Protecting Their Mate: Part One (The Last Pack)

by Moira Rogers

  Ashley’s throat worked as she swallowed hard. "Help me understand what it means."

  She was being shy again. Curling back into herself, watching her words and only letting the proper ones out. So he caught her wrist and guided it down her body to her pussy. "Where’s the fierce girl who told me to fill her up with my cock and my come? Tell me what you want, Ashley."

  "Fine." Her eyes flashed, and she rocked her hips against her hand. "I want to know what a pack of horny wolves can do to a woman who’s dying to fuck them."

  What wouldn’t they do to her? He jerked the sheet away and cupped the full weight of her breasts. "Mac will lose his damn mind when he sees your tits. He’ll fuck them, if you let him. Hold them snug around his cock while he pinches your nipples just like…"

  He closed his thumbs and forefingers together hard enough to make her arch her back sharply. "But Connor would be with him. Connor’s always with him. They fuck together, however a woman will let them."

  Her breathing was shallow, quick, her breasts heaving in his hands. "Who else?"

  "Judson," he whispered, pinching harder. "He likes ropes. He’ll tie you up, tie you open. Your legs spread wide, that beautiful pussy exposed."

  She tilted her hips and curled two of her fingers, pushing them inside her cunt.

  Fucking hell. "You like that, greedy girl?" He caught her hair again, tilting her head back at a sharp angle as he slid his other hand down. She was so wet his fingers slipped over hers. "You like thinking about being bound and helpless while the whole pack fucks you? One big, hard cock after the next?"

  "What about you?" she panted, shivering, her gaze fixed on his mouth.

  That was easy. He wanted to fuck her again. He wanted to feed her. He wanted to drag her across his lap the next time she called herself stupid and spank that glorious damn ass until she was so pissed and horny that she climbed up his body to fuck him.

  "I like you," he rasped, urging her fingers deeper. "A true mating cycle can last two weeks. Even longer. You’ll be so hungry for relief, and I’m going to make sure you get it. From everyone."

  She pulled against his grip on her hair and leaned closer, until her mouth was only inches from his. "Because you’re going to take care of me." Then she kissed him, her lips soft and open.

  A first kiss. It was sweet, too sweet for this moment, with his fingers shoving hers deep into her pussy. With the space between them filled with tales of all the debauchery he would conjure for her.

  She was fierce. Anyone with magic as strong as hers would have to be. But the darker part of his nature had anticipated her shyness, her fear. Anything that kept her clinging to him and only him.

  And she was, in her own way. With this sweet kiss, her tongue so tentative. With her trust. She believed that he’d take care of her, so that was what he’d do. He would guide her down the path into her own most desperate desires. He would orchestrate her pleasure, her surrender, her total submission, if that was what she wanted.

  And when he knew every need, every fantasy, every dark hunger that made her heart race—he’d give them to her.

  Himself.

  She belonged to the pack for now. But some day, fierce little Ashley Todd would belong to him.

  Chapter Five

  Blake didn't lose his damn mind very often, so Mac was curious as hell about Ashley Todd.

  All he knew so far was what their alpha, Lucas, had told them all--that Ashley's parents had abandoned their pack years ago, choosing to raise their daughter along humans. But word had reached Lucas that something was wrong, that Ashley might be in danger, and he'd felt the intel was worth checking out. And it made sense to send Blake, his second, to handle the potential rescue.

  What didn't make sense was how Blake had holed up with her in a shitty motel, sounding for all the world like what he really wanted was to stay there.

  He pulled into the motel parking lot and spotted Blake's bike immediately. He parked the van, shoved the rest of his steak sandwich into his mouth, and turned to Connor, who was riding shotgun. "You coming in to see the Virgin Mary, or what?"

  Connor snorted. "Blake's not that much of a saint. But nah, I figured I'd just hop on his bike and start back."

  "Suit yourself. Hand me those bags, would you?" He'd gone overboard ordering takeout at the restaurant, but damn if he could help it. Not after Blake told him the girl had been locked up and starved.

  Blake had called the motel a dump, and it sure as hell was. A nauseating mix of human scents bombarded Mac as soon as he stepped out of the van. But he found the right door with no problem and banged on it with one boot while waving goodbye to Connor.

  The locks and chains rattled open as Connor zoomed out of the lot, and Mac knew it was bad when Blake didn't even spare a look for his beloved, departing bike. His gaze dropped straight to the bags, and he nodded as he pulled the door wide. "Good. She's in the shower, but she's hungry."

  The whole room smelled like sex, along with a feminine musk that made Mac's gut tighten as he set the bags on the rickety table. One of the beds was untouched, but the other had been damn near destroyed, right down to the torn bedspread.

  "You've been fucking busy," he observed lazily. "Or is it busy fucking?"

  "Funny." Blake began to unpack the bags without looking at him. "Have you ever seen a female werewolf in heat?"

  "Nope." But, judging from the bruises and scratches on Blake's skin that hadn't quite healed yet, he wanted to.

  "She was hurting," Blake said quietly. "Hell, she still is. She just has so many needs that haven't been met, it's hard to know where to start."

  "Well, she's in good hands with you."

  Blake cut him a darkly amused look. "Don't worry. She wants to be in more hands than mine."

  Mac blinked at him. "No shit?"

  Before Blake could answer, the bathroom door swung open, and a brunette walked out, clutching a too-small towel to her lush breasts. She was tall, curvy, with wide hips and a full, rounded ass. "I just realized I don't have anything--" She stopped short at the sight of him, her face turning pink.

  A droplet of water rolled out of her hair and between her breasts. Another tracked its way over her bare hip and down one plump thigh, and Mac blinked again.

  Holy motherfucking shit. No wonder Blake wanted the rest of them to fuck off.

  Blake crossed the room to curl a protective arm around her shoulders. "Ashley, this is Mac. Mac, Ashley."

  "Hello," she said, her voice lower than before. Huskier. She fidgeted, trying to pull the towel around to cover more of her body.

  Beneath the acrid smell of cheap soap, Mac caught another scent--arousal, seductive and alluring. Addictive. He swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat. "Hi."

  Blake, the asshole, laughed. "That's the most polite thing he's said in a week, sweetheart. You're already a good influence on him."

  Her blush spread down past her collarbones, and Mac accidentally crushed a Styrofoam container of rolls. Blake laughed again and leaned down to whisper something in her ear.

  Whatever he said made her catch her breath and briefly sink her teeth into her bottom lip. Then she shook her head and smiled. "As I was saying, I don't have anything clean to wear."

  "So eat naked," Mac suggested, finally recovering enough of his presence of mind to flash her a mischievous grin. "We won't look."

  "Give her your shirt," Blake ordered, steering her toward the table. "Mine's shredded."

  "Anything for a lady." Mac didn't make a habit of dressing women, but he sure as hell wouldn't mind seeing Ashley in his T-shirt. He rose, stripped it over his head, and held it out to her.

  She didn't take it. Instead, she eyed him with something dangerously close to challenge.

  Goddamn. Here was a woman who'd scratch a man to bits and tear the clothes from his body, all right. He stepped closer and held her gaze as he gathered the fabric in his hands. "Put your arms up."

  She did, and the towel slithered to the floor. Her hard, pouting nipples
were the color of spiced honey, and he wondered if they tasted as sweet as they looked.

  The T-shirt was still warm with his heat, and she shivered as he slipped it over her arms, her head, and smoothed it down her body. He made sure to graze his knuckles over those nipples, too, and he grinned when he saw their outlines clearly through the thin white cotton.

  It was tempting to lower his mouth and lick them until the fabric was wet and transparent. He could stare at them while she ate, see if they stayed puckered like this, waiting for his tongue again.

  Instead, he stepped back and bowed his head.

  "Thank you," she said, running her fingertips over her bare thigh, just beneath the hem of the shirt.

  You're welcome, honey.

  He turned to the table. "Want me to feed her, too?"

  "Maybe." Blake hauled out one of the chairs, even more domineering than usual as he guided Ashley to it and pressed her down with a hand on her shoulder. He lingered, caressing the side of her neck with his thumb as he surveyed the bags. "Steak first."

  Ashley sighed and arched an eyebrow at Mac. "Is he always this bossy?"

  Not even close, but one look at Blake had Mac nodding. "Pretty much." He could keep the man's secrets--for now.

  Blake retrieved the punctured Styrofoam container of dinner rolls as Mac began to unpack the food. But he didn't settle at the table with them, choosing to prowl the room instead.

  Something had him riled up. Funny, since the way Ashley behaved toward him indicated a level of comfort at odds with his nervous behavior. The only logical conclusion was that Blake's anxiety was due to Mac's arrival--and that was damn interesting.

  He let it go and focused his attention on Ashley. "Blake said you were in a rough situation."

  A hint of a smile tugged at her lips. "That's one way to put it, I guess."

  Blake huffed and stopped pacing to run his fingers through her hair. "She was getting ready to beat the hinges off the door with part of the bed frame when I got there."

  Jesus. "Well, you're not a quitter, I'll give you that."

  "Generous." She opened one of the entrees and began to cut her steak.

  "Mac's not big on compliments," Blake rumbled, still stroking her hair. "I bet that's about to change."

  "I'm thinking of a few," he confirmed with a grin. "They're not very polite, which just proves you should probably listen to whatever Blake tells you."

  She glanced up. Her eyes were a rich, layered brown with flecks of gold, and he wondered what color they'd be when she was coming.

  "She's thinking about what I've already told her." Blake's voice lowered to a dangerous, warning rasp. "Every time you look at her tits, she's thinking about how I promised her you'd want to fuck them."

  Son of a bitch. "Giving away all my best stuff before I get a chance to try it? That's a dick move, man."

  "She asked." And it was clear that, as far as Blake was concerned, that was the end of that.

  "Really, now?"

  Ashley shrugged, making her breasts bounce beneath his shirt. "I was...intrigued."

  Intrigued didn't put a longing expression like that on a woman's face, and it sure as hell didn't make her nipples hard. "Blake must have brought his A-game, honey. ‘Cause I swear, you're looking like you want to eat us both up."

  She held his gaze for a heartbeat longer, then flashed him an innocent smile. "Me? I just want to eat my steak."

  Pretty little liar. She had to be thinking some filthy, delicious things for her eyes to spark like that. But he could be patient...when the payoff was worth it.

  Chapter Six

  Mac was one to talk, telling her she looked like she wanted to eat them up. If anyone was hungry for a taste of something, it was him. All through the meal, he watched her. He didn't bother with conversation, and Blake was too tense to make small talk. So there was nothing to do but eat in silence.

  Even after they finished their meal and began to clean up, Ashley could feel his gaze tracking her movements across the room. The weight of it elicited a different sort of heat than Blake's, but she couldn't deny her body's reactions.

  And she didn't want to. For years, she'd been told that her desires were wrong, inhuman. In a day, she'd already learned the truth--her parents had been only half right. Inhuman, yes, but not wrong. They couldn't be.

  Could they?

  Blake's fingers slid down her arm, sparking tingles in their wake. Every time he came within arm's reach, he found a way to touch her, grazing her skin or her hair with his fingertips.

  It was the only thing about the whole situation that gave her pause. With Mac in the room, Blake seemed different, almost upset, and she didn't know how to fix it.

  He lifted a hand to her chin, smoothing the pad of his thumb over her lower lip. "How do you feel?"

  Jumpy. Restless. Nowhere near as achy as before, but she couldn't deny the edge of appetite that had crept back into her consciousness, or the heat that prickled over her skin. "I'm okay."

  His nostrils flared, and his eyes narrowed. His hand slid toward the back of her head, and she knew what was going to happen this time. She had a slow eternity to anticipate the way his fingers would clench in her hair with the steely dominance that made everything better and worse at the same time.

  "Don't tell me what you think I want to hear." He brushed one tight nipple, teasing it with his thumb before tweaking it roughly enough to make her whimper. "Tell me what you need."

  That gentle, flickering flame roared back to life. "This is how it starts," she confessed. "I can't sit still, and everything is too small. It's not bad, not yet. But it will be." Soon.

  "So we won't let it get bad this time." He slid his hand lower, under the edge of Mac's shirt. Between her legs. His fingers encountered the embarrassing slickness on her thighs, and he groaned. "What have you been thinking about, greedy girl, to get you this wet?"

  Her cheeks were burning. "It's nothing--it's silly--"

  He silenced her by pumping one finger deep into her hungry body. Everything clenched tight, but he pulled away just as quickly, leaving her empty as he gripped her face with his slick fingers.

  He traced one over her mouth--the one that had been inside her. She could taste herself when she licked her lips, even more when he pushed past them. "Nothing that turns you on that much is silly," he whispered.

  She caught movement out of the corner of her eye as Mac pushed away from the wall and stepped closer. Watching, always watching. It should have mortified her--and it did, in a way. But not enough to overcome the pulse of desire that rippled through her.

  "You don't want him here," she told Blake finally. "Looking at me. But I want it."

  It happened so fast. Blake released her and gripped Mac's shirt, stripping it over her head. Then his hands were on her again, rough in her hair and too gentle where he cupped her pussy.

  Blake buried his face against her throat and inhaled sharply. "You smell like him," he said roughly. "I didn't want his shirt on you so he couldn't see. I did it because now you smell like him, and that just makes his cock even harder for you."

  "You could have left it on, jackass," Mac said in a low, lazy rasp. "I had this whole fantasy worked out in my head. You would've liked it, too."

  Blake dragged her gaze to his. "This is how pack works, sweetheart. We share. We play. But we defer to stronger wolves, and that's what I am. The strongest one in the room. Can you feel it?"

  The tension hanging in the air suddenly took on a new meaning. If Blake wasn't jealous, then his borderline antagonism toward Mac was something else entirely--challenge.

  "I feel it," she whispered.

  "Good girl." He licked her lips with a low rumble of approval, dragging his tongue across them as if he wanted to savor the lingering wetness there. "Mac knows," he murmured. "He knows I'll let him do anything you want, anything that gets you off. Because I promised to take care of you."

  "I know." Mac took another slow, prowling step toward them. His jeans rode low, revea
ling the long lines of muscle that corded his abdomen and hips. His chest was broad, but leaner than Blake's. Scarred.

  He stopped beside them and stared at Ashley, his hands flexing at his sides. "Blake was first. That's how it should be. But he won't be the only one who gets you off today, honey."

  Her knees went weak. Someone had to take this step, make the first move, and she knew that someone had to be her. She had to reach out, with words or with flesh, and take what they were offering.

  She turned, nestling her back against Blake's chest. He moved too, sliding one hand up to splay possessively across her belly while the other wound around her throat.

  It should have been terrifying. His hand was huge, curling around her neck and forcing her chin up. He held her tight against his body, on display for Mac, but his touch was as carefully gentle as his words were obscene. "You could make her ask for it," he suggested as his lips brushed her temple. "Admitting that she wants her pussy filled gets her hot."

  "I'll keep that in mind." Mac's gaze raked her body, lingering on her breasts and the damp curls between her thighs. He didn't command her to speak, and he didn't touch her. He sank to his knees--and waited.

  Blake coaxed her back one step, and then another. When he sank to the bed he took her with him, hooking his hands under her knees and lifting her legs over his. It left her with her thighs spread wide, open.

  Completely, utterly open.

  Mac drew in a long, deep breath and came closer, stretching up at the last moment so that his mouth skimmed her belly before hovering over her breast. "He said I'd love your tits, huh?"

  Anticipation left her trembling. "He did."

  "He was right." Mac palmed her breasts, coaxing them together before squeezing his fingers tight on her aching nipples.

  She leaned her head back against Blake's shoulder as the caress blazed through her, pleasure laced with pain. Then the pain vanished completely, driven away by the slippery rasp of Mac's tongue as he licked her.

  Not just her nipples--he drew the flat of his tongue over the curve of each breast and the hollow in between, even over his fingers. By the time she looked down again, half dazed by the decadence of it all, he'd lifted his head. She watched as he stroked his thumbs over her, seemingly captivated by the wet glide of his skin over hers.