Matched to the Wolves [Werewolf Brides 4] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Read online

  “So come, Zoan. Let me see this cock in action.”

  She sucked him again and he did come, his seed spurting up onto his chest. Shakina flicked her tongue over his cockhead as if she was tasting him, then moved to Yaro.

  “Are you on edge, too, or do I still have work to do?”

  “Very little work,” he gasped, knowing that if she put her mouth on him he was gone.

  He had only the briefest time to admire the skilled way she licked and sucked him, then it was his seed shooting in the air. And just as she had with Zoan, she licked once across his cockhead to sample his flavor. Likely she’d gotten a taste of him before she lifted her mouth off him as well, so he appreciated that she’d gone back for a second lick. At least his essence couldn’t be offensive to her.

  Zoan sat up and pushed Shakina onto the rug. “Now it’s our turn, right?”

  It wasn’t really a question, although undoubtedly if she’d told him to stop he would have. But Yaro hastened to gather together his fried brains and get ready to work with Zoan to give her a massive climax.

  Shakina let them pull off her T-shirt and her running shorts. Underneath she had a sports bra and matching panties in bright pink. Her running clothes were a sort of nondescript gray, so her choice of underwear was interesting. Maybe she liked the color and just chose not to wear it on her outer garments because of her hair color. Questions could wait for another time. Right now he needed to arouse her so high she’d be begging for more.

  He and Zoan lay on either side of her, and together they removed her sports bra. Yaro began by licking her shoulder, then trailing his lips down and down toward her breast. Remembering how she’d teased him, he stopped before he got there and licked along her waistline to her bellybutton. From time to time he looked up and Zoan was stroking her skin with a single finger. Good. That should be driving her crazy wanting more, too.

  By the time he finally gave in to his throbbing dick and sucked Shakina’s nipple into his mouth, he was ready to come all over again. But this time is for her. Only for her.

  Zoan’s hand was on her hip so Yaro copied him and together they removed her panties. He was very aware that she might choose to stop them at any time. He wanted to touch her pussy, to lick and suck her there, but once again it had to be what she wanted, and her breasts were absolutely delicious anyway. Sadly, many women couldn’t orgasm only from having their breasts touched, so as long as she permitted it, they would be more likely to please her if they could touch her cunt as well.

  Instead of attempting to stop them she raised her hips for them, so Yaro took that as an unequivocal yes. He lifted her leg and licked the back of her knee, then up the inside of her thigh. Oh, she wanted them all right. Her inner thighs were damp, as if she’d been creaming for them for a while, hopefully ever since they started touching her. Zoan was still teasing a breast, so Yaro licked the length of her slit, before nibbling on the edges of her labia. He lifted his head and moved aside, allowing Zoan his turn. Back and forth they swapped, each licking and sucking and doing their best to drive Shakina over the cliff to bliss. The first time he thrust his tongue deep into her pussy and tasted her cream was incredibly fulfilling. When she finally shuddered to completion her smell and her taste filled his senses. He licked her a little more, hoping to soothe her, then kissed her breast again. The day had gone better than he’d ever imagined it would. Just being with her was wonderful, but touching her and demonstrating his love for her made it perfect.

  “Can we take you out on a date again next Sunday, please?” asked Zoan.

  “Where would we be going?”

  “Where would you like to go?” Yaro was curious to know what she’d say. Today they’d learned some interesting things about her, but to build a deep and meaningful relationship they needed to spend a lot more time with her.

  “To the BDSM club.”

  “I’ve heard—we’ve all heard—that there are scenes going on there that aren’t quite right,” warned Zoan.

  “It’s said that the new silent partner is encouraging them to turn the place into more of a brothel than a genuine BDSM club,” Yaro added.

  “I know. I’ve heard all the stories. That’s why I’d like to go. I’ve never been to a BDSM club or to a brothel. It’d be like killing two birds with one stone.”

  “But it could be dangerous. I don’t think you should go.” Yaro could tell Zoan wanted to ban the idea outright, but didn’t want to upset Shakina after they’d shared such a wonderful time together.

  “Are you saying the two of you couldn’t protect me if we just went and watched?”

  Dammit, she had them there. Of course they could protect her.

  “All right. If that’s what you want, we’ll go. But seriously, Shakina, it might be dangerous. You need to stay close by us the whole time. You don’t want some drunk, untrained Dom deciding to punish you for some imagined slight.” Yaro couldn’t think of any other way to beg for her compliance.

  “That’s fine. I’ll stay with you, but I want to see as much as possible. In fact, I want to see everything and get a good overview of it. But I’ll stay with you as long as you let me look.”

  Yaro breathed more easily. That was all perfectly fair.

  Zoan nodded. “I’ll find out what time the floor shows begin and we’ll go for an early meal so you can see both of the shows.”

  “Good. Thank you.” Shakina jumped to her feet and pulled her clothing back on. Yaro tidied his clothing and finished packing away their picnic. It appeared it was time to go back to the community.

  * * * *

  “Dammit, how did she get us to agree to this?” Zoan stared at Yaro. They were both dressed in the “neat black” attire that would allow access into the BDSM club. Well, it would have in the past. Zoan assumed that rule wouldn’t have changed.

  “We asked her where she wanted to go. We couldn’t turn around and say no then, could we?” said Yaro.

  Zoan was about to remind Yaro that he was the one who’d asked her, but that didn’t really change anything. They’d both had the opportunity to talk her out of her decision and neither of them had been able to do it. Besides, surely the two of them could protect her, and if she wanted to look at BDSM they needed to let her. Even if they only played the mildest of games themselves, they couldn’t hide the knowledge from her.

  “It won’t hurt us to be able to inform Cooper of what’s going on there if we learn anything,” said Yaro.

  Zoan turned fast and grinned at his friend. “Actually, that’s very true. Good point.”

  Shakina didn’t keep them waiting very long, and when she arrived, she was stunning. For a start she was wearing six-inch heels that made her lovely legs look longer than ever before. Her toenails had been painted deep purple, which matched the short skirt she was wearing. He dragged his gaze away from her legs and looked at her hands. The fingernails were a paler shade of purple, as was the top she was wearing. Or almost wearing. It showed far too much of her flesh for his taste. Well, actually it showed exactly the right amount, but that was way too much to display out in public. That top was going to have every man in the club staring at her breasts. Unless they were leg men, of course. Then they’d be watching her legs.

  Zoan forced himself to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth and say something polite. “You look wonderful.”

  “Thank you. You both look very smart as well.”

  “Shall we go?” Yaro took her elbow on one side and he stepped forward to the other side. They walked to the large barn where the farm vehicles were garaged and settled her in his car. He would drive there and Yaro was going to drive home. They’d both wanted to drive home and had finally flipped a coin to decide who got to choose.

  The club was in the heart of town and because he was driving he let Yaro lead the conversation. Shakina was used to traveling to Coopersville now and seemed to have a good feel for the local geography. That was amazing. He was proud of how hard she’d worked to become familiar with their home
town. At the club he parked in the basement parking lot and took the elevator to reception. Apart from the various parking levels, that was the only floor it would go to. There were other elevators inside the building that were operated with keycards to access the various floors, as well as stairs up from reception to the second floor, which was the general party area.

  He’d booked a good table for them, one on the upper level where they’d have a great view out over the stage and the dance floor. They were led to their table, which was exactly where he’d asked for it, and the server took their drinks order. He was relieved when Shakina asked for soda. He and Yaro both chose longnecks and he asked for a platter of cheese and biscuits to nibble on during the floor show. “Oh, and can we have some nachos as well, please?” he asked.

  “Sure.”

  When the server left, they looked out over the dance floor to the stage. He pushed his chair closer to Shakina’s. It was quite noisy and they could speak almost privately against the background of sound.

  “What do you think so far?”

  She looked around thoughtfully. “It could almost be anywhere really. Some people are dancing, some drinking, and others talking. There are a few more unusual guests though.”

  He noticed her gaze linger on a table where a man sat on the floor with a thick collar around his neck, the leash being held by a skinny little man sitting at the table. The skinny guy must make up for in personality what he was lacking in size, he supposed. It was the old “never judge a book by its cover” rule, although that was how so many people judged everything.

  They didn’t have long to wait until the dance floor cleared and a throbbing deep bass drum began echoing through the room. Gradually all other sounds ceased until the drumbeat was the only sound, compelling every thought and action. Zoan reckoned even his heart was beating in time with its pulsing tone.

  Three men stomped through the room, making their way up onto the stage. They were wearing the smallest of thongs, plus armbands and ankle bands, and nothing else. They danced to the drum, their actions absolutely erotic. Their hips swirled, their chests puffed out, their bellies and thigh muscles quivered as they stomped and danced back and forth across the stage, in a manner that had every person in the room unable to tear their gazes away from the carnal movements.

  Zoan wanted to watch Shakina’s reaction, but again and again he found his face turning back to the stage. He could only imagine how much more attractive it would be to those who preferred men to women. He watched her lick her lips and heave a sigh as it finished. “I think I need a cold shower,” she said softly.

  “We could scratch any itch you’re experiencing,” he offered.

  “Thanks, but no thanks.”

  The dancing began again and their meals arrived. Zoan had checked the time of the next floor show and knew there’d be time for both of them to dance with Shakina and no need to hurry over their meal, so he encouraged her to talk about anything that interested her.

  He liked listening to her. Shakina’s voice was filled with light and happiness and the comments she made were worth paying attention to.

  “You’re quite a keen observer of people,” he said.

  “I think it comes from my job. It helps if I can guess what people are feeling. Sometimes they don’t want to say how they feel about a cut or a style. Maybe they want it but aren’t quite brave enough to ask for it, or perhaps they don’t want it but someone they care about said it would look good on them. I try to understand what’s driving them and pick an in-between position everyone will be happy with.”

  Zoan blinked hard. It’d never occurred to him a beauty parlor would have such challenges. He knew if she made a shocking mess of someone’s hair they’d likely sue her, but understanding deep undercurrents was a whole new picture for him to process.

  Yaro jumped up. “Shall we dance?” He held out his arms to Shakina and she smiled at him. Zoan sat back to watch and wait for his turn.

  * * * *

  Yaro held Shakina’s hand lightly as he led her through the crowd and onto the dance floor. He was positive there were more tables here than before. It was completely impossible to get between them without asking people to push their chairs in at some stages, yet neither he nor Shakina was overweight. It was no wonder the servers were all tall and skinny. They’d never have been able to reach the diners otherwise. Of course, the more people the club could squeeze into the dining area the more money they’d make, and no one seemed to mind being crowded together. Zoan had done well booking them such a good table, where they could look out over the dance floor. It meant they had a little more space to themselves than many other groups.

  He took Shakina in his arms, keeping his hold on her firm but not demanding. He longed to pull her hard against his body and grind his cock into her soft sweetness to show her how aroused he was, but that was not the purpose of this evening. She’d chosen to come here and all he should do was make sure her evening was all she could wish it to be.

  So he held her gently and moved them slowly around the dance floor, reveling in the feminine scent of her perfume or shampoo or whatever it was, and sliding his leg between hers cautiously, not wanting to antagonize her, yet still enjoying when their bodies touched. She relaxed against him, which he took as acceptance, so he pulled her a little tighter against him, continuing to give her time to back away if that wasn’t what she wanted. But she rested her head on his shoulder and he dragged a deep breath into his lungs. Shampoo. The floral scent was shampoo. Or maybe conditioner. Whatever, it was in her hair, which tonight flowed down her back in long, rippling waves. Often she wore it braided into different patterns, but he liked it out as it was tonight. When—if—they fucked her tonight, he’d wrap that hair around his fist as he pounded into her, using it to heighten the sensations for both of them.

  Yaro gulped and moved back from her a fraction of inch. Such thoughts didn’t belong on a dance floor. It was very crowded and likely no one would notice, but he really didn’t want his erection standing up like a signal to strangers of his arousal. He stroked the back of her head, then pressed a kiss to her ear, moving slowly around the dance floor. Real dancing was impossible now, such a huge crowd had gathered here. He wondered if she had her eyes open or not. He’d chosen to back off a bit when he became very aroused, but some other couples had no such qualms. He saw several men with their hands inside their partner’s underwear, and a similar number of women with their hands over zippers. It seemed that the erotic dance on the stage had freed people from their inhibitions.

  For a moment he considered touching Shakina, but that wouldn’t be fair to Zoan. She was theirs to share and that meant only touching when they were all present. But he still relished the dance with her.

  He took her back to their table as their meal was served, and enjoyed watching her watch the crowd. Even thought it wasn’t all that late, the party was definitely becoming much more adult. That was a new thing as well. Previously the club had been fairly restrained until midnight. After midnight almost anything was permissible. Anything completely consensual, that was. The club had been strict about maintaining the “safe, sane, consensual” rule. Which seemed to have become less important to them under the new management. Although he had no real evidence to condemn them. A few people getting erotic on the dance floor wasn’t necessarily a bad thing after all.

  He observed with interest as the stage was set up with a St. Andrew’s Cross. It appeared the next floor show would involve BDSM.

  A man with a naked, oiled chest, tight black leather pants, and black boots walked onto the stage as the lights dimmed and the crowd quieted. When there was silence the man spoke in a booming voice. “I have a delightful, young, nubile, willing sub. Who wants to punish her? Do I hear twenty dollars? For twenty dollars you can give her ten lashes with the bullwhip.”

  Yaro nearly fell off his chair with surprise. They were letting just anyone whip a woman? Not her own Master? Not in a scene deliberately planned to give the sub grea
t pleasure, but just any person with a few dollars to be let loose on her? Holy shit! The person might not even know the correct way to use the whip. It wasn’t like hitting a dummy in a training studio. When punishing a real person the strokes needed to be placed so as not to damage the skin. Arousal depended on knowledge, contrasts, scents, and sounds, not just allowing a stranger to have a go with a whip.

  He stared across at Zoan and raised an eyebrow. Zoan shook his head slightly. He wasn’t smiling and his brow was furrowed so Yaro guessed he was concerned about this idea too. Unless it was all a setup. Just a game to have the crowd watching and waiting for the show.

  A voice called out, “How about twenty lashes for thirty dollars?”

  Yaro had to work hard not to show distaste on his face. This was definitely not good. BDSM should never be a game to see how much punishment a slave could tolerate. It was supposed to be about bringing her pleasure. The master’s pleasure came from planning the event not from whipping his sub.

  “Make it thirty-five dollars and you’ve gotten yourself a deal.”

  A man with black hair pushed his way to the front of the crowd and threw money onto the stage. “Two hundred dollars and I can hit her as many times as I damn well want to.”

  Yaro wasn’t the only person who gasped. Most of the people there would know that was abuse, not BDSM.

  “Well, yes, but you can’t damage the merchandise, you know,” said the MC, scooping up the money and tucking it into the top of one of his boots. He raised an arm high in the air as a signal, and two of the men who’d danced earlier brought a slender, young blonde woman up onto the stage. She was wearing a diaphanous white robe, and her skin was very pale, showing through the clothing. The two men took off her robe and tied her to the St. Andrew’s Cross. She appeared to be naked now and stood quite still in her bonds, not showing any signs of emotion or fidgeting. Yet she had to have heard the bids to whip her.