Chapter Eight Jean-Emilien
My wolf, he is rising.
He is surging from the cellar, buried deep in my soul, where I keep my dark side chained and dungeoned.
My wicked beast is lunging for that fiery lick of curls, dripping with sex and taunting us, between Mallory’s virginal thighs. My taloned hands engulf the pale rounds of her derrière and drag her toward me.
“Le Bon Dieu save you,” I mutter, deep and guttural in my chest. Her innocent scent of rain and honeysuckle floods my senses, mingled with the primal musk of sex.
Dimly I hear Draco, my amou— the powerful mate I would openly acknowledge as my alpha, if only he were wolf—he is commanding me sternly to wait.
But Mallory herself, she is all invitation, arching her back and pressing her ass into my loins. Her tattooed wings pulse and shimmer against her skin like silver.
At this moment, my loup-garou , my terrible wolf, he owns my cock. At the base of my shaft, my knot is swelling purple with need.
I fist my knot hard to hold him back, him, because this girl—she is not ready to be knotted.
But no force under Heaven can stop me from pressing my dick against the slick folds of Mallory’s divine pussy. No force can stop me from working my swollen cockhead into the hot tight suck of her hole.
I mean to be careful, eh? But Mallory is gasping and moaning and nestling her sweet derrière into my pelvis.
And my wicked wolf, he is lust incarnate.
A jolt of raw lust coils at the base of my spine. My shoulders bunch, my quads tighten, my hips surge forward of their own accord. Her tight pussy envelops me… ah, inch by inch, she is exquisite, this is torment… while I rein in my beast until I groan with effort.
Pinned in my terrible clutches, Mallory quivers like a trapped bird. Her cunt, her sweet koko, ripples and pulses around my demanding length. I forge forward until my knot lodges against her pussy. (Even that, my wicked beast demands. How he burns to knot her!) But my fist, wrapped firmly around the throbbing bulb of flesh at my base, protects her tender flesh from this final assault.
Under the invasion, she remains very still—still and trembling—but slowly, her head turns. Her wide eyes, glowing like pools of mercury, lock on mine. Her thick lashes flutter.
“Oh, Jae,” she moans, low and husky. “Oh my God.”
Every cell in my body sings with triumph. My head falls back in a long possessive howl.
When my vision clears, there is Draco, standing before us with his thick zozo jutting proudly before him and his cold face blazing with our shared need.
“That’s it,” Draco says thickly, encouraging both of us. He cradles her head and strokes her fiery curls. “You’re taking his big cock so good, little girl. You’re gonna make him blow. He’s gonna fill your sweet pussy with his cum.”
Then my amou gives me a look of stern warning that makes my balls clench. Grimly he orders, “No knot tonight, yeah? We save that shit for later.”
Now my wolf howls in protest. I bare my fangs at my alpha, but he is right to protect her. For Mallory’s sake, I grip my knot harder and restrain my wolf to slow shallow strokes.
Ah, this girl, she was made for fucking.
So responsive.
Every rough downstroke, every slap of our hips colliding, wrings another breathless moan from her virginal lips.
When Draco’s gaze returns to her, his harsh face softens. Just as his cold mafia heart has softened for this girl. “You wanna come for the two of us, don’t you, hjartfólgin ?”
“Yes.” From her hands and knees while I drive into her from behind, she gazes up at him like the sweet girl she is. “I want all of him. But I want all of you too, Draco.”
Then this innocent creature leans forward to drop a sweet kiss on the head of Draco’s straining dick.
His brow furrows and his jaw knots. His hands clench around her head until his knuckles whiten. “Mallory— fokk— I can’t—”
“It’s okay,” she says softly. “You won’t hurt me.”
When she laps at his thick dick like a kitten lapping cream, a harsh Icelandic curse rips from his lips.
Yet he’s helpless to resist her, her shy licks that paint his cock with her pretty tongue, the gentle way she kisses and nuzzles his cockhead with curious lips.
Ah, she is made for this. Made to please us.
Gripped by a powerful compulsion to claim this wild skittish creature, my own thrusts quicken. Every slap of my hips against her sweet ass nudges her mouth a few centimeters deeper onto Draco’s dick.
Finally, his big hands wrap around her head to guide her.
To coax her to take more of him.
She softens and yields to him, ah, so beautifully. Just as she yields to me. With every thrust, her exquisite cunt ripples and tightens around my aching shaft. Truly, I will not long survive this delicious torment. My wolf and I, we will fill her with our seed until it spills down her thighs. My alpha will fill her sweet schoolgirl mouth until his spend runs down her chin.
Draco and me, we have never shared another.
Always, he is sweating with fear that his mafia enemies will view anyone he loves as a weakness to be exploited. Remarkable, this, the way he claims this vulnerable, powerless, friendless girl. The way he claims her as his, now, before half the school.
Even when the Gemini queen’s heat has driven us all mindless with mating rut, this act of claiming will not go unremarked or unnoticed by our enemies.
For his enemies are mine.
Now, they will also be Mallory’s.
She is spitted and pinned between us, her tight koko is milking my dick. She is gripping Draco’s powerful thighs for balance, head bobbing obediently under his firm grip as he fists her soft curls.
She’s taking both of us.
Pleasing both of us.
Taking her own pleasure from us in return.
Draco’s eyes, cobalt and icy as glaciers, lock with mine. The sight of me driving brutally into her from behind brings ruddy color rising in the hard planes of his face.
“Amou,” I hiss through my fangs. My wolf whines under our alpha’s brutal stare and yields.
Draco snarls in satisfaction and lunges to kiss me. He is fearless of my fangs, his ruthless mouth and slick tongue still potent from the liquor of his homeland—the flask of aquavit in his discarded trousers.
“Hjartfólgin,” he whispers, tender and secret, against my eager mouth. My hidden heart.
I sigh and moan for him.
My heart swells with all the love for this man he will never let me voice. My fist tightens around my knot and my balls tingle.
Dieu , I am so close to coming.
While we fall into this consuming kiss, I knead Mallory’s pretty derrière with my cruel hands and fight not to mark her. My wolf lunges and strains against my will that chains him.
At last, Draco breaks our kiss. He cradles her diligent head and groans, “ Hel , such a good girl. You ready to come for us, First Girl?”
When she shivers and moans between us, he says gruffly, “Good. Touch yourself. Stroke that sweet pussy and let us see.”
This, I cannot endure.
My knot swells and my dick spasms. When Mallory’s innocent hand sneaks between her thighs, when her divine koko milks my dick like an udder, the last link of my hard-fought control is shattered.
I can hold back no longer.
I fling back my head and howl. My climax roars through me like a hurricane.
My cock kicks and floods her virgin hole—this girl we are both claiming, ours, she is ours—with jet after jet of hot seed. In the fire-streaked darkness, the feathers inked across her delicate shoulders flutter and spread.
Her sweet breathless cries are muffled by Draco’s cock, stuffed halfway down her throat. Her hand is still pressed between her thighs. Me, I’m not certain she even knows how to pleasure herself.
But there is no doubt she is taking her pleasure.
From both of us.
This awkward duckling, she has become a swan.
My heart swells and my soul sings with possessive pride for her. She is ours.
Mallory.
Only when both of us—Mallory and myself—are trembling and mindless with ecstasy does my amou finally take his own powerful release. Draco’s back arches, his chest swells, his fists clench. His mouth opens in a primal yell that punches through the throbbing beat of the boombox and the chorus of cries rising from the orgy.
His hips punch forward to flood our girl’s mouth and throat with his own abundant tribute.
She takes him like a goddess, like she was born to do nothing else. She clings to him for balance but swallows him down, without choking or struggling. She yields to him, to me, to us— so perfectly.
Ah, this girl. She is perfect.
She is perfect for both of us.
I am lost in her, lost in him, lost in this spellbound moment of discovery the three of us are sharing, when my wolfish senses recoil from the sharp chemical stink of kerosene. Under the din of music, I discern the jarring crash of shattered glass.
My instincts prickle in a frisson of unease.
This is something that should not be.
The door to the basement den bursts open so violently it slams into the wall. Dimly I recall this is the room where the Gemini queen and her mates have vanished.
Ronin Pendragon erupts into view, mother-naked, black hair swirling around muscled shoulders, his tall silhouette edged in a hectic flicker of light. A blast of cold outdoor air and the powdery scent of falling snow spill from the room behind him. Fingers of oily smoke wind around his body. Ronin looks wildly around the oblivious tangle of the sex-drunk party.
Across the width of the basement, his desperate stare locks with mine. Over the grinding music, he bellows, “Fire!”