by Anne Marsh
My eyes drop before his and he chuckles roughly. “You’re wolf bait, baby girl. You like submitting and taking orders, and there’s nothing wrong with that. We like that just fine, in fact. I’d come after you myself,” he says, and I tighten my fingers on the wheel. “But we’d be just sex,” he continues, “and I like you. You go after your wolf, but you be careful and I’ll be watching.”
WARE
I’m waiting for Marly when she comes home from work. Home. The word fits. She comes in cautiously—good to know she’s got some common sense. She also smells ever so faintly of Blade, which pisses me off. Gonna mark her right. Her eyes shoot right to my face, then drop. I’m sprawled out on my sofa, legs apart. I pat my thigh.
“Time to pay up.”
The sweet, sweet scent of her arousal fills the air, and she needs this even more than I do. She loves being dominated and there’s nothing shameful about knowing what she needs. Fact is, I’m fucking honored to give it to her. Serves two purposes—she’ll get the orgasm and the spanking she deserves.
When she reaches me, I clamp my hand down on her ass and turn her so she’s facedown over my knee. She doesn’t try to get away. Guess that means she knows she’s got it coming to her—or she wants it. I pull her skirt up to her waist. The panties are real pretty—a pink thong that disappears between her ass cheeks. Not like I even have to take them down to make my point, but I drag them just below her butt cheeks and stroke the soft, vulnerable curve.
She makes a noise.
“Who’s in charge here?” I ask.
“You can’t drive me away,” she counters.
“Not the question I asked,” I tell her and smooth my palm over her right cheek. “But you’re gonna look really pretty wearing my hand print.”
I bring my hand down on her ass, the sound sharp and familiar and so goddamned right that I do it again. Over and over, turning her butt a pretty pink until she’s riding my knee, her pussy wet and juicy. She’s gotta surrender to me—plus, she makes me mad. Gotta admit that.
“I’m too old and used up.” That’s the last warning she gets.
She makes a noise, part whimper, part feminine demand. Okay. Doesn’t sound like she minds my age or my bum knee or any one of the dozen other character flaws I’m sporting.
I undo my belt buckle and rip down my zipper. I know what she likes, and I’m going to give it to her. It’s that simple. I won’t make apologies for wanting to fuck her. She’s gorgeous, sexy, beautiful. I could empty the dictionary of adjectives, and they’d all be true. So why wouldn’t I want to take her?
I bend her over the couch so her sexy ass is in the air, rip off her thong, and notch my dick against her opening. It’s like fucking hide and go seek, except I’ve found her and she’s not going anywhere.
I drive home.
All the way fucking home inside Marly.
MARLY
Being bent over the arm of Ware’s couch is almost indescribable. My butt stings in a pleasurable way, the burn echoing deep inside my body. Ware pins my hands in front of me with one hand, his fingers braceleting my wrists and stretching me out. It’s wicked. It’s so wrong. And I love, love, love how he dominates me.
He pins me down so effortlessly, his large body stretching mine almost to the point of pain. Awkward. Exciting. I don’t know which I’m feeling.
He taps my butt cheek. “Lift your ass.”
The words aren’t a request, but I do it. I want to give him everything.
A big hand pressing on the small of my back is all the warning I get. He pulls back, almost coming out of me, then drives forward until all I can feel is the thick burn of his dick pushing inside me, rough and raw, the most intense sensation of my life. Good isn’t the word to describe this.
He fucks me, pushing deep inside me where even Big Dog couldn’t reach, stretching me wide open and filling me up. The rhythm he sets is almost brutal, his hips pounding against my ass, his dick shoving me into the couch. With each hard thrust, I slide against the slick leather, held in place only by his grip and his dick.
God, it’s good.
I’m so fucked up, but I love the way he takes control. I don’t have to worry about getting things right, about being sexy or exotic or the best he’s ever had. All I have to do is hang on and let him in. Enjoy the ride. Trust he’ll give me my orgasm and that he knows what he’s doing. I let go of everything, losing myself in the rhythm of the big body covering mine.
Ware’s next stroke hits some sweet spot deep inside my body. Might be my G-spot. Might be my heart. My brain shuts down, way too busy feeling everything Ware’s doing to me. My clit rasps against the leather with each new stroke, and I’m so close to coming it hurts. I want more.
“Ware.” I gasp his name, digging my nails into the leather couch, and he lets go suddenly, palming my ass and tipping me forward. My feet leave the floor, trapped between his legs, and he drives deeper into my body. I can feel the tension and need vibrating through him, every inch of him as desperate for release as I am. The heat and desire builds between us, barreling us both toward the goal line. I scream when I come, my body shaking and clenching down on his, and he picks up his pace, hammering himself into me. Tomorrow, I’ll be sore. Tomorrow, I’ll have regrets.
Right now, Ware’s perfect.
“Mine,” he growls, hitting that spot deep inside me once again. I collapse beneath him, and he comes, too, with a hard jerk. I can barely think, barely move. But right now? There’s only one thing that matters. Ware’s mine.
MARLY
I’m practicing my people skills. After all, surely my interactions with Ware’s pack haven’t been typical, right? They can’t all be abusive assholes with sadistic sexual tastes. Some of them are probably decent guys who like to BBQ and watch the game on TV. Ware’s been introducing them to me, taking me by the clubhouse on the weekend to let them get to know me and vice-versa. This is apparently supposed to ease things over about my knowing the Great Werewolf Secret, although all of us are skeptical. So when Fang (a name that definitely qualifies as most ridiculous ever) stops by the library, I’m proud of myself for not pressing the mental panic button.
Behind me, Tara sucks in her breath. She’s nineteen and has only been volunteering at the library for a few months now. “I don’t know if I should call the cops or throw myself at him.”
“He’s not a nice guy.” It’s a public library. It’s not like I can kick him out for breathing or being a bad ass.
“You know him?” From the sound of Tara’s voice, she’s now veering into Option B territory. There’s no way I’m letting a teenager get involved with the pack.
“He’s trouble.” Filed under T for Trouble, Terrible, and… if I were a nineteen-year-old girl… Tempting. Since Tara really doesn’t need to make the same sort of mistakes I made, I nod toward the back room where we sort and catalog the books. She takes the hint and retreats, but not without a backward glance at Fang, whose face darkens. Right. Super wolfy hearing at work, probably.
I wait for him to finish his approach. We’re closing up now, so the library is nearly empty. The high school volunteer has finished emptying the drop boxes, and I’m counting down the minutes until five o’clock. When I think about who’s waiting for me, I can’t help smiling. Ware drives me crazy sometimes. He’s no fan of talking, and I think hell would freeze over before he’d discuss an emotion, but… I think he could really be mine. I’m still not sure how I feel about his mate claim—because it’s definitely bull shit that he gets to slap a property of patch on my ass and my heart without my say-so—but it’s growing on me.
He’s growing on me.
Fang, however, grows on people like a wart or a fungus. Something unpleasant. It’s not that he’s an ugly bastard, because, objectively speaking, he’s good-looking in a rough, edgy way. But when I look at him, there’s something in his eyes, and it’s not a happy something. He’s the kind of guy I file under B for Broken and Bastard. He saunters into my library, his boots overloud. H
e hums as he strolls toward my desk. The last two female patrons stare.
He stops in front of the circulation desk and leans toward me, flattening his palms on the surface. His eyes drill into mine, and Ware’s taught me well. I know Fang’s challenging me, pushing to make me drop my gaze and submit to him. Probably wants me to drop my panties too, the bastard. I suck in a breath and glare back at him.
Anger doesn’t faze Fang, because he just chuckles. “Aren’t you supposed to ask how you can help me?”
In his dreams. Which I do not want to know about, thank you very much. “We’re closed.”
He shrugs, effectively letting me know he doesn’t care. “Door’s unlocked.”
I point to the clock. “When the big hand is on the twelve and the little hand is on the five, you’re officially trespassing and trespassers will be shot.”
He parks his ass on the edge of my desk and starts rifling through the stack of Interlibrary Loan books. “I came to pick you up.”
That’s a first. “I’m covered.”
My car didn’t start this morning, so Ware dropped me off. I have to admit I got a big thrill out of riding up on the back of his bike. Maybe I’ll learn to ride, too. Get me a bike and hit the road with him.
For now, though, I stretch the truth. “I’ve got a ride.”
My car’s in the shop, but Tara volunteered to drop me at Ware’s.
“You sure?” He nods toward the door—and the parking lot. Shoot. Sure enough, when I go look, Tara is driving away. So I’ll walk. Or call Ware.
“I’m not gonna eat you.” Now Fang sounds amused. “Jace sent me to cover for Ware. Your boy’s gonna be late tonight.”
Ware’s not answering, so I’m not sure what to do. I send a quick text—Catching a ride home with Fang. He says you sent him? I don’t have anyone else’s number. Ware’s kept me on the fringes of the pack—we’ve gone to a couple of parties, but mostly I’ve worked and hung out with Ware. Fang waits patiently, a mocking grin curling his mouth.
Eventually, he stands up. “I’ll be right outside.”
Ten minutes later, as I lock the library’s front door behind me, I’m still undecided. Fang, however, clearly has a plan. He pats the seat behind him. “Saddle up.”
Yeah. Definitely a bad idea. He’s not overly concerned with helmets and safety laws either, because there’s not a helmet in sight. It’s four miles to Ware’s, and the neighborhood’s not the best. Accepting a ride would likely be the smartest thing to do. Fang pats the seat again, and I give up the fight.
Surprisingly, Fang doesn’t say anything as I straddle his bike. I’d kind of figured him for a gloater. Not sure where to put my hands, I settle for hanging onto his shoulders. He grunts and opens up the engine. For the first ten feet of our journey, he’s blissfully silent. As soon as he’s steered the bike out onto the main road, however, he starts talking.
“You sure about Ware?”
“Excuse me?” Damn it. I sound like a nineteenth-century heroine.
“He’s not mate material.” Fang tightens his grip on the handles and we pick up speed. It’s not as if the bike makes for easy conversation, but he’s clearly up for giving it a shot anyhow.
I scowl at his back. For once Fang and Ware are in agreement. Ware says the same thing—even though he’s the one who made the mate claim in the first place. And although Mr. I-Run-Hot-And-Cold is driving me crazy, I certainly don’t want to discuss our relationship with Fang.
I counterattack. “You usually give dating advice to women you don’t know?”
The bike picks up speed. “If you’re looking for a mate, I could be your wolf.”
Ewww. My hands fly off his shoulders, and I almost slide off the back of the bike. “No thank you.”
Fang snakes an arm behind him, yanking me closer. It’s probably just a public service gesture because he doesn’t want to drop me off with a severe case of road rash, but… I don’t want to be that close to him.
“Think about it. Ware’s an older wolf, he’s got a fucked up leg, and you deserve the best.”
“Which is you?” I shouldn’t laugh at him or flip him off while he’s driving, but I’m definitely killing Jace for assigning Fang pick up duty because Fang’s taken it way, way too far.
He shrugs nonchalantly and turns onto the road leading to our place. “Jace is off the market, so yeah. You may think I’m not your type, but I could be. I’m gonna go places in the pack, and I can take care of you, make sure you don’t get hurt.”
Um. No. Just no. I’m still trying to figure out how to shoot him down permanently when we pull into the final straightaway to the warehouse. Ware comes shooting down the road from the other direction, and I don’t need to look too hard to tell he’s pissed. Of course, that seems to be a natural state for him, but still.
Fang guns the bike, coaxing more speed out of the Harley, and tears toward the entrance to Ware’s place at record speed. I shriek something profane that carries even over the roar of the pipes, and I’ll bet Fang’s grin gets wider. And then, just when I think we’re all going to die in a fiery collision, Ware backs off. Not by much, but Fang’s still able to rocket past him into the parking lot.
Fang’s laughing his ass off when Ware tears into the parking lot and hits the brakes. I slide off the seat with no grace or finesse, but screw that. The more distance I put between myself and this wolf, the better. I should have walked. Should have taken my chances with the human criminals.
I jab a finger in his direction. “You’re crazy.”
Fang flicks me a two-fingered salute. “All yours, little girl.”
My mouth drops open, trying to make sense of what he’s just said. How can anyone be that crazy? Does he seriously think I’d trade Ware for his sorry ass? Apparently, because he winks as Ware vaults off his bike and flies toward us.
“Get inside,” he growls, pulling me behind him.
Neanderthal Wolf has come out to play. Since I’m not stupid, I head for the door, pulling my keys out of my purse. I can yell at Ware for ordering me around when we’re inside.
He verifies I’m doing as commanded (payback’s going to be a bitch, wolf man) and then strides over to Fang. Fang just sits there, so relaxed he could be asleep, watching him come. They have one of those eye-to-eye pissing contests that guys—and wolves—are so good at.
As soon as Ware heads back my way, I speed up the unlocking process and shove the door open. Arms come down on either side of me, caging me in place. The hard body behind me moves closer. Pipes roar as Fang gets moving, but he must have seen this. How much of this is for him—and how much for me?
“I missed you,” Ware says roughly against my ear and flips me around.
His mouth comes down over mine. He kisses me hard, claiming me with his tongue, his lips, his teeth. He gives me everything he has, as if he could eat me up right here, right now, and fuck Fang and the rest of the world. That works for me, because I kiss him back with interest. We’re still figuring out this mate claim business, but the sex? Yeah. Ware has that part nailed. When he finally tears his mouth from mine, I lean up and nip his bottom lip. Hard.
“Figured that out, big guy,” I whisper right back, and then I drag him closer still. “Take me upstairs and show me.”
WARE
Fang has always wanted what’s mine. Taking my place in the pack and my mate in a single fight must seem like a no-brainer to him. Ever since he brought Marly home from the library last week, he’s been eyeing me, sizing me up. He’ll make his move, and I’ll have to fight him. Challenges happen all the time in the pack.
The last big challenge our pack faced, however, was when Jace fought for the pack leadership. Our former Alpha had handpicked Jace as his successor, and to seal the deal he’d pushed his daughter at Jace. Not that Jace had been opposed to getting to know Keelie Sue better, but he hadn’t been down with the forcible mating approach. Bastard had wanted to woo and win Keelie Sue on his own merits. Pissed off, he’d challenged Big Red and he’d won t
he fight, the pack, and Keelie Sue’s heart.
Today’s fight is different.
The growl hits my ear first—my deep-shit radar going off—and then the weight hits my back. Fuck me, but Fang weighs a ton. The bad news is that most of that weight is muscle and not fat. I fly forward, already rolling. My bad knee gives out beneath me. I hear the pop but don’t feel it yet. Good. If I go down now, I don’t come up. I’ve taken a hard hit to my shoulder and I’m gonna be stiff tomorrow, but the blood’s minimal and I aim to keep it that way.
I come up in a crouch and assess my situation. My palm’s bleeding from where I slapped the floor to avoid face-planting and my knee’s gonna lock up just as soon as it gets the message to my brain. I knew this was coming—just hoped it wasn’t soon. Yeah. Hope’s not a fucking strategy. Fang’s an ambitious bastard, and that’s only partly due to his being a wolf.
The Breed wolves pull away, forming a circle. Lips peeled back, snarling, they roar their encouragement. Fuckers love blood.
“I challenge.” Fang spits in my direction, already moving toward me. “Your ass is mine.”
I flip him the bird and shove to my feet. Jesus. My knee isn’t gonna last long at all. “Only in your very best dreams.”
The wolves around us howl, and Fang stalks toward me. I’ll make him come to me, just to minimize the wear and tear on my knee. “Gonna mess that pretty face up some,” I taunt, and he picks up speed, heading my way like an out-of-control freight train. I need to time this right. I need to…
Jace shoves his way to the front, knocking heads together and kicking ass. His eyes meet mine, and I can read the truth there. He’s not sure I’m gonna win. He slaps a hand against Fang’s chest, halting the other man in his tracks.
“Rules,” he growls. “No weapons. No outside assists. No leaving the fucking circle. You tap out, the fight’s over—and the winner backs off.”