Wolf's Mate Mpreg Romance Box Set

by Kiki Burrelli

  "You dirty slut," Luke said with a smile. As long as Finn was just his slut, he didn't mind. Didn't mind was an understatement, it made him horny as hell. Well, hornier.

  Luke worked a small amount of the lubricant out of the bottle and used the tip of his finger to massage around his hole. Finn mumbled sexy half sentences. Luke couldn't remember being more content. His mate's dick in his mouth and his fingers in his mate's ass. Finn moaned and jerked down, sliding Luke's finger all the way in.

  "Oh, yes, please," he begged.

  Luke fucked his mate with his finger, then when he felt stretched enough he added another one. He was rewarded by a burst of Finn's flavor, salty and earthy, full of life. His mate bucked up and screamed in pleasure. He hastened the pace of his bobbing head, loving the sensual squeaking that flooded his ears. When he heard the squeaks reach their peak he crooked his finger in a come hither motion, brushing against Finn's g-spot as his mouth became a vacuum on his dick. Instantly, spurts of come splashed Luke's tongue. He sucked it down, keeping up the massage until he sucked the very last drop. He took his fingers out and Finn whined, like he missed the feeling. His eyes were closed though and Luke knew well enough what to expect. His mate liked to sleep after sex. Luke's cock was hard as steel now, but it didn't matter. Now and always, Finn would come first.

  Luke brought the glass of water to his mouth. Finn was still asleep and Luke had spent the last two hours warring with himself inside the kitchen. He wanted nothing more than to slide in bed beside Finn, but he wasn't sure of what Finn would do if he woke up with Luke there. His inner wolf demanded he go to his mate now, claim him again and again until there was so choice, no discussion of where Luke would sleep. His wolf was a dick though and Luke wasn't sure if Finn would appreciate him in his bed or be weirded out.

  Luke stared through the kitchen window to the dark yard. The night sky was cloudy, not that there were many stars to see within the city limits anyway. Luke could see his reflection in the window. He wore red plaid boxers and a white t-shirt. His dick stuck out from his body, still hard but he had accepted that as its regular state now.

  He set the glass down on the counter and turned to go down the hallway, still unsure of which room he would go into. Just as he turned he caught movement outside in the corner of the dark yard. A shadowy shape skulking at the edge of his vision. Luke suppressed his growl. The shape came closer, approaching the sliding glass door in the dining area. Whoever it was knew where the motion detecting lights were installed.

  Luke shifted, his clothes splitting and falling off as his body fluidly reformed itself. Momentarily, he pondered on how wrong the movies had gotten it. Shifting wasn't painful, it wasn't a breaking of bones, it was fluid and seamless. He sniffed the air with his wolf nose and pawed across the kitchen. The sliding door was opening. He caught sight of something silver in the intruder's hand. He licked his chops in anticipation. If this thing thought it would enter into the house of his mate uninvited and keep its life, it was dead wrong.

  Luke leapt, a quiet snarl ripped from him despite his attempt to stay completely quiet. Truth was, it had been too long since he shifted and he was probably a little over excited. He landed on top of the intruder, his teeth finding the soft skin at the intruder's neck. One bite was all it would take.

  "Stop," a squeaky girl's voice said. "Luke! It's me!"

  His blood ran cold. He had been milliseconds from chomping down on his friend's neck. On his mate's sisters neck. He leapt off and stayed in wolf form. He'd be naked when he shifted and he was too embarrassed to look at Frannie with his human face. He should have smelled her, recognized her scent. Truth was, he was too keyed up in the moment to think logically like that. He watched Frannie sit up, rubbing her neck. She was curvy with a mess of curly brown hair on the top of her head that almost always looked disheveled. She had Finn's eyes, though hers were a little darker brown.

  "Cheese and rice, Luke! Didn't you hear me coming around the side?"

  Luke shook his wolf head.

  "Where is Finn?"

  Was there worry in her voice? Did she think he had hurt himself? Worse, that Luke had hurt him? He growled softly and nodded his head back, indicating the hallway and room beyond.

  She looked relieved. "You two are getting along then? Can't imagine why not, it is hard to dislike Finner. Was that my coffee table in the trash out there?"

  Luke was endlessly happy he'd stayed in wolf form. He moved over to act as a brace to help Frannie to her feet. She walked with him through the kitchen and they entered the living room together.

  "A new table? What happened to the old one? Is that your underwear?" She reached forward to grab Finn's underwear that Luke had taken off him earlier. Luke lunged forward and grabbed it from her with his teeth. "Why is there a bottle of…Oh. My. God."

  Luke sat back on his haunches as far from her on the couch as was possible. Still, her hand snaked out and smacked him hard on his side.

  "He is my brother you fucking horny animal! He is sensitive! How dare you!"

  Luke let her get it out, but he would not let her think that he was using her brother. He mouthed her arm, not putting any pressure behind the bite, but the feel of his teeth against skin shocked her enough that she stopped.

  It didn't stop her scowl. "Don't look at me like that, Luke! What do you expect me to think? I left you with my sweet brother for less than a week and come back to lube and undies. I've never even seen Finn kiss anyone before. I didn't even know he was gay. And you are a bit of a, well, he isn't as reckless with that kind of stuff as you are."

  Luke growled. Frannie's eyes widened but more in surprise than fear. "What? You're offended? You expect me to believe that it isn't just a fling for you? That you've developed some sort of bond?"

  Luke was about to shift so he could tell her exactly that when they were interrupted.

  "What the hell is happening?" Finn asked with a sleepy voice that sounded angry and confused. "What the fuck, Fran?" There was fear in his voice when he finally saw Luke. He was larger than a normal wolf, probably looked more like a bear sitting on the couch like a human would. But, there wasn't an ounce of fear in Frannie so he seemed to relax enough to go from scared to insanely suspicious. "I mean, seriously…"

  "Uh," Frannie started, her eyes wide, her curly hair wild around her face. "So, he doesn't…uh."

  "Fran, you are talking to a dog. Where is Luke? Did you hit your head?"

  Wordlessly, Luke shifted back into his human form. He stood, naked from head to toe, not caring that Frannie was in the room. He only had eyes for his mate.

  "Luke?" Finn said, his expression shuttered.

  He took a step towards Finn, but Finn scrambled back like Luke was made of acid.

  "What the—" Finn started but then stopped. It was as if he couldn't take his eyes off of Luke, but not in a good way, in a shocked, disbelieving and betrayed way.

  "Let me explain," Luke tried, Finn silenced him with a sharp gesture, his hand slicing through the air.

  "I told you things about me that…no one…and you couldn't find time in the week we were together…I mean really together to tell me? And Frannie knows?"

  Was that where the anger came from, that his sister knew something before him? No, his mate wasn't fickle like that.

  "Finners, it's not a big deal—"

  "It fucking is, Francesca," Finn cut her off. Luke appreciated her attempt to help but thought it might be best if she was just quiet.

  "You," he wheeled on Luke, pointing at him. "I opened up to you, trusted you. Gave you…" He looked so close to crying it killed Luke, he took another step towards him.

  "Don't touch me, don't fucking come near me." He stumbled back as if he didn't trust Luke enough to turn from him, went into his room and slammed the door.

  Chapter Eight

  "Library is closing in fifteen minutes," the librarian reminded Finn as she walked by the desk he'd been sitting at for the better part of the day. Not like he didn't know what time
the library closed.

  She wanted to be sure though, so the librarian—he had learned her name was Pamela not because she told him or anything—reminded him every night. She'd been less than happy to see him back the first day, probably remembering how loud he'd been. But every day he showed, she frowned a little less.

  A week of studying later and Pamela almost didn't scowl when she saw him come in. That practically made her his best friend. She wasn't willing to keep the library open any later than nine though. They weren't that close.

  Finn began to pack his stuff up. Pentmiller's Guide to Clinical Research went in the bag along with his outline and the notes Christian had sent him. He was slow to zip his bag up and when he finally did, chose to check his gas station phone before leaving. He saw the usual calls and texts. Some from Frannie, a couple from his mom and a lot from Luke the lying wonder. There was one text from Christian asking how he was getting along. Finn contemplated responding. He hadn't spoken to Christian face to face since that day at the cafe. He'd emailed Finn his notes. Part of Finn was insecure about what he would say if he started an actual conversation with Christian but most of him knew that a talk with Christian would eventually turn to discussing the big bull-headed bully from the cafe and Finn didn't think he could talk about Luke. Not right now. Maybe never.

  It wasn't that Luke had lied. After all, Finn had never asked him, are you a guy who can turn into a huge dog thing? But he had allowed Luke access to his body and mind on a level that no one ever had, and on a level Luke obviously hadn't wanted to reciprocate.

  Pamela walked by again, making sure he was getting ready to leave. Christian's notes had been really helpful. Finn gave the librarian a small smile. He felt obligated to at least thank him. Pamela would have to watch out, her top spot as number one friend would be in jeopardy.

  Hey man, he typed, those notes were amazing. Thanks.

  A few minutes passed, Finn was out of his chair, slow walking out of the library when he felt his phone vibrate.

  Glad they could help, bud. What are you doing right now? Want to meet for drinks?

  Finn winced. He had planned on walking as slow as could be considered forward movement back to Frannie's house where he would wait outside until he was brave enough to silently speed walk to his bedroom.

  He guessed maybe drinks wouldn't be worse than that. He'd been feeling a little twitchy these days anyway and spent most of his nights pacing the length of his room.

  He texted back and waited for Christian to send him the address. With a goodbye nod to Pamela, who followed directly behind him, he left the library. She turned the main lights off and locked the door the exact moment it had swooshed close. Sheesh, Pam, have somewhere to be?

  Finn's phone had just started to vibrate, and he was looking down at it, which was why he didn't notice the large guy until he bumped into him.

  "Watch where you're fucking going," a different guy from the one he'd bumped into snarled at him.

  Finn looked at him, bewildered by his sudden anger. "I-I'm sorry," Finn said, mostly out of shock.

  "Yeah, you are," the guy said, getting closer to Finn. He had dark features and a weird shaped nose, like it had been recently broken and hadn't healed correctly. "Hey, do I know you?" he asked with narrowed eyes. Then he closed his eyes and inhaled.

  No, not inhaled. He sniffed.

  Finn took a stumbling step back. The man he had bumped into strode forward and caught him before he could fall. He wasn't as beady looking as his friend. In fact, he had an eerily handsome, movie star quality about him. Oddly, he reminded Finn of that actor, Fuckmesohard from that werewolf movie.

  That isn't odd, Finn, you idiot. They were, whatever Luke was, they had to be. A third guy joined them. As unbelievable as it was, Finn couldn't deny, this third one even looked like Luke, an older, tireder version anyway. He regarded Finn with a curious expression.

  "Does my friend know you?" Fuckmesohard asked in a smooth, darkly dangerous tone.

  Finn hoped they couldn't hear his rapidly beating heart. He leveled his chin and deepened his voice, doing his best growly Luke impersonation. "No, sorry man." He stepped back and away from them. Turning his back on the pack of men had been difficult. His instincts screamed danger at him but guys like that could probably smell danger. They definitely smelled something on him.

  "Hey, Finn!" Christian called to him from a corner table at the pub. He looked casual in a teal and black button up and dark jeans. His sleeves were rolled up revealing a second sleeve of tattoos.

  Finn bit his lip, nervous, and then tried to smile. It was difficult to do while biting your own lip. Christian's smile faltered. Great, he'd seen Finn acting like a spaz. "Are you okay?" he asked when Finn had gotten to the table.

  "Yeah, I'm fine."

  "O-kay," he said slowly, disbelievingly looking Finn up and down once and then again. He turned his gaze out through the storefront window they sat next to. "I mean, you have a type at least," he said like it was a joke but he sounded a little too strained for the amusement to be real.

  Finn followed his gaze. The group of guys he'd bumped into had followed him. They were at the bar across the street, taking up a table outside on the sidewalk. None of them really stared at him like Luke had at the cafe. They all had a pint of beer in front of them, but they were still. Unnaturally still. The one that looked like a movie star saw Finn looking and gave a small, almost charming wave.

  "I don't know those people," Finn said, thinking there was no way Christian would believe him.

  "Really? They remind me of that other guy. Luke? Is he your boyfriend?" Christian asked with false disinterest.

  Finn watched the group of guys perk up at the mention of Luke's name. Almost like they'd heard Christian, but that was impossible. Luke had good hearing but even he couldn't hear something someone said in a separate building with a busy street between them. Maybe one of them could read lips? If Finn was braver, he would've mouthed, very slowly, for them to all fuck off.

  "He's my roommate," Finn said finally. "I actually thought he had a thing for my sister."

  "But he doesn't?" Christian asked.

  This was the exact conversation he'd wanted to avoid. Somehow, he'd opened with it. "It doesn't matter," Finn said willing it to be true. He was over it. He was over weird dog people and possessive glances and steely determined eyes that knew how to reach into your soul. "What are you drinking?"

  Christian looked pleased to change the subject of conversation. "Old fashioned, I don't think you would like it."

  "Why?"

  "Not your style. You seem more like a Lynchburg Lemonade type of guy. I'll order you one. I've got this thing where I can guess people's drinks. That was one of the reasons I decided to pursue psychology in grad school."

  "Because you can tell what type of martini someone will like? That isn't much of a foundation."

  Christian shrugged good-naturedly. "As good a reason as any. So, will you let me? You can get the next round."

  Finn nodded and a few minutes later a yellowish drink was set before him. He took a long pull on the straw. The sweet and sour flavor was refreshing and the bite of whiskey was just what he wanted to finish his sip with. He looked up at Christian who stared at him with an expectant expression. "You have a gift. This is delicious."

  Christian beamed. His eyes were a very nice slate color. His dirty blond hair looked styled today, pulled back and kept in place with some sort of gel. Finn reached forward and touched a strand to see if he was right. He froze, realizing what he was doing too late. Finn leaned back and away from the other man. He took another long pull.

  "I'm sorry," Finn mumbled. Despite his embarrassment he felt the pleasant haze of the alcohol numbing his senses. Absently, he thought that the alcohol was kicking in kind of fast.

  "Don't worry about it," Christian said like he really didn't mind. "So, are you ready to talk now? Or do you need another lemonade?" Christian said but then frowned. "I mean, that was a joke, I wouldn't ever
get you drunk to take advantage of…shit. How did I get going in this?" He massaged his jaw. It looked like he hadn't shaved that day and a bid of blond stubble scratched his hand.

  "You are cute when you're flustered, did you know?"

  Christian threw his head back and laughed. The motion made his Adam's apple bob. "It doesn't take much, does it? You are a cheap date."

  Finn took one more long pull on the straw. He recognized this false bravery and didn't want it to dissipate. Though, it hadn't ever happened this fast before, or this completely.

  "I'm serious about not trying to get you drunk. It is just me here, you don't have to be nervous."

  Finn wanted to point out that he was always nervous.

  "You don't have to prove anything to me, or give me anything. I'm trying to say, Finn, I don't expect anything from you. I'm not helping you so that you will give me something back. I do want to be your friend, but I'm not demanding it or anything. Is that all alright to you?"

  Finn nodded but inwardly was mortified. Christian didn't deserve drunk Finn who made bad choices.

  "Cool, let me get you another one and I can tell you the news about Professor Paterson."

  Christian returned with a fresh drink for both of them. Then he told Finn the best news he'd heard all week; Professor Paterson was going to be taking a leave of absence, which meant, he shouldn't even be on the deciding board that chose whether or not Finn would be allowed back into the graduate program.

  Finn had done his best to relax and enjoy the new company. He took much longer, sipping on his second drink but it didn't seem to help. His skin still felt overheated. He moved his arm so that it was pressed against the glass of the storefront. The moan of pleasure at the cool glass against his heated skin was barely containable. His body shifted restlessly, unable to stay in one position for too long. All over, his skin felt itchy, though there was no concrete spot where the itch was coming from. Had he developed some new allergy to alcohol? He'd drunk it recently without affects. Maybe something in the lemonade?