Matched to the Wolves [Werewolf Brides 4] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Cara Adams

  Yaro would help him ensure she reached an explosive orgasm, but that was only part of this time together. The penetration and lead up had to drive her wild with desire as well. Zoan took a deep breath and held her ass cheeks wide apart, before resting his dick at her entry.

  Yaro held her legs apart with his, then gripped her hips and nodded at Zoan.

  “Take a big breath in, Shakina. Hold it, and then exhale.”

  He wondered if she’d ask why, but she obediently did as he requested. As she exhaled he pressed his cock at her ass entry, shoving firmly then heaving a sigh in relief himself as his dick popped through the tight muscle ring. He wiggled this way and that, inching ever deeper into her dark channel. He didn’t stop until he was buried right up to the hilt inside her. Then he placed his hands on her hips and let Yaro enter her cunt. They had to wiggle a fraction but before long he could feel Yaro sliding deeper inside her, just on the other side of the thin wall of flesh.

  “Oh my goodness,” gasped Shakina.

  “Is it hurting you?” he asked, suddenly worried that they hadn’t gotten it right for her.

  “Shit, no. It’s just the most amazing feeling.”

  “It’ll get even better soon,” he promised.

  He stroked her neck, brushing her long hair off her back onto the sheet beside them so he could caress up and down her spine, and press kisses to her shoulders and neck. Her skin was soft. So much softer than his own skin. Even her arms, which were exposed to hard work in her beauty parlor, still had skin much smoother than his own arms. He pressed another gentle kiss to the center of her neck as Yaro lifted his head and wrapped his arms over Shakina’s shoulders.

  Shakina seemed to relax between them, wiggling down until their bodies covered her skin completely, although with a wicked little twist of her hips that told Zoan quite clearly she knew exactly what she was doing.

  Once Yaro was deep inside her as well, Zoan began withdrawing, moving as slowly as he could. He desperately wanted to pound in and out of her, to slam deep and hard and fill her with his seed. But that wasn’t what she needed. This time had to be a demonstration of restraint, proving to her that she’d enjoy the sex, and that the two men would do their very best to give her inordinate pleasure. So slow was the only way to go.

  Yaro followed his lead as they kept up the contrapuntal movement. One entering as the other withdrew, seesawing in and out, doing their best to incite her to her best orgasm ever.

  “So good. How do you do it? How do you know when to change direction?”

  “Huh? We match each other’s movements,” said Yaro.

  “If you’re able to lie there and dissect our actions, we obviously aren’t doing it right,” added Zoan.

  “Oh, no. You’re doing it fine. I just wanted to know.”

  Zoan laughed. “I knew women were supposed to talk a lot, but I never expected a conversation as we fucked.” He increased the speed a bit, and aimed to press just a fraction more forcefully as well. It’d never occurred to him she’d talk right now.

  He tapped Yaro’s shoulder and moved faster, this time withdrawing with Yaro so their actions would have more power as they moved together.

  “I like that. How did you decide to change what you were doing?” asked Shakina.

  “Do you ever shut up? Just relax and feel the sensations instead of trying to analyze everything,” he suggested.

  “Don’t worry, I can feel everything perfectly. I’d just forgotten that men can’t multitask. I’ll ask again later.”

  “Bitch,” whispered Yaro, capturing her mouth with a kiss.

  Ah, good move. That should shut her up. Zoan concentrated on increasing the pace steadily, trying to make her body as alive with need as his was. She still wiggled between them, moving her ass and hips unexpectedly from time to time. She was using both hands and toes to pet their skin as well, but he was much too busy keeping his strokes even to pay attention to what she was doing, except to appreciate her participation.

  When her body convulsed, her ass clenching so tight on his dick that he couldn’t move, Zoan was shocked into stillness, his weight on his hands and knees, his head down as he tried to regulate his breathing, until the ripples around his cock finally became less powerful. He stroked gently into her, smoothing his hands along her sides until his dick exploded in release and he rested on her back for a few beautiful moments, loving the feel of his body totally covering hers, his dick still buried in her heat.

  Underneath them both, Yaro had her hair wrapped around his hand and was gently kissing her neck. For a long time they lay together, a tangle of sweaty, satiated bodies, but Zoan knew he had to lift off them before he became too heavy. “Time for a shower,” he said, withdrawing from her and climbing off the bed.

  Shakina rolled off Yaro and stared at him with a teasing look on her face. “Does that mean I can talk again now?”

  Zoan laughed. She was wonderful, irrepressible, perfect, and he loved her so much he never wanted to let her go.

  * * * *

  Roderick Cooper caught himself running his hands through his hair. It was already starting to go gray. He’d be bald soon if he didn’t break himself of this bad habit. Although, there were worse things than being bald. Having listened to the story of the blonde woman being beaten for fun by some asshole, he knew he had to act. First, he’d made two copies of the Skype session. One he’d put in the safe on a flash drive and the other he’d e-mailed to a secret “bank vault” e-mail address he had in the iCloud.

  The iCloud. He didn’t understand the concept at all. Imaginary servers in imaginary places. What the fuck? But it was the best he could do for secrecy and security. Or that’s what his IT staff, Gowan and Yaro, told him anyway.

  With his backups in place, he called a man he considered his friend, Dan Lee, the chief of police. “Hey, Dan. It’s Roderick Cooper here. A couple of my people went to the BDSM club tonight and were a tad shocked at the stage show there.”

  “Yeah, I keep hearing reports about that place ever since that idiot Tom Moore took on a partner. The other man only wants to rake in as big a profit as he can and doesn’t seem too fussed how it is made. But there’s never been anything actionable.”

  “Yeah, well, likely there won’t be this time either, but I’d check the hospital if I were you. I was told a young woman was beaten pretty bad.”

  “In the stage show?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, Roderick. Spill the full story.”

  Cooper sighed and caught himself about to mess up his hair again. He picked up a pen to fiddle with instead, as he ran through the key points Yaro, Zoan, and Shakina had said, including the bit about the woman possibly having been drugged, and that drugs might be being sold on the premises.

  “I can do a drug raid. I’ll organize that in the next day or two. And I’ll get someone to check the hospital, but my personal money would be on the woman saying it was completely consensual if we found her. Likely they’d just put some ointment on her back themselves. Could be they’ve gotten a tame doctor onsite even. Thanks, Cooper.”

  He hung up, not really happy about how the conversation had gone, but really, if some bad guy was in charge at the club, he’d have covered his own ass for sure. The drugs would vanish before the police arrive, the woman would swear she consented to being beaten, or that it was all a staged act, just smoke and mirrors.

  “Until we can find out whom the silent partner is, this fucking situation isn’t going to improve.” He made a note to ask Okapi how the investigation was going. But if anyone had found a lead they’d have told him. Apparently the sale was tied up tightly with a passel of shell companies. All of which was perfectly legal but damn frustrating.

  Roderick looked at the time on his computer. Almost midnight. It was time he went to bed. He liked to be at his desk by eight every morning, if not earlier. He logged off and stood up, stretching himself to his full height then rotating his head, neck, and shoulders. He’d just started to walk to the door w
hen his phone rang. The landline. Roderick turned and snatched it up. “Cooper.”

  “Um. Ah, Roderick, it’s Tom Moore here.”

  Now what the fuck?

  “Hi, Tom. It’s late for a call. How can I help you?”

  “Oh. Ah. Yes. Um.”

  For fuck’s sake, just spit it out!

  “You know a few months ago I took on a partner here at the BDSM club?”

  “Yes, I’d heard that.”

  “Yes. Well, um. I’d like to sell completely. He can’t afford to buy me out so I thought of you. BDSM would fit with your people and it’d diversify your product from just farming. Are you interested?”

  Yes, he was. Very. But possibly not for the reasons Tom just gave. “How much of it do you still own and what price are you asking?”

  “I still own sixty percent, so you’d have the power to make decisions. I’m asking three quarters of a million. I want enough to retire on and never work again.”

  “I’d need to talk to my financial people and I expect they’d want to see all your paperwork. Perhaps we should get together and talk about all the details first.”

  “Good. Good. I want to keep this all quiet. I don’t want my partner to find out until the deal is sealed. I don’t want him trying to argue with either of us or attempting to push up the price or anything. Can we meet out of town? And if you want to talk to me about it, please call my cell phone, not the phone at the club.”

  Roderick scrolled through the calendar on his cell phone, wishing he hadn’t just turned his computer off. “Tomorrow is very busy but how about we meet for lunch the day after? Would that suit you?”

  They arranged a time and place. As soon as Tom hung up, Roderick booted up his computer again, writing down every word he could remember of the conversation and adding the event to his calendar. Then he sent e-mails to Okapi, wanting details about the potential sale. Finally, he read everything through again, and logged off. “Shit. It’s almost two o’clock. No wonder I’m tired.”

  * * * *

  Shakina stretched and reached out to pull her pink fluffy blanket over her shoulder. The pink looked atrocious with her hair, but one of the men here at Cooper’s Farm, Maitho, was addicted to pink for women, so more of the beds in the women’s barracks had pink bedding than any other color. She would have preferred a blue or green bed, but she’d ended up with a pink one. Shakina rolled onto her back—or tried to—and found herself pressed tight against a hard male body. Oh, hell yes. She wasn’t in her pink bed or in the women’s barracks. She was tucked up in Yaro and Zoan’s house and in their bed. She sat up fast. “What’s the time? Am I late for work?”

  Without waiting for a reply she clambered over whichever of them was between her and the bathroom and staggered into the en suite, flicking the light switch on and closing the door in the same movement.

  “It’s only half past six, there’s plenty of time,” came Zoan’s voice through the door.

  “Thanks,” she called back stepping into the shower. She tried to remember what appointments she had for today but her brain wasn’t working. She needed to get back home, change her clothes, and fix her hair properly. She and Tanisha always went to the beauty salon together, so Tanisha would be wondering where she was. She hadn’t even thought about organizing something for her lunch and she likely wouldn’t have time to go buy food. Holy shit, she’d totally dropped the ball. For a moment a picture of two very nice sets of balls came into her mind and she giggled. Yes, well, she hadn’t dropped those balls, but hell, she needed to get her act together fast.

  By the time she emerged from the bathroom with a towel tied around her body and another one around her head, Yaro had vanished and Zoan was dressed and sitting on the side of the bed. He held up a bottle of something blue.

  “I need to put this soothing gel in your ass in case it hurts because you’re not used to anal sex.”

  It did hurt a little, although not badly. She just hadn’t had time to think about that yet.

  “Thanks.” She lay on her front on the bed and relaxed as Zoan massaged the gel into the tissue of her ass. It was sexy, but she knew he wasn’t trying to arouse her, just to prevent her having a sore ass all day. For a moment she considered jumping back into bed with the two men again, but then she remembered her job and her responsibilities. There’d be plenty of time to play in non-work hours.

  “Thank you. That blonde woman will likely be feeling pretty rough this morning. I hope someone is looking after her.”

  “I expect Cooper told the chief of police as he said he would and the chief will have organized something. At least if she were drugged she wouldn’t be in pain.”

  “That’s true.” Shakina scrambled off the bed and got dressed. Zoan led her back to the living area where the table had been set and a pile of toast, along with honey and peanut butter, was ready and waiting.

  She inhaled the smell of coffee and sipped gratefully from the mug Yaro handed her. “A man who cooks. I could get attached to you.”

  “I can not only toast bread and make coffee, I know how to push the buttons on the microwave oven as well.”

  “Multitalented,” she said, taking a piece of toast and spreading it lavishly with honey.

  “Seriously, how are you feeling this morning? No regrets?”

  “No regrets. I’m content with where we’re going in this relationship. But I don’t want to rush it. I have a business to run and it’ll take a while to make sure it’s stable. I’ll need to devote myself to it for several years.”

  “That won’t be a problem. We’ll be there to help and support you.”

  She nodded, crunching down on her toast. Shakina needed some time and space to process everything that had happened. Not just the sex, which she’d been ready for, but also what had happened at the BDSM club. That had been her choice as well, but it’d just seemed unnecessary and cruel. She hoped the woman would report the man who beat her, but going on her past experience she guessed she wouldn’t and he’d do it again sooner or later, to another woman. Or even to the same one again. If she was working there because she had no other way of finding work, she really was in a bad way. Although, the human women had been told there were good job opportunities in Coopersville. Maybe the blonde just needed some help and support until she could get a real job. It was worth thinking about. But she couldn’t stop now. She had to get to her own work.

  She jumped up from the table. “I need to go. It’ll take me a while to get ready for work because I didn’t prepare anything last night like I usually do.”

  “We’ll walk you back,” said Zoan.

  “Have you got many appointments today?” asked Yaro.

  The coffee had jump-started her brain. “A steady flow, but nothing too demanding. I’m pleased at the number of clients I’m getting, including some repeat customers, which is what I need.”

  “What’s this week’s special?” asked Zoan.

  “We’re starting herbal foot spas.” She told them about her plans as they walked back to the community hall. Once there, she kissed each of them very gently, and said, “Thank you. I truly did enjoy our time together last night.”

  Then she ran inside to her own private space and changed into work clothing. No high heels. She’d be standing for most of the next twelve hours. She followed that by tying her hair into a simple braid. Tanisha would give her a prettier hairstyle when they had a break between clients but this would do for now. She was in a hurry. She’d think about the men and her very first ménage sex later.

  * * * *

  Yaro stared at Gowan. “But we’ve already done every search we could think of to find out who the silent partner is in the BDSM club. Why doesn’t Cooper just ask the owner?”

  “We wouldn’t be doing this if it were that simple. We need to think of another angle.” Gowan slouched in his chair. Yaro leaned back and closed his eyes. People always left a paper trail. It was impossible to live in the twenty-first century without leaving a trace somehow. If it wasn�
��t social media tracking a person, it was in-store CCTVs, or the GPS in their iPhones.

  One possibility was that the manager of the BDSM club didn’t know himself who the silent partner was. That the new partner worked through an intermediary. That would especially make sense if it were someone from overseas, for example. But…

  “Those shell companies we traced. They did come back here to the United States, didn’t they?”

  “Yes. So what?”

  “If the new owner was connected in some way to crime, he’d want to keep his identity hidden. So it would be very likely the man on the ground would have a squeaky-clean image. There’d be no reason to keep quiet about his identity. Or else the man on the ground would be some bad-ass, and he’d want everyone to know his name so they wouldn’t dare cross him.”

  “And your point is?” asked Gowan.

  Yaro shrugged. “Bear with me. I’m still working this out. But it seems to me there’s no reason to hide someone’s identity. A bad man would want his reputation to go before him so everyone obeyed him. A squeaky-clean man would have no reason to hide his identity. But if the new partner is someone from the town, he might not want the rest of Coopersville to know he’s bought into a BDSM club. Maybe his church wouldn’t like that. Or his buddies at the golf club. Or even his family. What if the new owner, despite all those shell companies, is someone everyone would know and recognize?”

  Gowan sat up straight. “Crazy as it seems, that makes sense.”

  “The silent partner has to have serious money. He must have put the best part of a million dollars into his investment with all the legal fees for those shell companies, and he’s pushing hard for results. Not only that, he either doesn’t know or doesn’t care what real BDSM is all about.”