A carnal grunt fell to the room. He stilled a moment or two before he thrust full speed ahead, fucking her like a wild man who was now on a schedule, not at all slow and easy as she’d first expected. Stroke for stroke, she matched him, locking her ankles at his lower back and throwing her body into the motions, loving the way they seemingly fit perfectly together.
“Let me come,” she whispered, unsure she could deny herself if he said no.
He slowed his pace. He worked his lower half left to right, shimming his hips as if he were practicing an erotic dance move. “That’s nice baby.” He stared at her nipples. “So nice.”
She reached between their bodies and pinched her nipple, desperate now to come, fraught with the need to ride out her release. He leaned down and kissed her hand, nudging her fingers out of the way so he could lap at the throbbing point.
Pageant was lost. She teetered around the perimeter of what she realized would soon be a crazy kind of love, a mated connection destined to change her life.
“Come,” he whispered, swaying those toned hips from side to side as he sank that hard wedge of flesh still deeper. “Ride out the pleasure with me, honey.”
Then, his wolf teeth appeared, dropping well below his lip. Pageant only focused on th
em for a brief moment. Then she threw her head back and exposed her neck, ready to accept his bite and his seed.
She was fully prepared to become Randon’s mate, his wolfen bride.
Chapter Ten
“Whoever named that sorry SOB ‘the extortionist’ just fed his insatiable appetite if you ask me.” Mac walked the length of the small lawn. “Extortionist.” He muttered as he traipsed a few more paces. Coming to an abrupt stop, he yelled, “How’s that stroke ya, buddy? Hmm? Pumps up the ego, doesn’t it?” He shouted at the trees behind the house.
“Settle down,” one of the others said.
“Not a chance.” Mac was convinced he’d seen movement in the trees. Might as well summon the bastard rascal and put this shit behind them.
“I’d like to have a peaceful night,” the youngest biker said.
“That ain’t gonna happen, son.” Mac narrowed his gaze on the whispering branches, convinced he saw one of those blurry bluish-purple dashes, pretty much a standard scene when a vampire rushed by an area.
“Why not just call him a damn vampire? Call it what it is!” Mac became enraged whenever he thought of the one responsible for killing so many women and children. Yes, they’d lost a close friend, too, but down in Alabama that motherfucker left behind a whole line up of dead teenagers. For some reason, he seemed to prey on the athletic type, too. It was as if he’d handpicked the ones who were only children. “Son of a dirty-rotten-dried-up-damned-dead-vampire-bitch!”
A nasally, deafening noise engulfed them. The eerie sound was wicked, strewn in evil and wracked with malicious intentions.
“What the hell are you trying to do?” One of the other bikers rose from the front step. “The last thing we want to do is lure the dead fuck out of hiding.”
Mac hadn’t called him out. The extortionist was there. He’d been there the entire time. Mac sensed him. He felt his breath at his nape.
“He’s got a point,” the quiet dude from South Carolina said.
They were from different charters but they all shared several common threads. They were loyal to the MC, and as shifters, they were bound together by their secrets as much as their united causes. Mac stared at Detective Pageant Keen’s cottage. “Anyone else here remember that special new feeling Randon is enjoying about right now?”
The South Carolina dude smiled. “Every hour I spend with my Rosa is like the first time.”
“Oh please.” Mac groaned.
“Do you have a mate?”
“Yes, Carolina, I do.” Mac twitched his nose as he thought of his woman at home. Pleasantly plump with his first son, his mate had been a real firecracker back in the day.
“I feel him,” one of the guys said, ripping his shirt over his head, kicking off his shoes, and dropping his pants. He dashed forward and transitioned, barely making the full shift in time.
A whirlwind of turbulent weather wrapped around the rest of them like a cocoon, collectively tossing them one way or another until they were spinning and turning, passing one another in midair. A few times bodies crashed together with an incredible force of pressure. Mac could’ve sworn he heard the cracking of teeth and breaking of bones.
Mac turned somersaults, losing total control of his own movements. He couldn’t stop the mindboggling flips as he became powerless over his actions.
In a haze of confusion, he was aware of the werewolf below them. Their eyes met and Mac screamed, “Go!”
Wondering if he in fact hollered aloud or only mouthed the word, Mac tried to gather his senses and figure out an escape plan. The shifter outside of the vestibule shook his head violently, waited a few seconds, and then leapt over the white picket fence and ran into the hills.