Dusty [Wounded Hearts 4] (Siren Publishing Classic ManLove)

by Fel Fern

  He pulled back to see Trace rubbing at his tearful eyes. “You scared me, you reckless dumbass.”

  “Did you just call me a dumbass?” he asked, amused.

  Trace let out a sob before burying his head into his chest. Dusty reached out, stroking Trace’s hair until his mate calmed down. Mike and Abram approached him, back in human form. Mike touched his shoulder.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  Abram shook his head. “No other words needed to be said, brother. Let’s get the two of you home.”

  * * * *

  Four weeks later

  A distinctive series of knocks on his studio door shattered Trace’s concentration on the current piece he was working on. Well, his mate was a much-needed distraction. Trace remembered eating breakfast, but looking at the wall clock above the door told him it was dinner time now.

  Moments later, the knob turned and Dusty peeked in. After Morgan’s kidnapping, he’d been paranoid about who knocked on his door, so Dusty and he agreed on a certain knock. Besides, he was certain he was more protected than ever.

  Mrs. Irwin had been distraught when she heard what had happened and Dusty confirmed some kind of protective spell had been cast on the studio, one which had a curse for uninvited guests or intruders.

  “Hey, baby,” he sighed, and Dusty grinned, approaching him for a kiss.

  He stood slowly, like his physical therapist instructed, using his crutch. Luckily, he’d only sustained calf muscle tears, although it took a lot of hard work over the past weeks to get back on his feet. Soon, he would no longer need the crutch either, much to his relief, because he hadn’t realized shifters could be so damn fussy.

  Dusty was the worst, but even Kane, Bowen, and Eric had started doing it, too, even though he insisted multiple times he could manage on his own. He supposed it was sweet, but he wanted things to get back to normal as soon as possible.

  He thought there would be severe repercussions to what happened to Morgan, but the police had seen the blood trail he left behind and Dusty claimed he acted in self-defense, which was true, since Morgan did intend to kill him all along. Well, it seemed the local authorities were used to dealing with Dusty and his group, so things went in their favor.

  The press had somehow gotten ahold of the incident, no surprise there, but thankfully, the hype was dying down after a month. Dusty and he could start living their normal lives.

  “Hungry?” Dusty asked, glancing at his work.

  He’d been worried not long ago that his new work would lack the intensity of his older ones. His new paintings were all done up in gorgeous colors, fantasy images of woods, forests, and fierce feline predators, of his mate and his friends, but the public seemed to lap it up.

  Trace had been worried for nothing.

  “Starving.”

  Before, it would take a natural disaster before Trace stopped working when he was in an inspired mood, but not anymore. Dusty taught him his health came first and so did his personal life. Trace learned to come up with a feasible schedule, although when he needed to finish up a particular peace, Dusty would allow him a couple of all-nighters, provided Dusty was around. It was kind of cute actually.

  “Good, me, too.”

  “Are the others at Abram and Kane’s cabin already?” he asked. “Sorry, I must have lost track of time.”

  Dusty shook his head and helped him to his coat. “It’s fine. Also, there’s been a change of location for our BBQ.”

  “Oh?”

  But Dusty only grinned.

  “Fine, be like that. You’ll tell me anyway.”

  Dusty chuckled and they headed down the stairs to see Mrs. Irwin locking up her bakery, Fluffy in her handbag. The traitorous cat leapt out of the bag, hissed at him, but meowed and curled himself around Dusty.

  “Prejudiced cat,” he mumbled, making the old woman laugh.

  “Enjoy the weekend,” she said. “Come on, Fluffy.”

  Dusty was currently borrowing Mike’s car. They got in and Dusty placed his crutch in the back seat.

  “Productive day at work?” he asked his mate.

  “Just a couple of stray hikers,” Dusty replied with a yawn, but he knew better.

  Dusty loved being a park ranger as much as he loved to paint. Asking about each other’s day was one of Trace’s daily highlights. He frowned when Dusty drove the car away from the town and off-road.

  “I thought we weren’t going to Abram and Kane’s?” he asked, remembering this path led there.

  “You’ll see.”

  Dusty kept him in suspense the entire time, but instead of turning on the familiar fork to the left, Dusty changed course to the right. Soon enough, they emerged in front of a cabin, similar yet different from Abram’s.

  “Who does this place belong to?” he asked. There weren’t any vehicles there. Were they the first ones here? “One of the others? It’s so beautiful.”

  Trace meant it. Like Abram and Kane’s place, there was a space for a nice bond fire and the property looked spacious. He could imagine coming out to a quiet place like this to paint and relax, knowing he and Dusty wouldn’t be disturbed.

  “Glad you feel that way, pet. This place is ours.” Dusty got off the car and he followed, still unable to process the words.

  “Wait, are you joking with me right now?” he asked, shocked. He didn’t bother with the crutch, because he was too stunned. Didn’t matter, because he knew even if he fell, Dusty would catch him.

  “Not at all. I figured we could use a place of our own, away from town, where we could both be around nature. Besides, you moving into my apartment saves cost. We can spend weekends here.”

  He didn’t know what to do, save run up to his mate for a tight hug. Dusty studied his face and he grinned, unable to help himself, feeling incredibly blessed and happy.

  “You like it?” Dusty asked.

  “Yes, absolutely. I was just thinking how it would be amazing to come out here and paint.”

  “It’s also quite close to the national park, so a bonus for me. Let me give you a grand tour.”

  Dusty offered his hand, which he grasped, and let Dusty lead the way. On the outside, the cabin looked rustic, homey, but inside it was equipped with modern comforts, with running water and electricity, just like Abram and Kane’s place.

  “Forget weekends,” he told his mate. “Let’s move in here. It’s not far from town either and I know Abram and Kane are thinking of doing the same, too, so we could be neighbors.”

  “Really? Fuck, I love you so goddamn much, Trace.”

  Dusty grabbed the back of his neck and claimed his lips. The leopard shifter sucked, nipped, bit, and eventually shoved his tongue down his throat. His dick pulsed in his jeans and he felt Dusty’s hands on his shirt. Trace wanted to touch skin-to-skin. Tonight was important, he could sense it.

  Trace knew Dusty had been careful, gentle with him even when they had sex because of his leg, but now there was no need to hold back. They tore at each other’s clothes, naked in seconds. He lowered his head, licked at his mate’s left nipple. Dusty growled low in his throat and took his mouth again. Heat traveled right to his cock and Dusty maneuvered him backward until the back of his legs hit something solid. The bed.

  Before he tripped, Dusty caught him, banding one muscled arm around his waist and helping lower him to the edge of the bed. Trace noticed at this angle, his eye was on the same level as Dusty’s prick, which he noticed was half-mast. He licked his lips and decided to surprise his mate by curling his fist around Dusty’s shaft and giving Dusty’s leaking tip a kiss.

  Dusty groaned above him, weaving fingers into Trace’s hair and bringing his face close. Trace played with his mate’s dick, licking and lapping at the cockhead, tracing Dusty’s length and balls with his tongue until the leopard shifter purred for him.

  Dusty gave his hair a tug. “No more games, pet.”

  Trace closed his mouth over Dusty’s member and took his mate in. He had plenty of practice over the past few
weeks. They enjoyed learning about each other’s bodies, and he knew all of Dusty’s secret and sensitive places. He bobbed his head up and down until he felt Dusty tugging his face gently away from his dick.

  He looked up only to see the gorgeous sight of his aroused mate. Dusty’s eyes were pure molten gold and the shifter’s breathing was ragged.

  “On fours,” Dusty said, voice hoarse, a firm command.

  He was only happy to comply. Dusty helped arrange him on all fours, making sure there was no pressure on his calf. His mate grabbed a pillow and placed it under his belly and positioned himself behind Trace. Trace moaned into the sheets. Dusty ran his big callused hand down the line of his spine, making him shiver in anticipation.

  At the crease between his buttocks, Dusty parted his ass and he opened up further for his mate. His balls felt so full, his dick about to burst, but he held his orgasm back. He heard the lube being uncapped and Dusty’s slick fingers working his hole seconds later.

  His gorgeous mate took his time, prepping his ass. Trace wiggled his ass suggestively at Dusty, which only earned him a smart smack on the left ass cheek. He jumped, aroused by the slight tinge of pain. Thankfully, Dusty replaced his fingers with his dick.

  He hissed through his teeth as Dusty pushed in. It burned, but only for a little bit. He urged his inner muscles to relax, to take all of his Dusty’s enormous dick and once Dusty’s balls brushed his ass, he could breathe easy. Dusty gave his ass another playful swat before locking his hands around his waist.

  Then his powerful wereleopard began to truly rut him. Dusty hammered in and out of him, finding a steady rhythm which suited both of them, for a while anyway. He clawed at the sheets, met Dusty for every thrust, then held out a hand, signaling his mate to pick up the speed. Dusty complied, taking his hand and giving his fingers a kiss before continuing.

  He blushed, even now, still surprised by Dusty’s moments of tenderness. Dusty went faster, deeper, until the pressure inside him was about to burst. Trace groaned when Dusty reached for his prick and started stroking his cock, timing it with his powerful thrusts.

  His mind reeled but he liked the wild ride. Dusty must have changed the angle, because the shifter’s next push made him gasp and his back arch. Dusty blanketed his body over his back, skin like fire, then sought his lips. They kissed, the only sound in the room was the slap of their bodies.

  He was so close now and he knew Dusty wasn’t far behind.

  “Now,” Dusty said against his ear, pinching his tip.

  His mind blanked and he saw stars as he emptied his load into Dusty’s waiting hand. Knowing what was going to happen next, he turned his neck, offered it to his mate. Dusty didn’t hesitate. Dusty pumped several more times into his ass before reaching climax. As the leopard shifter filled him with warmth, Dusty struck, teeth burrowing past flesh to hit bone.

  It hurt a little, but he’d wanted this for a long time, knew Dusty had been waiting for the right opportunity, and tonight was that moment. Dusty pulled back. He turned and lay on his back to find his mate curling up beside him, a sly smile on his lips. His neck still bled but he felt so satisfied, full. Knowing he needed to complete the dance, he bit Dusty on the left pectoral, just above the nipple. He wasn’t a shifter, but he wanted to leave a souvenir on his mate, too.

  “Love you,” he said in Dusty’s language.

  Dusty’s smile lit up the entire room and his mate signed back. “Love you back.”

  THE END

  FELFERN.COM

  

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