George's Turn [Brac Pack 8] (8 page)

“Why can’t we do it this way? I want to look into your eyes.” Tank pouted. George thought he looked cute as a button with his bottom lip stuck out.

“That’s so sweet…bend over.” George narrowed his eyes on Tank.

“Fine, but I get to top you next.” Tank rolled over to his knees.

“Good lord.”

“What?” Tank looked over his shoulder.

“Just, uh, wow.” George lubed his hand, spearing two fingers into Tank’s tight hole.

“Hey, I may be a big guy, but that’s virgin territory down there.” Tank grunted.

“Sorry, got a little excited.” George began a scissor-like motion with his fingers, reaching his other hand down to cup Tank’s sac.

“More.” Tank moaned.

“Thought you’d like it.” George wiggled his fingers around, trying to find that sweet spot of Tank’s.

“What’s that suppose to mean?”

“Will you stop arguing? You’re killing my hard-on.” George crooked his fingers again.

“Holy fuck!”

Found it.

“Feels good, don’t it?” George speared a third finger in, stretching his mate the best he could. “Ready?”

“No.”

“Slidin’ my snake in your hole anyway.” George slapped his ass.

“Cowboy up.”

“Huh?”

“Here comes the weasel.” George pushed in, stopping when Tank
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stiffened. Fuck, he was tight. He had to close his eyes and take long, slow breathes to calm his impending orgasm. His eyes slowly opened when Tank tapped him on his hip.

“Okay.” Tank pushed back a little as George eased forward.

“Tank, fuck, so tight.” George barely held it together with the enjoyment of feeling such a hot, tight ass wrapped around his cock.

“No talking.” Tank moaned.

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Hush.” Tank pushed back.

“Why?”

“George,” he warned.

“Why?” George began to laugh. He sounded like a five-year-old, but he was having fun for the first time during sex, and he liked it.

Tank was something he never expected, and surprisingly was beginning to see that he couldn’t live without.

Tank began laughing with him. “Just fuck me already. And if you say why, I’m gonna knock you off of me.”

“Fine.” George latched on to Tank’s hips, slamming his cock like a bucking bronco. He changed angles, making Tank holler his name.

“That’s right. Who’s dick is in you?”

“Shut up.” Tank thrust back, knocking George back with his ass and almost dislodging him.

“So, you wanna play games.” George grabbed Tank’s shoulders, lifting one leg and riding him like he was in a rodeo. Fuck yeah. He felt the tingling begin at the base of his spine. George reached under his mate, trying to get to his cock. Finally grabbing hold, he yanked along with his thrusts.

“George…gonna—” Tank’s head fell back, his ass hitching higher.

“Give it to me. Give it to Daddy.” George grinned.

“Smart ass.” Tank growled.

“Thought you’d like that.” He chuckled. “Or you can call me King George.”

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George stopped talking when he felt Tank’s body shiver and stiffen. He squeezed Tank’s shaft as he gave one more thrust. Tank erupted in his hand, his cock pulsing as it gave its creamy prize to George.

“Tank,” George shouted as he slammed harder, lights bursting behind his eyes. Tank’s muscled ass had a death grip on him. He fell onto Tank’s back, heaving and sweaty.

“Fuck me, man.” Tank fell forward.

“Just did.” George chuckled as Tank tried to swat at him.

Tank pulled George over to him, kissing his temple. “You know you’re mine. I won’t share.”

“Yeah, ’cause lord knows I’ve been beating back the guys.” George rubbed his goatee against Tank’s nipple, getting a groan from his mate.

“What about Kitty?” Tank shifted around to look him in his eyes.

“Uh, female. Duh.”

“Okay, but I’ll be watching her.” Tank pulled George closer. He sighed and ran the palm of his hand over his mate’s chest. The man had to have the broadest chest George had ever seen.

“Not too damn close.” He murmured then yawned, snuggling close to own personal heater. George glanced up, seeing a mischievous grin on the man’s face.

Tank smiled. “Jealous?

“You wish.” So maybe he was, but that didn’t mean Tank had to know. “Now be quiet and get some sleep or I’m gonna hogtie ya and put a gag on ya.” George burrowed his head in the crook between Tank’s chin and shoulder. If only he was this comfortable all the time.

* * * *

George whistled as he walked out of Tank’s bedroom, but it died on his lips as a small tiger walked toward him. He could have sworn Tank said they were wolves. Maybe his mate was a little screwed up
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in the head and couldn’t remember which animal he was because that was definitely a tiger in front of him.

George gulped when a large wolf came around the corner to follow behind the tiger. He reached up and rubbed his eyes, making sure he was seeing things right.

Yep, they were still there.

A hand landed on George’s shoulder, and he swung his arm as he turned around. One of the warriors ducked and laughed. “Don’t let them frighten you.”

“Sorry.” George cleared his throat, a bit embarrassed that the wild animals made him edgy. “So there are cats or dogs living here?” The man chuckled. “Hi, I’m Loco. You must be George, Tank’s mate.”

He shook the offered hand, never letting his eyes leave the oddball pair walking slowly toward him.

“We’re wolves. Kyoshi there, along with his cousin Keata, are tigers, shifters from southern Japan.”

“Hope you don’t think that explains it.” George laughed nervously as he scratched his head. The small tiger stopped in front of him and sat back on its haunches. It batted a paw at him like a cat would do.

Was that normal for a tiger?

“I think Kyoshi wants to play.” Loco chuckled. George watched as the man reached down and scratched behind the tiger’s ear, the wolf giving off a low growl.

“Mr. Cute and Fuzzy over there don’t seem to keen on the idea of the tiger being touched. I think I’ll keep all ten fingers if you don’t mind.” George took a step back.

“Nah, don’t mind Storm. It’s a mate thing. Kyoshi loves to have his ears scratched.”

And the wolf looked like he’d
love
to eat Loco. No thanks. “Um, okay. I’m gonna go, you just keep on scratching the cat. Good luck.” George turned and walked a little faster than normal, putting a great amount of distance between his body and those sharp teeth.

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He walked into the den, stomping over to the stereo and changing it until he found the local country station. His ears were gonna start bleeding in a minute if he continued to listen to that guitar wailing out that god-awful music.

“Hey, what the hell is that?” Cecil covered his ears.

“It’s called music. Try it sometime.” George walked behind the bar, looking for a beer.

“I will if I lose my wife or want my dog back.” Cecil flicked the dial, putting his heavy metal back on.

“I’ll keep listening to this if I want to commit suicide.” George took his bottle of beer and walked back, changing it back to Garth Brooks.

“You want a shootout at noon?” Cecil placed his hands on his hips.

George bit back a smile. “Sundown tomorrow. Out back.”

“Fine. Until then…” He swung the dial back to Metallica. George may not listen to the music, but he was up on the popular bands.

“Until then.” George swung it back to his country song.

“Stop! I wanna kill my wife and lose my dog at the same time,” Johnny yelled.

The stereo gave a loud buzz and then went dead.

“Now look what you did.” Cecil glared at George then played with the dial.

“Me? It was that satanic music. Must have sucked out the stereo’s soul.” It took everything in George not to burst out laughing.

“What’s going on in here?” Maverick walked into the den.

George and Cecil pointed at each other.

“He did it,” they said in unison.

Maverick approached George, eyeing him up and down. “We haven’t been formally introduced. Raiding the night club to hunt the mates down doesn’t count. I am Maverick, Alpha of the Brac pack.”

“I’m George, cook of the diner.” George extended his hand.

Maverick’s lip lifted in a smile as he shook George’s hand.

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“Another human with backbone. At least I don’t have to consider killing you.”

“Uh, thanks?” George looked over at Cecil, who was grinning.

Maverick laughed this time. “No problem. Welcome to our family.”

“Hey, you didn’t welcome me.” Johnny pouted.

“No, Johnny, I didn’t. Sorry. Welcome.” Johnny beamed. “Thanks.”

Maverick shook his head. “Can I speak with you a moment in my office, George?”

“Sure. Just show me the way.” George followed the ginormous man down the hall. Maverick waved him to a leather chair as he sat behind his desk.

“I know you’re new to this whole mating thing and having knowledge of wolves and vampires, but I would appreciate it if you didn’t let my mate, Cecil, talk you into another escape. They aren’t prisoners here, but we guard our mates closely. There are those who would like nothing better than to harm or kill them. That includes you now.” Maverick leaned back in his seat.

“I understand what you’re saying and all, but if you don’t mind me tellin’ ya, they feel trapped. Maybe take them out once a month, twice maybe. Let them shake the cabin fever off.” George shrugged.

“Good point. I’ll take that into consideration.” Maverick smiled.

“I like you. You speak your mind respectfully.”

“If that’s all, I have a shootout with your mate soon.” George stood and inclined his hat.

Maverick arched a brow. “Just don’t kill him. He’s mischievous, but I love him dearly.

“Gotcha.” George headed back to the den.

* * * *

George crept around the corner, his assault rifle in front of him,
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ready to attack. He did a quick head check into the library. He saw that it was empty, so he moved on.

Entering the kitchen, he heard the static of a handheld walkie-talkie and the commands being whispered into it.

Dropping down to his belly, George crawled around the table, aiming his gun up. Squeezing the trigger, he fired in a quick burst, jumping up to run.

“Think you can shoot me?” Maverick yelled as George skidded out of the kitchen and raced up the stairs. He knew he hit Maverick dead on, wasn’t a question about it.

Next he crept down the hallway, gun tucked to his shoulder, his eye focused in the sight as Keata came out of his room. George fired, hitting Keata in his chest.

“George!” Keata screamed, but he was already on the move.

The radio static buzzed again, and George tiptoed until he came to another room where Drew was hiding under the bed. George blasted him then ran back down the stairs, Drew screaming out that he was going to pay for that.

He entered Tank’s room, finding himself face to face with Tank’s weapon.

“Thought you could sneak up on me, didn’t you?” Tank circled around him, nodding his head at George’s gun, indicating he wanted him to drop it.

“I don’t think so.” George raised his gun, but Tank was faster, shooting George in his face.

“Ah, crap!” George ran from the room, heading to the den. Three warriors stood there with their sights on him, pulling their triggers simultaneously.

George yelled, dropping his gun and throwing his arms up to protect himself. Too late. George was soaking wet, water dripping down his hair and clothes.

* * * *

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George jogged down his apartment steps. The day had been busy, and the kitchen was hot. He’d showered and was on his way to Tank’s. His heart felt light. Tank made him happier than he’d ever been in his life. Just thinking about the giant made him want to laugh with joy.

He was humming happily as he made his way outside. It was a beautiful evening. Stars shone brightly in the cloudless sky. Love hung in the air around him. George chuckled. Since when did he start thinking so poetically? He grinned at the girly way he felt, and as cliché as it was, he felt like he was walking on cloud nine. The big goofy smile he was sporting was all because he had finally accepted who he was and who he wanted to be with. Speaking of, he needed to get to Tank’s.

George whistled as he walked to his truck, wanting to shout that he was gay and how the big galoot was his. He had just reached his truck when he was jumped from behind, a fist punching into his kidney. His breath was momentarily knocked out of him, but he wasn’t going down that easily. Whoever it was picked the wrong man to mug. George thrust his elbow back, but it felt like it hit a brick wall.

“Thought I forgot about you?”

George screamed as a searing pain tore through his neck. He threw his head back, connecting with whoever held him. Stars burst through his skull as he grabbed his neck and head simultaneously.

“Fucking human. You’ll pay for that.” George felt his back opening up and blood warming his skin. He staggered as he grabbed a crowbar from the truck bed, swinging it wildly. It was the vampire from the other night. The one Tank had choked. The things fingernails were long, looking more like talons.

He must have used them to rip George’s back open.

The bloodsucker laughed. “Think you can beat me?”

“I may not be able to, but you won’t walk away unharmed.”
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George grabbed the crowbar and plunged it into the vampire’s chest, putting all his weight into it.

He knew he was battling for not only his life but time. The front of his white shirt was soaking up too much blood. He was bleeding out too fast. His pristine white shirt was being used like a sponge, and he could feel his jeans wet and sticky with it as well.

The vampire roared, knocking George to the ground as he pulled the crowbar free. “You bastard.” The creature dropped to his knees, covering the gaping hole with his hands. He tumbled over, George kicking him to make sure he was dead, or dead again.