Chapter Eleven
Pierre had spent most of the drive to Biggin Hill Airport on the phone, organizing the pack’s private jet, filing flight plans and smoothing their exit from London and entry into the United States.
The cat wasn’t a problem, despite what Louis had told Melinda.
There were no quarantine restrictions for it.
Organizing an immediate visa for him and Louis to travel to the United States posed some difficulty, but they had contacts.
Melinda was an altogether different matter.
Laurent had updated them on the situation back at the apartment building.
There would be an All-Points Bulletin out for Melinda now that the police were involved.
Even if they could convince their contact to risk issuing her a visa, they still had to get her through customs. He’d called Gabriel again.
His brother, through his mate Annabelle’s coven, had put out the request. He didn’t know what his brother had had to agree to, to get them what they needed—he could only hope Maxime wouldn’t have his balls for it—but they’d found a shifter from another pack working at Buchanan Airfield willing to look the other way when they passed through customs. They were on their way to San Francisco. To find Cordelia.
Melinda, the cat carrier on the seat beside her—the feisty ball of ginger fur inside it calmer but wary—leaned her head against the window of the jet, her eyes closed and her laptop clutched to her chest like it was her only lifeline.
There was so much they were keeping from her—their true identity, their true purpose in coming to London, the reasons they were so willing to help her.
Both reasons. Finding out she was the mate of not one, but two werewolves would be a shock.
Learning they’d used malware to track her down and were intent on apprehending her client, ridding the pack and the world of a malevolent threat…
The concern in Louis’ eyes could only mirror his own. Somehow, they had to get Melinda to see Cordelia for who she was, before she uncovered their deception. They had eight, nearly nine hours to come up with a solution.
Louis unclipped his safety belt. “She’s exhausted. She needs to rest. In comfort.” He plucked her laptop from her arms and set it aside then unbuckled her belt and lifted her in his arms.
She grumbled a little, snuggling against Louis’ chest. Pierre eyed the laptop. Now was their chance. Instead, he followed Louis to the back of the jet, to the private bedroom. He pulled back the covers on the bed and Louis laid her down on the cool sheets, slipping her shoes off.
Louis put her glasses on the small side table. “Should we…?” Louis whispered, gesturing at her clothes. “Denim isn’t exactly comfortable to sleep in.”
He’d love nothing more than to see their little mate naked but for her undergarments, but would Melinda be upset when she awoke?
He nodded, the comfort of their mate winning out.
Add it to the list of their transgressions.
Between the two of them, they gently maneuvered her out of her jeans and sweater.
He sucked in a breath. Putain, she was beautiful. White lace cupped her perfect small breasts. More lace slipped between her slender thighs, stark against the warmth of her golden skin. Her silky hair splayed across the pillow and her dark lashes fluttered against her cheek.
Louis sat on the bed beside her and brushed her hair from her forehead. “Makes you want to crawl into bed with her, doesn’t it?”
A rumble rose in his chest. Oui, it did, but he stepped back. Melinda stirred and sleep-glazed eyes stared up at them. Confusion fluttered across her face, her hands skimming over her bare stomach.
“Just wanted you to be comfortable, mon amour. We didn’t peek.” Louis backed away. “Much.”
Melinda’s arm snaked out and grabbed his. “Please don’t go.” Dark eyes implored them. “I don’t want to be alone.”
He shared a glance with Louis, nodded, and his brother sank back onto the bed, wrapping her in his arms and resting her head on his shoulder.
But their little mate wasn’t content with the simple comfort his brother offered.
She pressed her body flush against Louis, rubbing herself all over him.
Pierre’s nostrils flared and his cock did a stellar impression of a flagpole.
Louis’ eyes rolled back in his head, and Pierre imagined his twin to be similarly struggling in his sweats as he was.
She snuggled into Louis, her hands fluttering over his chest and neck. “I can still see him, standing there with his gun.” She dropped little urgent kisses against the column of Louis’ throat. “I don’t want to see him anymore.”
Louis peeled her away from him, the strain of not pouncing on her, not taking her up on what she was clearly offering, writ in the tautness of his lips and the clenching of his jaw.
“Make me forget.” Her brown gaze flicked between the two of them. “Please.”
“Louis.” Pierre shook his head, cautioning Louis against action.
It was going to kill him not to give her what she wanted, too, but now was not the time.
Not when fear, shock and stress were leading her actions.
Not when she might come to regret her decision.
They had enough challenges ahead of them where she was concerned, without racking up more.
Louis glared at him and held his ground. His twin was not one for patience, nor restraint, but he rarely went against Pierre. Not when it mattered. And it mattered now, more than it ever had.
Melinda ground her hips against Louis’ groin, and latched onto his throat, sucking down hard. His brother moaned and cupped the back of her head, holding her in place. He rolled his hips against hers and their little mate shivered.
“You’re wrong, Pierre. She wants this. She needs this.”
Melinda pushed Louis back onto the bed and straddled him, lifting her arms above her head and arching her spine. Putain.
Louis groaned, clenching his hands around her thighs and holding her in place as he rolled his hips, grinding against her.
“Yes, Louis. Yes.”
Her words were a mere whisper, full of need, and if it were possible, they would have made his cock harder.
“I’ll give you what you need, mon amour. Fuck Pierre. He can watch if he doesn’t want to join in.”
Melinda gasped and her spine arched more. She liked the idea of him watching Louis fuck her. He liked the idea of watching Louis fuck her.
He gripped his cock through the soft material of his sweatpants. “Give her what she wants, Louis.” His voice was rough even to his own ears. “Give her what we all need.”
Would she come to regret this? Maybe. Did she care right now?
Not one iota. Melinda rubbed her core against Louis’ thick length, biting back the moan threatening to spill from her mouth.
Since she’d fled their flat, the bedroom, Pierre’s bed, her body had been primed for this.
Wanted this. The subsequent events of the night, her near death experience, had done little to dampen her desire.
She needed to be close to someone, to wipe away her fear of what had transpired, and what was yet to come.
For a while, to lose herself in something so overwhelming her mind would quiet and her heart would race for an altogether different reason.
Louis could give her that. Louis and Pierre.
Melinda half turned. Pierre leaned against the wall, one hand disappearing beneath the band of his gray sweats, his beautiful hazel eyes fixed on her. She clenched her thighs around Louis’ hips.
Louis sat up and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tight against him. “Pierre likes to watch, almost as much as he likes to fuck,” he whispered, his breath hot across her cheek.
He took her mouth in his, gentle, teasing, tugging on her bottom lip. “Let’s give him a show he’ll never forget.”
Her body sizzled, and she glanced at Pierre again from beneath hooded lids.
Have sex while he watched? A shiver ran up her spine.
Something inside her, careless and a little wild, pushed to the surface by the knowledge she was alive, and had things gone differently she might not have been, broke free.
She rocked her hips again, riding Louis’ hard length, never taking her eyes from Pierre. Yes.
A deep growl started up in Pierre’s throat, more animal than human, and a musky scent filled the room.
“Shall we give him a show? Do you like the sound of that, bébé?” Louis nibbled down the side of her throat. “Pierre does. I do, too.”
His hands were rubbing circles all over her back as his lips worked along her collarbone.
He flicked the clasp of her bra open and slipped the straps from her shoulders.
The fabric of his shirt teased her already peaked nipples.
Still she couldn’t look away from Pierre.
In the periphery of her vision, his hand moved up and down his hidden length, slow strokes, keeping in time with the lazy roll of Louis’ hips pressing his cock against her clit.
Then she was being lifted, turned around and sat back down on Louis’ lap.
She faced Pierre, and he watched on as Louis cupped her breasts, rolling her nipples between his fingers.
Pierre’s nostrils flared, a low groan slipping out between his bared teeth.
To be the center of such desire, such blatant need, was intoxicating.
Melinda reveled in it, arching her back, thrusting her swollen nipples at him, all but begging Louis for more.
As though he heard her silent pleas, he gave her more, sucking along the cord of her neck, and sliding his hand lower, leaving goosebumps and trembles in his wake as he traversed her stomach.
Lower still, he slipped his hand beneath the lace of her panties and found her clit.
She threw her head back and let out a moan so full of hunger she could barely fathom it had come from her mouth.
“Look at how she bares her neck for us. Putain, Pierre. J’ai veux la mordre. De la revendiquer. Here. Now.”
What had he said? What did he want to do, here and now? Please let it be what she hoped. Louis’ fingers circled her clit. She teetered on the edge.
“No.” The single word cracked across the room.
Louis growled, and his finger stopped circling. No. She’d be a mess if he left her unsatisfied. Again. She couldn’t face it twice in one night. Not after—
“Soon,” promised Pierre. “Now stop messing around and give me that show you promised me. I’m not going to last much longer.”
Yes.
Louis chuckled against her neck. “Oui, Pierre.”
His finger resumed its slow circling, and Melinda shuddered her relief, chasing it, wanting more.
“Putain, Pierre. She’s so wet. I can’t wait to be inside her.”
Melinda mewled. That’s what I want. Louis inside me.
He slipped his fingers in, first one, then a second. She gasped and squeezed her eyes shut. So good. The rub of his thumb on her clit worked in tandem with the thrust of his fingers, wet sucking sounds mingling with her harsh pants.
“Look at Pierre, bébé. Let him see it all.”
Her eyelids fluttered, but she was too lost in the delicious slide of Louis’ thick fingers against her G-spot, the pressure building in her core and the base of her spine. She was close. Oh, so close.
“Open your eyes, Melinda. Look at me.”
The punch of command in Pierre’s voice had her snapping her eyes open and giving him what he wanted.
Those beautiful eyes full of hunger, for her, they captured her, and held her prisoner.
Dark shadows swirled in their depths, mesmerizing her, dragging her deeper until she thought she might drown in them and be lost forever.
Her release hit her faster than a bullet train. She clamped down on Louis’ fingers, threw her head back and opened her mouth on a silent scream, her body shuddering through the best orgasm she’d had in…in forever.
She collapsed into a spineless heap, her chest heaving. Louis slipped his fingers free and gathered her close.
“Beautiful,” he murmured, turning her face to kiss her lips, gentle, reverent, as though she were the most precious thing in his world.
Then Pierre was there, cupping her face and taking her mouth in his, taking her deep. Soul deep. She clutched at them both, afraid to let them go. Afraid this moment might end.
Pierre pulled away with a final suck of her bottom lip. “Oui. Beautiful. And all ours.”
Yes, she wanted to be theirs. Here. Now.
Between the two of them. Wanted them both in a way that would stay with her, forever imprinted in her memory.
Something to warm her. To fantasize over when they were gone, and she was alone again with nothing but her screens, her cat and her work.
Something that would ease the emptiness of battery-powered relief.
A moment in time where she’d been truly alive.
“Playtime is over,” growled Pierre.
Disappointment burned in her chest. Then Pierre kicked off his shoes, ripped his shirt over his head and dropped his sweatpants.
He stood gloriously naked, his cock jutting out, slick with pre-cum. “Now we fuck.”
Louis tipped her onto the bed. “You thought we were done, bébé?” He chuckled. “Oh, Melinda. We’ve only just started.”