Prickly By Nature (15 page)

Avery leaned close to his mate to be heard above the orchestra his father had hired. It was the sort of music people waltzed to—no vulgar DJ or rock band for Leon Babineaux’s eldest son—and Avery hated the ostentation of it all. And though he would’ve liked to deny it, it hurt to see his father clapping Wyn on the back, beaming with pride, and his mother’s gracious smile, when neither of them had acknowledged or congratulated him on his mating to Dylan. His mother might’ve defended him to his father in the past, but apparently having a werewolf for a son-in-law was more than she could tolerate. She’d barely glanced at Avery since they arrived, and she hadn’t spared him a single word.

“Let’s go. Right now.” The reception would continue for hours, but Avery felt he’d more than lived up to his promise to Wyn.

Dylan gave him a searching look and nodded. They said their good-byes to Miss Georgie and made plans to meet for breakfast the next morning. Then Dylan pulled Avery out of his seat, laced their fingers together, and led him across the lawn to the designated parking area. Avery tried not to notice the judgmental sneers and whispers about his audacity to be there hand in hand with a wolf, what an insult it was to his esteemed parents. These people were terrible. Their opinions didn’t matter—but that didn’t mean he wanted to be subjected to another second of their bullshit.

Dylan drove, and when they finally left the Mandeville city limits, Avery took his first deep breath of the night. “God, that was awful. I’m sorry I put you through it.”

Dylan reached over to squeeze his hand. “It’s not your fault. Don’t apologize. I’m the one who insisted we come here in the first place. I thought it might be a good time to make amends, but I guess I didn’t realize…. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. We supported your brother, and we don’t ever have to come back unless you want to.”

Avery leaned against the seat and let his eyes fall shut. “Never again.”

He must’ve dozed then, because the next thing he knew, Dylan was shaking his shoulder and they were in the parking lot of their hotel.

“Come on, Av. You can sleep inside.”

Avery mumbled something not even he understood. Sleepy and disoriented, he trailed Dylan into the hotel to the elevator. Once inside, Dylan pressed the button for their floor and met Avery’s eyes. “It feels good to be out of there.”

Avery nodded. It felt amazing to be away from the crushing oppressiveness of the plantation house and his family’s censure. His entire body seemed lighter, buoyant—and he noticed something else too. Dylan looked damned fine in his suit.

During the day, Avery hadn’t been able to appreciate it fully. How could he with all the tension and stress? Now he appraised Dylan from his broad shoulders under the well-cut suit jacket down to the tips of his leather dress boots. (Avery hadn’t been able to talk him into a pair of Oxfords or monk strap shoes.)

Dylan was a head-turner even in his usual jeans and T-shirts. His bold features, square jaw, and lush mouth drew attention from both men and women alike. Not to mention his body, which was drool-worthy, if Avery did say so himself. But in a suit, his mate was… kind of devastating. Avery wanted to slap himself for being distracted and allowing Dylan’s hotness to go unappreciated.

Arousal rushed through him, sudden and sharp. The scent of it filled the small space. Dylan had been returning his appraisal with a half-lidded stare, and in a heartbeat, Dylan closed the distance between them and slammed their mouths together. There was nothing tentative about the kiss—his tongue demanded entrance and swept inside, dominating Avery, weakening his knees.

Desire burst to life in Avery’s belly, sweeping downward to his groin, stiffening his cock. He moaned and flung his arms around Dylan’s neck, desperate for Dylan’s strength, his heat, the familiar taste he’d come to crave since their first shared kiss.

He whined when the elevator dinged and Dylan pulled away. He tried to cling to Dylan, wanting to be fucked right then and there, uncaring about security cameras or anyone who might be waiting in the hall.

Dylan laughed and gently pushed him back. “Come on, brat.” He exited the elevator and turned right. Avery followed like Dylan had a leash around his neck, his lust building to a frenzy as the hallway seemed to span for miles. It took forever to reach their room. Another lifetime passed as he waited for Dylan to unlock the door. In the seconds before the little light flashed green, Avery’s need was so great he practically vibrated.

The moment they stepped into the room, he pounced. He couldn’t even explain what came over him. All he saw, heard, and felt was raw, blatant greed. He’d become a slave to his baser instincts, to the visceral throb of hunger and the fevered yearning for his mate, for the physical comfort Dylan could offer.

Dylan stumbled and his back hit the wall. Avery pretty much climbed him, desperate to get at his mouth again. Dylan’s hands cupped his ass, and Avery groaned when he dragged him close so their groins pressed together. Dylan took charge of the kiss, trying to ease it, slow it down, but Avery couldn’t handle slow. He didn’t want gentle. He wanted fast and hard, and he wanted it
now
.

Avery shoved Dylan’s jacket from his shoulders before shrugging out of his own and letting it fall to the floor. He didn’t care that it was one of his few remaining good suits. He wasn’t worried about big-name designers or perfect tailoring. Right then, he felt he might die if he didn’t get to Dylan’s naked skin and the thick, uncut cock that lay under his fly. He was starving for it—in his mouth, in his hands, in his ass. It didn’t matter where. Molten lava flowed in his bloodstream, sparking every cell in his body to life, and Dylan was the only one who could extinguish the fire.

Avery loosened his tie enough to draw it over his head. He dropped it without caring where it landed and divested Dylan of his with trembling fingers, grateful that neither one of them had opted for vests. Dylan was working on undoing his shirt, but Avery groaned, too impatient to wait for something as trivial as buttons. “Tear it off me,” he ordered, panting.

Dylan arched a brow at him for a fraction of a second. At Avery’s impatient nod, he tore the silk shirt like tissue paper. Avery’s undershirt met the same fate, and he moaned, his nipples pebbling when cool air hit his bare chest.

“Yeah,” he breathed when Dylan’s teeth clamped around one tight bud. “The rest of it too. I don’t care.”

Dylan took him at his word. He ripped Avery’s pants open without any consideration for the zipper or the hook and bar closure. In seconds, Avery was stripped naked, his briefs a torn scrap on the floor, his shoes tossed somewhere toward the bed. Dylan gave his own shirt the same treatment and pinned Avery to the wall, still dressed from the waist down.

Writhing together, they kissed until Avery felt drunk on lust and the musk of their combined desire, his lips bruised and swollen. He undid Dylan’s fly and drew his cock out, giving it a quick stroke before he turned to present Dylan with his ass. “Fuck me.”

Dylan lined his dick up with Avery’s crease and rubbed against him, grunting softly. “Lube.”

Avery shook his head and arched, pushing his hips back, loving the silky-hard feel of Dylan’s cock as Dylan ground into his crack. He looked at Dylan over his shoulder. “Forget the lube. Use spit. I can take it.” If Dylan made him wait another second, he’d scream.

Behind him, Dylan dropped to his knees. Strong hands grasped his asscheeks and pulled them apart, and then Dylan’s mouth was on his hole. He didn’t waste time with finesse. He pressed a finger in and tongued the skin, drenching it, pushing in saliva to ease his way.

In a few moments, Dylan stood. Avery pressed his forehead to the wall as Dylan’s damp cockhead touched his hole. There was an instant of hesitation, when Dylan must’ve applied some spit to his cock, and then the tip slid in.

Avery gasped at the burn, and his muscles clenched, trying to reject the intrusion. He forced himself to relax and bore back onto Dylan’s cock, sighing in relief when Dylan’s pelvis met his ass and he was buried balls-deep.

The first thrust was brutal enough to hurt and rocked him up onto his toes. The second made him cry out and scrabble for purchase against the wall. Usually Dylan warmed him up with a few slow strokes before truly drilling into him, but whatever urgency had been propelling Avery since the elevator had apparently seeped into his mate. His fingers dug into Avery’s hips, holding Avery in place as he plowed into him. There’d be bruises later, but Avery didn’t care. He wanted the soreness in his body, the ache in his ass.

He gloried in the rough treatment, tightening his muscles to offer Dylan more friction and pressure. Dylan growled and thrust a few more times. Then he stopped and withdrew. Before Avery could protest, Dylan spun him around and hoisted him up. Avery clung as Dylan carried him over to the desk. The chair got shoved aside as Dylan set him on the edge. Avery leaned back, knocking over the lamp and sending it crashing to the floor.

Without preamble, Dylan pushed into him again, making Avery hiss. “This what you want, brat? Want me to fuck you like I rented you for the night?” He hooked Avery’s knees over his arms and slammed in hard.

Avery groaned and forced himself to nod, too far gone to speak. His sweaty back slid on the cool wood of the table as Dylan rode him without mercy. He seemed focused on his own pleasure, not even jacking Avery off to the rhythm of his hips like he normally would. Avery accepted the rough use, relished every second as Dylan’s thick cock split him open. This was what he’d wanted—to be taken, to surrender. His own orgasm meant next to nothing with how desperate he felt to see his mate come.

Dylan’s features twisted into an anguished expression, and with one last deep thrust, he threw his head back and came. Avery whimpered as Dylan’s knot swelled and heat rushed into him. His legs were still hooked over Dylan’s arms, but he didn’t protest or reach for his own dick. He trusted Dylan to see to him when he was done.

Dylan gathered him up and stumbled the few steps that took them to the bed. He sat on the side and fell backward onto the mattress with their bodies still connected. Avery moaned at the sensation of the knot stretching his tender hole. His dick was so hard it looked nearly purple. Precum dripped liberally from the head onto Dylan’s stomach.

“Grind on it,” Dylan said, wrapping a big hand around Avery’s cock. “Get off on my knot.”

“Oh fuck.” Avery braced himself on Dylan’s chest and began to rock. He couldn’t really ride Dylan like this—they were tied together, and the knot might tear him if he tried to pull free—but the tiny motions were more than enough to get him where he needed to be. Like a thick plug, the knot rubbed deliciously against his prostate with every swivel of his pelvis. Dylan had told him before that after coming, he was too sensitive to derive any real pleasure from this, and it aroused Avery even more to know his mate would allow it anyway. Because Dylan knew how much
he
loved it.

Between the fullness of the knot and Dylan’s firm strokes on his cock, Avery didn’t last long. He came mere seconds later, spilling wet and slippery onto Dylan’s abdomen with a loud broken cry their neighbors must’ve heard.

Avery collapsed onto his mate, totally wrecked. Air sawed in and out of his lungs as he tried to catch his breath.

Dylan caressed his back, the touch oddly gentle after the violence of their joining. “Better?”

Avery nodded, keeping his face in the warm, damp curve where Dylan’s neck met his shoulder.

“Good.” Dylan sighed, Avery moving with his chest as he exhaled. “Fuck. That was… crazy.”

Avery laughed softly. Crazy, maybe. But exactly what he needed.

ONCE THE
knot waned, Dylan eased their bodies apart and finally finished undressing. He carried Avery into the shower and they spent a long time under the hot spray, soaping each other’s bodies, massaging aches from muscles still tense from the strain of the day.

Afterward they nestled naked under the blankets. Avery toyed with the sparse hair on Dylan’s chest. “It’s funny to think I ever thought of my parents’ place as ‘home.’ It never was, outside of the strictest sense of the word, you know? It didn’t feel homey, like your place.”

Dylan grabbed his hand and threaded their fingers together. “Like
our
place.”

Avery tipped his head back to smile at him. “It doesn’t matter what my father or any of them said. It’s not wrong for us to be together.”

Dylan returned the smile. “I don’t care about a bunch of judgmental pricks, Av. They mean nothing. They can’t touch us or what we have.”

“You’re right.” Avery rested his head on Dylan’s pec. Dylan smelled of the cheap soap the hotel had provided, but his familiar spice lingered underneath. Avery nuzzled his nose against the lightly furred skin, drawing the scent into his lungs. “And my father might bluster about my trust fund, but he can’t take it away, and I think that pisses him off almost as much as seeing me with you.”

Dylan snorted. “I think everything pisses him off. Your father doesn’t seem like a happy man.”

“He really isn’t,” Avery said, humming softly when Dylan stroked his hair. “I learned the lesson that money doesn’t guarantee anything. Sure, it can ease the way, but even when he was sending me my allowance and I could buy whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted, I was never happy the way I am just being with you.”

“Some things are more valuable than money. Hopefully your father will figure that out one day.”

“Hmm. Maybe.” But Avery didn’t care to think about his father anymore. He closed his eyes, drifting toward sleep as he listened to Dylan’s heartbeat. The last thing he felt was Dylan’s lips against his brow… and the last thing he heard were three words that made him grin even as the sandman pulled him under.

THE FLIGHT
back to Portland seemed longer than it had been a few days ago and Dylan knew Avery was past ready to set up his meeting with waiter boy.
Joel
, Dylan thought Avery had said the guy’s name was. It had taken a blow job and the promise of a full body massage to lure Avery into bed once they’d walked in the door. Dylan wasn’t above playing dirty, especially when Avery needed the rest. Their trip, for the most part, had been a success. Avery’s family on the other hand had been… stressful. The evening before their departure—perfect.