Claimed by the Pack

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Claimed by the Pack Page 8

by Anne Marsh


  “Bad girls are askin’ for a spankin’, chére.” Luc’s rough warning had her creaming.

  “What goes around, comes around,” she warned. Spanking wasn’t something she’d tried. When his hand tightened on the curve of her ass, however, she realized she might enjoy it.

  Dag shook his head. “You think you can tie either of us up, boo?”

  No. These weren’t the kind of men you tied down or up. But she couldn’t think about that now, because Luc was kissing her again and, oh God, could he kiss. She whimpered and pretended she wasn’t rubbing her mound in desperate circles against his mouth.

  “I owe you somethin’,” Dag whispered roughly.

  God. She couldn’t think. She was a mass of raw sensations, quivering helplessly as Luc’s tongue dragged through her folds.

  “Give her a little breathin’ room,” Dag ordered and she whimpered as Luc pulled away.

  “She likes that,” her erstwhile mate observed and Luc’s chuckle against her folds about undid her. The orgasm she wanted so desperately was so, so close—and yet so far away.

  “What?” She growled the question, turning Dag’s head toward her. “What do you owe me?”

  “A kiss.”

  Dag gripped her chin, tugging her head forward until the awkward angle became one more turn-on because she could barely reach him. Had to lean forward until the slightest touch would leave her off-balance. His mouth covered hers and he kissed as boldly as he spoke. His tongue swiped over her lips, tasting her before driving hard inside. He opened her mouth up, his big hand angling her jaw so he could penetrate her more deeply.

  Again, perfectly okay. Or, no, more than okay, she thought as the pleasure consumed her. Heat. Pressure. The wicked rasp of his tongue along hers as he explored every inch of her mouth. Kissed her and kissed her until she pushed back, sucking on his tongue, her lips working against his while Luc’s fingers teased her nipples. So hot.

  ###

  Dag’s dick was hard enough to burst, but all he could think about was Riley riding Luc’s mouth like he was a racehorse she was taking to the finish line. She looked sexy as hell, her eyes squeezed tight as she got lost in the pleasure, and so damned pretty it made his heart hurt.

  She needed this. She was stubborn as hell and didn’t like asking for a damned thing, but she’d been out there in the bayou, living a nightmare for a week before he’d found her. Despite the cotton T-shirts and ripped jeans she favored, she was all woman and he was a fool anyhow for thinking she had to wear silk and lace to feel sexy. Because clearly she was all feeling right now and he was about to come just watching her.

  And she was here in his place, tied up on his bed where he could do whatever he wanted to her.

  With her.

  For her.

  He liked sharing her with Luc, liked knowing his Alpha had got a taste of her. Sure, he’d drive the memory right out of her head as soon as he got his turn in sweet spot between her thighs, but right now this was damned near perfect.

  He grinned against her mouth as she moaned again.

  His darling Riley was about to come if he didn’t miss his guess.

  ###

  God. The white-hot pleasure built when Luc slid two fingers inside her. She could feel the orgasm pounding up from her toes, rolling inexorably closer—and then Luc stopped.

  He took his mouth off her pussy.

  “I don’t like your definition of playin',” she panted. Her voice sounded out of control, just like her body.

  Luc eased back farther. “Uh-huh,” he agreed, slipping his fingers from her body. “But I think you liked it just fine a minute ago.”

  Yeah. But she wasn’t admitting it. He moved away, adjusting himself. The bastard hadn’t even shucked his pants, but she could see the thick outline of an impressive erection tenting the front. That made her feel better. If he’d touched her without feeling anything himself, she wasn’t sure what she’d do.

  “I think Dag here has an unfair advantage.” Luc sliced through the rope with his knife and her wrist popped free. “Although another twenty, thirty minutes and you’d have got those knots undone. You need to make them bigger,” he said to Dag.

  Dag frowned and captured her wrist, rubbing the faint red marks away. “You think it’s wise to untie her?”

  “Alpha,” Luc pointed out. “Which puts me in charge and I say we untie her. Then, when you ask her to stay, you know her answer actually means somethin’.”

  He nodded at Dag and headed for the door. Riley didn’t know whether to thank him, to ask him to stay, or to tell him not to let the door hit his ass on the way out. She settled for option C, because A seemed desperate and B… well, she knew better than to play with fire.

  “What kind of kinky sex games do you all play?” She hollered the question after him and the slow grin on Dag’s face should have warned her. That man never smiled.

  “The kind you like, boo,” Dag said.

  “So are you going to finish what he started?” He could damn well get over here and do something about it. He’d made it clear he liked her openness about what she wanted. Her bluntness didn’t scare him off, which was a first for her. Most guys disappeared after the first date, when they discovered she wasn’t just another pretty face.

  Dag tightened his arms around her. “Yeah. You still got me,” he whispered roughly in her ear.

  He’d certainly made it clear he wasn’t going anywhere—hell, she had a feeling he was going to keep harping on that mate business and happily-ever-after—and maybe she was secretly glad he was so adamant he was keeping her. It was her choice, but it was nice to be wanted by this man.

  “Guess I do.”

  “Luc’s givin’ us some space.”

  “He could do it more tactfully,” she groused. When she rubbed her thighs together, the intense throb had her arching up off the mattress. Yeah. Two minutes on her own and she could take care of business herself. Although she did have Dag and his talented mouth. “He’s in charge?” Like hell.

  “He don’ know how far I’ll let him go,” Dag explained as Luc slipped out the door. “And I don’ know the last time he’s actually taken a female even though he’s our Alpha. In the old Packs, the Alpha can take any mate he wants.”

  She took issue with Dag’s word choice—he sounded like a chest-thumping barbarian—but enforced abstinence explained the other man’s gruffness.

  “I’m sure that brand of medieval goes over well.”

  Dag didn’t answer, but he did scoop her up onto his lap, tucking her back against his chest and draping her legs over his. She, on the other hand, got busy trying to ignore the mighty fine erection now tucked against her ass. He was positively lethal to a girl’s peace of mind. He also, she noticed, didn’t seem to be in any hurry to finish what Luc had started. Hell.

  She tilted her head back so she could see his face. If the move pushed her breasts up and out, so be it. “So you all live like a bunch of barbarians, trading women and answering to the wolf-in-charge.”

  He gave her a look. “Some of us are a little more modern, boo. But oui, we don’ mind sharin’ sometimes.”

  “But not all the time?” She guessed.

  His fingers snaked down before she could anticipate the move, finding her opening and pressing lightly.

  “Not me. Seein’ you with Luc was one hell of a turn-on, but I wan’ to be the man you turn to when you’re needin’ somethin’, someone. Some of us, we don’ share at all and then the wolf splits off and forms his own Packs when it’s time to breed.”

  The unexpected vision dancing in her head of boy-pups tumbling about was shocking—and strangely appealing. Even if it wasn’t happening. She was no domestic goddess. Her own brothers could vouch for that.

  “You’re mine,” he said. His finger pressed in one delicious inch.

  She could be possessive too. Reaching behind her, she wrapped her fingers around his dick and squeezed lightly. From the way he jerked in her hand, he liked that. “Then you’re mine,
” she warned. “And I don’t share. I just want to be perfectly clear.”

  The arousal was still there, and she was more than ready for Dag to finish what he and Luc had started. But the man still wasn’t in any damn rush. Rather than pushing her down into the mattress and putting himself inside her, Dag pulled her into his lap and proceeded to talk. And this was the man who hadn’t had more than two words to rub together yesterday.

  “All right,” he said after a long moment. “So we’ve got us an agreement then?”

  He punctuated his question with a slow, lazy slide of his fingers inside her vagina and the casually possessive made her burn.

  “Yeah,” she gritted out. “You want to save the pillow talk for after?”

  “The vamp was headed back to town,” he volunteered, watching her face but ignoring her question.

  “You’d know better than me.” Warm pleasure streaked through her. Her eyes drifted shut because his touch felt so good. She forced her hips not to move, not to coax his fingers deeper. “You left me here.”

  “So you got any idea where he was headed?”

  She forced her eyes opened. The room was lightening and it would be dawn soon, which meant the vamp was running out of hunting hours before it had to lay low. Maybe Luc had stepped outside to play defense or re-con. “You really want to discuss this now?”

  Dag inserted another finger. “You knew Ameline.”

  She clenched her inner muscles on his intruding fingers, fighting to hold him inside her. The sensation sent another bright shock of pleasure through her and she moaned. Rough breathing teased her ear, promising he wasn’t unaffected either.

  “She was a good woman.”

  When she didn’t give him any more words, he growled her name. “You need to tell me, boo. It’s huntin’.”

  Unfortunately, that appeared to be true. “Can I trust you?”

  “Always,” he promised. “You come first.”

  She hadn’t really meant the question for him. How could he possibly answer? She’d been asking herself, and the answer was strangely easy to come up with. She did. He was a gruff, possessive, bossy as hell man, but he was also a good man. Beneath his rough, sexy exterior, he had a heart.

  And he’d offered it to her.

  She ignored that thought, the words tripping from her tongue. “I volunteer with a local women’s shelter. Once a month, I teach a self-defense class.”

  “Does everyone know about the shelter?”

  She thought for a moment. “We have two places. One of them we advertise, so women know which door to knock on, where to go. Sometimes, you just need to know there’s a possibility out there. But we have another place we don’t tell anyone but the women about. It’s a safe place.”

  “Where did Ameline stay?”

  He’d connected the dots.

  “The private house,” she admitted. “She had an ex who didn’t know how to take no for an answer. He kept coming for her and she was afraid. So we gave her some space to lie low while we figured out where she could go permanently. She was talking about moving to Baton Rouge. She had a girlfriend there who has a salon and needs a receptionist. Another week and she’d have been out of here.”

  He gently slipped his fingers free, resting them on her thigh. “Life, she has a dark side, oui?”

  Or perhaps life was completely schizo, with more dark sides than she had books back at her place.

  “Bad shit happens in the bayou,” he continued. “Good stuff too.”

  He’d decided to go all philosophical on her now? Wow. That was just her luck. She wanted to forget. He wanted to reminisce and rehash.

  ###

  Riley leaned her head back against his shoulder and stared up at him, not blinking. Dag wished he could tell what she was thinking. There had to be a million thoughts going on behind her pretty brown eyes. The golden rims of her irises made him think of wolf eyes—one more sign she belonged with him. Or that he was grasping at straws.

  The possibility she might not stay made him want to pull her into his arms, push her down into the mattress and take her hard. Like the animal he was, because watching her accept Luc intimately had been one hell of a turn-on. His Riley had liked her taste of the wicked too. He could smell her, feel her dampness on his fingers. Shit. He wanted to push three fingers into her snug channel until she was riding him hard and yelling out his name.

  Luc had said he should talk to her.

  Words, not sex.

  Or, words and then sex.

  He could do that.

  Right now, she looked like she was gearing up for an argument with him. His wolf pricked up its ears in anticipation. Make up sex was good too. When she tried to shift off his lap, he tightened his hold on her. He wasn’t letting her go. Not now. Not ever.

  “Of course, bad shit happens everywhere, but this is right in my backyard and I’ll do my damnedest to stop it. You know what I used to do for a living, when I was fresh out of high school?”

  She didn’t look much over eighteen now, despite the pink flushing her face and the tousled mane of hair. He fisted the long length in his hands, bringing to his nose and breathing her scent in. Yeah. He pretty much loved everything about her.

  “I joined the Army,” she said, when he didn’t answer. “I pulled a three year duty assignment and did a year overseas before shipping back stateside. I learned lots on those bases.”

  Imagining her as a soldier wasn’t difficult. He’d known she was a fighter and a warrior at heart and she certainly went toe-to-toe with him every chance she got. She was perfect for the Pack but even better, maybe she wouldn’t mind him. He was a fighter and a tracker. He lived hard and got his hands dirty more than anyone. Maybe she’d welcome his kind of strength, rather than run scared from it.

  “I may not do the protect-and-defend for Uncle Sam anymore, but that doesn’t mean I can’t stick up for what’s right. I’m just doing it on my own terms. The women in the safe house are my responsibility. If you’re trying to tell me there’s a vamp headed for them, I want it straight.”

  He could do that. “I think there’s a vamp hunting your girls.”

  “What can I do to stop it?” she demanded. “You tell me what you know now, Dag Breaux.”

  She didn’t get it. “You don’ got to go makin’ demands.” He’d give her whatever she wanted. He was hers every bit as much as she was his. If she had a fight, he had a fight. “All you got to do is ask,” he continued.

  “Ask you for help?” She twisted around to watch him and she sure didn’t look like he was number one on her call list. No, the expression on her face said he was dead last, if he’d made the list at all.

  He ran a finger down her nose. “Uh-huh.”

  She shook her head. “Is this another one of your games?”

  “I’ll play with you all you wan’, boo, but I meant what I said. You need my help, all you got to do is ask and I’m there.”

  Chapter Nine

  “I’m going back to town.” Riley took stock of her options while she wiggled out of Dag’s hold. He was sex on a stick, but she couldn’t lie around in bed with him if her girls were in any kind of danger. She’d just have to table that anticipation and arousal. She had a feeling Dag would give her a rain check.

  If she could get away from him.

  “Not by yourself,” he said calmly, folding his arms over his chest and leaning back against the headboard. He didn’t seem worried he no longer had her tied up. Or that she’d put a whole foot of empty space between them.

  “Right,” she agreed. “Because you’re stopping me. I already got that memo.”

  “Boo,” he drawled, “I’m not stoppin’ you. I’m goin’ with you. There’s fifteen good feet between you and the door and we both know you’re not as fast as me.”

  “Because you’re part wolf and I’m not.” This, she thought, was almost fun. He didn’t know all the secrets she’d been keeping and, while she’d hoped to keep this one from him, now was clearly the time to play her
hand.

  “Sure, boo.” He gave her a small smile that tugged on something in her chest. “So come on back here and we’ll finish out discussion. I won’ make sayin’ please hard.”

  “I’m going to buy you a dictionary.” She swung her legs over the bed and stood up. Bonus points for her that her legs held, because there was denying her physical response to this man. He made her weak-kneed, no getting around it. “A discuss involves two people, Dag. It also requires some back-and-forth, and all I’m hearing are pronouncements. That doesn’t count.”

  She hauled the T-shirt over her head. Her next step would go quicker if she was naked.

  He sucked in a hard breath. “You’re not playin’ fair.”

  She wasn’t, but he had no idea. “There’s something you should know about me.”

  “I’m listenin’.” Tension radiated from his body, despite his relaxed posed.

  “One, I don’t take orders.”

  “But you like to count.” He actually grinned. “I’ll remember that.”

  “Two,” she said, ignoring him. “You’re right. You’re faster when you’re a wolf and I’m not. So—” she flashed him her own grin—“I’m leveling the playing field.”

  He’d had his warning.

  She shifted.

  ###

  Holy. Christ.

  One minute, he was ogling Riley Jones because she had the most perfect pair of breasts he’d ever seen, deciding where he’d kiss her first, and the next minute…

  He was watching a small white fox dash across the room and nose open the door. He should have got up and flipped the latch. The thought crossed his mind, but the rest of him stood there stunned. Riley Jones was a shifter.

  Her fox was petite, like the woman, prancing away from him on delicate legs and the prettiest, softest puff of white fur. He wanted to run his fingers through her pelt and find out if it was every bit as soft as it looked. The white fox had round sides, short ears, and a pair of liquid, dark eyes that did things to him. He was fairly certain white foxes had no business running around the bayou, but he was no fucking biologist.

  Hell.

  He’d had no idea.

 

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