Freakn' Shifters Bundle (3-in-1) (43 page)

Of course, mentally admitting these things to himself didn’t mean he’d tell the cat he liked him. He enjoyed their verbal sparring too much, but when it came to sharing Francine, though, he was done fighting. Her happiness was the only thing that truly mattered to him, and what luck, her version of happiness meant incredible pleasure.

*

Sated and grinning like idiots, they finally stumbled back into the house to the shrieking of an angry she-wolf.

“You bastards! You planted these basketballs inside me. I am going rip your dicks off. Ooooh!”

Francine turned wide eyes to her mates who shrugged sheepishly.

Mitchell turned red. “Um, in the heat of the moment, did we forget to mention Naomi went into labor?”

And that was the last coherent thing anybody said for a while as the family took turns holding Naomi’s hand, enduring her punishing grip when she freaked and demanded her men leave. Not that Ethan or Javier went far. They paced the hallway, their faces tight with anxiety, but not willing to miss the birth of their children no matter how pissed their delicate freakn’ flower was at the moment.

During one of her periods with her BFF, as Francine mopped her brow, Naomi stopped groaning long enough to say, “So, tell me. Was it good?”

A smile curved her lips as she sassed back, “Oh please, like you didn’t hear me screaming over your pissing and moaning.”

“Skank.”

“Bitch.”

They grinned at each other for a moment before another contraction hit and Naomi went back to cursing mankind. The laboring went on for a few more hours, with the same doctor who tended Francine arriving to supervise the birth. Just after
midnight
, Mark and Melanie were born at a screaming five pounds four ounces, and four pounds eleven.

They were red, wrinkly, and possessed the mightiest pair of lungs ever seen. In other words, they were adorable and judging by the beatific smiles on Naomi’s and the fathers’ faces, they agreed. Her men, on the other hand, appeared quite green. The deed done, they wasted no time saying good-bye and leaving the new family alone, dragging her to the car.

On the drive back, not much was said, Francine dozing on and off on Mitchell’s lap as Alejandro drove. Once they got to the house, they carried her straight upstairs, two pairs of deft hands stripping her. Then she tensed as she waited to see if they’d leave since it was technically Sunday night, or if they’d fight over who got to stay. She smiled as she felt the bed dip on either side of her, two warm and very naked bodies cuddling into her on either side.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“I’m done being jealous and freakn’,” Mitchell murmured. “From now on, you’re stuck with the both of us. I love you, Red.”

“Almost much as I love you, baby.”

Lucky me.

Francine and her mates moved into a four bedroom home on a ravine lot nestled in a new subdivision on the outskirts of town that shifters were snatching up due to its prime location next to some protected woodlands.

Domestic life agreed with Francine, especially now that her men had finally learned to share. Although not without the occasional tussle that she ended with a softly spoken, “I’ll masturbate tonight if you don’t behave.” Talk about instant attitude adjustment.

And Naomi was so right about the two-man thing. Two is so much more convenient than one.
Take now, for instance. Both her men panted, the sweat glistening off their bare chests as they took turns pleasing her.

“That’s it, Mitchell,” she crooned. “A little harder. Swirl it. Ooh, yes, almost there, push it now.”

“You’re going to kill me, Red,” he groaned. “Isn’t it the cat’s turn?”

Alejandro laughed. “Not yet. Come on, you mangy dog, give the woman what she wants. Put your back into it and dig.”

With a mighty groan, Mitchell heaved the trunk out of the ground and stumbled back with it.

“You did it,” Francine squealed, clapping her hands. And about time too. She’d had them working to get that stump out of the ground for over an hour now, taking turns working at it.

“Glad to serve,” huffed Mitchell, sitting down hard on the grass.

“Beer?” Alejandro offered as he stood.

“Not yet, Jag,” she said wagging a finger. “You still need to fill that hole. And when you’re done, I know another hole that needs filling, after you both shower, of course.” She wrinkled her nose, then squealed, as her men, suddenly in cahoots, came after her, wrapping her in a sweaty body hug that would have been more enjoyable if it were erotically induced and naked.

Pleased with themselves, they wandered off to the pile of dirt, and together, filled the wheelbarrow up and wheeled it over to the hole to backfill it. It made her heart swell to see the two of them getting along, even if oftentimes their cooperation involved harassing her. And she absolutely loved it when they tag teamed her in the bedroom.

Lucky her, she now had two men she could count on, and while it started out with one of them jealous and freakn’, it turned into a whole lot of love—and sex. Lots of yummy, toe-tingling sex.
I am so freakn’ lucky.

The End

Already Freakn’ Mated

By

Eve Langlais

Lucky him, he found his mate. Just one teensy, tiny problem. She was already married to someone else.

Meeting the woman of his dreams would have worked a lot better if she didn’t already belong to another man. But Chris wasn’t about to let something like ‘until death do us part’ keep him from claiming his woman. He’ll do anything to win his mate, including throwing his attractive cousin at the pesky husband.

Despite the danger, and her marital status, Jiao can’t help falling for a handsome wolf. Honor says she should stay away, but her curious inner cat is flexing her claws and demanding they claim their man.

But Jiao isn’t the only one falling in love. When her husband finds himself head over heels with a she-wolf, will Sheng do the right thing and end the marriage sham? Or will the past catch up first and bite them?

Somehow, when Jiao pictured her death, it didn’t involve drowning, bone crushing impact, or a heart attack caused by fear.

Eyeing the sheer drop, laced in darkness due to the late hour, she could too easily picture the several hundred feet of empty space, a scary chasm, bordered by ragged cliffs that funneled into the raging river below.

Jiao bit her lip. “You can’t seriously expect me to jump? I’m a cat not a bird. What if I hit a rock? Or get eaten by a fish?”
Or die of fright on the way down?
A distinct possibility given the way her heart pounded, her palms sweated and her stomach roiled.

“To the first, you’ll bounce. As for the second, you’re too scrawny for most predators. Are you done making up excuses? We don’t have much time. The guards will be making their sweep in less than four minutes.”

Ah yes, the guards. Getting caught outside their cell, no matter the excuse they used –
we were taking a midnight stroll, looking for fishing worms, going for a pee
– would mean at least a week’s worth of punishment. But still… Suicide versus scrubbing the communal bathroom on her knees? Tough choice.

“I haven’t swum in years. What if I don’t remember how?”

Clasping her hands, Sheng faced her, his dark gaze intense. “I promised to never let anything happen to you. That includes drowning, no matter how crazy you make me. I know you’re scared, but you need to push your fear aside, just like we do in the ring and the woods. We’ll survive the jump. You’ll remember how to swim. And we will escape. We don’t have a choice,
jiā z
ǐ
. Or would you prefer the alternative?”

Just the reminder of what awaited her if they didn’t escape was enough to give Jiao a shiver and bolster her resolve. 
There are worse punishments even than death.
Taking a deep breath, Jiao stepped onto the thick stone parapet. The wind tugged at her, whipping strands of her hair free from her ponytail.

“Will you hold my hand?” she asked, with just the slightest quaver. At sixteen, she didn’t quite have the courage to do it alone.

“I will so long as you promise not to drown me,” Sheng quipped, as he laced his fingers through hers.

Despite the situation, Jiao’s lips curved in to a smile. “Of course I won’t. I might need to use your meatier frame to save me from a hungry fish.” Hand clutching his, she turned to face the edge and the very scary drop.
Will we survive the fall?
Did it matter?
Sheng was right. Now or never. The opportunity might never present itself again. Freedom awaited if she could locate her courage – hiding really deep inside, underneath the panic and fear.

Easy. All she had to do was leap. A giant, freakn’ leap of faith.

How bad could the plunge be?

Before she could take a deep breath and prime herself to jump, the scuff of footsteps broke the stillness of the night. Oh no! The guards arrived, earlier than scheduled.

Forget counting down, or having second thoughts. Sheng lunged forward, legs pedaling, one arm outstretched as if he meant to grasp freedom. Tethered by the hand, Sheng yanked Jiao after him.

Biting her lip, hard enough to draw blood, she halted the shriek threatening to spill from her lips –
I mustn’t let the guards know we escape
–
but she couldn’t stop her heart from pounding a mile a minute as they plummeted in the darkness.

Down. Down. Down. The cool air whistled by her ears, but did nothing to slow her fall. Nor did she miraculously sprout wings. Or reverse the law of gravity despite her fervent wish. As for Superman? He was probably busy saving Lois Lane again.

The impact when she hit the river stalled her rapidly beating heart and she lost her grip on Sheng. Closing her mouth and eyes against the water trying to rush in and fill her orifices, she kicked until her head broke the surface and she drew in a gasping lungful of air.

What do you know? I survived the fall.
Uninjured too, or so she assumed, considering she felt no pain. Felt nothing in fact but cold, a bone chilling, teeth-chattering misery as the river took her and swept her toward liberty – or death.

Years later…

Drumming his fingers on the steering wheel to the hard bass of an AC/DC song, Chris cruised up the street towards his next job. A doozy of one, too. The guy who called, Asian judging by the accent on the phone, wanted an estimate on turning his basement into a veritable jungle gym with climbing ropes, wall pegs, balance beams, gymnast rings and more. Why he’d build one at home when he could just get a monthly membership to a gym for less wasn’t something Chris concerned himself with. As a handyman-slash-contractor, he took whatever jobs came his way, anything to help him sock away for the time he’d leave home, which he didn’t intend on doing anytime soon.

While his sister couldn’t wait to leave the family nest, Chris found it quite comfortable. Sure, he needed to do his part keeping his own room tidy, helping out with the house and lawn work, but the home cooked meals and laundry – folded and ironed – totally made up for it. Oh, and you couldn’t beat the cheap rent. Despite his father’s wishes – grumbled loudly and often – his mother insisted Chris and his brothers only chip in enough to cover groceries. They were supposed to put the money they saved on rent aside for a down payment on their own home.

And Chris did that, most of the time. But, who could blame him for going on that trip to Cuba when he got such a smoking deal. Or the UFC tickets he’d bought, front row seats, for him and his buddies.

Yeah, so his nest egg suffered a few minor depletions, he was now determined to get his act together and start putting some dough away. The big screen, 3D television he’d seen in a flyer had nothing to do with it.

Arriving at his destination, a sprawling ranch style home – which meant a ridiculously large basement,  ka-ching  –  Chris parked at the curb and swung out of his truck. He ambled his way to the back of his work vehicle and pulled the squealing tailgate down so he could heft out his toolbox. Clients liked it when he looked prepared, even if all he needed sometimes was a screwdriver.

Slamming the gate shut with another metallic scream begging for the lubricating miracle of WD-40, Chris grimaced at the noise. Of all the things he spent money on, the one he kept neglecting was his vehicle. Somehow, he didn’t think his dad would very well handle him arriving home with a big monster truck. But then again, Chris could justify it as a work expense. Unfortunately, he could too easily imagine what his dad would say – ahem, yell.

Trudging up the front walk, comprised of builder grade, two-by-two concrete squares and unattractive stairs, he inhaled the crisp, clean air. The afternoon sun waned, the chill of autumn hard at work on turning the leaves. Some people loved summer for the sunshine and heat. Others loved winter for the crisp snow and skiing. Chris, however, would take the fall anytime. The brisk breezes which rifled through the colorful foliage. The crunch of leaves when he dove into the pile his brothers made when it was their turn to rake. Screwing outside without fear of bug bites on the ass. Football season. Oh, and his favorite holiday – Thanksgiving, with juicy turkey, savory stuffing, mom’s fluffy mashed potatoes, delicious pan gravy, and whipped cream topped pumpkin pie.

Only two weeks away and already his stomach rumbled in anticipation.

Of course, fall also meant shorter days, cooler weather, and the grasshoppers of summer, a.k.a. his clientele, suddenly deciding they needed work done, NOW. Look at his current case. Called out on a service call by an intense gent who didn’t want to wait, and expected a quote yesterday. Chris tried not to sigh as he thought of the lacrosse game he’d probably miss out on tonight because of this last minute job.
What’s the point of having brother-in-law’s who give me free tickets if I can’t use them?

Dammit, there weren’t that many games left, the lacrosse season now in the final round of playoffs. But then again, he couldn’t complain too much. He’d gotten to see more than his fair share of sporting events lately because of his sister’s mates. He wondered if they had some pull when it came to getting cheap – or even better, free – hockey tickets.

And why the pessimism? Maybe he’d get done taking measurements quicker than expected. After all, the neighborhood was brand spanking new. How much work could there be? Chances were the basement wasn’t yet finished leaving him with a clean slate. Piece of pumpkin pie. He’d get a list of what the guy wanted, take some measurements, and promise to fire him off a quote within a day. Then, race out of here and see if he could still make it in time for the game.

Knocking on the door, Chris bounced on the balls of his feet, surveying the neighborhood still under construction. He remembered it from Francine’s house warming party a few weeks back. God, the fun he had bugging the hell out of his brother Mitchell when on the tour of the house, he caught sight of the king-size bed in the master bedroom. The broken nose was well worth the ruddy-cheeked embarrassment on his big brother’s face, though, when Chris asked him who slept in the middle.