Shifters' Storm (17 page)

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Authors: Vonna Harper

BOOK: Shifters' Storm
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Ber’s hand was no longer clamped over Rane’s mouth. Instead, it now sheltered and hid a pale, full breast. Ber had claimed the nipple of her other breast and was drawing it away from her, stretching out the glorious flesh.

“Oh, oh, oh!” Rane moaned. Her lashes fluttered. She seemed to be staring at the ceiling but maybe not.

He could turn her moan into a scream simply by slamming his cock into her. Teach Ber how to truly pleasure their woman.

Instead of crawling onto the bed and turning two bodies into one, however, he lowered his head again. This time, instead of running his tongue deep and strong into her channel, he lightly closed his teeth around her sex lips.

Thrashing about like a wild thing, Rane screamed. Came.

Chapter Fifteen

“That’s good,” Rane told the two men.

It didn’t feel like it to her, but she must have let the cabin get too warm, because Songan had peeled off his coat the moment he stepped inside, and Ber had placed his palms against the window as if trying to cool himself.

“Isn’t it?” she asked when they didn’t respond to her comment. “I mean, if anyone can thoroughly check out an area, it’s you two. I’m glad you didn’t find anything suspicious.”

Songan didn’t so much as acknowledge her. In fact he seemed to be going out of his way to avoid her, not that that was easy given the small space. Ber had turned his back to her almost as soon as he’d closed the door behind him. Studying his so-broad shoulders, she half expected him to become a bear right then and there.

Ber and Songan were tense, no doubt about it. Damn it, if they were keeping something from her— “Are you hungry?” she came up with.

“No.”

Jolted by Ber’s short response, she got out of the musty-smelling chair she’d been perched in. She’d intended to walk over to him and shake him if that’s what it took to get his attention, but before she could take a step, he swung toward her.

Those eyes! Those huge, dark, expressive eyes. Speaking of arousal. Need. Determination. Strength.

Limp-muscled, she looked over at Songan. His expression mirrored the bear shifter’s.

“What’s this?” she managed. Damn her nerves! She could barely think. “What did the two of you talk about when you were out there?”

“Nothing.”

“Not a word.”

Maybe, but there was more than one way of communicating, especially between animals, which at their core they were. Had they sensed what the other was thinking? Maybe the same thought had struck each of them.

As for what was on their minds—she’d have to be dead and buried not to know the answer. The same thing that had dominated her thoughts while she was alone.

“Going to where Jacki’s body was found will have to until tomorrow,” Ber firmly told her.

“It’s going to be dark soon,” Songan added. “Not enough time for what you need to do.”

Maybe. Probably. She licked her lips. “What about the storm?”

Sober-faced but with his eyes now flashing, Ber positioned himself in front of the door. “There’s more than one kind of storm, Rane. And something I’ve needed to do since I first saw you.”

Oh shit! Her nerves sparked like exposed electrical wire, and her sex muscles clenched. She felt dizzy and alive.

She swallowed. Swallowed again. “I don’t want to hear it.”

“Yes, you do.”

He was right, damn him, so right. “I had a dream,” she admitted. “About you. Us.” She started to wrap her arms around her waist but cupped her hands over her sex instead.

“In your dream,” Ber said, “I took you. Claimed you.”

“Yes.”

“With rope,” Songan added. “White against your flesh. Holding you down.”

“How—”

“I
saw
it,” Songan explained. “Saw myself sharing in the act. Made it what I needed.”

“What is it you need?” Ber asked.

Songan nodded at the bed. “Her. On it. Naked. Wanting us. Us claiming her.”

“Stop it!” she blurted. Ber was between her and the door. No way could she escape, even if she wanted to. But this was too much. Too everything. “I didn’t come up here to fuck you two. That’s not why—I don’t want—”

“Yes, you do.”

She didn’t know which man had spoken—maybe both. Maybe the words had taken place in her mind, her body. The fire snapped and breathed. Outside the growing storm flexed its muscles.

Inside—hell, inside her world was falling apart.

Maybe coming together.

“What do you want me to say?” She shouldn’t have put her hands where they were, but it was too late, and she was feeding off the heat radiating from her.

“Nothing,” Songan told her. “Just do.”

Do.
Act. Take the first step. Neither man had so much as hinted at it, yet she knew they’d back off if she declared she didn’t want sex. Despite talk of rope and restraints, they wouldn’t force her. Despite the crazy size difference, she was in control.

Of everything except her body.

Hands shaking so she could barely make her fingers work, she tackled the top button on her flannel shirt. She’d always felt sexless when she wore the thick garment, but not this afternoon. Not with two pairs of hungry male eyes watching her every move.

Neither Songan or Ber were true predators. In bear form, Ber was capable of killing and undoubtedly had, but he wasn’t a cougar or wolf. If he needed to be one, a bull elk could be a formidable opponent, but he didn’t initiate attack, unless—

“A question,” she said when she found her voice. “You both—you’re both willing to—you’re talking about the three of us?”

Ber’s gaze settled on her exposed throat. “Same as you are.”

Oh God. God.
“What about you?” she asked Songan.

“I’m as much elk as I am human. Maybe more. During rut, I sometimes cover a cow another bull got to first. Or take the same cow repeatedly.”

That wasn’t exactly the answer she’d been looking for but probably was as honest and introspective as Songan could be. If there was such a thing as life after death or awareness after death, her mother might know what was about to happen.

You don’t want me to die with you, I know you don’t.

Every atom of her being aware, Rane waited for a response from the woman who’d given her life, but none came. Fighting tears, she again focused on the men. Just looking at them returned her to the here and now.

Feeling reborn, she went back to tackling her buttons. She could ask the men to handle the monumental task, but that would mean choosing one over the other. It was easier, relatively, to complete her chore and toss the garment at the chair she’d been sitting in. Watching the flannel settle, she tried to recall what she’d been thinking just before the door opened.

She’d been listening to the forest sounds, of course, trying not to imagine anything bad happening to her companions, her thoughts split between Songan and Ber.

Two men. Two shifters. Hers for the taking.

Or was it she who was for the taking?

Overwhelmed by the complex question, she bent over and untied her boots. Her breasts spilled over the top of her bra, and her nipples ached.

Straightening, she lifted one leg and then the other so she could take off her boots. She didn’t consider the task erotic—hell, she barely thought about what she was doing—until she caught the men’s expressions. If seeing her socks turned them on so much, what would happen when she was no longer wearing anything?

Ber started toward her. “I want—”

“No.” She held up her hand as if that could stop him. “I know what you want, but I need to do this.” She didn’t add that undressing on her own was her way of reminding herself that she was up for this.

Up for this. No, that term described the men, specifically the erections straining against their jeans.

Damn it! She’d turned them on! Okay, so she’d known how little it took to arouse Songan, but now the proof was in duplicate. Ber was the unknown, the wild card. When push came to shove, would he fight to keep her to himself? Stop Songan?

She unsnapped and unzipped her jeans before gathering the courage to face Ber. “I have to know what you’re thinking. How much of the bear is beneath the surface? If it’s about to break loose—”

“I’ll keep it caged.”

Caged. Tied up. Was there any difference?

She nodded at Songan. “What about you?”

“This thing with the three of us is
going to happen, Rane. Live in the moment.”

Songan, who was far from the most philosophical man, had just said what she needed to hear. In the moment. Now. All of them wanting sex.

It was still light outside, but the small window didn’t let in much light, and she hadn’t bothered with lighting the oil lantern or looking for candles. As a result, everything seemed muted. All except for her emotions and anticipation.

Still not quite believing what she was doing, she guided her jeans down over her hips and stepped out of them. The side seams had left impressions on the outsides of her thighs. Fascinated by the indentations, she slid her fingers down and then up.

The men watched in the single-minded way of hungry animals. Ber started massaging his erection, followed seconds later by Songan. They didn’t seem to be aware of each other. Did either know the rules and rituals of threesomes? Did she? They’d experiment, try one thing and then the other until something worked.

Imagining how body parts might mesh confused her, so she quit. Besides, she wasn’t naked yet. Hadn’t done her part.

“What about you?” she asked with her hands behind her and reaching for the bra fastening. “I don’t want to be the only one doing this.”

“You first,” Ber said. “Us watching.”

Of course. Why hadn’t she thought of it?

Even more weary of thinking than she’d been moments ago, she unhooked her bra. Let her arms drop to her sides. Her bra, still held up by the shoulder straps, hung off her, and her breasts drooped. She’d just turned twelve when her mother told her she needed to start wearing a bra, but she’d resisted. Bras meant growing up, and she wanted to remain a child, a free, forest-exploring child.

Finally, wanting to be done with the whole damn thing, she pushed the straps off her shoulders and let the garment fall. Practical woman that she was, she bought underpants that rode just below her navel and covered her buttocks. Mostly white.

Who the hell cared? Who the hell wanted the damn thing?

By the time the last deed was done, she felt as if she’d climbed a mountain.

“Next,” she prompted.

Ber, damn him, still felt no need of a winter coat. She might have resented his disregard of cold if not for how his shirt clung to him. Probably static electricity was responsible, she concluded, although maybe the cotton couldn’t get enough of him.

Watching her watching him, he discarded his denim jacket. Pulling his shirt out of his waistband, he hauled it up and over him. His hair stood up in places, while other strands caressed his forehead and cheeks. Between that and his stubble, he looked barely human. Dragging her gaze lower, she took in the curling, equally dark mat over his chest and funneling down into his low-slung jeans.

The man’s belly button was exposed. Also the outline of his hip bones.

Ber came from Alaska, so what was he doing with what appeared to be an all-over tan? His coloring wasn’t the result of sunlight or a tanning salon. Nature had done this to him, made him perfect in yet another way.

His shoulders, ah his damnable solid shoulders, were lightly hair-dusted to give off an air that practically shouted masculine. He was the opposite of a modern and well-manicured man. Civilization barely had a hold on him.

“Go on, please.” She was out of breath and close to exploding.

Jeans. Simple things. The uniform of nearly every man she’d ever known. Nothing new. Nothing erotic.

Yeah, right, especially when the owner of said jeans had just unfastened and unzipped, allowing his erection to press through the opening. Instead of finishing the chore, he turned his attention and fingers to his boots. His socks, she noted, were white. Then he slipped them off, and she studied his broad feet and long, sturdy toes. If need be, he could walk or even run barefoot.

White briefs. Elastic kissing his belly and gripping his buttocks. Barely containing his cock.

“Do it. Please.”

Despite her plea, he took half of forever getting rid of his jeans. Still moving achingly slow, he pulled his briefs over and then under his cock. Like Songan, he hadn’t been circumcised.

Stepping out of his final garment, Ber jerked his head at Songan. “Now you.”

She’d seen Songan naked before, nothing new there. Except either her memory had deserted her or her short-circuiting brain and body kept her in the moment. Like Ber, Songan did a decent striptease. There was no wasted movement, no taunting her with his form, and yet her breasts expanded and her pussy oozed. She didn’t now and couldn’t imagine ever comparing cock size. Both were perfect.

For her. Today at least.

Stay human. Please.

Killing the space between them, Ber placed his hand under her chin and lifted her head. “Do you have any idea how far I traveled to find you? How long I searched?”

His heat, his awesome heat, flowed through her. “You were in the Chinook before I returned, weren’t you? I wouldn’t be here if Mom—”

“Don’t go there.” Bending a little, he covered her mouth with his. He smelled of wind and wilderness, and she became instantly drunk. Whimpering under her breath, she started to wrap her arms around him. Grabbing her wrists, he worked her arms behind her back. Still kissing and being kissed, she arched her back so she could keep her balance. His cock touched her, possessed.

There might not be any rope today, but he’d still captured her and now held her where he wanted her. Drunk on the thought, she parted her lips. His tongue dove into the space she’d created. A shadow to her right and slightly behind distracted her. She was still trying to make sense of it when Songan lightly slipped his hands around her throat.

“I can feel your pulse.” He pressed a little. “Is your heart racing?”

Before she could tell him yes, Ber kissed her again. Thrilled by the touch of mouth against mouth, she closed her eyes. Songan’s body heat claimed her spine, buttocks and legs. Ber’s body was like fire against her breasts and belly. Opening her mouth even more, she went in search of everything the bear shifter chose to give her. Their tongues danced, first one and then the other invading, exploring, igniting. If Ber wanted her all to himself, he gave no indication, and if Songan resented the newcomer, he kept that to himself.

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