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

by Cara Adams

  “So we’re looking for someone who could get his hands on a million dollars, but is hurting without it and needs to start making a profit. He also isn’t too worried about how that profit is made, hence his abuse of people and potentially his involvement in drugs. So someone with money and a name he wants to keep clean, but who is on the fringes of the rackets,” said Gowan slowly.

  “That narrows it down a lot. There really aren’t all that many people around here who’re that rich.” Yaro dropped his feet to the floor and drummed his fingers on the desk.

  “Let’s make a list and we’ll take half each,” said Gowan.

  * * * *

  Zoan raced home after work to take a shower and then pack all the things he’d need. He’d spent the entire day planning this scene and he didn’t want to forget anything. He didn’t even consider asking Shakina if she wanted to date them tonight, because he felt sure she’d say no. It was much better simply to arrive with everything organized and present her with a fait accompli.

  He texted Yaro to make sure he’d be home promptly at five, and he’d arranged for Alfred, one of the elderly men who acted as escorts for the human women when needed, to collect the spare set of keys for whichever vehicle the women had used to drive to the beauty parlor so he could bring Tanisha home safely. Alfred would go to the store with him and Yaro.

  Zoan kept them all moving right along and they arrived at the salon while Shakina was still working on her final client of the day. Alfred watched closely as Tanisha finished giving the woman an herbal foot spa while her hair was colored. “I’m going to make sure we can get them done at the senior center. I plan to try one of those foot spas real soon.”

  Once the final client left and Alfred escorted Tanisha out, Shakina shook her head at Zoan. “You realize we’re corrupting these old men? First Milton wanted to go to Victoria’s Secret and now Alfred wants a foot spa. Whatever will Eugene ask for?”

  Yaro laughed. “It’ll be fun finding out. Besides, you can’t complain. You’ll be able to run a foot-spa day at the Senior Center and you’ll have a line of potential clients halfway out the door.”

  While they were talking, Zoan locked the front door, closed the blinds over the window, checked the back door was locked, and spread the picnic rug out in the center of the floor. He took some containers of food out to the small back room and began heating them up in the microwave oven. While they warmed he took out the plates, knives and forks, and set out longneck bottles of beer and cans of soda.

  All through the meal he encouraged the others to talk about unimportant things, anything that would keep them relaxed. The previous night had ended up much heavier than he’d expected. He wanted tonight to stay light and general until they were ready for sex.

  He leaned back on the rug and enjoyed just being with these two people. They talked and laughed. Shakina shared a few incidents from her day and he gained an even deeper appreciation of her work. There was the story of someone’s car horn that got stuck until the mechanic actually disconnected the wires to stop it beeping. They all laughed about that even though the noise must have been so annoying for a while.

  Only when they finished eating and had packed everything away did he suggest they all undress.

  Shakina looked around her beauty parlor, and then checked the door was locked and the blinds fully closed before she stripped out of her clothes. Zoan breathed a little easier. He hadn’t been sure she’d agree to make love here. But this place was an important part of her life and besides, the moment he’d seen that huge mirror it’d given him a lot of ideas.

  He pulled the little stool across in front of the mirror. This was what Shakina sat on while she trimmed people’s hair. He had to change the setting to make it a little taller, but apart from that, it was perfect for what he had in mind. He handed Yaro a condom and said, “Sit on the stool, Yaro, and Shakina, you sit on his knee with your back to him and his cock in your pussy.”

  “Will that even work?” she asked.

  “Try it and see.”

  The stool was on wheels, so it took them a little while to get organized, but just as he’d planned, it worked perfectly.

  “Yaro, use your feet to hold her legs wide apart and put your hands on her breasts. While he fucks you, Shakina, I want you to watch him in the mirror. Don’t look away. Make sure you pay attention the entire time.”

  Shakina gazed into the mirror and gasped as Yaro’s cock slid in and out of her cunt. Her juices on Yaro’s dick sparkled in the light reflected in the mirror, and her nipples pressed into Yaro’s hands. Zoan stood behind them and caught every little movement as he stared at them in the mirror. Just as he’d predicted, it was incredibly carnal.

  “I can’t… I need to come.”

  “Come then,” he ordered, and she did. Yaro pounded into her then he, too, came. It was an excellent start to Zoan’s plans for their evening.

  They lay on the rug, talking quietly afterward.

  “You know true BDSM isn’t at all like we saw at the club,” he said to Shakina.

  “Yes I do know all about the safe, sane, and consensual rule. That beating was neither safe nor sane, and it might only have been consensual because the blonde had no other options.”

  “Has it made you dislike BDSM” asked Yaro.

  She paused for a moment, obviously thinking, then shook her head. “No, because it wasn’t BDSM. It was abuse. I’m still interested in BDSM although maybe not just yet.”

  Zoan was relieved. He’d been concerned the outing might have made her wary of the entire scene, but of course she was too wise to be misled like that.

  He was certain enough time had passed since they’d fucked her that Shakina would be able to come again. His own dick was desperate for its turn inside her cunt, and he was ready to set that scene up.

  First he went out into the back room where he knew there were a couple of solid, square cardboard boxes that had heavy bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and coloring dyes in them. They would be plenty sturdy enough for them to stand on. He placed two, one behind the other, in front of the mirror. By the time she stood on them she would be able to lean on the counter and her cunt would still be visible in the mirror. The previous scene had worked because they were a short distance back from the mirror. This scene required her to be right in front of it, so her body had to be higher off the ground.

  “Go and stand on the front box, Shakina, with your legs as far apart as the box allows, and lean on the counter.”

  He followed her across and climbed onto the box behind her. He’d already rolled a condom down his aching shaft. As Yaro had done, he took her from behind, but this time he said, “I want you to hold your pussy lips apart. I want you to touch my cock as I fuck you, and to stroke your own clit.”

  Shakina gasped as she did as he’d ordered. He heard the soft hiss of Yaro’s indrawn breath as well. “Watch, Yaro. Neither you nor Shakina are to look away.”

  “I don’t think I could look away. It was damn hot when I was doing the fucking, but this is even hotter,” said Yaro.

  * * * *

  Shakina thought surely her knees would collapse or her bones melt. It’d been hotter than hell when she’d watched in the mirror as Yaro fucked her. Just seeing his cock slide in and out of her cunt was the sexiest thing she’d ever seen and way more erotic than anything she could ever have imagined. She’d come damn hard watching them. But no, it was even hotter touching Zoan’s cock as he fucked her. Feeling her own slick juices on her cunt, her clit, and his cock. It was very hard to keep her eyes open. She wanted to shut them and just come. But she didn’t want to look away either. It was so entrancing as his cock went in and out of her. Oh, shit. Her brain was frying and she couldn’t have strung two words together if she’d wanted to. “Hot,” she whispered.

  She came just as hard this time as she’d done before and she sagged back onto Zoan, but he jackhammered into her several more times before he came. Almost immediately he began pinching her nipples. “Come aga
in, Yaro. Shoot your seed on her breasts. Come on, man.”

  Her eyes widened as Yaro stepped up beside them. His cock was huge and hard, the head red with need. He tugged and jerked on it almost roughly, she thought, as Zoan pinched and tugged on her nipples. Almost immediately, the orgasm which had been fading away inside her core fired up again, coiling deep in her belly, and demanding more.

  Shakina watched, openmouthed, as Yaro’s cock seemed to grow even longer and then his seed pumped out onto her breasts. Zoan grabbed her hips and began fucking her again. His cock was only half hard, but his finger was now on her clit and he pinched it. “Yes!” she gasped and came again.

  Three times. She’d never come three times in one evening in her entire life before and every one of them was a bone-shaking climax.

  Zoan carried her over to the hair-washing chairs and sat her astride the basin of one of them. Yaro turned the water on for her, playing with the faucet and the temperature before taking the hand shower and washing his seed off her breasts.

  “I’m not sure my clients would really want to know what we’re doing right now,” she said, trying not to laugh.

  “That’s because you know they’d be jealous. Not everyone gets fucked in front of a huge mirror like that. Then washed over a sink like this.”

  “I suppose it’s kind of like a bidet, but we better make damn sure it’s clean. I don’t think semen in a client’s hair would be a good look.”

  Zoan kissed her. “Whereas our semen on your skin is a very good look indeed. Our seed. Our woman.”

  That was the wolf in them, she supposed. The possessiveness and need to mark her with their scent. Which she was busy washing off again.

  When she was clean Zoan lifted her down again and carried her back to the rug, where he wrapped her in one of her own pale-blue beauty-parlor towels. It always seemed to be Zoan who carried her. She tried to think if Yaro ever had but couldn’t recall. Although she’d been basically asleep at least once. Right now it was Yaro who was scrubbing her sink clean, she was pleased to see. He followed that by washing down the counter where they’d been even thought she was reasonably sure it was clean. Zoan put the boxes they’d stood on away and she got dressed.

  They truly were very helpful and caring. They’d shown they wouldn’t take her personal freedom away from her, and they’d been very patient with her. She really appreciated this time of getting to know them better. It was worrying that there undoubtedly was something evil happening at the BDSM club, but that was in the hands of the authorities now. Her own life was on track for the first time in many years. Her future was within her grasp. She could have her beauty parlor and her men, which was more than she’d expected when she’d agreed to come to the farm as a mail-order bride. She’d assumed it was the end of ever having a salon of her own, yet the werewolves had been instrumental in giving it to her. It was their money and their help which had put it in her hands. Sometimes, just thinking about their kindness almost blew her mind.

  Her contract said she had to marry a pair of bachelors inside six months of when she arrived. She would marry Zoan and Yaro, and she’d make Shakina’s Styling a success. And yes, she’d even give the seniors some free herbal foot spas and maybe paint their nails as well. They were part of her community now, after all.

  She just wished she knew that blonde woman from last night was going to be okay. In fact, she wished she could get her away from the club and provide her with a fresh start if that’s what she wanted. That woman could have been her or one of her friends. She couldn’t get the incident out of her mind. Someone had to help the blonde and that someone would be her.

  Chapter Five

  Roderick was used to keeping his ideas to himself. Oh, sure, his second in command, Okapi, was a very bright man indeed with good ideas, and a person he trusted completely, but Okapi and his partner Tedros had recently mated Keisha, and Roderick didn’t want to place too many extra responsibilities on him right now. Besides, this BDSM club situation had the potential to blow up in his face.

  It wasn’t that long since Okapi had been kidnapped by a couple of idiots looking for a quick and easy half million dollars. He and his men had managed to sort that out themselves, although Okapi had actually escaped by the time they got there to rescue him. Still, it meant Roderick wanted to keep the possible purchase of the BDSM club close to his own vest for as long as possible. He knew his werewolves wouldn’t be happy about it because of the direction the new partner seemed to be moving the club in. Beating that woman was disgusting. Drugs were a total no-no. But if he put the right men in as managers of the club, he was confident they’d get it back on track as a genuine BDSM club. People had their kinks and he was happy to provide them a safe, sane, and consensual venue in which to indulge them with consenting adults. Freely consenting adults. Not people pressured into it because someone had some kind of hold over them, or even just because they needed the money.

  He spent most of the morning reading the information his staff had assembled for him about the club and checking the farm’s financial status. The bank manager’s face had been entertaining to watch when he’d returned the briefcase holding half a million dollars in cash and told the man he’d decided to buy the beauty parlor by EFT instead. The poor man had been completely convinced Cooper was getting involved in something semi-illegal, and to have the money returned and the purchase of property turn out to be true had been more than the man’s usual stone-faced attitude could cope with.

  Of course, the manager had been correct. The money had been intended as the ransom fee for Okapi. The purchase of Shakina’s salon had simply been an amazing coincidence in timing. But three-quarters of a million was something else again. That would require a loan. They had plenty of collateral. The land the farm sat on was worth several million and the farm itself was running at a decent profit as well.

  Also, he was fairly sure Tom Moore had overpriced the club. He didn’t think a sixty percent share was worth that much. Six hundred thousand would be a more likely figure he thought, but that was still a hell of a lot of money. However, once he put his own managers in charge and they undertook a complete survey of every aspect of the business, he expected the profits would increase, even allowing for the fact there would be an immediate cessation of anything dodgy.

  The real question was why Tom allowed these things to happen. Was the silent partner threatening him? Or even blackmailing him? These were issues he and Tom needed to discuss at lunch today. If it turned out the minority partner had executive decision-making powers, Roderick wasn’t interested in buying the club.

  He locked all the papers away in his desk drawer. There was no way he was taking any private information with him today on what was really just a fact finding mission. Everything he needed to know was stored in his brain where no one else could read it unless he chose to share it.

  “I’m meeting Tom Moore for lunch at the Hightower,” he said to Okapi as he left.

  “That’s a hell of a long way to drive just for lunch.”

  “Yeah. Tom had the fidgets and wanted somewhere private.”

  Okapi looked up at him seriously. “Watch your back. Something about Tom’s silent partner smells bad and you know those criminals were really after you when they kidnapped me. Who are you taking with you?”

  “No one. It’s a private meeting.”

  “At least have someone in a separate car as support. Just to watch your back.”

  Roderick sighed. But Okapi was correct. The kidnap plan had been to exchange Okapi for him and double the ransom required. And the Hightower was a damn long drive from here.

  “Tell Zoan where I’m going and ask him to follow me in one of the white pickups. But he’s to stay out of sight. Everyone knows all the farm trucks are white. If something is not quite right I’ll text him or flash my headlights on and off.”

  He hurried out to his car, not wanting to be late and with a good hour’s drive ahead of him. Zoan would be there if he was needed. Likely it was a
total waste of the man’s time, but Okapi was right. That was another issue he should discuss with Tom. Who was this fucking silent partner and what did he really want?

  * * * *

  “Hi, Zoan. Cooper’s off to a lunchtime meeting at the Hightower. I convinced him he should have a backup person just in case and he said you should go after him as soon as possible in one of the farm pickups. If there’s trouble, he’ll either text you or flash his headlights at you, but he wants you to stay out of sight.”

  Zoan stared at his cell phone. Well, fuck! His boots were caked with mud, his jeans were far from clean, and even his hands needed a close encounter with some soap right now. But orders were orders and if Cooper might need him, that had to be his first priority. He bent over and rubbed his hands through the grass. It didn’t do much but maybe they were a little cleaner now. He dried them on his thighs and walked fast across the field in a direct line to the barn where the vehicles were kept. At least he didn’t have to walk the long way around. This field was fallow right now.

  At the entry to the barn he stomped his feet hard on the concrete to knock the dirt off them, then rubbed them through the grass. This was starting to sound like a theme, but seriously, who carried hand wipes or a shoeshine kit around in their jean pockets on a working farm?

  There was only one pickup left in the barn and it was the oldest one. The one with stiff steering and a tendency to break down for no reason. “Fucking hell!” Zoan walked over to the work bench and grabbed a metal toolbox which he slung in the back of the truck. Then he kicked the truck’s tires and said firmly, “Listen, you useless bucket of bolts. We’re backup for Cooper himself, so none of your stupid shit today, okay?”

  The truck started first try, so Zoan took that as a positive sign, and headed off across town. Why did Cooper have to meet at the Hightower? That was almost an hour away. By zigzagging north and then west instead of going through town he could save maybe five minutes, but even so, why couldn’t Cooper have met for lunch in Coopersville like a normal person? Unless he was meeting someone who’d traveled from the opposite direction and this was in the middle of where they both lived, he supposed. That would make sense.