Imprints (Dominant Wolves, Submissive Mates 1)

“That’s it, sweet woman,” Frank crooned, his face flushed as he shimmied his hips.

Forced to emulate Frank’s pace, Jock’s cock bore into her as well, pulsing inside her with even beats. They each compromised at the appropriate moments, adjusting the speed in which they took her or the depth in which they claimed her, but each time they entered her was more enjoyable than the last.

Their loving turned ravenous within a matter of seconds. Her pussy liquefied as she clenched around their hardness. Her body quivered with every mind-blowing thrust.

“Oh my,” she crooned, her head tossing and turning. “So good.”

Uttering more than one or two words was a chore as the men thrummed inside her, staking their claim and making her their own. And as they came together, chanting their pleasures and screaming her name, Carla was completely transformed.

Shuddering as her release washed over her, she cried out their names, too. Her pussy stretched to accommodate them, wrapping around them as if to hold them in place not just for the moment but for as long as they would let her keep them close, deeply buried inside her.

She climbed to new heights then, and reached another earth-moving climax. Her orgasm rocked through her and she not only imagined their lives together, but she saw clips of the forthcoming days.

It was then when she realized she had just enjoyed the first of many intimate dances with her wolves.

Chapter Ten

Grant pitched a fit. He’d been watching the cabin for the better part of the night and somehow he’d dozed off when Jock and Frank had led Carla away from the barn. By the time her front door slammed and the hard thud resounded, he was wide awake and mad as hell.

He’d thought about ambushing them. Then, he’d convinced himself Jock would eventually come to his senses. Now, he was locked out again, forced to wait until morning.

Turning his head from left to right, he searched the area for any sign of Frank’s pack. He chastised himself for being paranoid and that came with a reminder. No one had been a better flank to a shifter.

In his man form, Jock had depended upon him. He’d turned to him for advice, relied upon him for companionship when they’d traveled across country. And now, here he was—an outsider looking in and for what purpose?

The answer was clear. Frank and Carla had brainwashed his pack master and friend. There was no other explanation.

If he hadn’t been so roostered up when Jock had shared his good news, Grant would’ve explained the laws of the pack. He would’ve forced Jock to listen to logic.

No pack master Alpha had ever imprinted on two mates and it wasn’t possible for any mate to be imprinted upon by two wolves, particularly two Alphas from opposing packs!

Carla had spent so much time polishing the pearl, she’d developed a wicked sense of entitlement. She must’ve thought that pussy was golden and she deserved two Alphas.

Well, he would sure set her straight.

This sort of thing didn’t happen in Wyoming. Hell, this sort of pirooting didn’t occur among the humans.

Didn’t Frank and Jock realize if they were caught in the same bed together they’d face reprimand? The marshal might just take a potshot and kill them both. A lawman wouldn’t give a damn if a woman was tucked in between them and occupying the middle!

For the love of God! What were they thinking anyway? Had they lost their blasted minds?

They could not have sexual relations with the same woman and take her to their bed as their mate. They could not. There was no way one of the wolves could imprint and then another could come along and do the same!

“Unless,” he muttered aloud. “Why of course! That’s it! One of them had lied!”

He prayed it was Jock.

Maybe by the time the sun came up, his old friend would have his better senses again. Perhaps he would see Carla for what she was—a painted cat.

“For sure,” he muttered, recalling the waxing experiment he’d seen her try in the privacy of her own home.

Well, it wasn’t exactly private since he was spying on her, but her theatrics hadn’t been open to the public. He’d stayed for the main event, too. Three weeks to the day. Yep, siree. He’d watched her drizzle hot wax all over her body and shove that long rock up her vagina and scream out like a stuck pig.

He’d observed every last second. He’d seen it all. And he was as hard now as he had been then.

Taking a weighted breath, he fell back in the high grass and decided to sleep off the rest of his bug juice. In a few hours he’d meet with Jock and he didn’t want Jock to see him all boogered up again.

Besides, he planned to hand down an ultimatum and mean it. Either Jock and Frank shared Carla with him or he was taking Jock’s pack. Then, he’d go after Frank’s.