Ranger Knox (Shifter Nation: Werebears Of Acadia Book 1)

by Meg Ripley

  As soon as the noises started to go soft I was on top of her, licking my lips and then kissing her again, touching her everywhere. It felt like I had molten rock pooling in my hips; my cock was so hard it almost hurt. “Let me know…when you’re ready for more,” I told Fran, barely able to breathe.

  “Go for it,” Fran told me, smiling up at me with dazed, hazy, wild eyes.

  “Really?” I rocked my hips against hers. “You’re up for this already?”

  “Always,” Fran said, nodding eagerly. I shifted against her and then, in an instant I was sliding inside of her, pushing past the flexing muscles at the front of her pussy and in deeper.

  “Fuck, Frannie,” I groaned, almost shaking; it was almost too much for me. I had to hold still for what felt like a fucking eternity, buried inside of her while her muscles tightened around me in erratic little spasms. “This never gets old, does it?”

  “Never,” Frannie agreed. She kissed me everywhere, and as soon as I could I started moving, thrusting deeper and deeper inside of her. I fought to hold back, to keep it going as long as possible without losing control, but after a few minutes I couldn’t help myself anymore: she was so tight, so hot and so wet that it was impossible to fight the urge to go hard and fast. Fran wrapped her legs around my waist and we moved together, touching each other everywhere, kissing and licking and sucking wherever our lips could reach.

  I buried my face against her tits, nuzzling, kissing, my hips slapping against hers as I felt the tension mounting somewhere in the pit of my stomach. All at once, I felt the tension dissolve, breaking with a snap, and I felt Fran shudder underneath me as we both came. I didn’t even care anymore—I was too wrapped up in the feeling of her body around mine, the sounds of her moans, the way she smelled and tasted. I came for what felt like hours, pushing deeper and deeper inside of her, riding through the climax that ripped through me so intense that it was almost painful.

  All the strength in my body left me all at once and I collapsed next to Fran in the bed, dripping with sweat and panting for breath. “Some party,” I said, turning to look at her.

  “This is just act one,” she said, giggling softly in the darkness. “As soon as we catch our breaths, we’re doing this again.”

  “You’re not worried about losing your voice?” I smirked at her. Fran laughed out loud, curling up close to me.

  “I don’t have any recordings to do for a month at least,” she said. “Make me as hoarse as you possibly can, lover boy.”

  “It’s a deal,” I said, reaching over to give one of her heavy tits a playful squeeze. “But let’s grab a beer first. It’s too fucking hot in this house.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Once more I found myself in the rehearsal space with the rest of the band, alone, after Ron left us to “discuss this issue amongst yourselves.”

  “Fucking déjà vu, man,” I said, glancing at the other members of my band. Somewhere, on the other end of the city, I was pretty sure that Fran was going through something similar.

  “We should get this over with,” Alex said, shifting in his chair. “So, what’s the deal?”

  “The deal is that Fran and I have been working on our own material for a while,” I said with a shrug. “While we were working on the EP, we stayed after hours and recorded some stuff.”

  “And talked to Ron and the label about releasing it?” Nick looked skeptical.

  “A little,” I said, finding a cigarette in my pack and bringing it up to my lips to light it. “It’s not like I want to break up the band or anything—but you guys know I’ve done my own thing on the side for years.”

  “We’ve known that,” Alex agreed. He glanced at Mark and Dan, who I had to admit were looking less than thrilled. The label had offered me and Fran the chance to put out our own album—apart from the albums made by Molly Riot and Juniper Woolf—after the already-slated albums were done. “Personally, as long as you’re still committed to the band, it doesn’t bother me at all,” Alex said with a shrug.

  “How can he be committed to the band when he’s doing side projects with his girlfriend?” Mark looked at me gloomily.

  “You fill in for Mikey all the time,” Dan pointed out.

  “This isn’t the same as that and you know it, Daniel,” Mark told Dan sharply. “He’s actually working on material and talking about putting an album out.”

  “If you don’t want us to put it out, then we won’t,” I said with a shrug. “We really just did the recordings to do them.”

  “So why did you even show them to the label anyway?” Nick raised an eyebrow at me. I took a drag on my cigarette and flicked the ash off the end.

  “We thought if the label saw anything in it, it might be fun to do,” I told him. “I don’t want to quit the band, I don’t even really want a break from the band. I just wanted to do something different, so I did. Fucking sue me.”

  “You’re sure that you’re going to be able to keep up with the extra commitments you’ve got going on?” I looked Nick dead in the eyes, and then looked at the other members of my band.

  “I am having a really hard fucking time being philosophical about this,” I said as calmly as I could. “Alex hooks up with his damn sobriety coach from rehab and no one cares. Nick gets involved with the journalist who’s supposed to be blogging our tour—and starts a photography project with her—and no one the fuck cares. I get together with someone and suddenly everyone fucking doubts me?”

  “It’s another musician, from another band,” Dan pointed out. “It’s different.”

  “What’s different is that for once in my goddamn life I actually want to do the right thing with a girlfriend and all anybody here can say is that I’m betraying the fucking band.” I shook my head. “You guys were the ones who wanted me to play nice with her—I didn’t even want to do the fucking tour or the EP in the first place.”

  “We didn’t mean fuck her brains out and form a side project,” Nick countered.

  “Yeah, well, apparently, that’s where me playing nice with her led us, so either you guys decide to be okay with this, tell me what you want me to fucking do about it, or shut the fuck up.” I stubbed my cigarette out and blew the smoke out of my lungs. “Because personally I’m kind of done with making everything so goddamn complicated.”

  “Jules is in love,” Alex said, grinning. I glanced at my other band mates; Mark was staring in shock, Dan looked like he’d just swallowed an entire hive of bees and was waiting for them to start stinging him, and Nick was smirking.

  “Jules is in looooove,” Nick agreed. “Damn, son—about fucking time you found a girl who wouldn’t get tired of your shit.”

  “Shut up,” I said, shaking my head. “That’s not even what we’re talking about right now.”

  “It kind of is,” Alex pointed out. “I mean, if you’re in love with her than the whole side project thing makes sense. You’re not just humoring a steady lay.”

  “It doesn’t make a difference why I’m doing it!” I grabbed another cigarette and lit it; at the rate I was going I’d hack up a lung before midnight. I didn’t care. “Look. Either you’re all okay with me doing this project, or you’re not okay with it, and we figure something out. That’s all there is to this situation. My relationship with Fran doesn’t fucking come into it, okay?” I took a drag from the cigarette and sat back in my chair.

  “Let’s put it to a vote,” Alex said, still looking amused. “All in favor with Jules doing what he wants as long as it doesn’t interfere with the band?” Alex raised his hand; Dan and Nick followed, and I raised mine—obviously. Mark left his hand down. “Opposed?” Mark kept his hand down still.

  “Jesus fuck, Mark,” I said, shaking my head. “You don’t get to fucking abstain this time.”

  “Why not?” Mark half-scowled at me.

  “Because if you’re against me doing this then you might as well be against it.”

  “I want to know you’re not just using this as an excuse to try and put us behi
nd you,” Mark told me, arms crossed over his chest.

  “I’m not,” I said. “I love this band. I’ve been doing other music for as long as you’ve known me—when have I abandoned you guys when it counted?”

  “So, we’re good?” Alex looked around the room. I looked at Mark for a little while longer in silence.

  “We’re working on our album first, right? And the band still comes before—whatever it is you’re doing with Fran?” I nodded. Mark shrugged. “It’s whatever then. But if you start sneaking off…”

  “I’m not going to,” I told him. “I haven’t tried to yet.”

  “Then we’re good,” Mark said; he still looked doubtful, but I knew that he wouldn’t have agreed to it if he was really, truly skeptical of me keeping things separated.

  We talked for a few more minutes, about the next album and rehearsal schedules, and then I left the rest of the band to drink a few beers and talk about me behind my back while I called Fran. She picked up after the second ring. “How’d your talk go?” I almost laughed as I stepped out into the afternoon sauna heat.

  “Things are still stable,” I said. “They’re going to spend the next month making fun of me for actually being in love with someone.” Fran laughed.

  “Are you now? That’s fascinating.” I rolled my eyes, sitting down on the curb outside of the rehearsal space.

  “You know I am.”

  “You’ve never told me that,” Fran said tartly. “Maybe that would have come in handy for my own conversation.”

  “That I’m helplessly in love with you?” I laughed.

  “Is your band worried that I’m going to lead you astray like some Yoko figure?” I nodded, even though I knew that she couldn’t see.

  “Mark is,” I admitted. “I think probably Nick has his doubts, too. But it’s not like he has much room to talk. Alex is surprisingly cool with everything. Dan…” I shrugged. “Dan just wants to keep moving forward.”

  “Sounds about the breakdown over here, too.” Fran paused for a moment. “You’re really sure you want to do this, right?”

  “Yeah, I’m sure,” I said. “Are you getting cold feet?”

  “In this climate? Impossible.” Fran’s voice rippled with amusement—but I heard doubt there, too. “I just want to make sure that you’re sure.”

  “For the first fucking time in my life,” I said, smiling slightly. “I’m sure of everything. I want to stay in the band. I want to be with you. I can do both of those things. We’ll make it work.” It felt weird to say it out loud—to say it to Fran—but after we’d nearly let everything crash and burn, I’d made a kind of promise to myself that I wasn’t going to let things go the way that they had so many other times when I’d fucked everything up with a girl. I was going to make it work.

  “I’ll see you in a couple of hours? We’ve got a meeting with the label to talk about the recording schedule.” We had a standing date to meet for drinks once we were done with whatever we had going on for the day; from there we’d either go back to Fran’s place or mine.

  “I’ll be waiting for you at Bardot with a drink,” I told her. “We’re going back to my place tonight. I want to show you something.”

  “I’ll try to keep the suspense from killing me,” Fran said dryly. We said our goodbyes, and I hung up, closing my eyes for a moment before I started back towards the rehearsal space. I realized I was smiling to myself like an idiot and I didn’t even care. Next month’s Florida Scene Magazine headline: ‘Fran and Jules Turn Rivalry into Beautiful Music’, I thought. The press were going to have a field day with the fact that Fran and I were not just together—but actually working on a project.

  “Fuck it,” I told myself. I didn’t care how much crow I was going to have to eat: Fran was the only woman I’d ever met who not only put up with my shit but immediately got what I wanted to do with my own music. A million assholes could call her Yoko and I’d punch each and every last one of them. Don’t let them call her your Yoko. Make them call her your Meg White. The image made me grin again; that was exactly how we’d play it for the press. I stepped back into the building, thinking that maybe if I sweet-talked Mark I could get him to design a logo for the new act. There were too many details to think about—but if anyone was the perfect fucking partner-in-crime for what I wanted to do, if anyone could support me without trying to force me away from the band I loved, I knew it was Fran.

  And that was all that mattered.

  THE END

  Hot Summer With The Alpha Billionaire

  Emma was only looking for a little fun during her summer away in posh Newport, Rhode Island. One night, she walked up to Marco Accardi, never imagining the fiery passion that would ensue. He wanted to possess every inch of Emma's body and soul, but she was blissfully unaware of the sordid life he kept hidden from her.

  Their scorching love affair becomes threatened when Emma discovers the truth about Marco’s involvement with the Mafia. Is Emma's pull on Marco strong enough to compel him to leave The Family, or will their whirlwind romance become nothing more than a hot summer fling?

  “Hurry up!” hollered a voice through the bathroom door as Emma lazily continued with her shower. It was a well-known fact among this group of friends that a closed door was nothing more than a formality. Since when did the bathroom become the new living room? Emma pondered, lathering up while three of her best friends communed around the vanity mirror. It's not that it bothered her; these women were like sisters, friends since high school, but it was an interesting question, nevertheless.

  The group had decided to reconnect with a summer-long vacation together in an upscale Newport, Rhode Island home rental. It was the first night of their getaway, and after a day of touring some of the ritziest mansions in the area, the girls were headed out to unwind with a night out on the town--or at least a night at the nearest bar.

  “I'm coming out, ladies! Cover your eyes or prepare to drool,” Emma teased with a grin. It's true that Emma was definitely the most beautiful of the bunch, with a slim waist, curvy hips and legs that went on for miles. It didn't hurt that she also had ridiculously perfect, feminine features; long, wavy auburn tresses and a come-hither smile that could make any man hard. Emma flung open the shower curtain and stepped out as Lisa entered the room, clothed in only a bra and thong and in the midst of a veritable fashion crisis. She held four different outfits in her arms and wore a panic-stricken look on her face. “I can't decide. It's been so long since I've been out on a Friday night.”

  Lisa was the high-strung member of the group. After college and law school, Lisa landed herself an enviable position in a prestigious law firm, and hadn't really taken a day off since. She'd become far more comfortable in an office or boardroom than a nightclub, and changing gears to vacation mode was taking its toll. Emma took pity. Standing nude in front of the shower, she offered her outstretched arms to her friend.

  “Come here, Lisa,” she soothed, pulling Lisa close and rubbing her back reassuringly. To an onlooker, the scene might have appeared like something out of an adult video; Emma naked and glistening wet, her tits pressed against Lisa's lace-covered breasts, and a roomful of partially clothed women watching the scene. But it was no big deal here.

  “It's okay. Just take a deep breath and calm down. We'll have you dressed to the nines before we leave,” Emma offered with a smile. Feeling Lisa's pulse return to normal, Emma pulled away gently. “Now, do you mind? I'm naked here!” she scolded mildly with a grin. Lisa was feeling calmer now.

  “You know I never mind you naked, Em,” Lisa returned with a smile. “Okay, so which one says 'I'm here on vacation and looking for a good time?'” she queried, holding out her selection of outfits to her friends. Emma and two others--Kristy and Sasha--voted for the knee-length, backless sheath.

  An hour later, the group headed out on foot; the bar they had spied earlier was only two blocks away, and the light breeze that had blown in at sundown made the sultry heat of the evening air bearable. Emma was quieter t
han usual. She strolled along with the group, nodding to keep up with the conversation, but her mind wandered elsewhere. It had been six months to the day since she left her long-time boyfriend, Adam. They had been together for nearly five years, but no matter how often they talked about taking the relationship further, Adam insisted he just needed a little more time before he settled down for good. Unfortunately, when Emma found him with his face buried in another woman's nether regions, she'd realized that he wasn't about to commit any time in the near future either. Her ego had definitely taken a blow, but eventually she realized that perhaps she wasn't as much in love with Adam as she had thought. After losing her parents and only brother to a car accident 10 years ago, she realized after the breakup that what she really longed for was a family.

  The group reached the bar and grabbed a table away from the assemblage of patrons occupying the stools around the bar. Lisa ordered the first round of drinks--some strange tropical concoction that Emma was sure contained more alcohol in a single glass than she'd consumed during the past five years. Outside of the comfort zone of her friends, Emma seldom strayed from the straight and narrow, always too concerned about others to prioritize her own selfish wants and needs. She hated it when others labeled her the 'good girl,' but she couldn't really argue the title. But, she planned to let loose and have fun with the gals tonight, so as soon as the drinks arrived, she downed hers quickly and signaled for another. If she had to consume enough liquor to inebriate a horse in order to ditch the good girl title, so be it.

  Half the group was on the dance floor by the time Emma had downed her second drink; only her and Lisa remained at the table, and Lisa was eying a tall, dark and slightly dippy-looking guy two tables over. Emma had just started her third drink, but stopped mid-sip when someone caught her attention from across the room. She wasn't entirely sure what it was that was so captivating at first; she'd had her fair share of good-looking men. It wasn't that he was handsome--which he was--but he sat all alone at a table in the middle of the crowd; not off in a corner like so many solo bar-goers are apt to do. And he didn't seem the least bit perturbed by his solitary state. In fact, he sat so casually and comfortably, Emma surmised he would look no different if he were lounging in his own living room.