Game of Throbs Complete Series (Books 1-3)

by Piquette Fontaine

  Brandon's hands were upon her body, holding her in position as he thrust hard. Jim moved back down Jill's body and started to make out with him, running his hands all over the billionaire's torso and ass, spanking it lightly to offer encouragement, not that Brandon needed any. Jim held onto Brandon tightly and looked down at his wife, their eyes locking as Brandon roared with passion and grew ever faster, fucking Jill in front of Jim, threatening to break her in two with the power of his lust and in one huge explosion the billionaire's body convulsed and jerked wildly, and Jill bore all the brunt of his desire as a thick jet of cum spurted out and sent a warm sensation flooding through her.

  Panting and dripping with sweat, Brandon stayed over her as he gathered himself and tried to recover from the sensations. Jim helped him down and pushed him on the bed next to Jill where she and Brandon lay, trying to let their drained bodies recover, but Jim was still strong and he wanted to have his fill of his wife. He pulled Jill up by her hips and twisted her around, controlling her like an animal as he raised her ass to him and then, with Brandon's cum mingling with her dripping juice, plunged himself into her pussy and fucked her hard and fast. It wasn't hard and fast, it was fucking like it was the last time they were ever going to fuck, a way to release all of the frustration and misery that had clouded their lives for too long, a way to exorcise the demons that had been haunting them. Jim reached forward and grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked it back, making her body bend to his will. Sweat poured from his temples and dropped down, sizzling on the small of her back.

  Anguished moans escaped her lips as she closed her eyes, trying to brace the pleasure and the pain. Never had Jill experienced anything like this before, the sheer rush of orgasm was explosive and almost indescribable. It was as though she was glowing with an incandescent fury that had to be released. Brandon was beside her and he pushed himself across the bed and took her in his arms, kissing her while Jim fucked her, and in this way the three of them were still locked together. Jim spanked her ass and she liked this side of him. Before, in their old life, he had been tender and while their lovemaking had been enjoyable it had not been this primal. Being in Silvercreek, being with Brandon had released something that had been lurking inside them both, something they both needed to escape the tragedy that had befallen them.

  Jim's hands dug into her skin as he pounded her harder and deeper and groaned and yelled and gave her everything that he had. In his mind images of their entire relationship flashed through but the all that was left was the three of them, and when he released himself he fell onto Jill, burying himself in the back of her neck, smelling the scent of her body and tasting the sweat on her skin. Then he felt Brandon's arm around him as he extricated himself and the three of them sank into the soft pillows, enjoying the afterglow of sex. Jill lay in the middle of the two men, with her head resting against Jim's chest and Brandon's arm draped across her body, resting gently against her breast. There the three of them lay for a while, each of them alone with their own thoughts, reflecting on what they had just shared, yet together in the common happiness. Brandon kissed Jill's back, just in between her shoulders, and Jim kissed her forehead. She murmured softly, happily.

  “That was incredible,” she said in between breaths, her chest rising as she tried to catch her breath.

  “I've never felt anything like it,” Brandon agreed.

  “The people in town are going to have a fit when they see the three of us walking together,” Jim said, laughing softly.

  “Look, now it's over I don't expect you to stay here. I know that sometimes people just need to get it out of their system. I don't...I'm not going to hold you here if you want to stay,” Brandon said, unable to hide the concerned tone from his voice. Jill and Jim looked at each other, but it was Jill who spoke. She turned to face Brandon and kissed him lightly on the lips.

  “Brandon, we lost everything in our lives then you came along and saved us. You showed us that there is hope again. Our marriage can never be the same as it was before. We need you just as much as you need us, and yes it's not the most normal relationship but it is real, and it feels right. Silvercreek may not have turned out to be what you hoped it would for everyone, but it has been for us. It's our salvation. For the first time since Lucas died I'm actually looking forward to tomorrow, and it's all because of you.”

  Jim nodded in agreement and a wide smile adorned Brandon's face, and the three of them rested together in their bed, content with the new life they were they were going to make for themselves in Silvercreek.

  THE END

  Shifters in the Shadows

  Glossary

  Blood-born: a human bitten by a werewolf or wolven, or a bear or bearen before she or he shape shifts.

  Blood pure: the dominant blood type of a werewolf, wolven, a bear, bearen or a were-shifter after transforming into their dominant species, or a human.

  Bearen: a coven of bear shifters populating Smugglers’ Cove predating the California Gold Rush.

  Attacked by a bear first, and a wolf, second, creating the race.

  Half-ling: a human that is part animal, and unable to change into a werewolf and remain one during any cycle of a moon phase.

  ‘The Cove’: aka Smugglers’ Cove, nicknamed by the inhabitants.

  Shifters: any creature or human able to change into another being.

  Were or Weres: a werewolf; or a were shifter.

  Were-shifters: a heathen race of humans turned soul eaters who can take the form of a human or a werewolf at the wax of the full moon. A race believed to have become extinct in the 16th century, they are alive and thriving, threatening the future of every breathing species that are not their own.

  Wolven: a wolf that is part animal, part human, and can change into a werewolf, and remain one during any cycle of a moon phase.

  Chapter One

  The 50-foot pines arched from the snowbank towering into the azure black sky. Ridge swung his lanky frame from the roadside to the guard rail. Angling his broad shoulders level with his torso above the granite face of the canyon.

  Wasn’t so rough. He’d scaled bigger stone faces than this back at the indoor rock climbing club. Trekking from the riverbed to the bridge had gotten some heat pumping through him again. He saw the taillights of his pickup had dimmed but it was still a good sign. The most he’d had time to pack was a couple of button down dress shirts and a tux he hadn’t worn in years. It was the only way to get a head start on the holiday traffic crawling north from the Bay Area, so he could meet up with his brother in Smugglers’ Cove.

  The cool of the night burned the stubble on his cheeks and stung through his ripped jeans as he crossed the highway line in the melting snow. Ridge hobbled on his good leg, suspecting the battery of the truck was decent. He turned up the collar of his jean jacket and saw the fender of the passenger’s side gleam in the half moonlight.

  The paneling was curved against the fender. Aside from the bend, he could maneuver it and probably get the truck back onto the highway and make it to Griff. He heard a rustle in the pines bobbing over the rail. He searched the black of the night under the half moonlight behind him and beyond the glow of his headlights while his pickup continued to point in the wrong direction of the road.

  Ridge heard the howl of the wind on the lonely stretch of icy asphalt. The wind. Probably all it was.

  Figuring his phone was in his truck somewhere, he circled back to it. The GPS on it was about as unreliable as the four-walls he’d slapped on his vehicle that got him this far. Damned tires couldn’t grip the road any better than his hands when he’d been tossed from his truck and flung to the ravine after the impact.

  He still didn’t know if he had hit a bump or an animal.

  Inhaling sharply, Ridge’s breath fanned out like ghostly claws in the air. Better he get to this Smugglers’ place where his brother Griff had set up shop. Seemed his hard luck continued to dog him since that fateful night he’d survived about 10 years ago.

  Another howl
sliced through the wind. Ridge spun toward the sound. The shards of light spilling from his pickup reflected off what seemed were two beads of light. Their gleam drew him like a moth to a flame until a blast of air gripped at his body, then he turned back his truck.

  He saw where he had hydroplaned into the guardrail. Grimacing at the wind, he hunkered down next the cab to make a closer inspection. The fender had seen better days but the alignment probably was fine.

  Could have been worse.

  His gray eyes narrowed as he ran a calloused thumb along the metal.

  Ridge stared as he felt the grooves that etched into the panel.

  Claw marks?

  The muffled voice of the radio started playing and he noticed a glow coming from inside the cab. Now the radio and his mobile phone decided to work. Flinging open the door, he heard the cherry sounds of the news filling the air.

  So he thought.

  “Reports of an unidentified creature has been seen again along the Modesto coast...The drastic changes in weather at moon tide are what local psychologists are calling a ‘psychotropic hysteria’. The creature is described as animal-like, twice the size of a man and having the appearance of, a ‘Sasquatch’.”

  Dialing down the volume on the radio, he saw the backlit channel flicker before it went out, again.

  He hopped into the cab, ignoring the stab of pain in his leg, and dialed up the volume, this time on his phone.

  “You got lost, didn’t you?”

  Ridge felt the corners of his mouth curve up and he tried the engine. “It’s the phone you recommended, big bro. Try to give me directions that are with the times. Eh?”

  “Told you once if I have a thousand times. Take a ‘Thomas’ with you.” Griff heard Ridge’s engine turn over then sputter. “Pat the gas.”

  “I know,” Ridge felt his timbre lift a notch. He tried the ignition again and the truck started.

  “Uh-huh. Still as dumb a grunt as ever. Business college is supposed to make you smarter.”

  “Shut up,” Ridge gritted. He listened to the quiet on the other end.

  “Everything kosher?” Griff said.

  Fine. At least his brother didn’t pry into his personal life like most people. It’d taken him years to sort what had happened between him and his fiancé. Ridge would open up about it when the time was right. If there ever was any to recall losing one of the most important people in his life. Somebody, he was thinking about spending the rest of his life with together. Ridge still felt raw about the events that led up to it. Like these last several hours finding his way to his vehicle. He wasn’t going to let it slip that he’d nearly rolled his transportation into a ravine. On a deserted highway that may as well have been Timbuktu instead of the great—and cold California north.

  “Yeah, but when I get there, you’ve got some explaining to do.” Ridge heard a longer pause.

  “These last few years have been a challenge for both of us. I’m glad you’re gonna be here and help me rebuild our family’s legacy,” said Griff.

  After his brush with death, Ridge ventured if it was some kind of sign. He was about to light into him about bringing somewhere populated by monsters. “Piss me off, and I’ll head back for San Fran.”

  “Do, and you’ll never hear the end of it.”

  Ridge’s smile broke into a full-fledged grin. “Eat it.”

  “Get your ass up here. We got a lot of catching up to do.” Ridge made a mental check of the directions Griff gave. Tapping a hallmark with a note, he added the winery whereabouts they both were supposed to be renovating. “Think you can remember that?”

  Ridge repeated his last reply. His big brother chuckled. “Good to hear you, too,” Ridge said even though they’d talked a couple days ago.” The subject of the accident with his fiancé decidedly moot.

  “Things will get better,” the topic shifted. “We’re the only family each other has, bro. And when you finally show after being MIA to me, I’ll be the one who can take a breather,” Griff poked.

  “Rehabbing got your panties in a twist?” Ridge could just hear Griff up a smart ass retort.

  “I’ve got plenty of distractions.” Ridge glanced at his phone, the emphasis on Griff’s words settling in on him. “Pay attention to the road, will ya?”

  “Whatever. Ass. See ya. K?”

  Ridge switched off his phone to conserve its power.

  Distractions?

  He checked the divider line before driving north on the road.

  What exactly was his big bro up to in the ‘Cove’?

  A swift assessment of the dashboard after testing his signal lights and Ridge was on his way. Adjusting the rearview mirror, he glanced at the road disappearing behind him. The pair of beads he imagined he saw blazed hotly in his mind. They reminded him of a pair of fiendish eyes.

  Get a grip, bud. Ridge shook his head. The glowing beady eyes he thought he saw was his imagination working overtime as sure as was as Santa was for kids. And he was about as far from being a brat as the road stretching farther behind him.

  Griff was the successful one in it, though. To the tune of double Ridge’s worth before Ridge had made his first billion. There had been a time when he and his brother were tighter than any family. Once, they used to share pretty much everything; their hardships and their wins. Ridge couldn’t stop the grief from overtaking him after he realized he would never love again.

  Snow began to drift onto the highway while he moved one hand from the steering wheel and switched the headlights to bright. His thoughts circling back to the night he’d lost his fiancé. A night like this one.

  No, he reminded himself. He’d worked hard to forget his past.

  Removing a metal cross from his neck, he slung it from his black shock of hair and wrapped the chain on it around the rearview mirror. Grabbing a wad of tissues from a box on the floor, he slapped them onto his leg.

  Ignoring the stab of pain, he concentrated on the road. Just a couple of more bends in these mountains and he would be in Smugglers’ Cove, according to Griff.

  The puncture marks in Ridge’s leg were soaked with blood. He’d see if there was a doc or a bar that was open. Though this ‘Cove’ probably had a curfew at dusk. Ridge had checked the Thomas Guide and it wasn’t even a blip on the map. It was tucked farther north past Modesto. No wonder there was snow.

  The silver crucifix swung side to side as he felt the truck rock. The wind was a beast tonight. He’d never needed a heater when he worked in The Bay. Even when plenty of days were overcast. Ridge buttoned his jean jacket feeling the cold. The cross near him both a comfort and reminder of his failure in life and love while he kept his eyes sharp on the highway.

  Soon as he saw to his leg, he was going to see if there was someplace he could score some warmer briefs. His skin tingled like it was being pricked by ice.

  *****

  A large muzzle poked through the drifts of snow that vanished as soon as it hit the ground. The gray-white face and whiskers breathed the scent of the traveler in the pickup traveling toward the rise of the moon above the hill peaks and it snarled.

  Another body stood beside him, her fur matted by the wind as both animals sniffed the air. The wolf beside her howled.

  “Quiet,” she warned.

  He paused and glowered. “What’s your problem?”

  She crossed in front of him, his gold eyes glowing in the half dark. “Oh, nothing. Except that, you could have killed him.” The female wolf bared her teeth and her tail stiffened. Her challenge crystal, if he pushed her she’d return it in kind.

  “He had it coming.” He started down the highway and she matched him paw to paw. “Why did you stop me,” she heard, aware they shared a telepathic connection, “I could have feasted on him.”

  “We have our orders,” she raced by him snapping three fast howls.

  The two of them listened as they cut across the bridge and into the woods along the river channels. More howls answered and as her golden-eyed companion caught up to the
pack. “You don’t tell me who or what I can kill.”

  She stopped. “Try me,” then lunged.

  They tore at each other as she splayed her paws around his ears. She swatted at an earring. “What did I tell you about signaling to humans what we really are?” She bit at the pointy ear fur, chewing at the bauble until he bled.

  “That was my girlfriend’s, you witch,” he snapped.