Prickly Business (Portland Pack Chronicles Book 1)

by Piper Vaughn

  Lube in hand, Dylan dropped to his knees behind Avery. Just looking at Avery like this, he was sure he’d never get enough.

  He wasted no time showing Avery what he intended. Parting his cheeks, Dylan tilted forward and dragged his tongue from balls to wrinkled entrance, then ran the flat of his tongue over his cock before circling it with the tip. Avery panted, his moans growing louder and louder with each slick pass. Inside, his wolf was going mad with the need to roll in his mate’s essence.

  Laving at the wrinkled skin, Dylan pointed his tongue and pushed in. Avery went still before he stuttered a breath and rocked back.

  “Oh God.” Avery sounded muffled, like his face was buried in the mattress. “Fucking hell.” He quit rocking but didn’t cease the hungry sounds, while Dylan fucked him with his tongue, torturing him with slick glides. “Goddammit, Dylan. More.”

  Quiet whimpers stirred Dylan’s feral side, and his cock grew impossibly harder, almost to the point of pain. Coming from playing with Avery’s ass was not an option, but he did so love listening to him beg.

  “Fucking please, Dylan,” Avery whined.

  Dylan chuckled against the intimate skin and goose bumps rose over Avery’s bare flesh.

  “You’re an asshole.”

  He snorted. “I’ll show you asshole.”

  Slicking his fingers, he tipped back and pressed two digits in. Hard and fast, he fucked Avery with them, and Avery arched his back, opening himself farther, moving with him, meeting his every thrust.

  “Don’t stop.”

  Like that was possible. Fuck, Avery was sexy—uninhibited and wanton. He shoved his ass back, his head rolled side to side, expelling moan after tortured moan.

  Tilting forward, Dylan angled the head of Avery’s cock downward and took the slick head in his mouth. Goddamn, that taste—sweet and tangy—had him almost coming.

  “You’re being a fucking tease,” Avery choked, still rocking hard back onto his fingers. When Dylan crooked his fingers and passed over his prostate, Avery let out a howl that would have made any wolf proud. Just like his mouthy mate to make demands. Dylan smirked to himself and pegged the gland again. “A goddamned dick,” he panted, “that’s what you are. Quit playing around and fucking fuck me already.”

  His breathy order sent shivers of need down Dylan’s spine, landing in the pit of his stomach because, yes, it’s exactly what he wanted to. How was it possible to find Avery’s bossiness sexy too?

  Pulling his hands and mouth from his mate, Dylan slicked his hard-as-steel cock and rose to position himself at Avery’s hole. He pushed past the tight ring of muscle, and Avery choked a ragged groan. An inferno engulfed Dylan as he pressed in, steady and slow.

  He draped himself over Avery’s back, inhaling his scent, sweat, and arousal. “Jesus,” he whispered into Avery’s hair.

  “Yeah” was all Avery said, obviously breathing through the stretch. Then Dylan heard, “Need you to move.” Avery tilted his ass higher. “Fuck me, Dylan. I want to feel you tomorrow and the next day and next week.”

  Dylan started moving, pulling out of that gripping heat, then gliding back in. Avery’s muscles tightened around him, and he groaned, drawing one knee, then another up to the bed between Avery’s spread thighs.

  Avery clenched around him, and Dylan knew he wouldn’t last long. Scooping Avery up, his back to Dylan’s chest, thighs draped to the side, Dylan held him close and ground up into him.

  “Fucking love being inside you,” he growled, dragging his teeth down Avery’s shoulder and smiling when Avery dropped back his head. Dylan groaned inwardly. In this position, Avery’s obvious need to be claimed was killing him. Did he even know he was doing it? “Love you like this. Needy, desperate.” He thrust harder, and Avery groaned. “Mine.”

  “Yours,” Avery agreed, breathless.

  Dylan skimmed this hands over Avery’s chest, flicking at his nipples and smiling when Avery arched into the touch, rocking his ass jerkily into Dylan.

  Trailing a hand to Avery’s hard length, Dylan paused and fisted it, pulling in time with his own quick motions.

  Avery laced a hand around his fisted cock, increasing Dylan’s tempo. “Gonna come,” he gasped.

  “Do it,” Dylan answered. “Come for me.”

  Slamming together in a breathtaking rhythm, Dylan moaned when Avery stretched his neck to the side, exposing the long lean muscles he wanted so badly to sink his teeth into. So he did, but he wasn’t so far gone that he would claim his mate just like that. When his teeth locked around Avery’s skin, they were still very much human.

  With a strangled cry, Avery’s muscles clamped around him and he let go, wet heat spilling over their joined hands.

  The scent of Avery’s climax, the whimpers falling from his mouth, and his hands touching every inch of Dylan’s skin set Dylan off. His release curled around him, flames licking at the base of his spine. Groaning Avery’s name into his shoulder, Dylan’s pace stuttered and his world shattered. He spilled every bit of himself deep into Avery, marking him on the inside the same as Dylan felt on the outside. When his vision blurred, going colorblind his wolf’s last attempt to take what was so clearly offered, he blinked back to color.

  Sloppy and lazy, Dylan took Avery’s lips in an awkward over the shoulder kiss, their panting breaths intermingling.

  Avery’s muscles still holding tight and rippling around him, Dylan felt the base of his cock swell, expand, and lock them together. Dylan rumbled and rolled them onto their sides on the bed, his hold tight as he secured his arms around Avery’s chest.

  “What…?” Avery gargled, his voice raspy and worn.

  As soon as Avery said it, Dylan felt it. The base of his cock enlarged and notched itself into the heat of Avery’s already tight entrance. He sighed with the sense of home and peace that engulfed him.

  The knot. Another sign of true wolf mates. Fate’s way of temporarily joining them together, ensuring a physical connection that symbolized the emotional and mental bond formed in a mating. He would explain later. Even if he could breathe, he didn’t have the words. Not at the moment. Not when every sense of rightness flooded him. Later.

  Burrowing deeper into Avery’s shoulder and placing a kiss over the indentations of his teeth, red and heated, Dylan whispered, “Mine.”

  Here—now—he just wanted to hold Avery. The doubts, the hesitation, the history… he could worry about that later.

  Chapter Fourteen

  THE FOLLOWING week, Avery was still thinking about that night at Tallgrass and what had transpired at his loft afterward. And what had continued to happen over the weekend—on his couch, in the bathroom, at the dining table. Now that he and Dylan had started, they couldn’t keep their paws off each other. But, man, that knot had been a surprise. Avery wondered why Jaden had never mentioned it. Then again, Jaden didn’t have a mate yet. He hadn’t experienced it, so why bring it up? And Avery hadn’t ever been close to any other wolves.

  Avery loved it. Craved the fullness of the knot, the way it locked them together, even if it was only for a few minutes. It had stolen his breath the first time, feeling the base of Dylan’s cock swell. It stretched him to the brink, like a wide, hefty plug. Fuck. Just the thought of it made him hard. So much so Avery couldn’t get it off his mind, and they’d christened the desk in Dylan’s office at the shop when Avery had stopped by to see him between deliveries on Friday afternoon.

  Judging by the smiles from Lucas and the other guys, their activities hadn’t gone unnoticed. Damn werewolf hearing. Plus, both Dylan and Avery had reeked of sex when he’d left. He’d had to go home for a quick shower before returning to his route. Damn wolves and their superior olfactory receptors too.

  When he got to Mr. Otis’s house on Monday afternoon, Avery decided it was finally time to share some of what he’d learned with the old wolf. Mr. Otis listened quietly as Avery relayed the events of the last couple of weeks—the clubs, his meetings with Alpha Odell and the police, the information he’d found onl
ine.

  Once he finished, Mr. Otis gave him a sad smile. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you trying, Avery. Thank you.”

  He looked so lonely, so resigned, that Avery couldn’t help reaching across the table to cover his hand. “I’m not giving up yet. We’ll find her.”

  Mr. Otis nodded, but Avery could tell he didn’t believe the words. His bony shoulders slumped, and the lines on his face were so deep he appeared to have aged ten years in the hour since Avery had walked through the door. Avery hated the thought of this poor wolf being so completely alone with no wife and his daughter missing. Mr. Otis’s devastation only increased his resolve. He’d find out what had happened to Lacey. He had to.

  After watching Mr. Otis halfheartedly poke at his lunch for a few more minutes, Avery said his good-byes and left to finish his deliveries.

  Arriving home two hours later, he was struck by an idea. An unexpected and likely terrible idea.

  Avery had one resource he hadn’t tapped, a person well immersed in the seedier side of Portland. Someone with the sort of connections Avery had no way of attaining himself.

  Dylan would refuse. Adamantly. Avery already knew that. But it was his last alternative. The ace up his sleeve. Avery couldn’t fold until he’d played it.

  “FUCK. NO.”

  Avery bit back a sigh. The words were no surprise. Neither was Dylan’s pissed-off expression. He looked ready to commit murder.

  “We are not going to see Victor,” Dylan gritted out. “No way in hell.”

  Avery didn’t bother withholding the sigh again. He let it loose on a long, gusty breath. They were sitting in the living room of Dylan’s small bungalow, the half-empty cartons of Thai food from their dinner littering the low wood-and-wrought-iron coffee table in front of the couch. It was the second occasion he’d been to Dylan’s place. He’d seen it for the first time a couple of days ago.

  Somehow, they almost always ended up at Avery’s loft, but he liked Dylan’s house. The open-concept interior and modern, industrial decor suited Dylan’s personality. The walls were white throughout, the kitchen spacious with stainless steel appliances and shelving, white tile, and honey-oak countertops. There were spots of color intermixed with the dark and light furniture—a mint-colored cabinet along one wall, red chairs at the dining table, turquoise dinnerware, and a painting of a maroon, gold-accented Harley-Davidson mounted above the entertainment center. But mostly it was streamlined, simplistic, and cozy. It fit Dylan to a T.

  Avery toed the patterned gray-and-blue area rug beneath the table, enjoying the plush texture against his bare foot. “It makes sense, Dylan. You know it does.”

  Dylan made a sharp, angry gesture. “It does not make sense. You barely survived the last situation with Victor. Why would you want to involve yourself again?”

  “I don’t want to. I have to. He’s the only one who might be able to get us answers, and you know it.”

  Dylan clenched his jaw so hard Avery heard his teeth grinding from the opposite end of the couch. “There has to be another way.”

  Avery leaned back against the cushions and gave an exaggerated wave of his hand. “Tell me what it is, then,” he encouraged, his tone heavy with sarcasm. “I’m all ears.”

  Dylan narrowed his gaze. The brown of his eyes looked nearly black as he stared Avery down. “Don’t be an ass.”

  Avery lifted his brows and gestured at his own chest. “I’m being an ass? You’re being totally unreasonable.”

  “I don’t want you putting yourself at risk. How many times do I have to say it before it gets through that prickly head of yours?”

  Avery rolled his eyes. “It’ll be okay. What reason would he have to hurt me now? Besides, you’ll be there to protect me if anything happens.”

  “Nothing is going to happen because we are not going.”

  Avery huffed and crossed his arms. He looked at Dylan sideways. “Either you come with me, or I’ll go by myself.”

  “Avery.” The warning was clear in Dylan’s voice. Avery brushed it aside.

  “You don’t own me, Dylan. You’re my mate and we fuck, but we’re not mated. There’s no claiming bite on me, and even if there were, I wouldn’t be your possession. Ergo, you can’t order me around.”

  Dylan scowled, shaking his head. “I don’t think of you as my property. I want you safe. That’s all.”

  “Then come with me and keep me safe.”

  Dylan growled, deep and low, but Avery knew he’d won from Dylan’s long-suffering expression. “Fine. But I’m telling you now, this’ll lead to trouble. I can feel it.”

  Avery shrugged. He was used to being in trouble in one form or another. Usually he came out unscathed. This time they were only asking Victor for information. No betting involved. What could go wrong?

  WHEN THEY entered Victor’s office on Friday evening, he watched them with obvious amusement from behind his desk. Avery had always thought Victor’s sharp-featured face seemed more appropriate for a rat shifter than a wolf, but his scent proclaimed his species, and his eyes were the tawny brown many wolves possessed. They were the one thing about him that might’ve been pretty—had his mouth not been set in a permanent sneer that detracted from everything else.

  Victor gave them a smarmy smile and waved them forward. Avery sank into one of the seats across from him. After a brief hesitation, Dylan settled in the one next to his.

  “Well, well.” Victor leaned back in his fancy, ostentatious chair—his wannabe throne—and steepled his fingers. A stoic guard stood behind him, looking like a B-movie extra in dark sunglasses, slicked-back hair, and a cheap suit. “I figured you’d be back someday with your tail between your legs. What do you need this time? Tell your good pal Victor.”

  In his periphery, Avery saw Dylan bristle. He reached over and laid a hand on Dylan’s arm without turning his attention from Victor.

  Victor watched, his grin widening. “Must be nice for a hedgie to have a werewolf mate. A built-in bodyguard. Looks like he’s been keeping you out of mischief. I haven’t seen you at the races lately.”

  Avery lifted his chin and put on his haughtiest expression. He wasn’t indebted to Victor now. He had no reason to fear. “Yeah, I’m done with the races. That’s not why I’m here.”

  “Pray tell, why are you here? Not that I don’t enjoy the view.” He ogled Avery.

  Dylan growled, and Victor laughed, obviously baiting him.

  Avery started talking before Dylan could lose his temper. “I’m looking for information.”

  “Oh? What kind?”

  “I need to know about a missing girl, Lacey Acker, and a possible sex trafficking ring. Can you help?”

  Victor lifted a shoulder beneath his white suit jacket. “I might know a thing or two. But it’ll cost you.”

  Avery nodded, unsurprised. Of course it would. He and Dylan had both anticipated demands for payment. It was why Dylan had insisted they stop at the bank before the meeting. “How much?”

  Victor eyed him like Avery was Little Red Riding Hood lost in the woods and he was the Big Bad Wolf preparing to take a chomp. “You could come work for me.” He leered and laced the word “work” with so much suggestion Avery would’ve had to be blindfolded and deaf to miss his meaning.

  “I don’t fucking think so,” Dylan snarled. His voice sounded thick, as if his teeth had lengthened, a clear sign he was on the verge of a shift.

  Avery squeezed Dylan’s arm, praying for him to be calm. He hadn’t quite understood how much Victor got under Dylan’s skin before now.

  Victor laughed again. “My, my. Down, killer.”

  “Sorry, Vic.” Avery kept his tone light. “I already have a job. But if you’ll take cash, maybe we can work something out.”

  Victor shrugged. “One thousand.”

  “Five hundred,” Dylan snapped. Victor opened his mouth, looking like he’d refuse, but Dylan continued before he could speak. “Five hundred and I won’t tell the alpha about your little setup here. I’m sur
e he’d love to hear about everything you’ve been doing.”

  A long, tense moment passed as Victor stared at them, narrow-eyed. The guard behind him pulled aside one of the bottom flaps of his jacket, revealing the butt of a gun in its holster.

  Finally Victor spoke. “Show me the cash.”

  Dylan pulled an envelope from his back pocket and withdrew several bills. He held them up for Victor to see. Avery knew he had more in the inner lining of his coat. Dylan had withdrawn two grand, just in case.

  Victor held out a hand. “Give it over.”

  Dylan shook his head. “Not until you tell us what info you have.”

  Victor sighed and rolled his eyes. He gestured for his guard to step back. “I’ve heard some stuff about a sex ring, but this is Portland. No shock there. There’s been an increase in activity lately, though. I’ve caught wind of an influx of teenagers being pimped on the streets, and about some private auctions and parties happening in the suburbs. You can buy anything you want. Boys, girls—for a price. Word on the street is there’s a demand for rarer features. People putting in requests. Redheads, green eyes, that kind of thing.”

  “What else?” Avery asked. “What about Lacey?” She had auburn hair.

  Victor shrugged again. “Don’t know. I can’t give you specific details. I don’t deal in people. Despite how it might appear, I do have some morals.”

  Dylan snorted and mumbled something indistinct.

  Victor ignored him. “I can direct you to someone who knows more, but it’ll be another five hundred if you want his name. I wouldn’t suggest tangling with him, though. His people aren’t as nice as mine.”

  Avery shuddered at the memory of his wrist snapping in Josiah’s grip, of his fear and panic as he ran through the woods. As if sensing his distress, Dylan turned his arm and linked their fingers together.