Ruff Trouble

by Sharon Maria Bidwell

  “Let me worry about what is in my nature.”

  Sam swallowed. “I…You…” Great. He was a stuttering idiot now. “You’ve never…”

  “Given any sign? Well, neither have you.” From the doorway, Chantelle coughed. Bobby grimaced. “Although according to my woman, I was too blind to see.”

  “Yeah. Maybe you needed to remove the contact sooner.” Sam was going mad.

  Bobby’s mouth pulled to the side in a twisted grin. “Maybe I did.”

  “Maybe men need to be more honest about their emotions.” In reply to Chantelle’s comment, Sam was sure his and Bobby’s hurt expressions mirrored each other’s.

  “Even if true,” Sam insisted, “I can’t ask you to act on what I want. It’s too late. You two have a real chance.”

  “Hey, I’m not planning on going anywhere, mate,” Chantelle snapped, sounding more like the man in the room than the two men combined.

  Aware he was frowning, all Sam could do was to stare at Bobby, whose grin now spread to include his teeth. “Think you can handle her? Think you can handle the two of us?”

  A lump formed in Sam’s throat. His heart struggled to beat. He forced out the words, “I’m wondering the same thing.”

  * * * *

  The two men might as well have been statues. Chantelle rolled her eyes although no one watched, and, in the dim light, only Bobby could have seen. Sam lay on his back, arms braced against Bobby’s chest. Her man hovered on all fours over him, resting his weight with sufficient force against Sam’s hands so Sam must be aware of his strength. They stared at each other, one hunter, one prey, but neither appearing to know how to proceed. She was about to speak when Sam said, “H-How are we going to do this?”

  “Well, I think you two need a little help, and as I’m the woman here I think we should start as we intend to go on.”

  “Meaning?” Bobby’s lips barely moved. Chantelle struggled not to laugh at the apparent mastery and warning in his voice.

  “Meaning I get my way.” She stalked toward the bed naked. Sam’s gaze flicked her way, although she must be a mere shape in the darkness to him.

  “Have…” He had to clear his throat. “Haven’t you two had enough sex tonight? I mean…”

  “Yes, honey, what do you mean?”

  “Well, when I left, you two…” He didn’t finish. Chantelle eased her way onto the bed.

  “When you left, it cooled our ardour, since we wanted you to stay and play.”

  He flushed. She smelled the rush of blood more than saw it, but it was there. She also heard the rumbling growl easing into Bobby’s throat. Placing a cool hand to his neck, she gave him a silent warning to take control and hold on. He shouldn’t take Sam yet. Things needed careful explaining before that occurred, and better to ensnare his heart first.

  “If you don’t want me, Sam, say so.” Despite being positive Sam would be happy as a trio, she wanted to hear him confirm it. Nothing she or Bobby wished for meant true force even if they were willing to entice and persuade.

  “I’m not sure I understand.”

  “What I’m saying is, if this works out, we’re not talking about one night.” She stroked his brow. He and Bobby hadn’t moved. With one hand touching Sam’s forehead and one on her man’s neck, she felt connected to both men,

  “We’re…not?” Sam’s sounded more disbelieving than anything else; he didn’t accept rather than failed to understand.

  “No. And we’re not teasing.” A flicker in his eyes told her she’d guessed right. “I’m saying if you only want Bobby, I’m fine with that but, Sam, honey, I’d love for us to be a true family.”

  “F-Family?” He spoke as though he didn’t know the meaning of the word and his tone made her heart jolt. Sam’s words—silent confession almost—did strange things to Bobby’s smell. Bobby pressed to a greater extent against Sam’s hands as if he tried to break through some barrier. Sam’s arms shook with the strain, but held him off. “I’m supposed to believe you both want me?”

  He didn’t trust them and she didn’t blame him, but Bobby experienced the pain of Sam’s doubt most of all; this time no way could she make him hold back his growl. To cover the sound, Chantelle bent and spoke into Sam’s ear. “What part of being in a Sam and Bobby sandwich sounds bad to you? Why wouldn’t I want that?”

  “I’m not…” Sam’s eyes took on an introspective look if ever she saw one, but she also picked up Sam’s doubt in his smell. “Why would you?” he whispered so gently, she was unsure whether he asked them or himself.

  This time she laid both her hands on him. Shooting Bobby a glance he would understand, she sent a silent apology his way. She’d noticed Sam’s desire, but his emotions had masked so many other things, including self-doubt. Sam didn’t see himself as desirable. Maybe his damaged leg was a part of his uncertainty, but it didn’t account for the level of dubiety in Sam’s expression, in the way his body and lips trembled. Neither of them had expected this.

  * * * *

  Bobby increased the pressure against Sam’s hands. He glanced at Chantelle, a silent acknowledgement. Easy to realise what went through Sam’s head. Sam cared for them both, but the man had known him first. Sam’s feelings stemmed from their relationship. Bobby was the one who needed to fix this. He lowered his body by degrees.

  Several seconds passed before Sam focused, before he pushed back. Bobby ignored him. In physical strength, no way could a human best a shape-shifter; it had nothing to do with Sam being weak.

  Bobby leaned in, never breaking his gaze even when Sam’s eyes darted about in puzzlement, question, and, at last, in alarm. Those strong forearms shook as Sam tried to bench-press him to no avail. Bobby continued to lean in until a mere inch existed between them. Until their warm breath had no choice but to mingle. “I’m not fucking with your head. I don’t do that.”

  He waited, while Sam’s eyes widened. Chantelle would have said something loving, something reassuring, but Bobby and Sam were men. Maybe some men spoke lovey to each other, but he and Sam never had. Sam knew him, and Bobby understood how to get his point across. Sam had no choice but to accept he spoke the truth, not when Bobby backed up his words with his lips.

  The rasp of stubble gave the right kind of burn to the kiss, although, to begin with, came across as more of a caress. Sam’s hands stopped trying to push. His fingers spread out in two fans over Bobby’s pecs. Bobby’s tongue demanded entry to Sam’s mouth, and whether Sam gasped in surprise or pleasure, those lips parted enough for Bobby to force his way in.

  A cry too plaintive to call a groan shot from Sam’s mouth to his. The way the other man moved under him would have told Bobby what Sam felt even if he hadn’t been able to sense it. Sam’s barriers cracked, and for one moment, Bobby peered through.

  Sam’s loyalty and love assaulted him with more violence than teeth or claws. Too long bottled. Too long denied. Too long believing never to have this. All this Bobby got from Sam in a flash, and beneath, the self-doubt, the belief that, even if Bobby knew his feelings, he’d never reciprocate because Sam never saw himself as good enough. What would the accident have done to someone already so demoralised?

  Bobby wanted to wrap Sam in his arms, take away every smidgen of pain, but for now he poured his emotion out in a kiss. He pressed their bodies together, erections separated by their undergarments and a sheet. He encircled Sam’s neck with his fingers, and forced his way into Sam’s mouth, tongue lapping, lips devouring, teeth clashing.

  It hurt. The kiss bruised in its force. Teeth threatened to cut lips, and yet Bobby didn’t pull away until sure one or both would pass out, starved of air.

  One of Sam’s legs had kicked free of the sheet and wrapped around him. If it weren’t for the covers, most likely Sam would have both his legs wrapped around Bobby’s waist by now. If Sam’s hands weren’t caught between them, Bobby pictured the man grasping and clawing at him.

  “Fuck.” Wonderment warmed Sam’s voice.

  “Not right now. Tonig
ht we love my sweet girl here.” Bobby teased, knowing that wasn’t what Sam had meant. He searched Sam’s eyes as he spoke. While a hint of disappointment tainted the air, reticence took a backseat. A different spark of arousal flared inside Sam, but to establish the man understood, Bobby stroked his chin, spoke against his lips.

  “You’ll get to have me inside you soon, I promise you. Tonight, I want you to help me love this woman here, make her ours. I want to feel you riding her body against mine. Are you okay with that?”

  Those eyes searched his. “I’m sure I’m still dreaming, but it’s one hell of a dream.”

  Bobby grinned. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  Chapter 4

  While allowing her man to conduct the scene, Chantelle moved on top of him. She spent the next fifteen minutes having her skin kissed and caressed, stung by little zinging nips and scratches, soothed with wet tongues. Fifteen minutes…the digital alarm clock on Bobby’s side of the bed told her so. The way Bobby snared his fingers in her hair and kept her head twisted meant the clock was the one thing she watched. Having nothing else to stare at she closed her eyes more than once, concentrated on sensation, but she had no real control because she kept finding herself staring blindly at the clock again.

  She trembled, wrecked, though in a good way. She might beg and urge both men into her, but this wasn’t her play. She didn’t direct the scene. Giving Bobby command was her gift, and he knew what she was doing, as his grip, his kisses, his glances, told her and thanked her for. Allowing Bobby to control what happened tonight was also a gift to Sam. Even so, for her, fifteen minutes were interminable, and it shouldn’t be. She was used to more foreplay than this.

  Maybe their failed attempt earlier to try to get Sam interested fuelled their desire, but more than that; something at last clicked into place. Sam’s reaction to Bobby heated her blood. His touch became familiar and…right. This didn’t feel as if it were a first time, more a moment they had waited for too long.

  Although Bobby lay on his back, and she rode him—legs splayed, cock buried deep inside—hers wasn’t the dominant role here, and she enjoyed giving Bobby supervision over her responses. She paid attention to Sam watching her defer to Bobby and had seen, sensed, and smelled how he reacted. When Bobby had handed Sam lube and told him where he wanted him, Sam took it and looked to Bobby for confirmation as though she weren’t even sentient, let alone had a choice.

  Sometimes it was good to be treated like an object if she were with the right person. Sam’s agreement began with his fingers, greased and probing, stretching her. She drifted, chewing on her lips, stifling her moans, trying to keep herself relaxed and accommodating.

  “Have you done this before?” Bobby’s voice was a drone, his words barely meaningful, and it hardly mattered when he spoke to Sam and not her.

  “You mean two in…erm…at once?” Sam stumbled over the words.

  “Yes. We need to match alternate strokes. Set a rhythm.”

  Yes, a rhythm would be good. Her body shook, and her eyes closed until the first nudge. Bobby dropped out of her, the head of his cock teasing her entrance. He stayed there as Sam worked his way in. Pity Sam insisted on a condom, but he didn’t know they were shifters and disease wasn’t an issue. In time, he’d learn. Sexually, she wasn’t sure he needed a lesson, as, with expertise, he nudged his entire length in.

  Her head dropped forward at the sensation. Bobby’s pull on her hair tilted her head back to face him. She recognised his expression. He loved watching her face when she felt dazed by the uproar tingling through her nerves, ripping her asunder.

  Would she spot something different on Bobby’s face, owing to the commotion being powered by another man? No. A strange voyeuristic pleasure shone from his eyes. “That’s it. Enjoy him,” Bobby whispered, and she knew in that moment Sam presented no problem. She’d done right to take the submissive role for this, their first time as a threesome. Both obeying Bobby gave Sam confidence. Both obeying him made Bobby content with the decision.

  Bobby peered over her shoulder, Chantelle positive he and Sam shared a glance. Sam’s hands came around her hips; for the first time since he’d touched her, something in his touch focused on her.

  “You’re gorgeous, do you know?” The whisper suggested Sam was amazed to be where he was, here in this room with them, and inside her. She tasted his amazement on her tongue, in the salty dew of his sweat where she’d licked him a time or two as he fondled her. His grip eased the strain in her thighs from where she straddled her man.

  Men. She had men now, plural. A wild giggle bubbled, but she kept the sound imprisoned. At that moment, Sam retreated as Bobby advanced, making it difficult to keep her hips still, but she had nowhere to go. Their hands kept her body under their command and indecision warred to make her immobile. If she thrust back on Sam and followed his withdrawing cock, she would pull off Bobby’s penetration. If she met the thrust of his hips, she would draw Sam out of her faster. She almost begged for them to both fill her at once, but she wasn’t prepared for that. Bobby had breached her body in all ways possible, but she’d never done this. Experienced this. Nerves she didn’t know she possessed came alive. Sparks of an undefined need alighted behind her eyes, in her brain, shivered along her spine.

  One back, one forward, the two men swayed. She wanted to move with them, but, for now, she remained an orifice for their use. Willing even though her brain sizzled in the heat created between them. She wouldn’t have been surprised to hear and feel Sam’s sweat sputter against her skin as it dripped onto her. What were they sharing, to be riding against each other inside her, only a thin wall between?

  Her climax built fast. How could it not when each of their strokes stretched her in different ways, and their bodies brushed over her skin? Their hair tickled or scratched her depending what part of their bodies met hers. Overtaxed muscles quivered.

  Chantelle glanced at the clock and gasped. She had believed she would spill over too fast, but had lost track somewhere. She’d lost time. She didn’t believe how long they’d been at this, one wave of sensation overlapping another, building, cresting, until she’d fallen out of time. Her breath rasped. So did her man’s chin against her face, as he gave her a bruising kiss, pulling her lower lip into his mouth, and biting on it. Not hard, but hard enough. He’d no doubt noticed her attention passing over to the clock and didn’t like the distraction.

  She licked her tender lip and peered in his eyes. She never got over the contrast. One eye soft, warm and loving. The other hard, cold, penetrating. She silently begged for this to end. The tightening grip in her hair told her no. The way his lips curled from his teeth told her not to elicit Sam’s help either.

  This is for them. She tried to tell herself that, but she’d reached a point when all she wanted was release. If she could hold off, the climax would devastate, but as she suspected, that wasn’t why Bobby wanted her to wait.

  “What do you think of her now?” Bobby’s question of Sam struck her as demanding and possessive, echoed something that flashed in his eyes.

  Without faltering, although his voice rasped, Sam replied. “She’s a gift. Her sharing herself is a gift, from her and from you. She’s sexy as hell and intelligent with it.”

  Bobby chuckled. “A deadly combination.” A moan from Sam came as affirmation. “You like where you are?” Bobby’s tone inferred Sam’s cock.

  “Hmmm…”

  Good because she liked where it was, too.

  “You love my woman?”

  “God, yes,” Sam panted out. “What’s not to love?” He maintained the rhythm, but she sensed his body tightening; no way would he continue much longer. As well; if they hadn’t held her so tight, she would spasm between them.

  “As much as you love me?”

  Sam’s tempo faltered. Bobby slowed as Sam fought to work with him again. They synchronised but their movements weren’t as smooth. Bobby awaited an answer.

  “She’s the woman I love most in the world.”
>
  Bobby laughed, interfering with their beat again and sending unspeakable shocks through her tender parts. “Good comeback.” His amusement faded. “But will you love her and obey her, protect her and stay loyal to her, to us both?”

  “You don’t need to ask.” Sam injected enough reproach in his voice she almost missed how on the edge he was. Sam’s body trembled at her back.

  “Not yet,” Bobby ordered, and Sam hissed. “Both of you when I say.”

  Chantelle moaned then said, “Bastard.” Behind her, Sam laughed, but petered off on a sound more like a sob.

  “Is he always like this?” Sam gasped out.

  “Stick around and find out,” Bobby said, even as she replied, “Yes.” Bobby’s voice contained a challenge, her’s relish. She hoped Sam noticed the nuances. Maybe he did, for he picked up the pace with renewed vigour.

  Sam broke first, his whispered, “Please,” slithering around the room, her plea a second behind his. She looked to Bobby for mercy. For them both. Bobby said, “Yes,” and her body peaked before the word died away. She didn’t know whether Sam and Bobby came naturally with her or her throes sent them into spasm, but her body squeezed down, taunted them, milked them, made both men cry out and cling on. She became the anchor in the tide that swept them over the precipice.

  * * * *

  Unsurprising she collapsed boneless between them. What astonished Sam, was his own inability to move. When he at last rolled to the side, it was more a case of tumbling, pushing off Chantelle so his weight didn’t crush her. Chest rising and falling, sweat chilled his skin. When he found the strength to look, the scene failed to astound him.

  Bobby held Chantelle in his arms, the angle suggesting he remained inside her. Bobby had stamina, and damn if it hadn’t felt as if the man’s cock had grown in size as they came. Sam wasn’t sure Chantelle realised, but they’d both lost control. Pushed into her at the last, before…no idea what had occurred, but something happened. Something had forced Sam out. Maybe the force of three combined orgasms.