by Vivian Wood
“You’re so wet for me, Faith,” Gavin said, almost to himself. “And your pussy feels so good, soft and wet and hot.”
Faith flushed beet red at his dirty talk, but found herself straining into his touch nonetheless. Gavin rewarded her by pressing two long, thick fingers into her core, giving her what she wanted so badly.
“Ah! Yes, yes,” she moaned, her eyes fluttering closed.
“No barrier,” Gavin said. He seemed surprised but pleased, slowly pumping his fingers in and out of her tight channel. “God, you’re perfect. Look at me, Faith. Look at me while I touch you.”
She opened her eyes, marveling at the intensity of his expression. He watched her right back, a wicked smile on his lips. He shifted a little, pressing his heavy erection against her hip, adjusting his hand. His thumb found that spot again as his fingers curled inside her, beckoning, moving against her inner wall.
“Oh-ohhh,” Faith stuttered, her eyes widening. A new kind of pressure formed in her now, something that threatened to detonate inside her.
“That’s right, baby,” Gavin said softly, his gaze hungry. “That’s your g-spot. Suddenly you’re soaking wet, hot and horny. I told you I was going to get you ready, didn’t I?”
Faith whined when he pulled away, pushing her flat on her back. For a moment, her heart sped up. This is it, she thought. He’s giving me everything I want now.
She watched him as he knelt between her legs, teasing and kissing her breasts, dropping hot kisses on her belly that made her writhe. But then he dropped to his elbows, stroking her lower lips before spreading them wide, and she squealed in surprise.
“Gavin!” she protested. He was looking at her down there. Surely he didn’t need to—
His lips pressed against her, making her body lock up in panic, but then the silky tip of his tongue found her— her clit, she made herself think the word— and she arched off the bed, back bowing.
“Oh!” she cried. His tongue worked at her clit, warm and hot and slippery. Her breasts throbbed, her clit ached, her mouth went dry. “Oh, Gavin, I—”
She shattered, unable to say another word. Everything was light and dark, bright or dim and hot, so hot, though she shook and shivered. When she finally peeled her eyes open, she found Gavin kissing her thighs as he glanced up at her. Normally such an intimate touch, such a ravenous expression would make her shy away, but just now she couldn’t move.
“I didn’t know…” she said, then she gave up and just sighed.
“That’s only half of it,” Gavin told her, a knowing grin lighting his face. He moved up and stretched out beside her again, his hands stroking her hip, her arm, her ribs.
“Can… can I do that to you? With my mouth, I mean,” Faith asked, curious. She was so sated, her body so heavy, but at the same time, some small part of her was already hungry again.
“Not tonight. I’d come in a heartbeat and ruin everything,” Gavin said with a sigh.
“Oh,” Faith said, feeling a bit disappointed. Gavin chuckled.
“Believe me when I say you’ll get your chance to please me with your mouth,” he promised. “But you’ve teased me too much already. I have to have everything now.”
“I haven’t teased you!” Faith protested.
Gavin pulled her hand down to his groin, pressing the thick length of his manhood into her touch.
“Is that right?” he asked. “I’m hanging on by a fucking thread, Faith. If I’d stroked myself while I tasted you, I’d have come in my hand.”
Faith looked at him, saw the need written on his face, the tension in his body. He wanted more, and gods help her, she did too.
“Take me, then,” she said, leaning in and kissing him as she ran her fingertips over his erection. It pulsed under her touch, making her eyes widen. Gavin ground out a sound, half amusement and half frustration.
“Are you certain?” he asked, not moving a muscle.
“I don’t know. Will you be my mate?” Faith asked, tilting her head.
Gavin’s mouth opened, but no words came out for a moment. She’d actually managed to make him speechless, and that made her feel a strange burst of pride.
“I could never want anyone else,” he managed after a moment, cupping her chin and drawing her in for a kiss.
Faith sighed against his lips, her hands coming up to pull at his hips, tug him closer. She wanted his weight against her, she wanted him inside her body.
Gavin moved over her, parting her knees, opening her. He teased her clit again, moaning when he found her ready for him.
“You’re still so wet. God, baby,” he said, gripping his erection and guiding it to her entrance. The blunt head felt thicker and harder than anything she’d ever imagined as Gavin pushed into her tightness, tiny thrusts that stretched and stretched and filled her to the point of breaking.
There was a moment of pain, muscles tensing and clenching as her body tried to accommodate his length and girth.
“Ah!” she breathed, keeping the discomfort to herself. Gavin read her, though, and reached down to rub her clit with his thumb.
Faith sighed as he stoked the flames of her desire again, easing his passage. In a heartbeat, her body accepted him. Instead of pain, there was tension, but now it was from curiosity, wanting.
“More,” she said.
“Faith,” Gavin warned, brushing a kiss over her lips. “We have to go slow.”
“No,” she said. When he didn’t move, she rocked her hips against him, groaning at the feel of him, of the way her inner walls gripped him. “I want more, Gavin. Take me, take me now.”
Gavin gritted his teeth, losing the edge of his careful control. He withdrew and slid home, making Faith moan.
“Yes. More, I want more,” she urged him.
He thrust and pulled back, thrust and pulled back, slow as molasses. He was tormenting her. From the look of desperation on his face, Faith guessed that he was torturing himself just as much.
“Fuck me, Gavin. Please!” she begged, rolling her hips under him.
When he began to move in earnest, dragging his thickness in and out of her aching, soaking passage, Faith started to burn anew. She whimpered, her nails raking Gavin’s shoulders.
“You like that? You like my cock, baby? You like how I’m fucking you?” Gavin asked, his eyes nearly black as he pounded into her body.
“More,” Faith panted, her hips rising to meet his over and over. “I want… like with your fingers.”
Gavin slowed and pulled out, earning a scowl.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “Just changing positions. You want me to hit your g-spot, don’t you?”
He turned her over onto her hands and knees, nudging her legs apart and pressing a hand on her upper back, applying gentle pressure until her breasts and face were crushed into the mattress.
When he entered her this time, it was wholly different. Faith cried out at the change; he was so deep, so big, her body so tight around him.
“Jesus, Faith,” Gavin told her, grabbing her hips as he worked himself in and out. “God, you feel so good.”
If she’d burned before, now she was an inferno. Her fingers clutched the sheet, the muscles in her thighs shook, her eyes squeezed shut. It was intense, dark, hard…
But Gavin was doing what he promised. Touching her inner walls just so, in long, hard thrusts that made her shiver with satisfaction. He took her wholly, fully, possessing her without an ounce of hesitation.
Something deep inside her tightened and fluttered, heat spreading out and threatening to incinerate her.
“Gavin, yes!” she said. Something was happening, that peak was growing close again, closer with each punishing thrust. Gavin’s fingers dug into her hips as he took her, his thighs slapping hers, the sounds of their sex filling Faith’s senses.
“You’re going to come for me, aren’t you?” Gavin asked, breathing hard. “Do it, come for me. My mate, who loves getting fucked, who loves my cock.”
Faith shuddered and locked up, her i
nnermost muscles clenching, walls gripping, moans pouring from somewhere deep in her chest. Her eyes rolled up in her head, and for a long moment she knew nothing but the white heat Gavin made in her body. She heaved half a sob, a thick, drowsing, dark satisfaction seeping into her bones.
“Good girl. You’re going to make me come, too,” Gavin said, his words harsh and desperate. He gave three brutal, wicked thrusts, a shout tearing from his throat, his cock jerking inside her body. He hissed in a breath as he finished, slowing.
Faith made a gurgled sound of protest when he withdrew, but allowed herself to be turned onto her side and pulled into Gavin’s embrace. He molded her body to his, arms encircling her body, his struggle for breath matching hers.
“Thank you,” Faith whispered to him.
Gavin gave a dazed laugh. She could feel him shake his head behind her, feel his chin against her nape. She could feel the way his hands trembled, too.
“What am I going to do with you?” he asked.
Faith didn’t know exactly, but she couldn’t wait to find out.
Cameron’s Redemption Cover
71
One
Alex Hansard had never felt so utterly out of place in her life as she did sitting in the stiffly formal law office of Mr. Magnus Turner, Esquire, attorney at law and member of the Berseker Alphas’ Council. The very man that was now eyeing her with a distinctly unfavorable glance as he flipped through the neatly stapled sheaf of documents she’d given him, presenting the position she represented and the petition she hoped he’d sign.
Alex needed Mr. Turner to be the first Alpha Berserker to take an interest in her cause and help her take her equal rights campaign to the next level: presenting and petitioning the Alphas’ Council, the ruling body of all Berserkers in the United States.
Though she’d dressed for the occasion, fitting her curvy body with a tailored black pencil skirt and a feminine, cream-colored silk dress shirt paired with snappy black heels, Alex still felt under dressed as she stared at her elegantly-suited present company.
Her hand came up to touch the back of her carefully upswept tresses, making sure not a single flame-red lock was out of place. She frowned when she realized that she was acting nervous, and pulled her hand back to her lap. Pursing her lips, she stared back at the gentleman behind the big oak desk.
“The first problem with your case, Miss Hansard, is simply that Berserkers are not ruled by the same laws as humans. You’re using human law and logic in your arguments, and that won’t cut it with the Alphas’ Council,” Mr. Turner wheezed, giving Alex a long look over the top of his thick black glasses. His hair might be silver, going to white, his strapping werebear physique in certain decline, but his piercing gray eyes were crackling with intelligence.
Alex fidgeted in the stiff leather chair, letting her gaze wander around Mr. Turner’s darkly-wooded office. As a ruling member of the Alphas’ Council and a lifelong attorney, Turner was the preeminent expert on Berserker law. He was also a friend of Gregor England, the Berserker who’d brought Alex here today to present her case.
Gregor sat beside her now, wearing an impeccable dark suit and looking dashing, wearing his age much better than Turner did. Gregor was only fortyish to Turner’s sixty-something years, still trim and youthful-looking. Dark hair, tanned skin, an easy smile. It was only his distinctive cobalt blue eyes that gave away the secret he and Alex shared.
Alex pulled her gaze from the Alpha who had caused such a tumult in her life during the last few months, and turned her thoughts back to the present issue.
“And the second problem?” Alex asked, raising her gaze to meet Mr. Turner’s.
“The second problem is the topic. Berserkers are ruled by Alphas, Alphas are inherently male. There aren’t a lot of Alphas who would be interested in adopting new laws to favor the rights of women and half-breeds,” Mr. Turner sighed.
Alex felt her face flushed as fresh anger rose to the surface. As a member of both those categories, a woman and a half-werebear, she resented Turner’s words even as she recognized their truth.
“There are more women than men in the world, Mr. Turner,” Alex said, keeping her tone even. “Even in the werebear community, women slightly outnumber men. As for half-breeds, there are far more of us than you might realize.”
Alex cleared her throat and adjusted in her seat, pride straightening her spine.
Though she’d only found out about her werebear heritage a handful of years earlier, and she’d discovered her relation to Gregor England mere months ago, she felt strongly about Berserker causes. The Alphas’ Code was antiquated and outdated, incompatible with human doctrine in North America.
Turner gave her another unfathomable, searching look. The weight of his slow consideration put Alex’s teeth on edge, making her feel like she was some prize thoroughbred being examined before a sale could be made. That look was exactly what Alex hated about werebear laws; she wasn’t an object, something that belonged to a husband or a father or an Alpha. She had a life and a job and a raison d’etre. She was worth more than the sum of the parts or the shape of her body, more than just her ability to produce offspring with Berserker lineage.
“May I ask you a personal question, Miss Hansard?” Mr. Turner said, his tone unharried.
Alex clasped her hands in her lap to keep from making an exasperated gesture.
“Sure, why not?” she sighed, pressing her lips together.
“Can you shift?” he asked.
Alex’s lips parted in surprise. It was not the question she’d expected at this moment.
“Yes,” she said with a sigh. “Though I’m not sure why that matters.”
“Did you shift at an early age, as most of our kind do?”
Raising a brow, Alex held her temper in check.
“Not until I was fourteen, actually,” she replied.
“Do you think your children will be able to shift? Do you think they’ll be full-blooded? What if you were to take another half-breed as your mate? What would happen then?” Mr. Turner asked, his questions quick and sharp.
Alex shot to her feet with a huff, barely registering the fact that Gregor did not follow suit.
“I think we’re done here. There’s no need to be rude just because you don’t agree with my ideas,” she said, giving him her most imperious glare.
“Pardon me, Miss Hansard,” Turner said, raising his hands. “I am only asking you the questions that every Alpha on the Council will want to ask. I bring it up because your personal lineage is the third problem with your case.”
“My genetics are no one’s business but mine,” Alex snapped.
“If you will be seated,” Turner said, gesturing to the chair she’d vacated.
Alex looked to Gregor, who gave an expressionless shrug. She scowled as she took her seat once more, impatience bubbling up in her chest.
“Alphas only care about power and legacy, Alexandra. By increasing the rights of women and half-breeds, you are putting the Alphas’ power and legacy at risk. On top of that, you yourself have no lineage. To be blunt, an illegitimate half-breed woman… There are too many factors working against you.”
“And what do you suggest? I dress as a man? I lie about having a human mother? I can hardly help either of those things, not that I’d want to change them.”
“I am suggesting that you consider becoming legitimate,” Turner said, crossing his arms and leaning back in his seat.
Alex felt beads of sweat break out on her brow, and it took all her willpower not to turn to Gregor with a suspicious expression. Had Gregor revealed their relationship to Turner without Alex’s permission? She had been very open about her wishes to remain unclaimed.
“I don’t think I understand you,” Alex said, keeping her words measured.
“Take a mate, Miss Hansard. Not just any mate, an heir. Someone who will be an Alpha one day soon. A mate with the power to bolster your claim, give you an edge when he takes a seat on the Alphas’ Council.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Alex huffed. “I’m not getting married just because you think it will help persuade a bunch of old men.”
Turner’s expression grew hard, and he rose to his feet. Before he could speak, Gregor stood and interceded.
“Magnus, thank you,” Gregor said, offering Turner a handshake. A clever way of reminding Alex that she was here because of Gregor’s good will, and that she’d promised to be the definition of politeness during this interview.
“Yes, Mr. Turner, thank you. I apologize for my rudeness. I am just… very passionate about my cause,” Alex said, rushing the forced apology out before she could foul it up.
Turner softened a little, accepting their handshakes.
“I’m giving you the best advice I’ve got, I’m afraid,” he said. “Personally, I think you’re right about modernizing some of the Berserker laws.”
He patted a massive book on his desk, a tome wrapped in ancient brown leather, his personal copy of the Alphas’ Code.
“Right. Well, I will take your advice under consideration,” Alex said, pasting a careful smile on her face.
There was a knock at the door, and a petite blonde secretary stuck her head in.
“Your two o’clock is here, Mr. Turner,” the woman said.
“Ah. A land dispute,” Turner said to Alex and Gregor. “You’ll have to excuse to me.”
“Thank you for your time,” Gregor said. Alex echoed him, already bored of the exchange. After another round of handshakes, they were free, stepping out of the gleaming lobby on the ground floor of Turner’s office building.
“Friggin office on Printer’s Row,” Alex grumbled. “That’s old Chicago money for you. Turner obviously has more cash than sense.”
“Alex, all the Chicago Alphas are like that. Turner is actually the most progressive of the bunch, that’s why I brought you to see him. They’re all conservative old-money types. You’d know what I meant if you ever agreed to meet our father,” Gregor sighed.
Alex stiffened. She whirled to glare at her brother, anger rising from the dark place in her heart where she’d long ago locked away her feelings about her mysterious birth parents.
