by Morgan Rae
He hissed, his fingers dipping into her hair instead, getting a good grip. She could tell he wasn’t going to last much longer. What was it about mornings that made everything so much more sensitive, so much more intense?
As if on cue, he murmured, “Ah…Holly…I’m right there, baby…”
She didn’t want to take him out of her mouth, not when he looked so damn good twisted up in lust, and so she gave consent with a muffled Mmhm her lips still wrapped tight around his cock, her head bobbing. A few more nods and sucks and his fingers tightened in her hair and he growled, deep in the back of his throat, as he spilled over into her mouth.
She tasted him, salty-sweet, and she swallowed it down and lapped at the head of his cock until he was fully spent. Only then did she pull back and let him recalibrate.
“I’m sorry we fought last night,” she said after a moment, propping her chin on his hip.
He laughed—a wonderful, breathy sound—and cupped her chin in his hand, pressing his thumb to her bottom lip. “Baby, you fight with me all you want. I can take it.”
She crawled up beside him then and wrapped her arm around him. He felt warm, strong, smelled like sex, and she covered herself in it for a second. His arm fell around her and he kissed her throat—which, truthfully, made her tense, even with his fangs behind his lips. His hand traveled downwards, however, and made itself snug between her thighs. She laughed, grabbed his wrist, and shook her head. “Not now. I have to go to work.”
“It’s not my style to leave a woman hanging,” he murmured and she felt her pussy pulse as though it were involved in a practiced call and response (call, Jacob’s sex-voice; response, wet, aching, throbbing).
“Mm. You can make it up to me tonight.”
“You want me to drive you?” he asked.
She shook her head and then tilted it up to glance at him. “Can I take the Buggy out back?” They had a couple work cars lying around the ranch and there was an old robin’s-egg-blue Buggy she’d had her eye on sitting dormant behind the house.
He scrunched his eyebrows. “Of course. Or I can drive you.”
“Stay here.” She grinned playfully and tiptoed her fingers across his chest. “Finish Pride and Prejudice. I want a full report by tonight.”
He snorted a laugh and said, “Yes, professor.” She pressed her lips to his quickly, and then hopped out of bed to brush her teeth.
He lifted the hardcover, smug. “I like this book.”
She laughed. “I bet you do.”
Chapter 26
[SMS: Apples4Days] I want to get off the ranch tonight.
[SMS: Bitesalot35] ok. u ever been to a rodeo bar?
[SMS: Apples4Days] A what?
[SMS: Bitesalot35] I’ll send the address.
Jacob got to the Weeping Willow first. He hadn’t been there recreationally for a while—and with good reason. There were two real social venues in their one-horse town. The first was St. Mary’s Church, where everyone went to confess their sins. The second was the Weeping Willow Tavern, where everyone went to commit their sins. The rodeo bar was complete with country music, a dance floor, and—you guessed it—a mechanical bull. Fully restored, thanks to Brent. On a Friday night like this, the place was packed with familiar faces. A lot of single women and men—a lot of shifters—and all of them were prowling. It wasn’t uncommon to come alone and leave arm in arm with someone.
The Weeping Willow Tavern was half the reason that Jacob had signed up for the mail-order bride service, MeetYourMate, in the first place. One-night stands weren’t his speed and—as Alpha of Red Moon—he practically had to pry some of these women off of him.
Didn’t matter now. Because any minute, Holly would come walking in and he’d glue his hand to the small of her back and parade her around proudly. Look at this. Look at mine. This is mine and I am hers.
He grabbed a Black Horn beer and snagged a coveted red-cushioned booth. Legs splayed comfortably, he whipped out his phone and began scanning through his texts to Holly (still programmed into his phone by her MeetYourMate username, Apples4Days). Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw a woman sit down across from him and he perked up hopefully—
Oh. Not Holly. Instead, Miranda the horse trainer shared his booth, her fingers wrapped around a martini as she showed off her teeth in a smile. “Hey there, stranger,” she purred. “You come here often?”
“Only when I have to,” Jacob said and crooked his mouth into a polite smile. “Holly wanted to go out.”
“Mm.” Miranda stroked the stem of her martini glass absently. “I met her. She seems sweet.”
“She is.” Jacob’s eyes strayed to the door, willing Holly to appear.
Miranda, meanwhile, propped her chin in her hand. “Have you been avoiding me, Jacob?”
His eyebrows stitched together. “You know those horses don’t like me.”
“They don’t like your Beast. There’s a difference.” Her eyes scanned over him and she dropped her voice. “I noticed your girl doesn’t have her Mark yet.”
Jacob stiffened. That was not something he wanted to talk about, especially with Miranda. “Yeah, well. We’re working on it.”
Miranda rolled her shoulders back in a shrug. “Have you thought about my offer?” Her sharp eyes met his. “Mark me and I’ll help you contain your Beast. You know I’m good at training animals.”
With the loud country music clattering around them, her murmured voice should have been drowned out. However, the bear-man and the cougar-woman could murmur here in private, letting their supernatural hearing do the work.
“Thanks, but no thanks,” he grunted. “I’m not letting you turn me into a puppet.”
“That’s not what this is,” she explained, vibrant eyes shimmering. “I’m offering to help you train your Beast. Tame it. It wouldn’t be so hard to control if you just—”
“If I just what?” There was a growl in Jacob’s voice, his temper sparking.
“If you stop trying so hard,” she said.
“What can I say?” he said. “I’m a control freak.”
“And how’s that been working out for you?” She took a sip from her glass.
“You want me to let my bear run free,” he said dubiously.
“Under my guidance.”
“What do you get out of it?”
She shrugged. “Having a bear at my beck and call has its perks.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.” Then Jacob saw her—Holly, in the entranceway, looking lost. He got up quickly and said, “The answer is still no. Holly is my mate.”
“Think about it,” he heard Miranda urge, but she was already out of sight, out of mind.
Chapter 27
When Holly entered the Weeping Willow Tavern, she felt a strange mixture of overwhelmed and incredibly charmed. No, this wasn’t one of the chichi, everything-is-gluten-free bars she was used to in Sacramento. Rather, this bar had grit: girls in cowboy boots, men with large belt buckles, and sappy love songs blaring over the speakers. She couldn’t keep herself from grinning. It was folksy and she remembered for a moment why she had found this place so endearing to begin with.
“Hey, pretty lady.” His voice ghosted in her ear—she’d know that voice anywhere, and those arms, which wrapped tightly around her middle.
Holly chuckled and leaned back against him. “Hey, yourself.” She twisted around in his tight grip and closed her mouth over his in a small kiss. His hand cupped her face as he lingered there and he murmured when he sealed it off, “I missed you.”
He felt tense, like he was spun up, and even his hand on her face trembled. The Beast. It was acting up. Holly knit her eyebrows and asked, “Are you okay? We can go somewhere else—”
“No,” he said firmly, and then offered her a smile. “I’m fine. Trust me.” She wasn’t sure he was fine, but then he pressed a small kiss to her mouth before she could ask follow-up questions. When he broke off, he added, “Much better now that you’re here.”
That she believed.
Holly nodded and he drew his hand over her shoulder, giving a squeeze. “You want a drink?” he asked.
“Sure.” Holly followed him to the bar and took her place at a stool. There, she settled in and, when the bartender asked her what she wanted, she ordered a glass of white wine. While waiting, her eyes surveyed the bar. Next to her, a young couple seemed to be attached at the face, making out passionately with their arms wrapped around each other. Holly blushed, though she couldn’t hide the small grin. Animals, she thought, amused.
As if on cue, they pulled apart from each other. When the woman opened her eyes, Holly caught a faint golden shimmer dance within them.
Animals, she thought suddenly. I’m surrounded by animals. And not metaphorical beasts, real animals.
When the bartender returned with her drink (and a fresh beer), she turned to Jacob. “Is everyone here…like you?” she asked quietly.
“You mean a shifter?” Jacob glanced around. “Not everyone. There’re some humans. Like you.”
Holly said nothing; she just took a sip of her wine.
“You wanna ride the bull?” he asked suddenly.
Her eyes widened in surprise. “What?”
“The bull.” He was grinning like a little boy now; all the tension from whatever had been bothering him earlier seemed to dissipate. He pointed to a beat-up mechanical hunk of scrap metal that looked like it had seen a ride too many. “C’mon. You wanna ride the bull.”
She didn’t, not really, but he looked so enthusiastic about it she had to laugh and nodded quickly, following him. “Okay.”
The mechanical bull was a torn-up, rickety-looking old thing with a leather seat and frayed handles. The metal spring beneath it looked rusted and Holly half feared it would collapse under her weight. Jacob, however, set his hand on her waist and helped her climb the beast. “There you go,” he said once she settled in. “Now, hold on to this with one hand”—he patted on the horn of the saddle—“and lift your right arm out like this.” He waved his arm back to demonstrate.
“So, basically, pretend I’m John Wayne,” she said.
“Whatever gets you going,” he told her, and then pressed the start button.
Holly squeaked, completely unprepared for the lurch forward. And then she fell into a fit of laughter as the thing began bucking underneath her. She heard whoops and shouts of encouragement from the crowd as she squeezed her thighs around the mechanical bull and held on with everything she had. Oh dear God, don’t let today be the day I die on a mechanical bull, she prayed.
But as she met the quick jerks and pulls of the bull, she found herself laughing uncontrollably. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so…ridiculous and free. As the bull twisted around, she saw Jacob leaning against the rail, grinning ear to ear. “Thatta girl!” he hollered at her.
Miranda seemed to appear beside him out of nowhere. She slipped her hand to his arm and murmured something Holly couldn’t hear. Even Jacob had to tilt his head to listen to her, and his eyes left Holly for just a second. The way Miranda leaned in to whisper into his ear, the way her fingers lingered on his arm, it all screamed intimacy.
Suddenly, unbidden, Holly was reminded of Chris and the woman who’d swept him away, right out from under Holly’s nose. She’d been a coworker, too.
Before Holly knew it, she was on her back. The mechanical bull was still bucking, but she’d fallen to the plush mat below and she blinked up at the ceiling in surprise.
Jacob interrupted her vision as he bent over her. He grinned, wide, and said, “You okay, princess?”
No, she wanted to say. Her heart felt like it had been dipped into cold water. No, no, no, no, no. Instead, she let him help her up off the ground, and then her hand moved to her mouth.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” she said. She rushed past him and dove outside, pushing through the double doors, not stopping even when she heard him call out her name in her wake.
Once outside, Holly stepped around the wraparound porch to the empty back, avoiding the smokers and drinkers, and gripped the wooden railing. She bowed her head, taking one ragged breath after the other. Her chest felt compressed so tightly, she was seeing dots. I can’t let this get the better of me, she thought. I just can’t.
“Holly.”
Holly yelped, her hand moving to her chest when she heard his voice. She whipped around and saw Jacob standing beside her, looking worried.
“Jacob…God…you scared me. You can’t…sneak up on me like that.”
“I wanted to make sure you were okay.” His voice was heavy and his eyes were filled with concern as he looked her over. “Are you?”
She nodded, but her throat went tight and she realized she couldn’t lie to him. She shook her head, wet her lips, and then finally blurted out, “Did you have sex with Miranda?”
Jacob blinked, confused. “What?”
“Just answer the question!” Even she was surprised by the vulnerability that cracked in her voice.
“No! No, I haven’t.”
“Do you want to?”
“Hey,” Jacob grabbed her and took her face, holding her in to look at him. “Look at me. The second I married you, I stopped looking at any other woman.”
“Bullsh—”
“I mean that!” he snapped.
He was vibrant; there was a harsh line in the turn of his mouth. There was anger there, the stubborn rage of someone who loved too hard. Holly caught her breath, residual jealousy still hammering against her chest, and then—
Grabbed his face and kissed him. Hard.
He let out a muffled noise against her mouth and leaned in to deepen the kiss. Holly held on to him tightly, her fingers curling into his hair. She was hungry for him suddenly, ravenous, and she wanted him. All of him. Everything he had to give her. Every inch, every gasp, every moan—she wanted it. She hugged him tightly to her, her hands laced around the back of his head, and she murmured heatedly against his mouth, “Mark me.”
His breath was already ragged; she could feel the hard bulge in his pants brush against her thigh. “Are you sure?” he asked.
She nodded. Her fingers tightened in his hair. “I’m ready.” She nuzzled her face against his. “Please.”
She could practically taste how much he wanted this. Yet, still, he took his time. “I want you to enjoy this too,” he murmured and reached under her dress to peel her panties down her legs.
They were on the back porch of a rodeo bar and this was dirty, so dirty, and even now when his eyes connected with hers she felt her heart pick up an extra beat. He could romance her anywhere with those eyes, that penetrating stare that just made her want to get penetrated. Holly wet her lips and already felt her pussy get puffy and damp.
Before Jacob, she had only ever had sex in a bed. Now, she was having sex in public, for the second time. This felt different, though. The first time in his barn, she’d felt like a wide-eyed doe, swept up in his passion and longing. Now, she felt like a lioness. She wanted to claim him in public, where others could see, so everyone (and Miranda) would know that he belonged to her.
His lips bruised hers, his desperation leaking through, and she heard his belt click open, his pants shuffle down. As their tongues clashed, his body pressed flush against hers and then she felt him ease inside her, slowly. Holly gasped, her hand on his arm as though gripping for dear life, curling against him. He filled her deliciously and she only had to rotate her hips around a little to adjust to his size now.
Holly was trapped between the hard wall and her strong husband and she didn’t want a way out. She hooked her leg around his hip as he thrust in her with languid, powerful strokes, each one igniting her nerves from the tips of her toes to the flush of her cheeks. She gasped with every swing of his hips and held him tighter, burrowing into his shoulder as she listened to him grunt and groan with pleasure.
His hand found bare skin under her dress as he held the round curve of her ass, keeping her in place, and she wanted to melt into his touch, his
thrusts, his lips. She became something pliable but wild, his. And her fingers curled in, nails biting the back of his neck to remind him that he was hers as well.
He kissed her ferociously. They were sloppy now, spinning, slipping out of control, moving as one squirming, moaning mass of gasps and kisses. He grabbed her by her ginger hair suddenly, confining her to his strong hold, and she whimpered as he held her head back.
The coil of tension in her core vibrated as his thrusts picked up pace and she knew she was close. The music thumped inside, her back hit the wall again and again, and she felt everything in her tighten around him as she rode that edge.
Just then, his lips brushed against her throat, and then she felt teeth. Holly tensed and cried out when she felt him bite in, sinking his teeth into her throat with a growl. There was a short burst of pain, and then—
Holly was swooning. Lost in the grip of her man’s mouth, like a kitten held by the scruff. She felt close to him, incredibly close, as though their hearts had reached out to touch one other. She moaned, felt an immense wave of pleasure sweep through her, and then opened her eyes.
And there was Miranda. Standing at the end of the porch, stunned motionless as her eyes locked on the pair. There was an edge of anger in her eyes. Gold flecks shimmered there.
Jacob was too lost in Holly to notice, apparently. He just moaned against her as her body jerked with his animal thrusts. Instead of pulling back, Holly tightened her grip. She grabbed the hair on the back of his neck and nuzzled against Jacob, though her eyes didn’t leave Miranda’s. This is mine. You can’t have him.
Miranda’s face flushed and, tight-jawed, she swiveled around and stormed away. Jacob, meanwhile, groaned Holly’s name and came hotly inside of her.
As her cunt butterflied around his cock and she caught her breath, stroking the soft hair at the back of his neck, Holly thought to herself:
If you can’t beat them, join them.