Feral Bachelorism Read online

  It started out slow, like it always did. Brad’s arms around his waist made his muscles clench in anticipation. A fierce, elemental shudder ran through him as panic welled in his throat and desire pounded viciously in his groin.

  He wanted this. He’d wanted it for months, maybe longer. In the past, his dreams had been explicit and arousing, but the men inhabiting his secret fantasies had been faceless; nameless people he could easily discount by the light of day.

  You didn’t have any trouble at the gate, did you?

  Brad’s husky voice caressed Sean’s senses, stirring a deliciously euphoric hunger in his mind. The man didn’t speak -- not exactly. The words were simply there, communicated through a connection formed the moment Sean stepped through the door. With that one simple act of stepping over the threshold, he’d abandoned all hope of being able to walk away before fate ran its course.

  Sean’s cock stirred, aching against the constraints of his briefs as Brad relentlessly teased and caressed, fondling him through his clothes even before he undressed him. Sean watched, desperate for relief, as Brad kneeled before him and gripped his hips. His dick pulsed with voracious need. He arched his hips, pushing his shaft against Brad’s mouth.

  He wanted to feel the soft, wet warmth envelop him. He’d had women perform this task in the past, of course, but he wondered how different it would be with a man. Would another guy know just how much pressure to apply to the sensitive head? How hard to grasp the shaft as he slid his mouth up and down the hard, throbbing rod? How gently to cup his balls as his seed gathered there, preparing to squirt down his lover’s throat?

  He didn’t know, but God, how he wanted to find out.

  “Don’t make me beg for it. I can’t,” he heard himself say. The words were his, and his voice trembled with discomfort, yet his mind and body told a different story.

  He ached to say the words Brad wanted to hear. His subconscious answered silently, begging and pleading for the man’s hot mouth, for the soft caress of his tongue, for his lips to wrap around his cock head and kiss, lick and nibble every inch of his shaft.

  But something deep inside wouldn’t let him. The dream hadn’t changed at all, despite Sean’s need to surrender to everything Brad had to offer, regardless of his grudging acceptance of his body’s anguished desire.

  Here, in his fantasy, it should have been safe to shed his inhibitions and whisper the words he couldn’t otherwise utter aloud.

  Perhaps this was his punishment for not allowing himself to simply give and receive pleasure no matter its source. Whatever the reason for his suffering, his inhibitions held him firmly locked in their relentless grip.

  He watched Brad’s smug grin as the man rose to his feet, shaking his head in silent admonishment. Sean’s cock remained dry, except for the bead of pre-cum that dripped from the tip of his cock.

  And then Brad’s tongue was pushing its way into his mouth, his hard-as-steel cock pulsing and shoving against Sean’s lower belly. Brad was at least three inches taller, giving him the advantage in everything, including the kiss. Primal, eager desire took over and Sean felt himself respond, opening, seeking, sweeping his tongue over Brad’s in a desperate attempt to experience as much as possible before Brad inevitably sent him away.

  When Brad broke the kiss, Sean heard himself whimper. He hated it, the needy moan escaping his lips, the way he’d have done anything for another touch of Brad’s lips, another taste of his masculine, savage flavor.

  Brad pushed him toward the bed, and once again Sean was powerless to disobey. Was this feeling of utter helplessness part of the dream, or had it been that way Friday night as well? He couldn’t remember. Perhaps he didn’t want to.

  On your knees. I want to stroke your cock while I fuck you.

  God, how he wanted that too. He climbed on the bed and held his breath, waiting while Brad slicked his cock. The lube smelled like strawberries, imbuing the air with a delicious aroma that melded with the scent of sweat and masculine arousal to drain the last drop of resistance from Sean’s body.

  Hands parted his ass cheeks, slicked the tender entrance of his anus with swift, sensual, expert strokes. Brad must have done this a dozen times. A hundred, a thousand, even. The thought made Sean gulp. Why would a guy like Brad Hennessy want a nobody like him? Brad was handsome, confident, and successful. And if the rumors were true, he was also rich. Very, very rich. A man like him could have anyone he wanted, male or female. Why bother with someone like Sean, a guy who couldn’t even own up to his own desires?

  The thoughts dissipated as he felt the warm, insistent weight of Brad’s cock pressing against his ass.

  This was it. The moment he’d been dreading.

  The moment he’d been yearning for.

  He gripped the bed sheets in his fists, his leg muscles quivering as he fought to keep himself from thrusting backward and impaling his body on Brad’s hard cock.

  When it came, the breach was much less painful than he’d expected. True to his word, Brad went slow, teasing and caressing, ensuring his partner’s tight anal passage had enough time to adjust to the intrusion before pushing deeper. Sean’s breath hitched in his throat. He focused on the dark pillowcase, watching it change color as firelight flickered back and forth over the crumpled fabric. Anything to take his mind off the fact that the way Brad filled him felt more incredible than anything he’d ever experienced.

  The man’s shaft fit him perfectly. It stretched his inner muscles, sating his curiosity and eager desire. He heard himself cry out as Brad’s hand wrapped around his cock, stroking even as he thrust inside his ass, the rhythm of the two sensations conspiring to make him lose his mind.

  Stay with me. Stay forever.

  Sean woke with a start, his body arcing in one smooth movement, his hand clamped tightly around his cock. Hot cum spurted from his shaft and curved through the air, landing on his stomach. His breath came in harsh, ragged gasps while his mind hovered on the edge of denial. Images of Brad pushed through to the surface, along with traces of those last whispered words.

  Sean clenched his jaw, squelching the memories and frantic fantasies down into oblivion. Aside from that final plea, the dream had been the same. His fevered mind was playing tricks on him; that was all. Brad didn’t want him. Not for a night, and certainly not for eternity. He’d made that much perfectly clear three nights ago, and now that Sean was awake, he could control his thoughts rather than let his subconscious control him.

  Gritting his teeth, Sean withdrew his sticky hand from around his dick. His cock still pulsed with wet heat, the last remnants of his orgasm oozing from his slit to drip onto his hip and slide down to the sheets.

  “Fuck,” he gasped as he turned onto his side, not caring that he lay in a wet spot of his own making.

  The electronic readout on the bedside clock taunted him with its bright green glow. “Oh, fuck!”

  Sean jumped out of bed, pausing only long enough to cast another disbelieving glance at the clock. He should have been at the office an hour ago. The meeting he’d thought of as his salvation from a lifetime of brewing and serving coffee had begun without him.

  Sean jumped under a freezing jet of water and winced at the quick clenching of his muscles. He needed the cold shower as much to wake up as to cool his raging libido. After three minutes, Sean had to admit the ice-cold spray couldn’t wash away the reminder of his body’s response to a man who obviously wanted nothing to do with him after a brief romp.

  In fact, it was only making him angry. Damn the stupid dreams that urged him to seek out the Hard Delights Amusement Park. Damn his friends for taking him there.

  And damn, damn, damn Brad Hennessy for shaking up his life with nothing more than a crumpled piece of paper and a grin.

  * * *

  Fifteen minutes later, Sean pushed through the main entrance into the lobby of Aaron Sheen Enterprises.

  The secretary, a short, stout woman in her mid-forties who ran the office as though it was her kingdom, gave Sean a p
racticed smile. “Mr. Sheen wants to see you in his office immediately.”

  “The meeting…”

  “Is over,” the woman confirmed. “But he still wants to see you.”

  Sean nodded, gritting his teeth resolutely. He knocked on the mahogany door and waited until he heard Aaron’s gruff voice beckon him inside.

  Sean walked in, closing the door behind him. He stood just inside the room, waiting for the tirade he knew would come. Aaron Sheen wasn’t known for his patience. He’d made a fortune in the gambling industry, and his reputation for being ruthless with everyone from his enemies to his business partners made his employees avoid dealing with him unless absolutely necessary.

  In Sean’s case, it was absolutely necessary.

  He let his gaze wander over a ring of chairs evenly spaced around the center of the room. They were empty, but Sean knew that an hour ago they’d been filled by his co-workers. The meeting had been held for one reason: to determine the best location in or around Vernon, Connecticut to build Aaron’s new casino.

  Aaron didn’t believe in conference tables, so he never used them. The only flat surface in the entire room was a small desk with a glass top that sat in front of the rear window. A stack of folders stood neatly off to one side. Behind the desk, four paintings hung on the back wall. They all depicted various views of Aaron’s favorite casinos.

  And between the paintings, seated behind the small desk, was Aaron Sheen himself.

  “Where’s your proposal?” Aaron said, leaning back in his chair. He wasn’t a large man, but his reputation and the sheer authority in his voice made him seem twice as imposing.

  Sean bunched his fists at his sides. He straightened his shoulders, knowing there was only one answer that would be acceptable to Aaron. “I don’t have it.”

  “Why not?”

  Because I was busy fucking a man who seems to have stolen my wits along with my anal cherry.

  He would have smiled at the absurdity of that thought, but one look at Aaron’s stern face wiped away any trace of amusement.

  “I didn’t find a suitable location,” Sean said, knowing as soon as he did so that he’d sealed his fate.

  He’d heard his co-workers grumble that Aaron could smell a lie a mile away. Sean never quite believed the rumors… until today.

  “Really?” Aaron said. “Because before you left here on Friday, you said you had the perfect place in mind. I believe you were going to… what did you call it? Ah, yes, you were going to ‘scope it out’ that night.” His eyes narrowed and he leaned forward, steepling his fingers beneath his chin. “Well? Did you?”

  Oh, Sean had scoped out something all right, but it was altogether the inappropriate thing. He shook his head. “No.”

  Aaron nodded once, briskly, then clapped his hands together. “You’re fired.”

  Though he’d expected the worst, the statement still came as a blow. Sean took a step backward, a myriad of responses settling on his tongue. He bit them all back and then, for the second time in three days, he walked out of a room without casting as much as another glance over his shoulder.

  He dashed past the secretary, narrowing his field of vision so that he blocked out everything around him but the quickest path to the exit.

  After leaving Brad’s cabin Friday night, he’d stumbled through the forest blindly. He remembered watching the moon as it ducked behind a cloud, turning its back on him like everyone else. Darkness had closed in around him, making it difficult to see beyond the next tree in the lengthening shadows.

  And yet he’d pushed through and made it out the other side only slightly worse for wear. Just as he’d do now.

  Sean shoved the office door open with his foot and stormed out, taking a small amount of comfort in knowing that this was one unanticipated encounter he wouldn’t be dreaming about.

  Chapter Three

  “I know that look. I saw it on my brother’s face when he watched his kitten get flattened by a speeding truck.”

  Brad turned an icy glare on Victor McCormack, the Zante pack’s new head of security. Until a week ago, the post hadn’t even existed, though Victor had always acted as a vigilante of sorts. When J.C. made it official, no one complained. Especially not after J.C.’s vicious encounter with Daniel Kraus, the Alpha of the rival Kölen pack.

  “This is worse,” Brad said.

  Victor chuckled. “Worse?”

  “Yeah. It’s more like your brother having to witness the kitten’s autopsy and being made to listen to the medical examiner describe every cut even as he watches it being done.”

  Victor grimaced. “That bad, huh?”

  Brad shrugged and turned away. He couldn’t take the pity in the man’s eyes. It was bad enough every member of the Zante pack had to attend J.C.’s mating ceremony and welcome their new queen into their midst. Brad didn’t have to share his pain with every werewolf in a ten mile radius while he was at it.

  The ceremony had been scheduled for twilight, in the clearing where J.C. and Eve had defeated Daniel two weeks earlier. Brad licked his suddenly dry lips. Had it only been fourteen days? Sometimes it felt like a lifetime had passed since he’d last spent a night in J.C.’s arms. And other times… other times he could still feel J.C,’s cock nudging his ass, as demanding and relentless as ever.

  As the hour of the soul binding rite neared, the glade swarmed with werewolves. Some had elected to conform to traditional expectations and appeared before the elders in wolf form, kneeling to receive the blessing before the ceremony began.

  Others, like Brad, preferred to attend as humans. Some claimed they did it as a show of respect to their new queen -- their human queen -- but Brad wasn’t one of them. He didn’t feel the need to pay homage to J.C.’s blushing bride.

  No, he’d elected not to shift for one reason only: he wanted J.C. to see him as he’d been every Friday night for the past three years.

  Human, in every way.

  “I really wish they’d let us wear clothes,” Victor growled, his deep voice resonating above the excited buzz of the crowd, his eyes carefully scrutinizing everyone who stepped beyond the edges of the forest. “How am I supposed to protect anyone with my cock flapping all over the place?”

  Despite the anxiety welling in Brad’s stomach, he smiled. “Wait until the ceremony starts. In a few minutes, your dick will be stiff like everyone else’s.”

  Victor grunted. “I’ve attended mating ceremonies before. They’re over much too soon, and you never get to see anything.”

  “Not royal rites. They’re different. They’re…” Brad sucked in a breath between clenched teeth and held it.

  “Incredible,” Victor said, his voice filled with admiration as the bride stepped out into full view.

  Brad sighed. “Yeah. Incredible.”

  A moment later, he was alone. Victor had moved on to get a better look at the procession, and Brad fell back, blending in with the lengthening shadows. He didn’t care if he didn’t see a thing. In fact, he’d prefer it that way, he told himself stubbornly. He knew what would happen. He’d thought about this night countless times since he’d learned J.C. had chosen Eve Benning as his mate.

  Hundreds of candles had been lit around the perimeter of the meadow, but the light wasn’t needed. Everyone in attendance possessed feral night sight, yet as the golden flicker licked Eve’s creamy skin, a collective gasp echoed from the audience.

  She wore a pale yellow sheath made of delicate, sheer chiffon. The transparent fabric clung to her curves, drawing Brad’s gaze to her long legs, her firm, round ass, her slender waist. Her nipples puckered, tightly drawn beneath the fine constraints of the garment.

  She walked with her head held high and the crowd parted to let her through. A smile tilted her lips as she gazed upon those assembled.

  Already a queen, Brad thought grudgingly. He hadn’t wanted to like Eve, but he’d had no choice. From the moment she’d fallen at their feet dressed in her short little red dress, Brad had known his guys’ night out
would never be the same.

  If only I hadn’t suggested that stupid bet…

  Yet would it really have mattered? He’d bet J.C. that Eve wasn’t the type of woman who’d enjoy a threesome. J.C. had reluctantly taken the bet, knowing that if he won, they’d both get to indulge in her luscious, inviting body.

  If he’d lost, Brad would have been entitled to his claim: J.C.’s ass. In all their time together, J.C. had always been the dominant one. Brad wanted to turn the tables, just once.

  The bet had backfired. Brad had lost, but having sex with Eve had been better than he’d expected. Despite his misgivings, he’d loved every minute of the passionate encounter.

  His hand drifted to his already hard cock, palming the thick length. He could remember the way it felt to bury his dick between her ass cheeks, to force his way past the rigid barrier of her anus until she held him fully inside her tight, hot depths.

  At that moment, Eve looked up. Their gazes met. Locked. A blush stole up her cheeks, but her smile didn’t dim. Inclining her head in acknowledgement of what they’d shared, she swept past him to take her place in the center of the glade.

  The seven pack elders sat in a semi-circle around the bride, all in wolf-form. Brad watched as she stopped before them in turn, her fingertips grazing each one’s fur as she murmured soft words meant for their ears alone.

  Whatever she said clearly wasn’t what they’d expected. Brad watched as the elders gaped in open-mouthed wonder. Silence descended over the glade. Every wolf in attendance held its breath in anticipation.

  “My Queen wishes for our traditions to blend.” J.C.’s deep voice echoed through the glade, startling the Zanteans out of their reverie. “As such, I’ve agreed to recite time-honored human vows.”

  Brad’s stomach clenched at the familiar sound, recalling the many times he’d heard J.C.’s deep, satisfied groans of desire and wishing desperately he didn’t remember.

  As J.C. strode confidently toward his mate despite the murmurs of disapproval echoing through the glade, Brad’s thoughts churned. Memories flashed across his mind. He and J.C. had grown up together. They’d been best friends since childhood, practically inseparable. The Three Musketeers, Brad’s mother had called J.C., Brad and Ali, J.C.’s half-sister.