Fighting for Wolves (Shifter Country Wolves Book 3) (13 page)

You’ll be fine,
she thought to herself.
I think your pussy could double for Niagara Falls, right now
.

Behind her, Isaac’s weight dented the bed, and he unzipped her dress, pulling it over her head without missing a beat. He removed her bra the same way and took her generous breasts in his hands as he pressed himself against her back, his gym shorts long gone.

Grey couldn’t help it any longer. She leaned forward and licked the head of Dane’s cock, right in front of her face, and was rewarded with a growl from above. Then she took the head in her mouth, sucking and swirling her tongue around it, moving her lips down the shaft until he hit the back of her throat, before moving back.

She did it once more, and then he stepped away, kicking his pants and boxers.

“I think I’m supposed to be making
you
cum,” he growled, his dark eyes looking down at her, full of lust.

Without missing a beat, Isaac grabbed her by the waist and lifted her off the bed until she was kneeling on it, legs spread, near the edge.

“I’m gonna fall off,” she said, her voice hushed.

“Nah, I got you,” Isaac said in her ear, slipping one thick, muscled arm around her waist. Then he kissed her neck, his length rubbing against her lower back.

Without thinking, she reached back and took it in her hand, and arched her back, guiding him toward her entrance.

In front of her, next to the bed, Dane was on his knees, his face right by Grey’s hips, but she didn’t think about it. As Isaac slid into her, filling her and lighting every nerve ending. She couldn’t think about
anything
.

“You feel so good,” he whispered into her ear.

She could only moan in response.

Then Grey felt something else on her, and looked down to realize that Dane’s head was between her legs, his tongue dancing around her clit until, at last, he flattened it against the sensitive nub, making Grey gasp.

“Fuck yes,” she whispered.

She squeezed her eyes closed, unable to think about anything besides Isaac inside her and Dane licking at her steadily, each stroke of his tongue driving her closer and closer to the brink.

Just as she got there, Isaac slowed down suddenly and bit her shoulder, making her gasp and open her eyes, his arms still tight around her waist, holding her on the bed. His cock just barely moved inside of her, but the friction was suddenly intense, the pleasure nearly unbearable.

Dane’s tongue moved harder and faster in firm strokes over her clit, and before she knew it, Grey was coming again, the only sounds from her a frantic moaning and screaming. Her orgasm rocked her back and forth, shattering her completely as she melted against Isaac, still holding her up.

“Fuck,” she whispered. “Holy shit, that was amazing.”

Isaac thrust for another second, then withdrew, pulling Grey backward onto the bed in front of him.

He’s still hard,
she realized, half-dazed.

“There’s more?” she asked, feeling almost dreamy.

“If you’re up for it,” Isaac said, kissing her deeply.

“Well, you do owe me,” she said. Her entire body warm with the afterglow, and she felt perfectly nestled in their bed.

Apparently Isaac had been serious about the number of orgasms she was going to get. Not that she minded.

Dane stood and grabbed her ankle, pulling her flush with the edge of the bed.
 
He put her captive ankle on his shoulder, leaning over her, taking one pebbled, pink nipple between his fingers.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispered.

Grey couldn't think of a single word, her mind a swirl of lust and desire. Instead she sat up, leaning back on one hand, taking his cock in the other. She bit her lip, feeling its thickness and imagining it inside her, her body responding by getting even wetter.

“I want to make you cum until you can’t move,” he whispered, his hand still pinching her nipple.

“Don’t get fancy,” Grey said, looking up at him, feeling that liquid heat move lower again. “Just fuck me.”

Then Dane’s cock was there, at her entrance, and then he was sliding inside her with an intensity and fervor she’d never felt before. He hoisted both her knees over her shoulders and held her thighs against his torso, pushing himself impossibly deep into her, tearing a primal moan from her throat.

As he thrust into her, again and again, Isaac moved on the bed, first kissing her and then licking and sucking both of her nipples, his rock-hard cock bobbing in front of him. At last he leaned into Dane and kissed his mate hard, with Dane buried deep inside Grey.

Heat blossomed through her, and Grey could tell that she was perilously close to the edge. As they kissed, she saw Isaac slide his hand down Dane’s back, and then suddenly, Dane grunted and his cock inside Grey hardened even more.

Isaac chuckled and bit his neck, and Dane gasped again, a gasp that turned rapidly into a growl.

“You ready?” Isaac murmured.

Dane just nodded, and Isaac stepped off the bed, pushing Dane’s torso forward. The movement made Grey cry out as a spark of pleasure hummed the length of her body, and over Dane’s shoulder she saw Isaac’s face as he guided his cock, shiny with something, into his mate, a mask of desire and concentration.

“Oh, fuck,” Dane murmured into Grey’s shoulder. He took a deep breath, then exhaled. “Fuck, Isaac, I —
ohhhh,
” he said, the sentence just ending with a moan. Isaac took Dane’s hips in his hands and slid the rest of the way in with a growl. Grey watched Dane’s eyes roll back into his head with pleasure.

Isaac started off slow, obviously trying to go easy on his mate, but before long he was thrusting faster and faster, holding onto one of Dane’s shoulders.
 

Every time that Isaac fucked Dane, Grey could feel it too, an extra thrust like an echo, like both of them were fucking her at the same time.

“I’m not gonna last very long,” he said to Grey, half-apologetically, his hands tight around her shoulders.

Grey could only dig her hands into his sides as a response as he hit her pleasure centers over and over and over again, driving her into the stratosphere.

“Oh!” Grey said, and then sparks exploded in front of her eyes one more time and she arched her back, feeling her body take over, her hands tight on the bed sheets, her toes curling in the air behind Dane’s shoulders.

Wave after wave of pleasure wracked her body, flowing upward and spreading out through her torso and limbs, until she was utterly speechless and soundless.

Moments later, Dane buried his face in her collarbone and
growled
, a sound of pure pleasure and need and satisfaction, all rolled into one. Over Dane’s shoulder, Grey saw Isaac as he thrust into his mate, his eyes rolling back.

Grey gasped for air, totally spent. Dane and Isaac pulled out and flopped on the bed, one on either side of her, and for a long time, none of them said anything. Grey wasn’t even sure she could move.

At last, Isaac sat up, and she saw that his wound had stopped bleeding. She wondered if there was blood on her back, or on the sheets, but finding out would require her to move, and she didn’t think she
could
.

“I’ve had a day,” Isaac said. “I’m going to bed. You’re all welcome to join me.”

For a split second, Grey wondered if she should go back home. Was it okay to stay the night with a mated pair, or should she leave?

Then she looked from Isaac to Dane and made up her mind.

There was nowhere else she wanted to be.

Chapter Fourteen

Dane

Afterwards, even though Dane felt like he might never be able to move again, he couldn’t fall asleep. He just laid there, listening to Isaac’s familiar, steady breathing, and Grey’s light snores, his nose buried in her hair, his body pressed into the perfect contours of hers.

There was nowhere he’d rather be, nowhere he could possibly be more relaxed and comfortable.

And yet.

Every time he closed his eyes, he thought of Shovel, sleeping in the Rustvale jail.

I shouldn’t have gone to Isaac’s
match
, he thought guiltily.
I shouldn’t have left a man in jail just because I really wanted to see him
.

In his sleep, Isaac grunted and rolled over a little, his brown hair spreading across his face. Dane couldn’t help but half-smile.

I don’t regret it though,
he thought. With his luck, Ramirez would find out that his “family emergency” had really been watching Isaac’s match, and he’d probably get reamed out, but he wouldn’t get fired.

Dane rolled over to lay on his back, sliding his skin against Grey’s warm, supple body. He was pretty sure that he was beyond sleep that night, so he stared at the ceiling and tried to think of where Shovel had screwed up.
 

Okay, think about this methodically
, Dane told himself.
Nicky leaves the poker room. Thirty seconds later, Shovel leaves. He stabs him a bunch of times in a dark alleyway, and he gets lucky that there are no cars and no pedestrians at that moment.

Then he walks out of there and takes all the evidence with him: the knife he used, the clothes that have Nicky’s blood all over them. But we canvassed that whole area and no one saw someone covered in blood, and we didn’t find his clothes, either.

Did he sneak home somehow? Did he get a ride with someone, from an accomplice? Does anyone even like Shovel well enough to help him with a murder?

Dane took a deep breath and looked at the clock by the window. It was 2:30 in the morning, his brain was still racing, his mates were asleep in a warm, cozy pile next to him in the bed.

He sighed and heaved his feet over the side of his bed to get up. Grey and Isaac stirred, then sank deeper into their pile of blankets.

They earned it,
Dane thought, grinning into the dark. He found his flannel pajama pants and padded downstairs in the dark. He flipped the kitchen lights on and sat at the counter, with a glass of water.

Okay,
he thought.
You’re a not-that-bright guy, but a criminal, willing to kill some poor, dumb kid because you think he’s intruding on your territory. You’re drunk, you’ve just stabbed him, and you’re covered in blood.

What do you, Dane Sorenson, do next? How do you get out of there with no one the wiser?

He took a long drink of water, staring at the clock on the wall of the kitchen.

I’d shift
, he thought.

He paused, the glass of water halfway to his mouth.

“Shit,” he said out loud, softly.

Dane felt like a moron for not thinking of it earlier. Of course Ramirez hadn’t thought of it, being human, but Dane was a shifter.
 

Shifters shift
, he thought, lowering the glass back to the counter, squeezing his temples, his mind running a thousand miles a minute.

Okay. He shifts and then runs out of there, sticking to the shadows and nobody really takes note of it because Rustvale is a shifter town and there are wolves everywhere.

And when we were canvassing, we didn’t ask anyone if they’d seen a wolf with pants in its mouth.

Dane got up, putting his glass in the sink, and walked upstairs as quietly as he could. His phone was still in his pants pocket, and he eased open the bedroom door and tiptoed in, grabbed it, and tiptoed back out.

Standing in the hallway, he quickly searched for which day trash collection was on Main Street.

Saturday, starting at 5 a.m.

According to his phone, it was nearly 3 a.m.

“Shit,” Dane muttered again, then went back into the room. In the dark, he put his pants back on, then used the screen of his phone to light his way to a halfway respectable looking shirt and socks. On the way out the door, he grabbed his flashlight from the closet.

As he passed the backseat of his car, he saw a scrap of pink fabric in the back seat. He frowned.

Then it dawned on him.

Quickly, he grabbed Grey’s underwear and threw it in the outdoor trash bin.

At 3:30 in the morning, the intersection of Main and First was dead quiet and dark, lit only by sodium-vapor street lights, their orange glow casting shadows in every direction.

Dane knew that he was there on a slim chance. Since Shovel had, despite being a dumb idiot, otherwise executed a flawless murder, there was always the possibility that he’d undressed and
then
shifted, grabbed all his clothes in his mouth, and gone to his house where he’d probably burned them.

But Shovel was a dumb idiot, and he’d been drunk to boot.

Dane didn’t think he’d undressed first. He thought that he’d probably just shifted, tearing his clothes apart at the seams. That kind of thing tended to leave scraps everywhere, tiny little pieces that were hard to find, especially if you were drunk, panicking, and in a hurry.

Dane switched on the high-wattage flashlight, put on a pair of latex gloves, and started methodically going through everything that had collected in the gutters at the side of the road.

It sucked.

Cold seeped through his pants as he searched on his hands and knees, going through the sticks and leaves that had fallen into the road. It wasn’t all twigs; Dane sifted through fast food wrappers, scraps of paper he couldn’t identify, clumps of dirt, and even one dirty diaper. Worse, it was slow-going: he had to hold the flashlight with one hand, so he could only root through the trash with one hand.

For an hour, he didn’t see anyone. He made it up and down the block, nearly a third of the way done with the search area. The knees of his pants were scuffed and disgusting — he hadn’t really thought through what he’d be doing when he’d gotten dressed, so now he was going to have to buy new slacks.

Isaac owes me
, he thought.
Maybe he should buy me new pants with that prize money
.

Thirty more minutes passed, then forty-five. One car passed by Dane, still hunched over in the street, then two.

In the distance, he heard the street sweeper.

This was a dumb idea,
he thought.
It’s been two days, I’ll never find a scrap of bloody t-shirt
.