Pleasant Extortion [The Extortionists 1] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic)

by Natalie Acres

  Pageant mashed her full breasts against his chest and raked her nails through his hair, driving each kiss to a new level of intimacy, to a familiarity he’d never known.

  She stretched her neck and arched in his arms. As if the position granted him the access he wanted, he trailed down her body, smoothing his lips over her neck and chest, heading lower and growing stiffer as soon as he reached her breasts and lingered over her nipple.

  His mate was beautiful. From flawless, silken skin to the tiny buds tipping those glorious mounds, everything about her made him more aware of the mindless passion she stirred within him. He flicked her nipple and loved the way she trembled in his arms.

  “You like that?” He didn’t wait for an answer. He sucked the spiked gem between his teeth and pulled, trying to give her a mix of heated pleasure with a subtle hint of pain as his tongue traveled across the extended point. Back and forth, back and forth.

  God help him. He was a weakened man.

  His balls burned. His cock ached.

  “Ah hell, Pageant,” he whispered, dipping lower. Lavishing her bellybutton with attention, he licked in and out, teasing her as he passed her navel and inched even lower.

  Her head jerked and a little whimper escaped her lips. “Don’t.”

  “Give me one reason not to.”

  “I…”

  “You what…can’t stand it?” He blew a steady stream of hot air across her clit. “Aren’t sure you can take it?”

  “No, I can’t.”

  “Show me.” Then, he pushed her legs apart, loving the little catch in her throat as he roughly spread her. “Go on now, honey. Show me how you can’t stand it.” He blew again. “Tell me about that lack of control. How hot it can get.” Another breath and then another.

  “I don’t have…control. I can’t resist you.”

  “You don’t need control with me.” She didn’t need it because he wouldn’t let her have it anyway.

  He scooted down, positioning his body between her parted thighs. Then, he licked her pussy from top to center and back again, loving that new rich taste he would soon recognize as familiar. “Mmm.” He dragged his tongue through her slit again, appreciating the way she writhed under his chin as he tasted her, reveled in the intimacy of giving her pleasure.

  Unwilling to rush, Randon took his time bathing her center with a reverent tongue. Side to side, he swiped back and forth, easing the tip of his tongue a little farther, a little deeper.

  She rose to her elbows and spread her legs wider. “Give me more, Randon.”

  He glanced up at those heavy breasts, captivated by those firmly rounded nipples. His mouth watered and his eyes did as well as she reached down the length of her body, going for her clit.

  “May I, Randon?” She rubbed her mound with the heel of her hand. “Would you like to watch me?”

  “Soon.” He kissed the back of her hand and gripped his cock, stroking it long enough to ease the tension. “It gets so damn hot. Doesn’t it, lover?”

  “Let me,” she mouthed. “Let me show you how I like to be pleasured.”

  “I can ease that burn, Pageant.” God help him. He wanted to bring her so much pleasure. He longed to spend time teaching her about his ways, loving her beyond her fears. Instead, he was fighting to keep the lead and desperate to claim her before their time together drew to a close.

  Bringing her fingers to his lips, he twirled his tongue around her middle digit, pulling it in and out of his mouth like he imagined her pussy would soon grip his cock, firmly and with a great sense of convulsing pressure. He massaged the pad of her finger, watching that lust wash across her face.

  “Now, baby. Now you can play.” He positioned her cupped hand over her bare mound and guided her finger to her clit.

  For a moment, he simply watched, looked on as her finger strummed around the swollen point. She rose into a half-seated position and drew her knees forward. Keeping her feet flat on the bed, she pumped her hips up and down as her fingers moved in and out.

  “Faster,” he said, pushing a firm digit inside her, too.

  She obeyed his command. Her hand moved with a quicker rhythm.

  He added another finger and then another, stretching her, feeling those tender muscles expand and give with the forceful intrusion. “That’s it, lover. Keep doing that.”

  “I’ll come!”

  “No.” He withdrew her hand, held her wrist, and stared into her eyes. “You always ask for permission. You never tell me you will. You ask if you can.”

  He felt the dominant beast raging. The time to mate was near. He couldn’t ignore the full moon outside the window any more than he could overlook the blackest of clouds moving rapidly, as if they represented the shadows in the moonlight, the stranger in the darkness.

  “I can ask for permission.”

  “Ask.” He pulled her fingers to his lips and sucked them, savoring the sweetest erotic juices, the flavor of his woman.

  “Can I come, please?”

  “Not yet.” He studied those twin peaks, those hardened buds capping her mounds. “I want more.” He lifted his gaze to hers. “Let me enjoy you, lover. Then, when my cock is inside you? Then, you can come.”

  A raspy sigh fell from her lips as she collapsed against the pillows. Gripping the sheets in her balled fists, she parted her legs still wider. Tilting her head to her shoulder, she quietly said, “You want to drive me crazy.”

  “Even that is an understatement.” Randon couldn’t help but smile at the picture she painted. She was really something to see.

  He couldn’t wait to feel her riding his tongue, begging for mercy, and screaming his name.

  She would scream his name until she was hoarse.

  If he thought she could hold out for cock with a tongue like that buried inside her, he’d obviously underestimated his talents. He unraveled his tongue inside her pussy and jabbed the length in and out of her core, stroking her with his tongue, fucking her with it.

  The motions left her body joggled. One minute, she threw her weight to her heels and pumped her hips off the bed. The next, she pushed her bottom into the mattress and tried to refrain from letting go.

  Her wet pussy convulsed around his busy tongue. She grabbed hold of his shoulders and tried to slam against him, desperate now to feel the entire texture of his tongue stroking her in a more committed rhythm. Instead, he crammed his lips inside her small opening and licked closer to his mouth, burying his lips right inside hers.

  “Oh, God. I can’t…I can’t take much more!”

  As if he agreed, Randon hauled his body over hers and stared down at her as if he had been in position to make love to her a thousand other times. He nudged her with the head of his cock, carefully entering her.

  A carnal grunt fell to the room. He stilled a moment or two before he thrust full speed ahead, fucking her like a wild man who was now on a schedule, not at all slow and easy as she’d first expected. Stroke for stroke, she matched him, locking her ankles at his lower back and throwing her body into the motions, loving the way they seemingly fit perfectly together.

  “Let me come,” she whispered, unsure she could deny herself if he said no.

  He slowed his pace. He worked his lower half left to right, shimming his hips as if he were practicing an erotic dance move. “That’s nice baby.” He stared at her nipples. “So nice.”

  She reached between their bodies and pinched her nipple, desperate now to come, fraught with the need to ride out her release. He leaned down and kissed her hand, nudging her fingers out of the way so he could lap at the throbbing point.

  Pageant was lost. She teetered around the perimeter of what she realized would soon be a crazy kind of love, a mated connection destined to change her life.

  “Come,” he whispered, swaying those toned hips from side to side as he sank that hard wedge of flesh still deeper. “Ride out the pleasure with me, honey.”

  Then, his wolf teeth appeared, dropping well below his lip. Pageant only focused on th
em for a brief moment. Then she threw her head back and exposed her neck, ready to accept his bite and his seed.

  She was fully prepared to become Randon’s mate, his wolfen bride.

  Chapter Ten

  “Whoever named that sorry SOB ‘the extortionist’ just fed his insatiable appetite if you ask me.” Mac walked the length of the small lawn. “Extortionist.” He muttered as he traipsed a few more paces. Coming to an abrupt stop, he yelled, “How’s that stroke ya, buddy? Hmm? Pumps up the ego, doesn’t it?” He shouted at the trees behind the house.

  “Settle down,” one of the others said.

  “Not a chance.” Mac was convinced he’d seen movement in the trees. Might as well summon the bastard rascal and put this shit behind them.

  “I’d like to have a peaceful night,” the youngest biker said.

  “That ain’t gonna happen, son.” Mac narrowed his gaze on the whispering branches, convinced he saw one of those blurry bluish-purple dashes, pretty much a standard scene when a vampire rushed by an area.

  “Why not just call him a damn vampire? Call it what it is!” Mac became enraged whenever he thought of the one responsible for killing so many women and children. Yes, they’d lost a close friend, too, but down in Alabama that motherfucker left behind a whole line up of dead teenagers. For some reason, he seemed to prey on the athletic type, too. It was as if he’d handpicked the ones who were only children. “Son of a dirty-rotten-dried-up-damned-dead-vampire-bitch!”

  A nasally, deafening noise engulfed them. The eerie sound was wicked, strewn in evil and wracked with malicious intentions.

  “What the hell are you trying to do?” One of the other bikers rose from the front step. “The last thing we want to do is lure the dead fuck out of hiding.”

  Mac hadn’t called him out. The extortionist was there. He’d been there the entire time. Mac sensed him. He felt his breath at his nape.

  “He’s got a point,” the quiet dude from South Carolina said.

  They were from different charters but they all shared several common threads. They were loyal to the MC, and as shifters, they were bound together by their secrets as much as their united causes. Mac stared at Detective Pageant Keen’s cottage. “Anyone else here remember that special new feeling Randon is enjoying about right now?”

  The South Carolina dude smiled. “Every hour I spend with my Rosa is like the first time.”

  “Oh please.” Mac groaned.

  “Do you have a mate?”

  “Yes, Carolina, I do.” Mac twitched his nose as he thought of his woman at home. Pleasantly plump with his first son, his mate had been a real firecracker back in the day.

  “I feel him,” one of the guys said, ripping his shirt over his head, kicking off his shoes, and dropping his pants. He dashed forward and transitioned, barely making the full shift in time.

  A whirlwind of turbulent weather wrapped around the rest of them like a cocoon, collectively tossing them one way or another until they were spinning and turning, passing one another in midair. A few times bodies crashed together with an incredible force of pressure. Mac could’ve sworn he heard the cracking of teeth and breaking of bones.

  Mac turned somersaults, losing total control of his own movements. He couldn’t stop the mindboggling flips as he became powerless over his actions.

  In a haze of confusion, he was aware of the werewolf below them. Their eyes met and Mac screamed, “Go!”

  Wondering if he in fact hollered aloud or only mouthed the word, Mac tried to gather his senses and figure out an escape plan. The shifter outside of the vestibule shook his head violently, waited a few seconds, and then leapt over the white picket fence and ran into the hills.

  Help would soon arrive, but would it arrive in time?

  With one biker-wolf on the run, the extortionist most likely understood the value of time. His was now limited. Were Mac’s moments now numbered as well?

  Dizzy, Mac somehow managed to think through the pressurized conditions. This was it. They were in a turbulent canal fighting for their lives. The only way they’d make it through this battle alive was to fight, hang on and call upon an inner strength far more powerful than any other force working against them at that particular moment.

  “Stay with me, guys!” Mac screamed above the piercing, reverberating racket whistling in the funnel. “If you’re knocked unconscious, you won’t wake up!”

  Gut-wrenching laughter resounded. A foggy, distorted figure wrapped around the vessel housing them. Mac pushed aside the fear even though he sensed these passing seconds were his last.

  He scoured the enclosure, noting the others as they lost control of their movements, too. Their heads jerked forward and snapped back. Simultaneous actions occurred as if they were large stiff puppets manipulated by a perverse puppeteer. They were controlled, mastered by supernatural mechanisms that inevitably forced them to function and respond, sometimes as one moving body and other times as separate entities.

  Carolina’s head rolled to his shoulder. He went into violent spasms. His tongue hung free of his mouth and one final jolt left him listless. His body descended to the earth and fell to the wayside, away from the transparent cylinder. Evil laughter ricocheted inside the translucent tube.

  Mac gasped, fully aware of the death attempting to claim them. His gaze shifted to the other biker. The youngest would never make it. He was already struggling to keep his eyes open.

  “Come on kid. You can do this. Don’t quit on us. Ya hear me!” Mac grabbed hold of the young biker’s bicep and shook him.

  “Aw, there it is,” a creepy voice said. “That compassion, that inner strength, and—oh my goodness, yes, that’s it—you’re a natural-born leader. These are all traits I can take from you!” Another round of laughter commenced before coming to an abrupt halt. An eerie stillness gave the bikers a moment to regroup.

  “Get ready for it,” Mac said.

  The other fellow nodded. “If I don’t make it—”

  “Shut up, dude. We’re stronger than Carolina. Focus on your strength. Whatever it is, cast a negative light on it now. If you’re brilliant, think dumb thoughts.”

  “Huh?”

  “Scratch that,” Mac said, deciding he could easily conceal his attributes. His mother had always said, “People are bad. You have to find the good in them.” He’d lived his whole life trying to reverse her philosophy but at the moment, he believed his mother had been right all along. Now, he had to channel her beliefs into his own and remember her bitterness, harbor and nurture it.

  Mac’s body was thrown across the air, thrust into a quick rotation. He turned one cartwheel and then another and then one more. Bile settled in the back of his throat. He forced his arms in front of him. Mortified, he focused on his flesh, watching as numerous bubbling blisters popped, oozed, and spread. A red liquid comparable to blood dripped from his arms, hands, and fingers.

  “You don’t want me to have your qualities? You don’t want me to lead as you’ve led?” A cold ragged breath was at his ear. “Then I’ll take that pretty tan skin, dude. And that’s all I really want from you.”

  * * * *

  Inside the cottage, Randon dragged her to him. Another round of lovemaking would have to wait until morning. She was tired and he understood her exhaustion.

  He had been seconds away from a little after-sex reassurance, some sort of sweet sentiment to let her know he wasn’t one to make a commitment and back away from it. He stood by the people he cared about. He’d stand by her and later their children.

  He threw his arm over his head and stared at the ceiling. With his other limb wrapped around her, Randon couldn’t imagine a more fulfilling first experience with one’s mate. The passion had been there. The physical connection had been there. The sex was outstanding. The love was…he stopped. He drew Pageant closer and wondered. Did he already love her?

  Sure. It was possible.

  Humans without any supernatural abilities believed in love at first sight. Since childhood, h
e’d heard a number of stories about chosen mates. Often gaining his information from the male gender, Randon once believed the physical connection was far more important than any other. The mate chemistry was described as undeniable, electric.

  No one had mentioned how is heart would beat a little faster, how his temperature would spike, how his cock would stay erect long after the first release, or how much he’d want to touch, kiss, and hold her. Even now as she drifted off to sleep, he found himself touching the small patch of flesh under her nose and right above her lip just to be sure she was breathing.

  Maybe no one brought up these other changes because they hadn’t experienced them. Then again, he’d watched some of the guys with their mates. He smiled to himself and pulled Pageant against his chest. What he felt for Pageant ran deep, far deeper than the pleasures found inside her curvy little body.

  He released a carnal growl. Sure enough, he had this mating thing figured out.

  The males didn’t share the more intimate details of their relationships because they all knew he’d soon enough suffer the same. He had fallen in love and it wasn’t just a casual or budding kind of connection. He’d jump off bridges or swing from trees. He’d shout it to the world or from the highest mountaintops.

  Pageant Keen was his woman. She was his mate. She was his first and last love.

  Chapter Eleven

  “It’s bad, man. I’d tell you to leave your lady inside but you won’t be able to protect her. This shit happened on her turf.”

  Sometimes listening to Kurt was like trying to work a puzzle with too many missing pieces. Randon hurriedly dressed with his phone in hand. “Are you here?”

  “No, man, I caught a flight to Cozumel. Heard the weather was good and all that. Where the fuck do you think I am? I’m standing in Pageant’s front yard. Get your ass out here!”

  Randon tried not to wake her. He glanced at the clock and noted the time before he tiptoed out of the room. It wasn’t even five-thirty yet. They’d been in bed a few hours, but hardly long enough for a good night’s sleep.