Chosen by the Wolves [Werewolf Brides 5] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Cara Adams

  Nathanael looked at his own dick. The mere mention of the word Siyandra had it standing up and waving like a flagpole. Damn, he missed her. He wanted nothing more than to hold her, to kiss her, and drive his dick deep inside her cunt. Or her ass. Or even her mouth. Just being inside her was the only thing that made him truly happy. He spread his legs and fisted his dick, pulling hard and twisting his hand at the top of every stroke.

  “I never expected to find my mate. When I didn’t fall in love with June, May, or April, I decided to remain single. But the moment I saw Siyandra’s video, I wanted her. I can’t thank you both enough for agreeing to share her with me.”

  Nathanael stopped stroking his cock and looked at Cooper. The man’s dick was huge, the head red, and he was rolling his balls with one hand and pinching a nipple with the other. It looked like this was going to be a male bonding session but with solo sex. Well, he could deal with that. His hand knew how to get him off, but it was never as good as fucking Siyandra.

  “We always knew she liked you. But it wasn’t until we approached her that we learned she wanted us all. We can’t thank you enough for deciding to bring the mail-order brides to Cooper’s Farm.”

  Nathanael had to stop talking. His dick was full of seed and the orgasm was rising up through him. He pictured Siyandra naked in front of them. Her lush ass, her soft round breasts with their perky brown nipples, and most of all, her welcoming hot cunt. He saw his dick drive into her cunt, pump into her ass, fill her mouth. He pictured his cum filling her cunt, her ass, her mouth, and it spurted from him over his hand and onto his belly. He tugged some more on his dick, releasing the last few jets of cum imagining her licking the head of his cock maybe scraping her teeth across his sensitive skin. “Fuck, I miss her.”

  Silently he walked down to the river and washed his skin, shivering a little at the chill. He sat and waited for the others to clean themselves, but instead of transforming ready to run back, Cooper said, “I found out today who the person is who owns the minority share of the BDSM club.”

  “Who is it?” asked Justin, only a fraction of a second before the same words tumbled out of his own mouth.

  Cooper stood up and looked all around them before he said softly, “Rinehart.”

  “Shit! Are you serious?”

  “Yes. I’ve seen the paperwork and the trail is crystal clear. Mind you, it took an expert to find the paper trail. He didn’t make it easy.”

  “I guess the question is will he accept our bid to buy him out or will he fight us. With his millions he could tie us up in court until we’re all senior citizens,” said Nathanael.

  “He could. But I’ve already hired the brightest young attorney in the States to take the case. I think once his lawyers find out who’s on our team, they’ll fold. And anyway, things get leaked to the press so easily these days. An idle word in the wrong place, a missing paper from a file, and who knows how the media might learn his identity.”

  Cooper spoke so innocently that Nathanael found himself gasping, then laughing. “Fuck, Cooper, you’re a fucking genius. I can just see you batting your eyes innocently on television and saying you had no idea how anyone came to hear about it.”

  “What I want to know is why did Rinehart do it? He’s rolling in money. Was it just greed?”

  “Actually, he’s not rolling in as much money as he used to. He has huge alimony payments to his three ex-wives, his fourth wife is rapacious in her needs, and he’s pretty damn extravagant himself. A few million dollars doesn’t go far at all these days when your wife spends one hundred thousand on a shopping spree.”

  “Especially if all four wives do it, I guess,” added Nathanael.

  “Much better to have three husbands and one wife,” joked Justin.

  “Hell yes.”

  The men stood up and shifted back into their wolves. This time Nathanael took the lead, taking them on a gentle run through the fields, across a treed area, and back to the rear of the office building. It’d been a really good time, male bonding at its best, and he truly appreciated Cooper telling them about Rinehart. It was a hell of a secret, but such a huge demonstration of Cooper’s trust in them he was honored and humbled. Cooper was a damn good leader and deserved all their respect.

  It’d likely be a tough and messy battle to take down Rinehart but he and Justin would have Cooper’s back all the way. As would Siyandra. Ah fuck, I miss her so much. I hope she’s all right. I wonder what she’s doing right now. Is she waiting tables again?

  Chapter Seven

  When Aimee arrived back in their apartment there was still plenty of time before they needed to get ready to start work, even for Mim who began earlier than her or Aimee.

  “Aimee, Mim said you’d shown her how to do a lap dance. I don’t think I’m going to do them, but can you teach me, too, please, in case I decide to try?” Siyandra asked.

  “Sure. I need to be wearing heels for that though. You set out two chairs and sit down while I change my shoes.”

  Siyandra did as Aimee had suggested but called out, “Why do you need to wear heels?”

  “You’ll see.”

  Aimee turned the television on, clicking through a lot of channels until she found one with a music video with a pronounced beat to it, then she said, “Customers aren’t allowed to touch the dancers. Put your hands under your thighs, please.”

  “That’s smart. It reminds them of the rules and reinforces their actions so they don’t touch you unconsciously.”

  “It’s not a guarantee. If they do touch me, I tell them they have to give me an extra twenty dead presidents. That doesn’t stop all of them either but at least I make a big tip out of it.”

  “Do some of them get demanding?” Siyandra was thinking of what her men had hinted at that customers actually fucked the dancers.

  “Some dancers are happy to make extra money at the private parties. That’s what Henk wanted me to do to pay off my debt. He said most of the men were so hot after a dance all I’d need to do was sit on their cock and wiggle my ass a bit and let them touch my breasts and they’d come. But it’s not what I want to do,” said Mim.

  “It’s easy money, and at the private parties you’re surrounded by a lot of other people so the clients can’t get abusive without everyone knowing. But often they come themselves if you just dance and they still give big tips. Now watch carefully.”

  Siyandra sat with her hands under her thighs and paid attention as Aimee danced around in front of her and Mim. She moved backward and forward, little steps with a lot of hip wiggle, and turned and flaunted her ass from time to time. If she’d been wearing her costume, the client would have gotten a pretty good view of ass cheeks and inner thighs although her genitals would still be hidden.

  Then Aimee came closer and straddled the chair. Her legs didn’t touch the chair or the person, but she kept wiggling her butt and her breasts, waving her hands and arms around near Mim’s face teasingly, encouraging her to look this way and that. Aimee let her breasts get to within an inch or two of Mim’s mouth, but they never touched her. Then Aimee turned around and did a lot of ass wiggling near Mim’s face including bending right down so a client would be staring at her pussy. Once again she never actually touched Mim or the chair, but it was a hell of an erotic dance. Or it would be to a randy man.

  Siyandra also understood why a dancer needed high heels. The few extra inches allowed her to bend and twist more without touching. Siyandra guessed the tips would be proportional to the amount of show. She also guessed the client would get a good view down the front of Aimee’s top. The blouses were very low cut and bending forward as she did many times would leave nothing at all to the imagination. If I do a lap dance, I’ll wear pasties as well as a bra. I need some privacy.

  But she couldn’t see herself dancing over a random stranger even for money. But a lap dance for Rick, Nate, and Justin? Oh yes, she might do that one day.

  Aimee demonstrated her dance again on Siyandra and Siyandra understood even better th
e need for the twisting and turning and wiggling. Then Aimee encouraged Siyandra to try a dance and suggested Mim have a go as well, but Mim refused. Siyandra danced but was aware she was nowhere near as good as Aimee.

  “I’d need to practice first.”

  “Go to a private party. Half of them are drunk, but not too drunk to come and to tip. Never dance for anyone too drunk to tip,” she warned.

  It seemed like good advice.

  “Thanks, Aimee, you’ve been a real help.”

  “It’s a hell of a lot easier on the feet than waiting tables.”

  * * * *

  Roderick wasn’t sure whether he was nervous or excited. On the one hand he just wanted the transfer of the BDSM club into the hands of the pack to be completed. Yet he acknowledged deep inside himself that justice demanded Rinehart be made aware that other people knew of his maltreatment of people in the interests of making more money. Also that he be warned not to repeat his behavior elsewhere. Because Roderick knew that’s what often happened. Abusers simply moved to another town, state, or even country, and began taking advantage of people all over again. People who were poor were always at risk of being abused by the powerful and wealthy.

  Ms. Bond had given him a couple of excellent weapons he could use if the situation became sticky. He just hoped he’d be able to think fast enough and talk smart enough to get through the meeting.

  He’d also spoken to his friend, Dan Lee, the Chief of Police in Coopersville, and advised him it was possible there might be a person or persons to arrest if the situation exploded. “No sweat. Just call me if you need me,” had been the laconic reply.

  Feeling as prepared as he could be, Roderick was dressed in a neat dark suit, with a blue necktie, and freshly shined shoes. He checked his zipper was done up before he stepped out of his truck in the parking lot at Samson’s Legal and Accounting. This was the company who represented the minority partner. His own lawyer and accountant were waiting for him in the foyer.

  He’d deliberately arrived at exactly one minute before the hour. As he’d planned, the clock ticked over to the hour while the receptionist was greeting him. “Please take us to the meeting room now,” he said.

  “I’m sorry, sir. I can’t do that until Mr. Samson rings through to say he’s ready for you.”

  “Are you telling me Sammy doesn’t know how to tell the time? The meeting was set, at his request, for ten a.m. It’s precisely ten. These good people are charging me by the hour. I’m sure Sammy bills by the hour, too. Let’s not waste time. The meeting room’s just down here, isn’t it?”

  Roderick strode down the hallway, knowing his people would follow him. There was no way he was sitting waiting for Sammy like a petitioner. It was a childish game to keep people waiting for as long as the player thought they could delay them. Roderick didn’t play that kind of game. The only game he was playing was to win the club.

  He shoved the meeting room door open and walked in, noting first that there was silence in the room, not discussion, second, that the three men sitting on one side of the table were simply waiting, not doing any work, and third, that Sammy was standing at the end of the room, pouring himself a drink. He’d been right. Sammy was trying to prove he was the one with the power and in control. Well, he was wrong.

  “Good heavens, Sammy. Strong alcohol so early in the morning? Shame on you.”

  Sammy coughed, choked, and put his glass down. “What the fuck?” he spluttered.

  “It’s ten already, Sammy. Time for our meeting. Are you ready to sign the paperwork?

  Roderick sat at the head of the table in what was clearly Sammy’s chair. He pushed Sammy’s papers and water glass to the side, and was secretly very pleased when his own lawyer and accountant sat next to him on his right, forcing Sammy to ask one of his staff move so he could sit on Roderick’s left.

  “Good. Now, Sammy, have you signed your copy of the contract?” he asked, deliberately keeping control of the meeting. Sammy gasped, coughed, and the meeting struggled along with the two sets of lawyers and accountants arguing now and then, but it was purely testosterone speaking. Until they came to the price.

  “The owner won’t sign for less than half a million.” Sammy spoke firmly and this time Roderick knew it wasn’t just a pissing contest. Rinehart must have dug his heels in on that point. Well, this was the exact reason why he’d been so driven to learn who the owner was.

  He leaned back in his chair and said softly, “Well, well, well. Jeremy John Rinehart is desperate for an extra one hundred thousand dollars. Why is that? Is Rinehart Industries going bankrupt perhaps?”

  Sammy turned purple, his accountant looked stunned, and his lawyer began whispering fiercely into his ear. The third member of the team, who Roderick had no idea what his position was, looked apoplectic. His face was an unhealthy reddish purple and his eyes were bugged out. “Who told you?” he thundered.

  “It’s common knowledge. I wouldn’t be surprised to read it in the Clarion next Wednesday.”

  “Who told you?” the man repeated, even louder.

  “And I already answered you. I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.”

  “Jackson,” the man replied a bit unwillingly. Instantly Roderick knew why as another piece of the jigsaw fell into place.

  “Of Jackson Recruiting. The company that tries to entice young women into brothels. I suppose you’ve been supplying them to the BDSM club as well.”

  The man was now gasping and Roderick began to worry that his bad temper really would cause him to have a stroke or a heart attack or something potentially fatal.

  Sammy’s accountant pushed the water carafe and a glass toward Jackson, who heaved in a breath, then poured himself a drink.

  Jackson finished his glass of water then stood up. “Sammy, sign the fucking contract. Send my fee to my California address. I won’t be working with you incompetent idiots again.” He marched out of the room.

  Mentally Roderick was cheering. Coopersville didn’t need Mr. Jackson or Jackson Recruiting.

  The signing of the contract was an absolute anticlimax after that drama, although Sammy’s lawyer tried to tell them they couldn’t mention the owner’s name. Roderick was quick to quash that idea. “If Mr. Rinehart is afraid of people learning he’s been part owner of the BDSM club he should never have bought into it in the first place. Now, me, I’ll be perfectly happy for the world to know that Cooper’s Farm has diversified its portfolio and added the Coopersville BDSM club, now to be known as Silken Handcuffs, to their cabbages, onions and herb business.”

  After all the signatures had been witnessed and sealed, Roderick stood to leave. “Sammy, please tell your staff my new managers will be onsite at eight tomorrow morning. I expect them to receive absolute one hundred percent cooperation. Do you understand?”

  “I expect many of them will want to leave,” retorted Sammy spitefully.

  “That would be an excellent solution all around.”

  Roderick heard the gasps behind him as he left. All in all, the meeting had gone better than he expected. No one had thrown a punch and he hadn’t needed help from the chief of police. Of course, there’d still be people to terminate at the club, although maybe the ringleaders would take the hint and leave.

  Once again he longed for Siyandra and to know how she was coping. She could come home now. Purvis and Heath would take over.

  * * * *

  Justin felt like a kid invited to a very special birthday party. They were all on their way to Silken Handcuffs and he was determined to bring Siyandra back home with them tonight and fuck her until none of them could move.

  Heath was driving and when Roderick told them about Jackson’s response to the exposure of Rinehart’s name he had to pull off the road they were all laughing so much. But there was a serious side to it as well.

  “What will happen to Rinehart now?” Justin asked.

  “The current Mrs. Rinehart is going to divorce him and take him for every penny he’s got,” predicted Pu
rvis.

  “Likely assisted by the three other Mrs. Rineharts,” added Nathanael.

  “I don’t know. The second Mrs. Rinehart, CarolLynne, comes to Shakina’s beauty parlor, and Shakina and Tanisha say she’s a really nice person, although undoubtedly expensive. They said she wears really nice clothes and has a chauffeur,” said Heath thoughtfully.

  But he forgot all about Rinehart and his problems once they arrived at the club. Everyone was told there was a new owner and there’d be changes made. The new name, Silken Handcuffs, was on a huge banner stretching across the dance floor. Justin saw Heath and Purvis grinning at it and guessed they’d had to work hard to get it done and in place for tonight.

  Justin sat at a table by the dance floor with Cooper and Nathanael, while Purvis and Heath did their usual walking around thing. He guessed they’d be moving in here soon. Well he supposed there was a manager’s apartment. There was one for the women who worked here so likely the manager had one, too.

  And thinking of the women working here, he could see the blonde who’d been beaten but not Siyandra. He wondered if Siyandra knew her story yet and if there was a problem they could help her with. But mostly he wanted to see his woman, to pull her out of here and take her home, back to their bed where he could hold her, protect her, and show her how much he wanted her.

  Once Siyandra appeared on duty Justin followed her everywhere she went with his gaze. He smiled when she smiled, he gripped his virgin Mary tightly when she served drinks, and he felt his stomach rumble with hunger when she brought out plates of food. He had no idea what anyone was talking about around him or of what act was on the stage. His entire focus was on his woman. She was so beautiful. Everyone loved her. He could tell her smiling face, the sparkle in her eyes, was captivating every man she served. His emotions were a seething of tangle of incredible pride in her, and fierce sense of possession. He had a crazy urge to punch anyone who even looked at her with lust.