TheSmallPrint (21 page)

Sex, on the other hand, was something else entirely.

Catch’s fingers crept around to the front of Turner’s body, thumbs trailing over his nipples, along his ribs, across his stomach.

No-strings-attached sex had its advantages, but even that didn’t quite fit Turner’s requirements. He’d like negotiated sex. He wanted to know exactly where he stood, what he was letting himself in for. One week, one month, a year of fucking and then they’d move on because they’d get tired of each other, bored, irritated until one of them stabbed the other in the chest and disappeared for twenty years.

Not if Matty was there. She wouldn’t let that happen.

Where the fuck did that come from? If Turner wasn’t going to have Matty, then neither was Catch.

Hands reached for his cock and Turner groaned. Catch dropped to his knees and spun him around. Turner looked down and had to close his eyes. If he watched Catch do this, he’d come with humiliating speed. What did Catch want? The fact he’d allowed himself to be fucked made sirens wail in Turner’s head, let alone that he’d submitted to a bite. It wasn’t that Catch hadn’t let himself be fucked before, but Turner knew Catch preferred to top. Now Turner was getting a blowjob and that usually came after Catch had fucked him.

Stop thinking.
One lick over the head of his cock and a shiver skated down Turner’s spine and skidded to a halt in his balls. He’d changed his mind. He wanted to watch. Catch’s hands settled on his hips, his lips parted and a long, hot tongue twirled over the tip of Turner’s swollen cock.

The shower bypassed Turner’s head and poured onto Catch’s face. The vamp-shifter was beautiful, blinking drops of water from his long lashes as he tilted his head and licked up the length of Turner’s cock. When he fluttered his tongue over the sensitive head, every muscle in Turner’s body stiffened.

Twenty wasted years. Didn’t matter that he lived forever. Those twenty mattered.

Catch stroked Turner’s balls with his thumb and slid his tongue into the slit at the tip of his cock.

“Oh God.” Turner’s fingers threaded Catch’s hair and tugged.

Round and round his tongue circled, flicking the underside of Turner’s crest before diving back into the slit. Turner wondered how long Catch was going to torture him with soft when he wanted hard.

Did he want him to beg?

Yeah, he did. Well, he damn well wouldn’t beg.
No way.

Then Catch did something with the tip of his tongue that made Turner’s cock jerk. He’d somehow pressed a little of that wet strip of muscle inside the tiny hole and when he curled it, Turner thought he’d combust.

“Please,” Turner groaned.
Shit.
The word had slipped out.

Even before he’d finished the plea, Catch swallowed him. All of him.
Christ.
Turner’s fingers sank deeper into Catch’s hair as his hips bucked. The silky stroke of wet flesh on his crest as his cock touched the back of Catch’s throat, the gentle pressure out of proportion to the desperate response, set fire to Turner’s balls.

Catch let him out, gulped air and stared up at him. “Turn the water off before I drown.”

Turner fumbled one-handed for the knob.

“And try not to yank out all my hair.”

Turner loosened his grip.

Whatever Catch wanted, just so long as he— Turner gasped as Catch wrapped his lips tight around the head and sucked hard.

“Jesus Christ.” Turner’s balls gave a warning tingle.

Catch pulled his lips off with a loud smacking kiss.

Pre-cum surged.

“You taste so good.”

Which brought on another surge. Catch lapped it up and tightened his hand around Turner’s balls.

Ah, not going to let me come yet.

Catch trailed his tongue along the thickest vein of Turner’s cock and licked and sucked and kissed while Turner rocked his hips and clung to Catch’s head as if it was the only thing keeping him upright.

Then finally, thankfully, before Turner lost control and shoved himself hard into Catch’s mouth, Catch wrapped his lips around the crest and sucked the rest of Turner’s cock into tight, wet heaven. Rhythm perfect, pressure perfect, Turner could hold off no longer. Catch let go of his aching balls, sucked firmly as he pulled back on Turner’s cock and tightened his lips as he pushed down. The fifth time his cock head hit the back of Catch’s throat, Turner came in wrenching spasms. His body trembled as his balls emptied, his cum spilling from Catch’s mouth as he struggled to swallow.

Turner sagged against the wall, not trusting his legs. As he came down from the high, his ability to think returned. A week ago his life had been simple. Maybe not the life he wanted, but there were no complications. Since arriving in Milford, he’d been thrust into the middle of an erotic, surreal movie with no idea how he got there and what was going to happen at the end. This disorder, the lack of control and unified structure disturbed him. He wanted to bury himself in his work, but he couldn’t even do that. Not yet. And he’d had to lie to Catch about the diaries. The irony wasn’t lost on him.

Catch stood, wrapped him in his arms and kissed him, his tongue slinking between Turner’s lips, sliding past his teeth to explore his mouth, and Turner felt a little more water seep through the dam he’d built in his mind. Tasting himself in Catch’s mouth made his legs shake. He allowed himself to be pulled into the bedroom then pushed onto the bed and Catch poised over him, his knees resting on either side of Turner’s hips.

“Why’d you let me bite you?” Turner blurted.

Catch widened his eyes. “You bit me?”

Just before he made himself look a fool, Turner caught the glimmer of a grin and amended his response. “My teeth slipped. Sorry.”

Catch dropped his head and licked one of Turner’s nipples, and while Turner didn’t forget that his question remained unanswered, he let it go. Catch’s hot mouth laved, nibbled and sucked. Turner arched into his touch, his hands fisting the sheets as his cock filled with blood. When Catch pulled back, he was panting. Turner’s gaze dropped from those hooded green eyes to take in the rise and fall of a spectacular chest. He admired the valleys and plains of Catch’s tanned, muscular body, the firm pecs, the hard disks of his nipples and the sculptured abs. Turner’s gaze followed the slim tapering of golden hair below Catch’s navel that arrowed to the rosy-headed cock.

“Did you bring—?” Turner began.

When Catch grabbed the lube from the bedside table, Turner marveled that he’d had the forethought to bring it from downstairs. He never would have, the way his head was spinning from all that had happened. Instead of thinking sensibly,
Turner’s mind set off on a voyage of self-destruction. How many men had Catch fucked? Did he have lube on regular order? Had he come here purely for sex?

Catch shoved Turner’s legs up, pushed his thighs apart and growled. The hungry, low rumble hit Turner like a bolt of lightning. Every cell sizzled and his hips bucked.

“Steady,” Catch said with laugh.

Turner grabbed his own cock, pushed down on his balls and groaned with a mixture of discomfort and relief. He tightened his grip as he watched Catch squirt lube onto his palm then spread it up and down his own erection, his hand taking a slow upward glide to pull the foreskin over his crest and then a slow drag down to expose the dark plum-shaped head.
Oh God.
Not only did Catch look sexy as hell, Turner could almost feel Catch’s hands on him. Pre-cum dripped from the tip of Turner’s cock, and when Catch swooped to lick it up, Turner let out a sound that sounded far too much like a sob. He quickly coughed and Catch grinned.
The fucker.

Then both men froze. Catch raised his eyes to Turner’s. “Matty?”

Turner nodded. She was in trouble.

They scrambled for their clothes and dragged them on as they raced down the stairs. Turner skidded to a halt when he got outside, registered the chaos in his garden and groaned. It looked like a theme park had landed on his property.

At his side, Catch scented the air. “This way.”

Turner followed.

* * * * *

Matty sucked in a breath then spluttered as water filled her mouth. The river was trying to drag her under the tree trunk she’d snagged up against, and the colder and more tired she became, the harder it was to resist sliding underneath. Once that happened, she might not come up again.

No one knew she was here and no one cared. If she let herself go under, she’d either drown and prove she hadn’t been dead, except she wouldn’t be alive to say “I told you so”, or alternatively she’d surface somewhere and eventually fetch up in the North Sea. Neither prospect appealed. No point shouting for help. Who’d hear her? She didn’t even feel cold now, just numb.

“Matty!”

The first time she heard her name called, Matty convinced herself it was her imagination. The second time, it sounded like Turner. She opened her mouth to yell and the river rushed in. Matty coughed out another mouthful of water.

“Matty!”

That was Catch.

“Help,” she shouted.

The pair of them appeared on the bank several yards from where she clung to the tree. The relief of knowing they’d save her stupidly made her want to laugh.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Catch asked.

She wrapped her fingers tighter around the branch.

“River survey. Ch-checking the rate of f-flow and amount of debris.” Her teeth chattered.

“Your conclusions?” Turner asked, scrambling down to the edge of the water.

“It flows fast and there are trees in it,” Matty said, and coughed.

Turner and Catch stood together, looking at her.

“Hang on,” Turner said.

“Yes, I‘d figured that out.” Her teeth banged together so hard that they throbbed with pain.

Her heart sank when she watched Catch running away, but a moment later she squealed when he plunged into the river upstream. Before she could blink the water from her eyes, he was pressed up against her.

“Now Turner has to rescue two of us,” she said with a groan. She bet he went for Catch first.

“You didn’t say the water was cold,” Catch gasped.

“I hadn’t noticed.”

“You’ve gone blue. Hold on to my hand and let go of the tree.”

Matty choked as water splashed in her face. “The river will pull me down.”

“No it won’t.”

She moved one hand into his and he held it tight. When she slid her leg into the water, the river dragged at her, trying to tug her under the tree.

“Let go,” Catch said. “Trust me.”

Matty sighed and took her arm off the branch. She went straight under and took Catch with her.
Oh God, now we’ll both drown.
But she felt Catch pull her close, her back stuck to his chest. Her head broke the surface with his and she gulped air. Catch kicked for the bank and towed her with him. Matty hadn’t the strength to do anything other than let herself be pulled.

Turner snagged Catch’s arm and heaved, and then they were lying in the shallows, Catch’s arms wrapped around her trembling body, his face pressed into her shoulder.

“Thank you,” she croaked.

“We need to get her back to the hall. Let me take her,” Turner said.

He touched her arm and Catch released a low, rumbling growl. Matty flinched and Turner jerked back.

“You need something to eat,” Matty said. “Or did you swallow a gallon of river water? Try coughing.”

Catch jumped to his feet and pulled her to hers.

Matty stood shivering, her arms wrapped around her while the two guys stared at each other.

“What’s wrong?” she blurted.

“Oh fuck,” Turner muttered.

Matty looked from one to the other. “I don’t understand what’s going on.”

When neither of them said anything, she stomped off into the woods and made her way back to the hall. They were idiots. She’d almost drowned and they were ignoring her. There was one good thing to come out of this, because as far as Matty was concerned, she’d just proved she was alive. If she were already dead, why had she been so scared of dying?

“Want to explain what’s going on?” Turner said.

His voice was cold, his eyes black in the dim light. Catch didn’t hesitate. “Nothing.”

“You fucking growled.”

“I lost it for a moment, that’s all. I’m hungry.”

He felt the tension ease from Turner and let it slide from his own body. “Make sure she gets back okay. I’m going to run.”

The moment Turner slipped into the trees, Catch stripped off his wet clothes and took a deep breath. Although changing his face was fast and easy, shifting was not. He’d watched other weres and admired their fast transformation. His was both slow and painful. Catch always wondered if it was worth it until he stood on four legs and took that first breath in his new world.

This time he was escaping something he didn’t want to face though he knew he couldn’t avoid it forever. He and Turner had a link to Matty. They’d both sensed she was in danger at the same time. They both wanted her. How could they both have her?

His spine changed first. The seismic ripples shooting down every vertebra made his body sizzle in agony. Muscles shortened, muscles lengthened. Bones snapped and re-formed. His body distorted along with his mind. For these moments in transition, pain was the entire focus of his existence. His face twisted and his hands curled as fingers morphed to claws. Fur burst through the pores of his skin, flooded over his body in waves and he itched as if he’d fallen in a bath of fire ants. Catch dropped to the ground, panting and writhing as his wolf forced its way out. Senses heightened, his needs primal, he had to hunt.