Savage Satisfaction (18 page)

The candle pushed deep into her ass, deeper than a cock
would ever go. Mirela couldn’t help herself—she tried to get away though it
didn’t hurt. Christoffer jumped up on the bed next to her and held her hips.

“You’re being bad,” William said, but he didn’t sound upset
by that fact.

A second candle was inserted into her pussy.

Then William ordered her to get up and walk around, showing
off her clamped nipples, all without letting the candles slip out of her pussy
and ass.

She was so wet the candle in her pussy slipped out almost
immediately. She caught it and, on William’s orders, pushed it back into place.
He then made her walk around from one side of the bed to the other, back and
forth, so that he and Christoffer could each take turns playing with the clamps
and candles.

She slowly made her way to William for the fourth time,
walking with tiny steps so she could keep her thighs clamped together. He
grabbed the candle in her pussy and ordered her to spread her legs.

“You like this, don’t you?” he asked, twisting the candle as
he rubbed circles around her clit.

“Yesss,” she moaned. It was the first time since inserting
the candles that he’d touched her clit directly.

“Fuck your ass with the candle I put in there.”

Mirela obeyed, grabbing the candle and tentatively working
it in and out. As the pleasure in her pussy grew, she fucked her ass harder,
pushing the candle in deep.

“That’s right, fuck your ass. I’m not going to let you come
like this. When you get close I’m going to take the candle out. Then I’m going
to have Christoffer shove his cock up that pretty ass and hold you while I fuck
your pussy.”

“Yes, oh yes,” Mirela said. His words, the stark look of
pleasure on his face, brought her orgasm closer. He slid two fingers down
either side of her clit and squeezed.

“William!” she cried out.

He jerked the candle from her pussy and hauled her onto the
bed. Christoffer was there, his hands on her ass, pulling the candle out. She
was rolled onto her back, lying atop Christoffer, and then his cock was pushing
into her ass.

Christoffer bent and spread his legs, forcing Mirela’s along
the outside of his own.

William came down on top of her, his cock so hard the skin
was shinny from being stretched tight over swollen flesh.

He pushed his cock in, filling her, stretching her, and the
double penetration was intense.

After only three thrusts of William’s cock Mirela came,
screaming and thrashing. When her nails scored William, Christoffer caught her
jesses, jerking her hands away. William fucked her as she panted and moaned,
fucked her long and slow so that the orgasm never really ended, only morphed
into something new.

William came, crying out her name.

They rolled, a sweaty, tired bundle, so that now Mirela lay
facedown on William, his cock still in her, her knees at his waist. Christoffer
grabbed her hips, taking his turn fucking her until he too came.

“Everybody breathing?” Christoffer muttered.

William grunted. Mirela mumbled something.

“That’s a yes,” Christoffer said, groaning as he detangled
himself and got up. As he left the bed, Mirela snuggled closer to William. Her
hair was a messy disaster, her body blotched by red patches. William’s hair
stood up on end—he looked as though he’d put his finger in a plug.

Christoffer went to the bathroom, then brought them all
fresh washcloths so they could clean up. After a brief debate it was decided
they would move to William’s bed, as the sheets were clean.

When Mirela showed signs of mutiny, Christoffer picked her
up, carrying her down the hall.

When they were once more in bed, William in the middle,
Christoffer was just dropping off to sleep when Mirela’s voice roused him.

“Will you tell us why you were so scared?” she asked.

At first Christoffer wasn’t sure whom she was talking to.
“What do you mean?” William asked, clearly as confused as Christoffer.

Mirela propped her chin on her hand. “When we came here,
before I ever did anything wrong, you were scared. And then the night I did you
said something.” She stroked William’s scarred cheek with soft fingers. “You
talked about someone being hurt in the past. Did you not want a Hunting Pair?”

William’s arm, which Christoffer was using as a pillow, went
rigid with tension. “I wasn’t scared.”

“Maybe not scared,” Christoffer said, now wide awake, “but
you didn’t trust us. Something bad happened to you, didn’t it? You mentioned it
once or twice… What was it?”

“That’s none of your concern.” William sat up, clearly
intending to leave, but he was trapped in the middle. His face was cold and
stern, so unlike the loving man he’d become. He looked from his wolf to his
falcon, then sighed, the tension draining from him.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “You do have a right to know. Let me
show you something.”

Mirela moved to the foot of the bed so he could get out.
Naked, William padded to his small writing table and pulled out two framed
photos from one of the drawers and brought them back to the bed with him.

“My mother and father were married before he received his
Hunting Pair. I was a baby when they came, his falcon and wolf. My grandfather
had told my father not to tell my mother the truth about the Hunting Pair, and
so he didn’t. They came here and lived in a cottage on the grounds under the
guise of being some sort of grace and favor lodgers. People who are given a free
place to live by the Crown in exchange for past services,” William explained.
The frames lay facedown on his lap.

“My father wasn’t a rider or a hunter. He didn’t really care
about his Hunting Pair. He’d read law and philosophy and for a brief while was an
MP. My grandfather enjoyed his Hunting Pair and had a very different attitude
toward them. They’d been all over the world, my grandparents and his wolf and
falcon. They’d been hunting in Africa, South America, everywhere. There are
many pictures of them all together, both as humans and my grandparents posing
with a wolf and falcon.”

“Your grandmother, did she know?”

“She must have. She was an avid outdoorswoman and a great
falconer—they met at a falconry event. She loved horses and even rode in the
Olympics when it wasn’t proper for women to do so. She died before I was born.
Cancer from smoking.”

“I’m sorry,” Christoffer said, and Mirela murmured the same.

“It was my grandfather who discovered that copper amplified
by a magnet could prevent the change. He made the collars. My father didn’t use
them, didn’t really do anything with his Hunting Pair. He was trying to be
modern. He thought the agreement was antiquated but respected the tradition.
After they arrived he set them up in their house and we lived here in the manor
house.

“My mother hosted monthly parties. Certain neighbors, the
servants and the Hunting Pair came. My father’s falcon was a loud, fat woman.
She looked like a witch or the village drunk, with black scraggly hair. She
spit when she talked. I was scared of her when I was small.

“My father’s wolf was a tall, thin woman. She looked like an
athlete and loved to run and hike. My mother had put on a bit of weight and
wasn’t happy with the way she looked, and so she asked the wolf if they might
go walking together so she could get some exercise.

“My mother and the wolf became friends, and she started
coming up to the house more often. The falcon always came too, though I don’t
know why. Life continued that way for almost a year. There was a bad rain and
the roof of the house the Hunting Pair was living in collapsed. My mother
invited them to move to the manor house while it was being repaired.”

William flipped over one of the frames, showing a formal
family painting. William stood by his mother’s chair, no more than seven or
eight in the picture. He had fat cheeks and his ears stuck out.

Mirela giggled. “You were a cute boy.”

William’s mother was lovely, with brown hair and eyes. There
was a hint of a smile about her mouth. William’s father stood behind her chair,
his serious expression and timeless dark suit making him appear every inch the
Lord of Eahrington.

“What no one knew is that the wolf was seeing a man in the
village. She became pregnant.”

“Shit,” Christoffer cursed.

“I see you understand,” William said quietly.

“What? I don’t understand,” Mirela said.

“A breeding female wolf is very dangerous,” Christoffer
said, “even when they’re human. A breeding female and her mate will usually
start a pack of their own when she becomes pregnant. Even if she still reports
to a larger pack she will want to have a pack of her own, in which there are no
other females. A pregnant wolf will fight to make sure they’re the only female
in their pack.

Christoffer shook his head. “In the wild the cubs of the
higher-ranking females get priority access to food and shelter. If the wolf was
living here she would feel the people in the house were her pack, and if she
were pregnant she would want to eliminate any females she felt were higher
ranking.”

William curled his fingers into a fist.

“What happened?” Mirela asked quietly.

William turned over the second picture.

It was not a formal picture but a candid of William’s mother
sitting in a chair by a Christmas tree. Her hair was now snow white, though her
face didn’t seem much older.

What there was of her face.

The right side was covered in ugly scars and she wore a
beige patch over her eye.

Her right arm, below the elbow, was missing.

“The wolf waited until my father was in London because Parliament
was in session. I was there with my mother and saw it all. The wolf walked into
the kitchen and said she was sorry, but that she had to protect her baby. She
stripped off her clothes, and I remember my mom putting her hands over my eyes.
Then there were some odd noises and then a snarl, like a bear. My mother pushed
me away and when I looked there was this huge wolf attacking her. My mother was
screaming and screaming. She’d curled up in a ball on her side with her hands
over her head. The wolf bit off her arm, then ripped away half her face,
destroyed her eye.”

There was a small sob and William looked up from the photo
to see tears in Mirela’s eyes. She touched the scar she’d made on his cheek and
William smiled lopsidedly.

“How did she get away?” Christoffer asked.

“She didn’t. The wolf would have killed her but somehow my
grandfather had found out she was pregnant, and his wolf warned him what could
happen. They came racing up from Cornwall. There I was, sitting on the ground
watching my mother being eaten alive by what I thought was a monster, and in
races another wolf, a falcon and my grandfather.

“Grandfather’s wolf pulled her off my mother and held her
long enough for the falcon to swoop down and blind her. As the wolf lay there
on the floor yelping in pain, my grandfather shot her with a rifle.”

“You were too little to see that,” Mirela said.

“Maybe. I hadn’t known before then about the Hunting Pair.
The next week, once we knew my mother would live, Grandfather took me away to
his house in Cornwall. There he told me the truth about our family, and his
falcon and wolf, people I’d always referred to as aunts, changed right in front
of me. I spent six months there while my mother recovered. My father gave up
his seat in Parliament. Everything was different.”

“So you grew up hating the wolf for what she’d done.”

“And the falcon. She knew and said nothing. She used the
confusion after my mother was hurt to steal my mother’s jewelry and leave with
it. Grandfather and his Hunting Pair found her and killed her.”

“You hated your father’s wolf and falcon, but your
grandfather’s Hunting Pair were good,” Mirela said. “Your mind was torn.”

William gave a jerky nod. “Yes.”

Christoffer stroked his shoulder, kissed his neck. “You’re a
strong and forgiving man. We’re lucky you didn’t just shoot us.”

“I’m so sorry,” Mirela said, touching his cheek again. There
were tear tracks down her cheeks.

William pulled her to him, his other arm around Christoffer.
There, in the cool, dark bedroom, they touched one another with hands that
healed. There they were loved and in love, safe and whole in a way none of them
had ever known before.

William’s story was the final piece of the puzzle, and the
deepened understanding let Christoffer and Mirela shed whatever worries remained
about him and his attitude toward them. Telling them of his terrifying past
allowed William to put it behind him. He was not his father; they were not that
Hunting Pair.

There was, among these three souls, a lifetime of happiness
to be had.

The Lord and his Hunting Pair.

Lila is a multi-published, bestselling author of erotic,
paranormal and fantasy romance. Having spent extensive time in France, Egypt,
Turkey, Ireland and England, Lila speaks five languages, none of them (including
English) fluently.

Lila welcomes comments from readers. You can find her
website and email addresses on her
author bio page
at
www.ellorascave.com
.

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Savage Satisfaction

ISBN 9781419944017

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Savage Satisfaction Copyright © 2013 Lila Dubois

Edited by Jillian Bell

Cover design by Kendra Egert

Cover photography by Angela Hawkey, Stephen McSweeny, Helen E
Grose & Studio10Artur/Shutterstock.com

Electronic book publication November 2013

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