Between Two Wolves and a Hard Place (9 page)

I can't take it anymore. I want his lips on mine. I want to erase the past with new memories. I need him like I've never needed anything else. I reach up, cup his gorgeous face with both my hands, and pull him toward me.

Our lips touch, and he's stiff, unsure, but my ardor quickly melts his hesitation. Like that, I feel his reserve fall away, and his hunger comes roaring forward like a howling wolf. He kisses me deeply, passionately, and our tongues rub over each other in a hot, sensual dance that tears a moan from my core.

Drake's kisses move down to the hollow of my neck, and then along my clavicle. He pulls the neck of my shirt wide so that he can kiss my bare shoulder, and then he grips the hem of my t-shirt and pulls it up over my head. I break my kiss with Dean as my shirt falls to the floor, and then Drake bends down to cup my full breasts in his hands.

"Oh, Kiera," he breathes. "Your tits are fucking perfect."

I glance down. I'm wearing a boring bra, nothing lacy or enticing, but still he seems mesmerized by my cleavage. I'm a busty girl. My breasts draw glances wherever I go, but still, Drake cups them and kisses their tops as if they're more precious than gold.

Dean's lips find mine again, demanding, and then he pulls back, searching my face with his eyes. "Is this real, Kiera?"

I stare up at him, wide-eyed, and nod. "Yes, Dean."

"Because I want to fuck you," he growls. "Fuck your pretty lips, slide deep inside you. Take you hard. But more."

Drake unclasps my bra, and my breasts fall free. I feel hot wetness enclose one of my nipples, which immediately becomes hard, almost painfully so. I bite my lower lip, eyes locked on Dean.

"More?" It's a sigh, a moan of desire.

"I want you," he growls. "All of you. Body and soul."

Drake's hand is massaging my breast, and then another hand slides between my legs. My pulse skips a beat, and I realize it must be Dean touching me there, the flat of his palm moving in tantalizing, torturous circles. I push my hips forward, wanting that sweet ache to find release.

"Yes," I whisper. "Body and soul."

Drake's tongue is driving me wild, circling and flicking across my nipple, while his other hand thumbs my aching breast, massaging and driving me wild. My heartbeat is a runaway train, going ever faster and faster.

I can't help it. I know I shouldn't ask. That I should just let go. But I can't. "And Leena?"

Dean's eyes narrow, and his lips purse. "Forget her. An arranged setup. We're not mated."

"Oh," I whisper as Dean's hands unbutton my jeans. My body has a mind of its own, and I reach up to pull Dean's mouth back to mine. We kiss, and he opens my jeans and slides his hand down over my mound to my wet slit. I'm so creamy I feel almost embarrassed. When's the last time I've been this outrageously aroused?

Never.

Drake's lips on my nipples are sending radiating pulses of heat through my body, causing my belly to shake and my knees to grow weak. Dean's lips are dominating on my own, and his long fingers press on my lips, teasing my entrance, which parts so easily. Were it not for the thin, flimsy fabric of my panties, he'd slide right into me.

"I need to taste you," whispers Dean, his voice shatteringly intense. I gasp as he lowers himself to his knees and grips my jeans, peeling them down over my hips to fall around my ankles. Drake stands, moving behind me so that I lean against his tall, hard body, and his hands cup my heavy breasts as he kisses my neck.

Dean leans forward so that his face is less than an inch from my pussy, and inhales. It's primal, and his rumble of desire is bestial. Lupine. He pushes the fabric of my panties aside, and shakes his head. "You're so fucking beautiful."

I've never been taken by two men. I've never had my whole body caressed, admired, and kissed like this. I want to luxuriate in Drake's embrace, melt into his body, allow his hands to own me, but I also want to surrender to Dean. I need his tongue in my cleft, I need the fire that's raging through me to find release.

"I'm going to lick you till you scream," says Dean. "I want your taste on my lips, on my tongue. Your wetness on my face." He leans forward, and flicks his tongue like a lash over my lips, a quick upward stroke that causes my whole body to spasm. I gasp and Drake laughs deep in his chest, holding me tight. Dean's hands are almost cruel on my hips, and then he slowly works the tip of his tongue down over my mound, following the root of my clit down to the little nubbin, where again he flicks me, a gentle, fiery touch that causes me to shiver.

"Do you know how long I've longed for this?" asks Drake, his breath hot in my ear. "Years. Years and years. To hold your naked body. To feel you shiver with pleasure. To hear you scream."

Dean's tongue traces the folds of my lips, and I can't even think. My whole body is throbbing with sensation. I spread my legs wide, and fight the urge to push his face deep into me. Instead I allow him to torture me further. Up and down, then in tight circles around my clit. Drake's hands are firm on my breasts, kneading them, teasing my nipples, his lips on my ear.

It's too much. "Please," I say. "I can't take it. Please. I need you. I need release."

Dean grins up at me, the first smile I've seen on his face in six years. It's wicked and boyish and devastatingly handsome. "Are you begging?"

I scowl at him and wrap my hand around the back of his head. "No. I'm a grown woman. I'm demanding." Then I push his face closer, and he willingly slides his tongue deep into my canal, and then does a sensual undulation that causes me to cry out.

Around and around, deeper and then back out, to flick my clit and then plunge back in. Dean knows what he's doing. He owns my pussy, explores it, drinks me in. My muscles tense and shiver. The sensations are building, rising, and if Drake weren't holding me up I know I'd slide to the ground.

"Dean," I whisper. "Yes, like that."

He hooks one of my large thighs and slides it up and onto his shoulder, opening me further. "I didn't even dare dream about this," he says. "Imagine you'd come back to us."

I lean my head back against Drake's broad chest, my fingers still in Dean's hair. "I'm here," I say, turning my head from side to side. "I'm here. For you both. Yours. Take me."

Where is this going to lead? What am I promising them? I'm not sure, but I don't care. No plans. No safety nets. Just release. Just letting myself go. It's better than any fantasy. These two gorgeous men caressing me, kissing me, worshipping my body. It feels beyond good. It feels right. It feels perfect.

Dean drives his tongue deep into my canal again, and when he withdraws, two of his fingers slide into me, deeper than before, and I startle at the intensity of the sensation. He closes his lips over me and growls, the vibration driving me wild.

Drake bites down on my neck suddenly, the sharpness of the pain mingling with a spike in pleasure from Dean's coaxing, strong fingers, and my climax hits, shaking my body like a leaf in the wind. Everything clenches, and Dean works me, pushing me higher, deeper into my orgasm. I see white, I can't breathe, I'm completely wracked by pleasure that obliterates my sense of self.

I let out a gasp, and come down from the initial high peak. Dean continues to move his fingers, and aftershocks hit, causing my tummy to tremble, my knees to give out. I begin to sink, and Dean rises to catch me in his arms. He leans forward and kisses me, and I taste myself on his lips. His kiss is gentle, loving, and held between both men, I feel loved and alive like never before.

There's a sharp crack at the window. The three of us turn to stare, but there's nothing outside but darkness.

"Somebody was there," says Drake, his voice dire.

Dean releases me and steps to the window, staring out into the darkness. "A car's driving away."

I feel mortified. "Was somebody watching?"

Drake's chest rumbles in anger. "Whoever they are, they'd better run."

Dean hesitates, then shakes his head. "They're already turning on Bridge Street. They're gone."

I reach down and pull up my jeans, moving my panties back into place. I feel confused, my warm glow ruined by this sudden shift in mood. Drake wraps his arms around me and holds me tight.

"Don't worry. You're safe with us. And if they dare come back, they'll find themselves tangling with a pack of werewolves."

I lean my head against Drake's arm. I feel secure in his embrace. My body is still tingling from their caresses. Dean steps back, and suddenly we're awkward again, none of us knowing what to say, our flow interrupted.

Drake leans down and kisses my cheek. "How about we go get something to eat? We've got six years to catch up on."

"Yeah," I say, and take a deep breath. Dean's studying my face again, his own expression inscrutable. I reach out and take his hand. "Food sounds good. You coming?"

Dean grins, his expression wry, and a light is burning in his eyes that reminds me of his younger self. A happy, mischievous, delighted expression. "You escaped me once. You're not escaping me again."

"Not even if I have to go to the bathroom?"

Drake laughs, and then Dean steps in and cups my chin. "I might be willing to make certain, very minor exceptions."

I grin up at him. "Lucky me, because -"

But Dean leans in and silences me with a kiss. My wisecrack is immediately forgotten. We kiss deeply, soulfully, and I get a sense that everything is finally aligning perfectly in my world after all.

Chapter 11

I'm furious. Livid. I could spit nails. How dare they? That tramp shows up and one day later they're all over her like I don't exist? I drive savagely up Bridge Street, honking my horn and cutting into the other lane to drive past slow-moving hick assholes. God, I hate this place. It's tiny. There's nothing to do here but go to that pathetic bar outside of town. I slam on the horn again, and I don't let up, blazing raucous sound all up Bridge Street till I turn off onto a side street.

I pull over and slam on the brakes. I need to think. I need to salvage this. But how? I thought I had Dean wrapped around my finger. I've nearly broken him. Just a little more and he'd be mine. But now he's with that Kiera, going down on his knees to lick her like a slut.

I bite my lower lip and my eyes dart left and right.
Calm down. Think. There has to be a way to get Dean back. What can I do?
I force my breath to slow down. I hate feeling panicked. I close my eyes and take a deep breath through my nose. Hold it, lungs full, and then exhale slowly through my mouth. Once. Twice. Three times. When I open my eyes again, I feel back in control.

Kiera needs to go. I don't know how long she was originally planning to stay in town, but now with Drake and Dean following at her heels like puppy dogs, she'll probably stick around. So she needs to be convinced to leave. But how?

A darker thought slides into my mind. If she refuses to go, then maybe she has to die.

I sit with that thought for a moment and examine it from all angles. Kill Kiera. I could run her over. No, too risky. How do people kill each other? I could find some thugs to break into her studio and kill her. But I don't know the right people around here. Back home that wouldn't be a problem. What if I call some friends to come down and help?

Attractive. But there has to be a neater way. I could ask her to go for a walk, to make peace, and then bash a into her head and shove her in the river. No, too risky. Poison? Shoot her through a window?

I take another deep breath. I'm thinking like an amateur. Start from the beginning.

Kiera is the owner of Iron and Roses, a glassblowing company based in New York City. I did my research on her the moment Drake mentioned their shared past a few months ago. Reflexive research, just preparing. Why is she here now? Opening a new studio?

I grab my smart phone and browse to New York's registry of corporations. I search for Iron and Roses, and there it is. I tap on the Fictitious Name entry, and open her file. Registration Number, Status Active, Filed Date, and more. One current owner. Marvin Travis, and an address.

I stop. Marvin Travis? Why not Kiera? I do another web search for Iron and Roses, and find the company website. Then I click on the About Us page, and find Marvin's information. He's listed as the CEO. I scan his profile. Pretty pathetic. He's done nothing of note. So why is he listed as the owner?

On impulse, I dial the listed number. It rings once, twice, and then someone picks up.

"Hello?" The man sounds a little drunk.

"Mr. Travis?" I make my voice as seductive as I can.

"Speaking. Who is this?"

"Hello, Mr. Travis. This is a friend of yours."

"A friend?" There's a pause as he tries to place me. "Susan?"

"No. I'm calling about Kiera."

An instant shift in his tone. "About Kiera? What about her? Who is this?"

"She's shown up here in Honeycomb Falls. Is she no longer the owner of Iron and Roses?"

"What? Who
is
this?"

A hunch, coming from my sense for weakness. "Would the fact that she's opened a new glassblowing studio here in town be of interest to you?"

"She what? A new studio?"

I nod. His tone of sudden concern confirms my suspicions. "Yes. She's very hard at work, making new art."

"The bitch! Could she... she must know." He's talking to himself. "Is she trying for the Harrowgate nomination?"

I have no idea
. "Yes. I believe so."

"The bitch!" He's furious. "Who does she think she is?"

"And it's
very
good," I purr. "Her new art. It's stunning."

Silence. "Who is this?"

"Like I said. A friend. Our interests are identical. You want to stop her from ruining your Harrowgate deal. I want to stop her from ruining something personal. Mr. Travis, I think we should meet." I make my voice as sultry and throaty as I can. "I will make it
very
worth your while."

"I... yes. Maybe we should meet. There's too much at stake. I can't let her... where are you?"

"Honeycomb Falls, in western Massachusetts. It's about a three hour drive from where you are. Can you come up tomorrow night? I have an idea to how we can stop her, once and for all."