Skid gulped again. No, he had to leave. It was time. Mating with Alpha would mess up the whole social order. One of them had to have sense. When Skid had joined Black Storm Pack, he’d known all along it was temporary and that he’d get to leave when he turned eighteen. He’d already made plans to leave on New Year’s Eve and start the New Year with a bang.


“I can’t.” Skid shook his head and turned away from Alpha. “I’m going.”

He shifted without hesitation and began to sprint away. Anywhere but here.

A ferocious growl pierced his soul. Alpha pounced upon his back, pinned his chest and chin to the ground and knocked the air right out of him. The heavier, bulkier, broader wolf had Skid down for the count. A gravitational pull possessed him, as if his fur wanted to melt into Alpha. Being this close to Alpha sparked a dramatic increase in temperature. Skid inhaled sharply. Suddenly, as if by a greater force, both of them had turned human again.

“You can’t expect me to simply watch you walk away,” Alpha huffed. His heartbeat thudded against Skid’s upper back. Heart to heart, Alpha’s need pressed into the cleft of Skid’s ass and damn near made his mouth water. Alpha’s hands tread downward along his ribs in slow possession. He growled quietly against Skid’s neck. “Just once. Just tonight. That’s all I ask. Then you tell me if you can walk away from this.”

At the mention of this, Alpha entered him with two fingers. The stark pain quickly morphed into pleasure—in part thanks to the wolf blood pumping overtime. As Alpha stretched and stroked, pushing in slowly yet fervently, reverently yet greedily; Skid gave in to the invasion, eagerly puckering to suck up even more.

“More,” Skid whispered hoarsely. An involuntary shiver of excitement raced through his body. His limbs ached for contact, for possession, for whole and complete union.

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“Tease these for me,” Sherilynn said as she winked.

“You want me to play with my nipples for you?” Anuhara asked, a little breathless from flying apart only moments before. Her voice felt separate from her form. Sure, her body was here. Not so with her brain, which appeared to be floating in the cosmos somewhere.

“Sure, why not?” Sherilynn grinned mischievously as her expert fingers grazed past her arms, skimmed and pranced down past her belly and settled at the rope knotted right above her clit. She gripped it, released it and let it slap against her skin like someone playing with a bra strap. Anuhara gasped from the unexpected pleasure, which only deepened Sherilynn’s grin. “If you stop, I stop.”

“What?” Hands frozen in place at her chest, Anuhara stared blankly.

“Teasing,” Sherilynn reminded her. “If you stop teasing those nipples, I’ll stop teasing you.”

Coming must have fried her brain cells. She’d already fucking come. She didn’t need any more teasing, did she? She stole a glance quickly around the dining room. Ginny and Jackie had long left the premises. No doubt they’d exited to give them the courtesy of a private moment.

​Sherilynn’s eyes narrowed. “No, you don’t.”

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“What do you need from us?” Clark asked in an uncharacteristic open-ended manner. “Say it.”

“Fill me,” Mariah said. “Make me remember why this is a good thing that we have going on.” She wanted to forget all societal pressures and expectations. For once, she actually wanted a chance to believe that it was possible to have a three-way relationship, that it really wasn’t cheating, that each person would be fulfilled. Sure, they had discussed this briefly before. Her head got it. Intellectually, she agreed. Her body, though... Her heart... Well, there was still some finesse to the matter, something that needed to be teased out.

“This thing—we’re creating it right now,” Britt said, fingers swirling past her pubic hair to land upon her abdomen. Mariah’s breath hitched at the intimate contact. “We create our reality, got it? We define how our relationship exists. No one else does, period.” Her voice was soft, soothing, just the right pitch to lull Mariah into agreement. “That’s one of the nice things about being in the BDSM community. No one relationship is exactly alike, and everything is about negotiation. Safe, sane and consensual.”

“Yes,” Mariah breathed, wanting to believe. Did saying it count toward ‘faking it until making it?’ Her tank was empty. Empty her mind. Empty her canvas. Fill it with the good stuff. With more resolve, she forced a smile that she hoped was playful and said, “Fill me then.”

“Well, you heard the lady.” Clark grinned at Britt. “Let’s fill her with pleasure.”

Mariah’s heart skipped a beat when Britt smiled and brushed her pubic hair again, “Already on it.”

She thought she had loved and wanted only Clark before, but now she found herself equally desiring that this thing—whatever it was—would really work out with Britt too.

Clark pinned her arms above her against the armrest, then reached down to cup her breast. Her beaded nipple craved more than a feel. When he gently rolled the nipple between his fingers and lowered his head toward her chest, a zing of pleasure shot straight to her clit.

His breath was right there in the valley of her bosom before he faked out and latched onto the unattended breast and nipped at her erect bud. The dual tease on both nipples accompanied the fingers combing through her pubic hair and the warm breath between her thighs interspersed with the hot licks short of her clit.

​Oh, God!

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I couldn’t say it.

I couldn’t even think of a word to use to describe it.

Strange how much I wanted this experience to be mine, to feel like I really accomplished everything I set out to do when I got this book. I wanted what the speaker had—her confidence, her warmth, her understanding.

Dejected, my shoulders sank. Now I was talking to myself—on top of actually trying to get something unthinkable done in my shared room.

Shaking my head, I relaxed my death-grip on the accessory to the crime. It was now or never—before my roommate came back from study hall. This was something I had to do on my own.  

Don’t ask, don’t tell, right?

I wrinkled my nose and peered down at the open book in my other hand.

Gulping, I scrutinized the various illustrations that looked like many a Georgia O’Keefe painting. One of them had outer folds that echoed the inner folds, so much so that I thought of the ripples on a pond. To the right of that was one that had an opening shaped like an eye—which was way too psychedelic for me, considering the topic.

My eyes scrolled toward the one on the next page, which actually looked like a candle flame in a church. Its buddy on the right with its pointy crown looked like the headdress of one of those Buddhas you’d see at a Thai temple. Not to mention the one on the bottom left that had a prominent bulge (a head?) with a hood (the veil hanging off of the coif?) that made me think of the Virgin Mary cloaked in her habit. And then there was--

Crap. I couldn’t believe that I was mixing the holy with the …

I still couldn’t say it. Not even to myself.

​So maybe I could use a negative? … the not so holy?

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Mariah lost sense of time and had no idea what routes the car took. The only thing she knew was that when the door opened, the air was warm with a scent of pineapple. She could also hear the sound of a small stream of water near her feet. With Stan holding her hand as a guide, her heels struck an uneven road. Each step was a muted clip-clop. Then there were the stairs. After a few paces, her heels hit carpet. That was when Stan’s hand released hers. She let her hand fall to her side, uncertain of where she stood. Obviously, she was supposed to keep her blindfold on. When would they allow her to take it off?

“You look ravishing,” Clark said, his breath hot upon her ear. Her scalp tingled like wildfire from his close engagement.

“Delicious,” Britt added with demure intent—one that sent ripples down her spine.

Then Clark kissed both of her cheeks, bringing fire to her ears. The slight whisk of his five o-clock shadow scraped against her skin, stimulating her long after separation. Between the blindfold and the seduction-induced shortness of breath, Mariah sank into a dizzy spell. If Clark hadn’t held a steady hand out for her to guide her ahead, she would have for sure fainted on her feet.

Clark patted a soft surface at her right. “Sit down and enjoy the meal.”

Mariah smoothed her skirt and sank down as Clark scooted the chair forward for her. Tracking his steps and referencing where Britt’s voice had been, Mariah was certain she was situated between both of them at the table.
She inhaled deeply and couldn’t quite identify the mix of spices invading her olfactory nerves. Curious, she tentatively lifted her hand to reach for something—anything on the table.

“Down, pet,” Britt chided. “No hands. We’re feeding you.”

A napkin must have been placed on her lap, because hands moved to brush it smooth. The sound of ice clinking glass neared her. She opened her lips expectantly. Sweet bubbly cider with a hint of tartness flooded her taste buds, shocking her salivary glands into overdrive. She swallowed and expected more. Too soon the glass moved away from her lips and landed with a muffled thud on the table.

“That was delicious,” Mariah gasped. “What was that?”

“Lingonberry apple cider,” Britt said. “First batch. You met my dad, Nikolaus. They harvested the apples in October and perfected the recipe in November. You’re tasting the official pre-launch batch that made it to influential bloggers and reviewers right before Thanksgiving hit. The bottle you’re tasting is supposed to hit every major local market in the area in time for Christmas and New Year’s.”

“Sounds right up Mariah’s alley,” Clark said, his smile reflecting in his voice. The way he had read her mind was uncanny, because her head was zipping a mile a minute about additional promotional opportunities to push the product farther.

“Maybe Heartisan Foods can pick it up and bring it beyond the regional market,” Mariah said, her thoughts ricocheting faster than her speech could keep up. Excitement raced through her veins, lifting her shoulders and her lips.

“I’m sure Nikolaus would be thrilled with the idea,” Britt agreed.

“Sounds like you’ve just expanded your client base,” Clark mused.

Mariah shook her head. “It’s still within the family.”

As soon as the words slipped past her mouth, she knew she’d said the wrong thing. Sure, Nikolaus was Britt’s dad. Yeah, she had Britt and Clark as contract clients, but they weren’t her family.

Family?

When had she seen Britt and Clark as family? Shit. Wasn’t she ahead of herself?

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