrice.
Patrice realized this had been in her fantasies from the first time she’d seen them—the gorgeous Alain and the dark-eyed Jackson sharing her.
Alain guided her down onto him, his cock filling her and stretching her. She shivered, then grew warm, her head tilting back to rub her short hair across her neck. Jackson’s large hands rested on her waist, and he kissed her throat.
Alain rocked into her a few times, making her moan with pleasure. He slid his hands up to her shoulders and gently eased her down so she lay on top of him. He lifted his hips a little and Patrice felt Jackson’s warmth close behind her, then the chill, slick feeling of lube. She moaned again as his well-lubed fingers touched her anal star, gently working it.
“Relax for me,” Jackson whispered. “Enjoy what I’m doing to you.”
Patrice let her muscles go slack, then she felt her body warm as Jackson slid a finger into her. It was an incredible sensation, making her first hot then cold then hot again. Her flesh rose in goosebumps.
Jackson played for a while, letting her get used to it, adding another finger. Patrice got lost in the feelings, Alain hard inside her, Jackson slowly loosening her. Even the wolf was soothed, loving what they did to her.
She was so far gone in sensation that she almost missed it when Jackson withdrew his fingers and pressed his large, smooth tip to the opening. She made a noise of anticipation and he smoothed his hand down her back.
“Shh. Stay relaxed.”
She wanted to fly apart. Alain cupped her face in his hands as Jackson eased his way inside, his cock pressing the walls he’d warmed and opened.
Maybe the lube made it all right, maybe Jackson was an expert or maybe the wolf in her let her do what she wanted, but her body let her take it. Suddenly she was filled with both men, Alain under her, Jackson behind her, his hands on her hips. She could feel both their cocks inside her, moving for her pleasure.
Beautiful thought, them together, touching through her body. She squirmed a little, enjoying the sensation as they held her between them.
“I love you,” she whispered. “I love you both.”
Alain started to move, then Jackson. Patrice screamed. It hurt and then it didn’t, Jackson’s soothing hands seeming to magically remove any pain. She learned that if she relaxed all the way, wide open and welcoming, there was no hurt at all.
Nothing but incredible feeling. She heard her voice ring through the room, heard Alain’s growl of satisfaction and Jackson’s hoarse breathing, but she seemed disconnected from sound. She was disconnected from everything except the hot, hard bodies of two men around her.
Deeper, deepest.
She didn’t know what she screamed, but Jackson laughed as he fucked her ass.
A wave of darkness swirled over her, her senses far gone in delight. Dimly she heard Alain say, “I’m coming,” then felt his scalding seed. Jackson moved a little longer, then he filled her, his hips coming to rest firmly against hers.
Patrice collapsed on top of Alain, Jackson still inside her. She must have fallen instantly asleep, because when she came to herself again, she found herself lying limply across Alain, his arms firmly around her. Jackson stretched out full length beside them, smoothing Patrice’s hair.
“That was beautiful,” Patrice crooned.
Jackson laughed his throaty laugh. Alain didn’t smile at all. He touched her face, his eyes soft. “I love you too,” he whispered.
* * * * *
Patrice easily controlled her change this time. Alain watched while her human body shimmered and she became the beautiful gray wolf. While he admired her, she leapt from the porch, obviously wanting him to chase her.
Alain morphed into the black wolf and charged after her. He caught up to her in a patch of moonlight—he knew she let him catch her—and they mated as wolves, doubly ensuring their bond.
He loved her. She’d willingly helped him search for his father’s killer, and she’d charged in without hesitation to save his life. The sight of her crashing through the window to save him had been the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. The scariest too. He’d thought he’d been about to watch her die for him.
And then Jackson had taken the bullets and saved them both. It had hurt him bad, he’d said—hell, the man shot me—though he seemed to be fully recovered now.
Our guardian angel, Alain thought, watching the coyote pant up to them as they rested by the stream.
Alain changed to his human form and stretched, and then Patrice was right beside him, a human once more. They held hands as they splashed into the creek to refresh themselves, and found Jackson in man form waiting when they emerged. Jackson opened his arms to them and they shared an embrace under the light of the full moon.
* * * * *
Patrice woke just as dawn broke over the mountain ridge to the east of Alain’s house. Alain lay stretched out beside her, one arm over his head, breathing deeply. He’d fallen like that after their last lovemaking and hadn’t moved. Neither had she.
Of Jackson, there was no sign. She raised her head and looked around, but Jackson was nowhere in sight and his clothes were gone.
Patrice slid out of bed, wincing at her sore muscles. She needed to learn to take it easy, although last night had been one of the most fun of her life.
She pulled on her shorts and blouse and padded out front in her bare feet. “Jackson?” she called softly.
Jackson stood on the front porch in nothing but his jeans, his
bare arms stretched toward the sun, his face tilted to catch the morning light. A breeze moved through the stillness, stirring a few shining strands of his hair. He was a beautiful man with a beautiful body, and Patrice’s wolf self wanted to sing with the joy of it.
Without turning or opening his eyes, Jackson smiled and lowered his arms. “Patrice.”
“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” She wasn’t sure how she knew that—she just knew.
“You and Alain are together. My work here is done.”
She slid her arms around his waist and rested her head on his back, his hair like warm silk.
“But you’re part of us, the three of us. Don’t go.”
Jackson gently pried loose her hold, but he turned and brushed his fingers over her cheek. “I won’t go far. Promise.”
“You’re a demigod,” Patrice said, resigned. “I suppose you have demigod things to do.”
He kissed her forehead, then his lips traveled to hers and lingered a while. “Coyote’s work is never done. But I’ll be back, sweetheart. There’s so much more for us to do, so much more for you to learn.”
His sinful look was promising. Patrice’s heart beat faster as she remembered the three of them in tangled limbs on the bed, the incredible feeling of Jackson and Alain inside her at the same time.
“I hope so,” she said sincerely.
He laughed, the sound rumbling. “Bye for now, love.”
He kissed her again, then turned his back and went down the porch stairs.
Patrice squinted against the morning sun as he sauntered across the gravel in his bare feet. A beam of sunlight poured over him and she thought his form shimmered.
She blinked, but only empty air met her gaze, the quiet morning filled with the sounds of doves. She thought she heard the faint yip of a coyote in the brush, but she couldn’t be sure.
Alain was sitting cross-legged on the bed when she went back inside. His eyes were somber. “He’s gone?”
She nodded. “He said he’d be back. Do you believe him?”
Alain thought a moment. “I do. We fit together—do you know what I mean?”
“That’s a good way of putting it.” She pulled off her clothes and joined him on the bed. “I thought we fit very well.”
Alain cupped her face. “I’m not good with words, not like Jackson. But something that was empty in me filled again the moment I saw you. Maybe it was instinct telling me you were a werewolf like me. I don’t know.”
“It was fate?” she asked teasingly, though her heart warmed.
“I don’t know about fate. I only know I saw you and wanted you. I needed you in my life. I chose you, whether or not fate had anything to do with it.” He held her against him. “And I’m hoping you choose me.”
She kissed him softly. “Of course I do. I said I loved you, and I meant it. It wasn’t just the throes of ecstasy.”
“Good.” He pressed a kiss to her hair. “Because I love you too. Wolves mate for life, you know.”
“I know. And I’m perfectly happy to.”
“We can get a marriage license and do everything legal in the human way if you want.”
She sat up and stared in mock surprise. “Was that a proposal? Aw, how sweet.”
“Don’t laugh at me. I’m too much a wolf to be up on wedding customs, but I know women like white dresses and big cakes and a roomful of people we both barely know.”
She did laugh, loud and long. “A small ceremony with a few friends will be fine. It’s you I want.”
Alain stretched out and pulled Patrice on top of him. His body was warm and strong, and she loved it. “Good. Wolves don’t really go for tuxes.”
“Is there a marriage ritual for wolves? Or werewolves? I have the feeling it doesn’t involve wedding cake.”
“There is one.” Alain’s eyes darkened, the black of his pupil swallowing the silver. “It takes about a day and involves a bed—if you want it in a bed.”
Her body warmed, her breasts growing heavy. “I thought it would be something like that.”
“Want to start now?” Alain’s smile was wicked, his voice low.
“I have the day off.”
“Good.”
Alain kissed her. His lips were tender and warm, the kiss full of love.
Then he growled and pinned her to the bed. She laughed and arched her body up to his, loving how he could switch from gentle to rough and back so quickly.
“I love you, Alain.”
“I love you too, Patrice. My mate.”
* * * * *
Outside the bedroom window, the coyote watched them with liquid, dark eyes. Then he turned and trotted off into the mists, chuckling to himself.
About the Author
Allyson James is yet one more name for a woman who has racked up four pseudonyms in the first two years of her career. She often cannot remember what her real name is and has to be tapped on the shoulder when spoken to.
Allyson began writing at age eight (a five-page story that actually contained goal, motivation, and conflict). She learned the trick of standing her math book up on her desk so she could write stories behind it. She wrote love stories before she knew what romances were, dreaming of the day when her books would appear at libraries and bookstores. At age thirty, she decided to stop dreaming and do it for real. She published the first short story she ever submitted in a national print magazine, which gave her the false illusion that getting published was easy.
After a long struggle and inevitable rejections, she at last sold a romance novel, then to her surprise several mystery novels, more romances, and erotic romances to Ellora’s Cave, and became a bestselling author. She writes under several pseudonyms, has been nominated for and won Romantic Times Reviewer’s Choice awards, and has had starred reviews in Booklist and Top Pick reviews in Romantic Times.
Allyson met her soulmate in fencing class (the kind with swords, not posts-and-rails). She looked down the length of his long, throbbing rapier and fell madly in love.
Allyson welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email address on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.
Tell Us What You Think
We appreciate hearing reader opinions about our books. You can email us at [email protected].
Also by Allyson James
Christmas Cowboy
Double Trouble
Ellora’s Cavemen: Dreams of the Oasis I anthology
Ellora’s Cavemen: Seasons of Seduction I anthology
Tales of the Shareem: Aiden and Ky
Tales of the Shareem: Maia and Rylan
Tales of the Shareem: Rees
Tales of the Shareem: Rio
Discover for yourself why readers can’t get enough of the multiple award-winning publisher Ellora’s Cave. Whether you prefer e-books or paperbacks, be sure to visit EC on the web at www.ellorascave.com for an erotic reading experience that will leave you breathless.
www.ellorascave.com
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