Untamed (Two Marks 0.50)

Gib leaned forward, set his forearms on the edge of the stage and held a twenty between his fingers. She caught sight of it and crawled our way.

I growled, and thankfully, the music covered it. She arched her back with the skill of a stripper who knew how to flaunt her assets, making those tits thrust out, her nipples plump and ready to be sucked.

She stopped right in front of Gibson and gave him a sly smile. He leaned in, careful not to touch her, and breathed. I heard his wolf growl, and she must have too because she went still, her eyes widening, nostrils flaring and picking up our scent. Yeah, she knew we were shifters and might even have an idea of why we were here.

But then, she slid into motion again, pushing out a hip for Gib to tuck the bill into the waistband of her skirt. I moved close enough to do the same on her other side, so we formed a triangle—her up on the raised stage and us sitting before her.

Oh, we’d put our mate up on a pedestal, probably naked, and once we hauled her out of here—preferably over my shoulder—we would be the only ones to see her bare from now on.

The song came to an end, and the music cut off.

“We want you between us,” I said in the lull between dances. “In the VIP room.”

Her cinnamon-colored eyes raked over us, a smirk curving at her lips. Her gaze, which had held false pleasure, now held real attraction. The glint of her she-wolf in the glow of her eyes.

“Both of you like schoolgirls?” Her voice was like caramel syrup, and my dick punched against the zipper of my jeans. She grabbed the cowboy hat from my head and set it on top of hers.

“Only the bad ones,” I answered.

“And you’ve definitely been a bad girl,” Gib said.

She smirked and twirled a lock of hair around her finger in mock-innocence. “Are you going to spank me?”

“Count on it, kitten,” I growled.

2

SHELBY

Oh fates.

They were shifters, and they were gorgeous. Six feet plus of bearded cowboy goodness—times two.

Usually when I caught the scent of a wolf, I hid in the back until he left. Roscoe, the owner, was used to that sort of thing. Every dancer here had someone she didn’t want finding out how she paid the bills. I didn’t need word getting back to my pack about how I earned money. The guys would get all protective even though I could more than take care of myself. Human males were not a threat to a shifter.

These guys? I picked up their deep spice scent before they even sat down and adjusted my routine to crawl toward them. Yeah, a single scent that they seemed to share. I’d never known shifters with that before.

I’d never laid eyes on them in my life. I definitely would have remembered. I didn’t know who they were. And strangely, I wanted to.

My inner she-wolf had me sticking out my breasts and practically preening for them. I never got wet on stage, even though I had tons of guys practically getting off on looking at me. But these two?

I worried there was a wet spot on my g-string, and everyone would know.

It had started with their scent, but it was also their looks that made me hot. Both had beards and dark hair, one with threads of gray in it. One appeared at least fifteen years older than I. The other I pegged to be mid-to-late-thirties. Yes, I had a thing for older, powerful males. They wore jeans and snug long-sleeved shirts. They weren’t local because I’d have met them. Cooper Valley and the shifter world was that small. But they screamed cowboy, screamed small town, nonetheless. If I had to guess their profession, I’d say lumberjack based on their beards. Or maybe they were rodeo champs like Boyd Wolf. They were that big.

Brawny.

Virile.

And the older one with a dash of silver in his dark beard just said I was a bad girl.

I was. I so was. I gave them a nod, which had my hair sliding over my shoulder, the long strands brushing my exposed nipple.

It was less about the money and more about following my instinct when I accepted their offer. Or had it been a demand?

They seemed bossy, like most male wolves I knew.

Usually it annoyed the shit out of me, but with these two? Nope. I’d let them boss me around. Scold me. Master and guide me. Do all the dirty things I fantasized about every time I picked the naughty school-girl or French maid costume to dance in. I’d never imagined having two growly wolves in charge of me, though.

“Fifty bucks a piece gets you a private in the VIP room.” I lifted my gaze toward the back hallway, the roped off area for big spenders.