Fortune Page 3

  He snarled. “Too late, vixen. Besides, I know better than to untie you. You’ve been with us long enough to have venom in your veins, fangs in your gums.”

  “Poetic I see,” she whispered, her gaze returning to Lane’s home.

  He rocked against the bimbo on her knees, seemingly ramming his cock against her throat, jamming his size between her cheeks. Maybe it wasn’t quite as bad as all that, but she wanted to imagine it as an unpleasant experience for both the cockholder and the cock.

  Satisfied with her assigned references, she decided to look at their acts as necessary. Lane wouldn’t have taken another woman if she’d been there instead. The woman wouldn’t have knelt before her mate if Ariela had been there to stop her.

  “Are you aroused, Ariela?”

  “Watching that?” She shook her head in denial even though Alabama had been the one to ask. “Why would something like this turn me on?”

  “Because you’re his,” the vile one at the right said. “Admit it.”

  As if she’d been coached and then practiced and rehearsed her response a thousand times, she said, “I belong to Jagger. I’m Sanchez’s mate. And Leon is my mate as well. I don’t know why you can’t tell your boss this so we can put to rest any further misunderstandings.”

  Her pussy clenched then and she focused on Lane again. His body seemingly tensed and her mouth watered as she imagined rippling muscles, his thick cock strumming across another woman’s tongue, his balls pressing against the gal’s small chin. Even her ass cheeks tightened as she thought of all the carnal acts she wanted to enjoy with her new lover, the mate who had taken such pains with his Catwalk production just to please her.

  Lane had certainly gone the extra mile in order to offer Ariela and Sanchez a new venue for their performances. No expense had been spared.

  She recalled their opening night at Catwalk. Lane demonstrated superior knowledge in business and stood out as an extraordinary symbol of strength. Even if someone had met him on the street, he would’ve captured a second look.

  He always presented himself well and looked like a movie star or perhaps a GQ model. Sure he possessed some age indicators like wrinkles around his eyes or those tiny lines embedded in his forehead, but in all the ways that mattered—particularly those feelings he stirred within her heart—he was the epitome of an ideal partner. Lane represented the perfect mate who would not only provide well for her but would also later take care of their children.

  She gasped as if the wind had been knocked out of her. Where had that come from?

  As suddenly as she’d considered the possibility of giving birth to Lane’s children, a heated arousal washed over her with more power and precision than before. She zoomed in on the source behind her heightened need for release.

  She’d once summed up Lane as the kind of person who didn’t mind taking what he wanted because he naturally assumed whatever it was he wanted already belonged to him anyway. Had she begun to adapt to his way of thinking, or at least to the way of thinking she believed he possessed? If so, why? Why was she ready to risk it all for a man she barely knew, for a shifter of a different breed who seemed superior to other shifters, even her mates?

  Was it because he made her feel like a shifter of a different breed, too? Was it because his touch, the caresses he’d given her just several weeks prior, still burned with an incredible heat she couldn’t even describe? Was it because the memories they’d made together still made her clench with misunderstood desire, the kind of lust that drove a woman to want, need, and expect fiery passion and unprecedented loving?

  She writhed one way or another, wishing these men would free her. At this point, if they would untie her and go, she wouldn’t retaliate. She wasn’t even concerned about where they might leave her. Basically she needed the freedom to take care of herself, to handle the breeding lust that had become too painful to dismiss.

  At that point, in that very moment, she could come for a crowd, orgasm on stage, and shout out any lover’s name.

  Jagger. Sanchez. Leon.

  She wanted them all. She needed them all.

  Lane. Lane. Lane.

  Her mate’s names rolled through her head. She wondered then if Jagger had always known she would face something like this.

  She lifted her gaze, wishing she could look away then but far too curious to purposefully avoid the unraveling show.

  Lane was on his feet. The woman’s mouth rode him with skill and precision, gliding up and down and up and down. The slip and slide of her wet lips seemed obvious. She gave him a good blow job with an established rhythm making the obvious more than apparent.

  They were familiar lovers. The woman had serviced him before or perhaps was a current or ex-girlfriend. She shuddered at the thought.

  Ariela didn’t share her mates with other women. Sure they shared her but she wouldn’t make an exception and return the favor.

  Lane held his partner’s face up and flattened his palms against her ears. He slammed against her throat over and over again.

  At that moment, Ariela rocked with each motion. Each time he plunged inside the woman’s mouth, her pussy clenched at the emptiness. Her ragged breaths filled the air as real tears flooded her eyes.

  Pain, agonizing and ongoing, wracked her body. She needed relief but she didn’t want it like this. She would fight with all her might and keep her orgasm at bay.

  “Let it have you,” Alabama said, keeping his voice low. “Once you prove you’re his, they’ll leave you and go.”

  “I can’t prove anything,” she snapped, more certain then of a langle mate’s truth.

  She and Lane would become one, feeling one another’s emotions and pleasures as much as if they were their very own. Well she’d be damned if she’d come because Lane was getting his rocks off by letting some insignificant woman suck his cock!

  “Is he your mate, Ariela?”

  “No!” She thought of Jagger then, how devastated he’d be to learn of her suffering. At the same time, he wouldn’t want these men to have what they wanted and clearly they desired proof.

  Why would she give them what they wanted? The one who had been professing all this adoration and promises of love was what? Getting his cock sucked off while she stood there and watched!

  This man had professed to be her true mate? He was a true something alright but mate didn’t come to mind.

  “Bastard.” She looked away, aware then that she’d already developed true feelings for the one who had gone to so much trouble to work out an arrangement, a living arrangement that was designed to take her away from the only mates she’d ever known.

  “She’s seen enough,” the one at her left said. “Let her go. He’ll know what to do with her.”

  They untied her and took a step back. Both men whipped out shock sticks, switching their independent units to the on-button. One withdrew a pistol and cocked it.

  “Stay back, Ariela,” the gunman said.

  “Oh please. You think I’m going to pursue you?” She had three loving and protective mates. They could take up her battles and handle retaliation. Grinning, she added, “The hell you face should haunt you. I don’t need to lift a finger.”

  They seemed unaffected and likely viewed her statement as an empty threat.

  Alabama said, “You will go straight to Lane and tell him everything that has happened. Understand?”

  “Yes, I understand,” she said, rolling her eyes. What exactly did they want her to tell him? That she’d been so horny that she could’ve sworn she would soon die from the lack of penetrative sex during her mating bout?

  “Turn around.” The man who had pinched her nipple shook his weapon in her direction.

  “Touching me will later cost you, asshole,” she whispered, taking the first step toward Lane’s home.

  “Go downhill and stand at the window and wait. Lane will see you.”

  Her gaze shifted to the path in front of her and more specifically
, the unfolding eroticism. Lane’s hand cupped the back of the woman’s head and his stance changed suddenly. He slammed against his lover’s greedy mouth as he came closer to obvious satisfaction.

  Even though Lane was fully dressed, save the pants balled around his ankles, he looked just as powerful and sexy as the day he’d walked into Pride’s Casino with a business proposition. Ariela had almost fucked him that day and still remembered how her body had longed for him. She’d found him impossible to refuse, sexy beyond measure, and completely different than other men she’d known and loved.

  As she recalled the way he’d made her feel, Ariela couldn’t ignore the lust washing over her like a high tide crashing against a rocky shore. She felt as reckless as those breaking waters cascading with turbulence as they raced toward land or returned to sea.

  The woman on her knees paused. Lane looked down and said something to her, and she went at his cock then with less enthusiasm. He frowned, obviously displeased by something she’d said or done, and Ariela decided it was the perfect time to descend on the property.

  Realizing she could turn Lane’s current and obvious predicament around, she glanced over her shoulder and said, “Thanks guys. I can’t tell ya how much I appreciate your timing here.” They’d set her up to look like a jealous girlfriend. So she was supposed to walk down the hill, stand there and gawk like she desperately wished she was the gal giving Lane head and then what?

  What came next didn’t concern her. She was free. She’d been released. And nothing compared to the first step of freedom.

  Except maybe that first intimate stroke of ecstasy.

  Chapter Three

  “Fuck, Cara! Is that the best you can do?” Lane pulled out, tucked his cock back in his pants, and hissed. “This is unacceptable. You mope around here for days on end acting like I’ve broken your heart and when I finally try to appease you, what happens? You start crying in the middle of sucking my cock!”

  “I’m sorry, Sir.”

  “Sorry? Hell I could do a better job switching off hands while juggling a romance novel!” He turned around and stalked to the bar. So maybe a romance novel wouldn’t give him the visuals he wanted but one thing was certain. He could achieve greater results if he turned on a good erotic movie and jacked off.

  “Sir, if you’ll just…”

  Lane put up his hand and cocked his head. “Did you hear that?”

  “No. What was it, Sir?”

  Lane quickly buttoned his slacks and reaffixed his belt. His senses were razor sharp. He could hear light and ragged breaths in his ears. “Someone’s here.”

  Cara slowly rose to her feet. “I’ll check the front door, Sir.”

  “Lane.” A light whisper resounded in his ear as if he’d been kissed on his lobe.

  He swallowed once and tilted his head up. His nostrils flared as the sweetest mix of scented berries and vanilla filled the room. “Ariela.”

  Without a second thought, he whipped around. There on the patio, standing right where he’d first spotted her and instantly recognized her as the woman who would mother his shifter-cubs, was Ariela.

  Lane breathed out a sigh of relief, releasing the strains of burdens as he hurried to the woman he’d longed to hold, the woman who was the reason for his angst, his inner turmoil. He quickly fiddled with the latch and dragged the heavy sliding door out of his way.

  He held out his arms, expecting her to run to him. “Thank God you’re all right. You’ll never know how much I’ve missed you.”

  “Oh I think I have a pretty good idea,” she spat, glaring at him as if she could see straight through him.

  “It’s true.” He was cautious then, very much aware of his damp prick tucked away in his slacks. Had Ariela seen him with Cara? Had she watched as another woman gave him head? Had she been outside all along and what exactly had she seen and heard?

  “Really?” She marched by him. “I need to use your phone.”

  Immediately on guard given her demeanor, Lane hurriedly checked the hills and landscape surrounding his home. After everything that had happened over the last two weeks, he had to consider all possibilities. The woman in front of him could be a langle.

  Impossible!

  Struck by awareness then, he smiled at his woman. If she had been a langle, a deceiver of all deceivers, he wouldn’t have responded to her fragrant womanly scents, the vanilla and berries that seemingly remained with her regardless of when he saw her. Without a doubt, Ariela was there with him.

  “How did you get here?”

  “My abductors brought me.”

  “Do you know who did this Ariela?” Lane grabbed her shoulders. “Can you tell me where you were held or anything at all about your abduction?”

  “No.” She shrugged him away.

  Standing about four feet from her, Lane acknowledged the true reason she was standoffish. “You saw me.”

  “Getting a blowjob while I was out there fighting for some semblance of sanity?” She clucked. “Yes, Lane. I saw everything. Thank you very much.” She might as well have drawn a sword and plunged it in his chest. Her quiet fury was obvious as she looked at him with empty eyes, staring at him as if she hated him. “You’re a piece of work.”

  “Says the woman who sleeps with three other men?” He went to the bar and poured a drink. Even though his arms were aching to hold her, his fingers throbbed with the need to touch her, he would not let her ridicule his actions. He wouldn’t stand as the accused pretending to have a black book with filled pages when the one hurling her resentment couldn’t wait to read his expressions and gauge her next play by what he said or how he said it.

  “Three men, Lane. Not three other men. Three. All. Total.” Seemingly smug, Ariela must’ve misunderstood their current arrangement. She had been gone for two weeks. Perhaps someone hit her over the head and she wasn’t thinking clearly.

  He’d enjoy giving her a little clarity. “Three all total?” He crossed his arms and ate up the sight of her. Angry or not, she was still his true mate, the one woman who would settle the animosity in his body, the tension in his muscles, and the unsettled feeling in his heart and soul. Gathering his wits about him, he quickly rebounded. “We’ll handle the ‘other’ part momentarily.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure about that. I’ve never been one for sloppy seconds.”

  Cara returned then, took one look at Ariela, and winced. “That’s her?”

  Ariela smirked, arched a brow, and turned to Cara with her arm outstretched. “Yes, I’m the woman he refers to as his ‘true’ mate.” She fluttered her eyelashes. “I’m Ariela. I’m sure he’s told you about me.” She gave Lane a warm, almost loving smile, before giving Cara a hard glare. “And you are?”

  “Cara.” She reluctantly took her hand.

  Ariela dug her fingernails into the back of her hand. Cara tried to pull free.

  “Ariela,” Lane warned. Regardless of her need to show Cara she was a superior force in Lane’s life, he wouldn’t let her abuse Cara. She had been important to him at one time and more than anything else, he wouldn’t stand for her cruelty, particularly if it had been provoked by jealousy.

  Cara looked at Lane and back at Ariela. “Well, if this isn’t a bit…”

  “Uncomfortable?” Ariela groaned. “Not for me.” She smiled sweetly, wiped her palm against her leg and acted repulsed by the handshake she’d first initiated. “I wouldn’t think it would be uncomfortable for you, dear. If anything, you should feel as if you have the upper hand here.”

  “I don’t understand, ma’am.”

  “Oh drop the formalities, honey. I’m not into all that bondage and Sir and Mistress bit. You were on your knees for him.” Her expression went stone cold. “You’ll never bow in front of me.”

  Lane had heard enough. He went to his former submissive. “Cara, take the rest of the week off. I’ll call you when I need you.”

  “Cara, don’t go anywhere,” Ariela said, shooting Lane a
smirk. “I wouldn’t dream of sending away one of your lovers when I clearly interrupted the two of you. Is there someplace you can go to finish up?”

  “All right. That’s it.” Lane grabbed Ariela by the hand and quickly dragged her across the room and down the hall. To his surprise, she didn’t resist. In fact, it was almost as if he were dragging along a lightweight piece of furniture behind him. He went left. She followed right behind. He turned right. She stayed on his heels.

  A few seconds later he scooped her up in his arms and carried her into his bedroom, silently thinking of the symbolic meaning as he marched across the threshold. “I don’t know what Jagger allowed you to get by with but you need to understand something so I’ll make myself clear. I do not let the women in my life behave like this.”

  “Like what exactly?” She squirmed free of his arms and stood before him. She clapped her hands together. “Do tell, Lane, because I’ve been miserable out there. Do you know—wait, let me back up—do you even care what I’ve been through?”

  “Of course I care.” He picked up a lock of hair from her shoulder admiring the lovely glimmer in the golden curl. “Do I know what you’ve been through? No. I can only sense you haven’t been abused, sexually or physically. Beyond that, I will have to rely on you to tell me so we can put a team on this.”

  “A team?”

  “Yes. I plan to get to the bottom of this. By the time my guys are through, everyone in the city will know who you are, but more importantly, they’ll know better than to try and use you against me.

  “You are off-limits to my enemies. They’ll know retaliation and quick retribution will come in the form of immediate death if they so much as even look at you crossly.” He cupped her cheek. “I protect what’s mine, Ariela. And you’re mine. I only failed the one time because you weren’t under my protection yet. You are now. You’re safe here.”

  “Give your team the day off. Jagger will handle it,” she informed him smugly.

  “And how will you get in touch with Jagger exactly?” The only phone on the place was in his pocket and he wasn’t about to give up the leverage he possessed at the moment.