Betting on Wolves (Shifter Country Wolves Book 2) (11 page)

“How’s it feel to have both of us?” Jack asked.

“Fuck yes,” Kirsten whispered.

Then she came. She felt like she was in slow motion, a spark lighting a fire that roared through her.

She screamed, mostly the word
yes
over and over as Houston held her hips down, buried deep inside her, and Jack moved his hand, just barely. The neighbors next door banged on the wall and the three of them ignored it.

Just as she thought she had finished, a fresh wave broke over her, wracking her body again and again until she was sure she could never cum again.

“I could watch that forever,” Jack said, standing up. He pulled her off of Houston and then sat in the chair, sliding her over him. Kirsten glanced quickly at his flaccid cock.

“I can’t cum again,” she whispered. She wasn’t certain she could
ever
cum again, since she felt like she’d spent a lifetime worth of orgasms.

Jack laughed softly.

“Me either,” he said, kissing her shoulder slowly. “I’m dead drunk and dead tired, but I still want to watch.”

Houston leaned forward and kissed Jack over Kirsten’s shoulder, and as he did he entered her. Tired as she was, she arched her back anyway.

It still felt
good
to have him inside her.

Outside, the sky was just turning pink with the sunrise, and for a moment, Kirsten wondered what time it was.

“This was the best night of my life,” Houston murmured into her ear.

And then he came with a groan, pressing himself hard into her, pulling her hair just a little.

“You feel so fucking
right
,” he whispered. Kirsten rested her forehead against Jack’s, and the three of them stayed there for a long moment.

Finally, he pulled out and pulled Kirsten onto her feet, where he wrapped one arm around her, looking out the window, and kissed her on the top of the head.

Then he pulled his condom off and collapsed on the bed, followed by Jack, throwing an arm across the other man, who grabbed his hand and kissed it.

For a moment, Kirsten watched the two of them. She was still very, very drunk, but a drunken happiness was swirling through her brain.

“C’mon,” said Houston.

Then she hopped onto the bed between them, and within seconds, she was asleep.

Chapter Nine

Kirsten

Kirsten woke up to the sun in her eyes, and she threw an arm over her face, turning over.

I’ve gotta shut those blinds,
she thought for a moment.

Then she sat bolt upright in the bed.

I’m not in my bed,
she realized. Her head pounded and everything seemed terrible and fuzzy, her whole body covered in a thin layer of sweat.
I’m still drunk, too, she realized. And already hungover.

A person moved in the bed, next to her, dead asleep.

All at once, the entire night came back to her with crystal clarity: drinks, dinner, nightclub, more drinks, karaoke,
more
drinks,
even more
drinks, Elvis, the limousine.

Then she’d had sex with both of them. Two wolf shifters.

Kirsten panicked. Ignoring the pounding in her head, she stumbled off of the bed, her white bridal garter still on her left leg, and practically fell on the floor, next to her dress.

I can’t believe I’m still drunk
, she thought.

I also can’t believe I got married to two shifters whose last names I don’t know.

WOLF shifters.

Oh my God
.

“Come back,” one of them murmured, though she couldn’t see which one.

Kirsten’s hands started shaking.

“Just a minute,” she whispered, grabbing the silver dress and her shoes.

“Okay,” he mumbled.

Then Kirsten sneaked out of the bedroom, throwing her dress and shoes on, and left their suite.

In the elevator, she leaned her cheek against the mirrored wall, feeling like she could barely stay upright.

This is the worst I’ve ever felt
, she thought.
That was the dumbest thing I’ve ever done, and now this is the worst I’ve ever felt.

With every foot that the elevator dropped, she thought she might puke, pass out, or both. She hadn’t even zipped her dress all the way up, and it gaped open over her upper back, but Kirsten didn’t care.

You lied to them
, she thought.
They don’t know that you just got divorced. And now you’re married to them, and you’re practically a bigamist, and what the fuck is everyone going to think?

She swallowed hard as the elevator doors opened, then held her head up and walked through the casino floor, out the front, flagged down a taxi, and went back to her own hotel.

That elevator didn’t feel any better on her stomach, and she had to share it with two young men, both wearing board shorts and flip-flops, both pretending not to leer at her.

You can get it annulled and no one will ever have to know
, she thought.
It’s Nevada. There are practically no laws
.

She glanced at the silver ring on her finger, a spike of sadness going through her, but she took it off and stuck it in her pocket. The doors opened and the two dudes got off, leaving her alone on the elevator.

Annul it and get back to your life
, she thought.
You just got divorced. Get a new dog, start dating regular people, go to that job interview in Cascadia —
 

The elevator doors opened, and for a moment, Kirsten stared at them before walking into the hall.

What if I get the job, and then I move there,
she thought.

Then she shook her head.

How do you know they don’t do this all the time?
She reminded herself.
If they did it with you, they’d do it with anyone, probably.

Snippets of their conversation from the night before came back. Kirsten remembered herself, asking about other women.

There have been a lot
, she realized, coming to a halt in the hallway.
 

Look, just forget about it. They’re pussyhounds — literally — and you got divorced two days ago. What happens in Vegas and all that. Let it be a really, really fun night and that’s it.

She took a deep, shaky breath, and slid her key card into the door.

Besides, I’m pretty sure you begged them to both fuck you at the same time. How can you even look them in the eye again?

Just remembering that made Kirsten’s face burn, and she pushed the door to the room open.

“Oh my god, THERE you are!” said Lily, already wearing jeans and a tank top, hair and makeup done.
 

Slowly, she took in Kirsten.

“So, you had a good night?” she said, grinning slowly.

Kirsten told her a heavily edited version of the story, leaving out key parts. Like how there had been two of them, or how she’d gotten married, or the fact that she was pretty sure that the sex had broken her forever and she would never be satisfied again.

Lily raised her eyebrows.

“I thought Peyton said there were two of them,” she said.

“Oh, one sort of left after a while,” Kirsten lied. “Look, I gotta shower.”

Lily grinned.

“Right, of course,” she said. “I’ll go get you a bucket of coffee.”

“You’re the best,” Kirsten said, and she meant it with every fiber of her being.

When she got out of the shower, there was the biggest cup of coffee she’d ever seen next to three Advil, as well as a note that said:

Got late checkout. I’m next door. You up for brunch?

She gulped half the coffee, and took the Advil, and began to feel human again.

You’ll be okay
, she thought.
Nothing is so bad that you can’t undo it
.

Another flash of memory: Houston holding her hand, walking through a casino. Jack’s arm around her in the booth. The look on their faces when Elvis had pronounced them married.

What if this is real
, she thought, guzzling more coffee.

It can’t be
, she thought.
You don’t even know how to contact them.

She walked to the next room over, steeling herself for another litany of questions.

Chapter Ten

Houston

When Houston woke up, he was still on top of the covers, both arms over his head, sunlight streaming in.

He was also hungover as
fuck
and still a little drunk, but despite all that, he grinned, remembering the night before. Then Jack stirred, next to him, pulling his head out from under his pillow to look at Houston.

Houston frowned.

“Where’s Kirsten?” he asked.

“Probably in the bathroom or something,” Jack said, plopping his head back down on the pillow, blinking slowly.

“I feel like hell,” he admitted.

“I’m paying for it,” said Houston.

Jack took a deep breath and pushed himself up, looking over his shoulder at the door to the next room.

“Kirsten,” he called. “Come back to bed.”

No answer. Jack and Houston frowned at each other, and Houston felt a small germ of worry start, deep in his chest.

“Kirsten?” he called.

Nothing.

Houston heaved himself up, ignoring the pounding in his head and the roiling in his stomach. He walked naked into the next room.

No Kirsten.

He checked the suite’s two bathrooms, but they were both open and empty, and he stood in the middle of the living room, hands pressed over his eyes, trying to reason it out through his remarkable hangover.

She went to get coffee or something
, he thought.
She’s coming back. She’s here somewhere, just hiding, and she’s going to jump out and prank us, and it will all be fine.

He knew he hadn’t given much thought to what was going to happen today, or tomorrow, or how the hell they were going to navigate this. He just knew that he
wanted
to.

“Her stuff is gone,” said Jack from the bedroom. “Her dress and her shoes and everything.”

Houston stumbled back in. The only thing left on the floor was a clip-in veil, and his stomach lurched.

“We didn’t get her number,” he said, the horror slowly sinking in. “I don’t know her last name, or where she lives, or anything.”

“She signed the marriage certificate,” said Jack. “Right?”

“I thought she’d be here,” said Houston, rubbing his temples. “I thought... I don’t know. I thought we’d do that today.”

Jack just nodded, a hollow look on his face.

“She could be anywhere,” he said.

Houston took a deep breath and tried to think, wading back through the night before: Kirsten between them, riding him. His thumb in her mouth as he talked dirty.

Before that
.
Come on
.

The limo. Elvis. Not riding the bull, karaoke, the club.

Seeing her for the first time, walking up to the bar, and her turning them down.

“The place with the Eiffel Tower,” he said, suddenly. “I think she’s staying there.”

Without another word, they both pulled on t-shirts and jeans, then ran down fourteen flights of stairs, not bothering to wait for the elevator.

The other casino wasn’t far, but by the time they’d gotten there, Houston was covered in sweat and very seriously thought that he might throw up. He waved Jack in, the other man sweaty and pale, as he stood right outside, trying not to dry-heave.

Puke or don’t, just get it over with and find her
, he told himself.

Another deep breath, and he walked in through the doors. Jack paced back and forth, his eyes combing through everyone on the casino floor.

“Okay, we need to do this right,” said Houston, his head swimming. “One of us should stay by the elevators, and the other should patrol the doors and the checkout desk,” he said.

“What if she already left?” Jack asked.

“Then we find out what the last possible checkout time is, then go find our marriage license,” said Houston. He thumbed his wedding ring with an ache deep down. Having a backup plan always helped him feel better.

What if she doesn’t want you to find her
? he thought.
What if she thought this was all a joke, and now she’s somewhere with her girlfriends, laughing about these two guys who she got to marry her?

He didn’t think it was true, but he couldn’t keep himself from spinning out the worst possible scenario.

“I’ll do the elevators,” said Jack, and he jogged off, leaving Houston to pace from the doors to the checkout desk and back, each step more and more nerve wracking.

After five full circuits, Houston thought hotel security was starting to get suspicious, so he changed it up and went to the elevators, where Jack was pacing back and forth, fiddling with his ring.

Jack just shook his head when Houston walked over.

“What if it wasn’t real?” he asked, sounding despondent.

“It was real,” Houston whispered, taking Jack’s hand. A couple of people shot them nasty looks, but Houston couldn’t have cared less.

Jack just sighed, and over his shoulder, Houston looked up at the elevator banks. A group of women rounded the corner into a hallway, one of them short and curvy, her long honey-colored hair in a ponytail.

Houston ran.
 

He dodged around other patrons, getting dirty looks from families. Security shouted after him, but he kept running.

“KIRSTEN!” he shouted.

She turned, her eyes wide, and he came up to her, stopping short, Jack two steps behind him.

The other three girls
also
turned and stared, mouths open.

“There you are,” Houston said, warmth flooding through him. Objectively, she looked awful: a shower hadn’t gotten all her eyeliner off, and she had rings under her eyes, her hand clutching an enormous cup of coffee.

She was still the most beautiful thing Houston had ever seen.
 

She seemed surprised to see them.

“Hi, guys,” she said.

They just stared at each other for a moment, before one of her friends spoke up.

“So...” the girl said. “Our reservation is in five minutes.”

“I’ll catch up with you guys later,” Kirsten said, turning and nodding her head at them. “I’m, gonna, um, take a minute.”