Chapter Twelve
It was over an eight-hour flight to San Francisco, and Louis planned to spend as much of that as he could giving their little mate all the pleasure she could take.
He suspected, in her current state of mind, she could take a lot.
He was going to make sure, when this night was over, they would’ve imprinted themselves on her so thoroughly Melinda wouldn’t want to, wouldn’t be able to walk away from them. Ever.
The road ahead of them would be a rocky one.
They were werewolves. She was human. But that was a hurdle many Langeais wolves would face.
It would’ve been easier had she, like Gabriel’s mate, Annabelle, known they were shifters.
It wasn’t to be, and Louis wouldn’t change their mate.
Not for anything. She was perfect. Except for one little detail. She worked for the enemy.
Unknowingly, but that didn’t change the fact Cordelia, the witch with a vendetta against the Langeais wolves, was her client. And it was their job to track Cordelia down.
Pierre kneeled on the bed in front of her, and Louis thrust thoughts of the witch out of his mind. Tonight was all about Melinda.
With her attention focused on Pierre, he brought his wolf forward enough to extend a claw on each hand, but nothing more.
Until she had accepted they were in her life permanently, they couldn’t afford to reveal who—what—they were.
Right now, she saw them as a means to an end.
An enjoyable way to relieve the stress and the horror of the night.
She was going to be in for a surprise, non?
He snagged the white lace band of her panties on either side and ripped through them. She gasped as they dropped.
He gave her a slap on her bare ass. “On your hands and knees, bébé.”
She squealed, but jumped to obey.
Merde. A prettier sight he had never seen.
Melinda presenting, her pink pussy all wet and glistening.
His loose sweats were too constricting. He was wearing too many fucking clothes.
Time to rectify that. He slipped off the bed, toed off his shoes and shucked his shirt and sweatpants, his cock springing free, eager and ready.
It had been in this perpetual state since the moment he’d stood outside her door, inviting her to their apartment to taste his nuts.
His nostrils flared at the thought of her mouth on him doing exactly that. Tasting his nuts. Pierre gripped a hand in Melinda’s hair, lifting her head level with his groin. She licked her lips. Lucky Pierre. But he wouldn’t be left wanting. Not at all.
He grasped Melinda by her hips and ran his tongue along her glistening slit. She moaned, and all but shoved her pussy into his face. He chuckled against her lips and her whole body jerked.
“Does she taste good, Louis?”
He gave her another lick. “Mm. Paradis.”
Then he set to laving her with his tongue, holding her wiggling ass tight, keeping her still, bringing her to the brink, then switching up the rhythm until she was quivering all over.
Pierre growled and fisted his cock in his hand. She reached for him, placing her hand over his, nearly losing her balancing and toppling over.
Louis abandoned his feasting and grabbed her waist with both hands, keeping her steady.
“No, don’t stop,” she pleaded. “I need—”
Pierre filled her mouth with the bulbous head of his cock, silencing her demands.
His twin’s eyes rolled back in his head and his chest heaved.
A hand still gripped in her hair, Pierre guided her up and down his length.
A musky scent filled the room, and a muscle ticked in Pierre’s jaw.
His brother’s vaunted control was close to breaking.
Fuck, Louis wanted in on that. Wanted to feel it, too.
Holding her steady with one hand, he tapped her inner thighs, forcing her to part them.
On his knees, he positioned himself between them, his cock rejoicing as it made contact with her wet heat.
She pushed back against him, moaning, her mouth full of Pierre.
Slick and coating him in her juices with every thrust between her lips, it took everything Louis had not to embarrass himself.
To not finish before they’d even started.
Pierre always railed at him for being impulsive, impatient.
His twin would never let him live it down if he did.
Melinda jerked away from Pierre. “Condoms?”
Putain. They didn’t need condoms. As werewolves, they were immune to disease. As Langeais wolves, they couldn’t impregnate a human. But Melinda didn’t know that, and he couldn’t tell her. Pierre disappeared, and when he returned, he threw a small square packet at him.
Merde. He didn’t want to wear one. Wanted nothing between him and his little mate. Melinda squirmed, concern lacing her scent.
He tore the packet open with his teeth and slipped the latex over his length. For Melinda, he’d wear it.
Louis eased back, lined himself up with her entrance and thrust.
Putain. I’m inside her. My mate. Our mate.
Louis was no saint. Neither was Pierre. They’d had many a woman in their beds, alone and together.
Werewolves were highly sexual beings. Yet nothing he had ever experienced before, no woman he had ever fucked before, could compare to this.
This woman. No, their woman, taking him deep, her channel fluttering around him, squeezing him tight.
Their little chouquette who had pulled them into her world with her skills and intrigued them with the cause she championed.
He’d brave a million old lady apartments and floral duvets again to be here right now.
Louis planned to do this many times over in his long life, from now on with Melinda and only Melinda, but nothing would beat this first time, seating himself balls deep inside her. He’d remember this moment forever.
Louis moaned. “She feels so good, Pierre.”
“Oui.” His brother’s voice held an awe he’d never heard from him before. He was feeling it, too.
Melinda gave an impatient wiggle of her ass, and he chuckled. “Oui, chouquette. I will give you what you’re wanting.” He rolled his hips, pressing deeper, and she moaned her pleasure around Pierre’s cock.
“Stop playing, Louis.” There was a snap of command in Pierre’s voice. “I’m not going to last much longer.”
Who’s the impatient one now? But Louis, sensation sizzling in the base of his spine, heeded his brother’s words.
Gripping her hips to keep her steady, he thrust into her faster and faster, setting a furious rhythm matched only by Pierre.
Melinda grasped hold of Pierre’s thighs, steadying herself as they rocked back and forward on the bed, the drone of the jet’s engines no match for the symphony of their mate’s moans and mewls of pleasure.
Louis could listen to those gorgeous sounds on replay and never tire of them.
“I’m going to come.”
At Pierre’s hoarse shout, Melinda’s pussy clamped down on Louis’ cock and his release ripped through him.
He stiffened, resisting the howl that rose in his throat, his canines punching through his gums, and Louis could have sworn his brain, his life essence, his soul were exiting his body through his dick and pouring into Melinda. He couldn’t stop coming.
Louis collapsed in a sweaty mess, taking a shuddering Melinda with him.
Pierre stood at the end of the bed, wrecked, his chest heaving and a look of shocked awe on his face.
Louis chuckled and buried his face in Melinda’s hair, scenting her.
She smelled of them now. Satisfaction burned in Pierre’s eyes. Oui, Louis liked it, too.
Pierre ducked out of the room and returned with a damp cloth. Melinda stirred as he started wiping her face, her chin, cleaning her up.
Melinda struggled to sit up. “I can do that.” She grabbed for the washcloth.
Pierre held the cloth out of her reach.
“Shh. Let him do it, chouquette.” Louis held her firm in his arms. “Let him take care of you. It’s what he likes to do. He’ll be a grumpy…bear all day if he can’t.”
Merde. He’d almost slipped and said wolf. Pierre glared at him. His brother had caught his hesitation. Had she?
After a moment’s pause, she relaxed into his arms and let Pierre wipe her down, dragging the cloth over her pert little breasts, cleaning up the evidence of his release.
With a refresh of the cloth, Pierre continued his thorough ministrations between her thighs.
She lay there in his arms, limp and satiated, and it wasn’t long before she slipped into a deep and, he hoped, dreamless sleep.
Pierre tossed the cloth and returned to the bed, and they cocooned her between them. Nothing in this world was more precious. They would keep her safe. Louis would give his life for her without a second thought. Pierre, too. The question was—would she let them?
Pierre slipped on his sweats. Melinda still slept, wrapped in Louis’ arms, one leg hooked over his twin’s thigh.
He wanted to stay with them, maybe go another round with their hot little mate, have her wake up with both of them beside her, but…
Louis met his gaze, and his brother nodded.
He understood. In the main cabin, unattended, was Melinda’s laptop.
It pained him to deceive her like this, but there was a lot at stake, and that laptop was the key.
Finding Cordelia before Melinda did was the best outcome.
For the pack and for their mate. He didn’t want that ruthless old witch anywhere near her.
All he could hope was Melinda would see the end result justified the means.
If it didn’t… There wasn’t enough cognac in the world to drown out that sorrow. Maxime could attest to that.
He’d need time to crack Melinda’s encryption. With any luck, she would sleep for a few hours. At least one of them would be with her when she woke up. He couldn’t bear her thinking it’d only been sex to them. A frightened woman in need of solace, an opportunity, and nothing more.
With his own laptop open in front of him, he booted up Melinda’s.
This wouldn’t be easy. In the three months since Christmas, Melinda had proved herself to be a worthy adversary.
It’d been no simple matter to track her down, despite having the neat piece of code he and Louis had created.
A warmth settled in his chest. He liked that their mate was like them.
A hacker. He liked it more that she used her skills to help those in need.
But her apartment, while not high-end, didn’t come cheap, and righteous crusades didn’t pay well.
That had left her exposed to people like Cordelia.
Melinda’s screen saver popped up. Time to get to work.