Twin Alphas: Claimed (A BBW Werewolf Romance) (6 page)

              “So anyway, enough about us.  Really, why did you run away from those two hotties?” Mackenzie asked. “You don’t like them?”

              “Oh, God, did I like them. They were so freaking gorgeous,” Amelia said. “It’s just…” She tried to come up with a reason that wasn’t a total lie. “I’d never given any thought to being with a couple of Alphas, and all the things that go with it.”

              The bartender set the drinks in front of her and Mackenzie, and Ajax reached for his wallet.

              “I’ll get that,” Clayton said, sliding up next to Amelia. Holt was following close behind him.

              Clayton slammed a few bills down on the bar, then slung his big, muscular arm around her. He smelled musky and sexy, and she loved how it felt to lean against him.

              “Thanks,” Ajax said, raising his own drink in a toast to Clayton and Holt.

              “We’re going to leave you three to realize that you’re all adorable together,” Mackenzie yelled out over the music. “Also a certain wolf has been threatening to make me eat my words, and I’m really dying to know how he’s going to make me do that.” She let Ajax lead her by the hand out of the bar.

              Amelia took a big sip of her drink, and tried to calm her thrumming nerves.  Mackenzie had just left her with the two hottest men she’d ever seen, and they both were looking at her as if they wanted to devour her…in the best way possible.

              “Can we go outside?” Clayton shouted, gesturing up at the blaring speakers. She nodded, and followed him and Holt out of the crowded bar, draining half her drink in one gulp.

             
I should leave. I should leave.

             
“I bought this for you,” Holt said. She realized he was holding a crown of roses – and the roses were changing color, rippling through all the colors of the rainbow. He set the crown on her head, and mock bowed to her.

              “Milady,” he said.

              She stifled a giggle.

              “Thank you, your royal highness,” she said.

She wasn’t going anywhere.

“I didn’t make the best first impression, and I apologize,” Clayton said. “Could you find it in your heart to forgive me, and we can start over?”

“If you can forgive me for freaking out and running off like a crazy person,” she said.

              “I like crazy. Crazy keeps life interesting.” He had the most charming, sexy smile, and he stared into her eyes as if she were the only woman on Earth. “Come walk with us. We were headed over to the feast tables. Hungry?”

              Now that she thought of it, she was actually famished. Feast tables sounded much more delicious than the granola bars she’d stuffed into her bag.

              “Okay,” she said, and let them lead the way.

              After walking for a few minutes down winding paths, they came to a big cleared area with dozens of long banquet tables. There was an area with picnic tables and chairs near it, and there were also men and women sitting together on picnic blankets on the grass.

              Holt walked towards a banquet table which had meat pies and platters of cold cuts and cheese and thick slabs of bread. There were stacks of plate and containers of silver ware on each end of the table.

Oddly, the air around the tables had what looked like steam rising from it.  A man who she suspected was probably a Mage stood at the head of each table. When she reached out to fill up a plate, she realized that the air around the table was as frosty cold.

The Mages were using their power to keep the food on the tables cold, she realized.

They loaded up their plates and sat down cross legged on the grass under a spreading oak tree.  Amelia dove into her food with gusto. Normally, she felt self conscious eating in front of guys, but somehow she felt completely comfortable with Clayton and Holt. She felt as if they’d never judge her for anything.

“Have a bite of mine,” Clayton said, holding his fork out to her. He cupped her face in his hand as she leaned forward to swallow a bite of the shepherd’s pie he was feeding her.  The feeling of his hand heated her blood and sent a rush of arousal through her body. She felt her nipples swelling into hard buds against her shirt, and she bit her lip and stifled a low moan.

“I want you to know that we both really like you. A lot,” Clayton said.

“You just met me,” she protested. She tried to look away, but his golden-brown gaze held hers. “I might be a terrible person. Or, uh, boring. Or stupid. Or bad in bed.” Then she blushed; they hadn’t asked her to have sex with her, so why was she bringing this up?

“But you’re not any of those things,” Holt said.

“You’re so sure, are you?”

“Well, I do think we need to evaluate certain things on that list a little further.” He flashed her a roguish smile, and she had no doubt what he meant.

“I’m going to eat now,” she mumbled, diving into her plate and avoiding their eyes.

“Holt, will you go get the lovely lady some dessert?” Clayton said.

“With pleasure.” There was something about the way that he said the word “pleasure” that made her shiver.

She struggled to cling on to the last scraps of her willpower. 

I’m a professional. An academic. I’m here to study. This is very unprofessional of me.

Dear God, they’re so ridiculously sexy they should come with a warning label. 

Holt returned, and he held a plate piled high with little miniature cakes and cream puffs and strawberries.

“Oh, my, you are the devil.” She let out a little moan of pleasure and reached for it, and he yanked it out of her grasp.

“This can only be consumed in private. Back in our cabin.”

“Uh…really? Is that a festival tradition or something?”

Holt and Clayton exchanged glances with each other.

“Yes,” Holt said nodding vigorously.

She raised an eyebrow at him. “I question your veracity. Then again, I really want some of those cakes. Maybe all of them.”

“I’ll lead the way,” Holt said, and Clayton helped her to her feet.

Good lord, I’m really doing this, she thought as she followed them. The cabins were about ten minutes walk.  They were rustic looking, the grass neatly mowed, with a wooden sign hanging in front of each cabin with a number on it.

“They’re not that far apart from each other,” she observed.

“But, soundproof,” Clayton grinned at her.

They walked in and shut the door behind them.

She glanced around them nervously.

The cabin was a one bedroom, with a small kitchen area and a living room. High on the wall there was a big screen TV.  Across the room from it was a fireplace, with a bearskin rug in front of it.

She set her bag down by the door, and, crossing over into the living room, settled down on the leather sofa. There was a table that was cut from a giant slab of wood, which was balanced not on legs but on a big swirl of tree limbs. Holt set the dessert tray down on the table.

“Do you trust us?” Holt said, sitting down next to her.

“Well, I – oddly enough, yes.”

“I want to blindfold you. Indulge me on this.” Clayton pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, and she let him tie it around her eyes.

“Now, we feed you.”

He picked up a piece of cake and slipped it between her lips.

The cake was moist and sweet on her tongue and she gave a contented sigh. Clayton’s fingers, warm and slightly rough, lingered on her lips for a moment and she felt a twist of arousal  deep in her belly at the intimacy of the contact from this beautiful man – a stranger, yet one who somehow made her feel safe and protected. When his fingertips left her lips she darted out her tongue and he gave a low chuckle.

The blindfold meant she couldn’t see where the brothers were, but she felt the sofa dip and heard the leather creak as Holt settled beside her. She could feel the warmth of his thigh where it pressed against hers, even through two layers of cloth, and she realized her panties were damp, her pussy tingling. Her nipples were sensitive, straining against the fabric of her shirt.

Strong fingers pressed something cool and sweet against her lips and she let them part. Holt slid the slice of plump, ripe strawberry into her mouth and she bit down, hearing a stifled moan from him as the juice ran over her chin and down her throat in a sticky rivulet.

Then she felt warm lips against her throat and it was her turn to moan. Holt nipped gently at her throat, soothing the tender skin with his tongue, and energy crackled through her body, lighting up her nerve endings and filling her with an electric need that made her gasp and squirm restlessly in her seat. He pressed his teeth against her flesh and she gasped as they broke the skin. She thought she caught the faint coppery whiff of blood. Despite the sting, despite the fact that she knew there would be a mark there, what she felt wasn’t pain. As Holt pulled back to gentle the spot with tender kisses, the slight throb in the flesh of her throat set up an answering pulse in her clitoris, deep and insistent. It was a new kind of pleasure; one she hadn’t felt before.

She heard a faint rustling, and then Clayton was taking her hands, pulling her to her feet. She could barely hold back a whimper at the loss of Holt’s warmth and was about to protest, but Clayton grasped the hem of her shirt and whipped it over her head in one swift motion.

The handkerchief covering her eyes briefly slipped and she had a glimpse of smooth, muscular flesh and caramel eyes that smoldered with undisguised lust. She realized Clayton had taken off his shirt...and then it registered that he had taken off her shirt, and with a yelp she crossed her arms over her torso to cover herself, burning with embarrassment.

“Don’t do that.” Clayton’s voice was low and soft, but there was a note of command in his

“Wh-what? Don’t do what?” Amelia couldn’t keep the quiver out of her voice. She was blind.

She was trembling with excitement and, suddenly, with nerves. The thought of these beautiful, magnetic men looking at her pale, imperfect body made her stomach lurch in a way that had nothing to do with arousal.

“Don’t hide from us.” Holt’s voice came from behind her and she felt the heat of his naked chest against her back. “You’re beautiful.” He unsnapped her lacy bra then crowded in behind her, sliding the straps over her shoulders.

“Gorgeous,” echoed Clayton. He ran his hand up the side of her thigh. “Those hips...” He unwrapped her arms from her body, skated his fingers over her ample belly. “Those curves...” Then he ran a finger around her nipple where it strained against the lacy fabric of her bra, pert and furled.

“Your breasts.”

He peeled the cups from her breasts and she caught her breath as the scratchy fabric caught against her pebbled nipples. He lowered his head and briefly sucked one rosy peak into the warmth of his mouth, sending a bolt of lust directly to Amelia’s pussy. She mewled.

Suddenly she realized she didn’t feel any of the self-conscious awkwardness she’d come to

think of as part of sex. With these men, between these men, hearing the hoarse approval and need in their voices, feeling the way their bodies responded to her, she felt nothing but desired.

She caught her breath as she felt Holt’s erect cock pressed against the ample swell of her ass, as Clayton stepped in, crowding her with his hard body.

Suddenly feeling wanton and abandoned, she wrapped her arms around his neck, allowing her full breasts to press against his chest. He pushed his hips against her, letting her feel the impressive size of his erection, and she moaned. As her lips parted, he lowered his head and kissed

She squeezed her thighs together, trying to ease the ache in her pussy. Her panties were

drenched and her nipples were pebbled against Clayton’s chest, tingling and needy. Clayton ran his palms up between their bodies, stroking the soft flesh of her belly then squeezing her breasts and groaning into her mouth as their yielding roundness filled his big hands.

Holt ground against her buttocks, grasping her full hips and moving against her in a dance of desire as the heat of his breath washed over the sensitive curve between her throat and her shoulder.

She was surrounded by their scent, musky and animal. Their quick, excited breathing echoed in her ears and every graze, every touch, every whisper and sensation seemed amplified by the fact that she couldn’t see the beautiful men who were worshipping her body.

When they led her over to the bearskin rug and helped her to lie down, she luxuriated in the feel of the thick, silky fur against her buttocks. She ran her fingers into the dense pile, then jumped as she heard the pop of a Champagne cork.

Someone knelt behind her, settling her ass between his spread thighs and pulling her back to rest against him. Even with her eyes closed, she knew from the sure confidence of his touch that it was Clayton, and she gloried in his strength as he ran his hands over her breasts, stroking and soothing, then plucking at her nipples to make them stand to attention before moving his fingers in hypnotic circles and spirals again.