Untamed (Two Marks 0.50)

She gasped then wiggled out of my hold. “That would mean letting another male see my nipples again. I thought that was off the table now.” She tossed me a saucy grin.

“Ah, she’s more obedient than she pretends,” I said to Ben as I caught her and pulled her to my lap. “Good.” I nuzzled behind her ear. “We only want to give you good-girl spankings.”

She writhed over my cock, the scent of her sweet nectar telling us she loved that idea.

“Speaking of spankings,” Ben rumbled, “We need to get that ass ready for claiming. So we can both be inside you when we mark you with our teeth.”

Shelby’s muscles lifted over my cock and a shiver ran through her.

“Oh fuck.” I shoved her panties to the side and sank two fingers inside her dripping cunt. She tossed her head back on my shoulder. “Did you just come, kitten?”

Her muscles squeezed again, this time around my fingers, that tight little pussy milking my digits. My vision sharpened, and the serum for marking her flesh coated my teeth, but I shoved the urge back down as I pumped my fingers into her roughly.

“Oh fates!” She pushed her taut nipples toward the ceiling as she finished coming.

Ben and I watched her, fascinated, as she recovered. Her lids fluttered back open, and she lifted her lolling head from my shoulder. “It’s like the full moon times fifty,” she said with awe. “I can’t seem to get enough.”

“You have no fucking idea what you’re doing to us, kitten. How you’ve gotten under our skin.” My control was starting to snap. “I have an idea.” I lifted her from my lap. “Where’s that tattoo artist of yours?”

“Alan? He lives in town.” She cupped her own breasts like she was thinking about my suggested location for our names. “Why?”

“Call him. We’re going to tattoo your name on our bodies.”

“Fuck yes,” Ben agreed.

“Prove to you we’re yours,” I said. “Forever.”

8

SHELBY

Ben pulled his shirt off and sat down backwards in one of Alan’s kitchen chairs. “I want Shelby’s name in big letters across my back,” he said.

Alan, a fifty-something wiry half-breed who never shifted but was still part of the pack, tipped his head to the side to consider. “Colors?” His regular profession was as a clay artist, but his ink skills had prompted him to become one of the most sought-after shifter tattoo artists in the West.

Ben looked at me. “What do you think, kitten?”

Alan snorted. “Never heard anyone call a she-wolf kitten before.”

“I like it,” I told him. Funny how I was already defending my mates. Claiming them. I did like the pet name. It made me feel innocent and cared for. “I think blue.”

“Blue it is.” Alan sketched out the letters on a large piece of paper first for scale and spacing then prepared his pen with the ink and a little silver dust.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” I asked. Their decision felt as impulsive as all my decisions to get tattoos had been. I didn’t regret any of mine, but I’d also never tattooed someone’s name on my skin.

“You’re our mate. I want everyone to know,” Ben growled.

Alan looked from Gibson to Ben. “Our mate? You guys from that pack in Wyoming?”

Gibson gave a silent nod.

Alan looked impressed. “Whoa.” He glanced at me. “Finding your mate and realizing it’s two males… how are you taking this?”

Gibson sat in a chair beside Ben and pulled me onto his lap. It seemed to be my new home. Not that I was complaining. His body was sturdy and solid beneath me, his hold gentle.

“Um…”

“She’s still adjusting,” Gibson supplied. He brought his nose to my nape and inhaled deeply, tickling my skin with his beard.

I wasn’t sure if Alan had the ability to scent that they hadn’t marked me yet. The truth was that my resistance was futile. I couldn’t fight fate. Well, I could, but it would mean sending Gibson to his death because of moon madness, and I obviously would never let that happen.

Besides, I didn’t want to resist my mates. The more time I spent with them, the happier I felt. A deep happiness I hadn’t believed was possible. It had me believing that maybe biology was enough. Maybe I would get my happily ever after, despite my instinct to duck and run from it when it was looking me in the face.

“Where should I have your name tattooed?” Gibson asked, holding out his arms and hands for inspection. “I want somewhere more visible. Where everyone will see it, every day.”

“Right here,” I squeezed his right biceps, which was rock hard and beautiful.

As Alan finalized the sketch for Ben’s artwork, I settled on Gibson’s lap and just… savored. Their scent was heady and powerful swirling around me. I had no idea it could be so potent. That they could be so… virile. Powerful, yet gentle with me. Caring. Concerned. Not just that but a whole lot naughty. God, what they’d done to me. With me. My pussy clenched in eagerness for more. The idea of their kind of claiming, when they fucked me at the same time.