Mated to the Master: (BBW Werewolf Erotica) (Smut-Shorties Book 8) (2 page)

“You look fucking fantastic like that,” Veyr pulled back to mutter, flicking his tongue over her clit between words. His hand disappeared for a moment, to return slick and wet. Her world narrowed to two points: his tongue over her clit and his finger against her ass.

Then he gave her a third. Closing his mouth over her clit, he sucked it into the warm cavern of his mouth as he thrust two fingers into her pussy. His little finger penetrated her ass, the slick digit pressing past the thick ring of muscle and within.

She screamed, her climax washing over her, the pleasure so intense that every muscle in her body went into spasm. He growled, pumping his fingers in both her holes and attacking her clit with his tongue until the sensations washing through her body were so much that her vision grayed out and she lost herself to pleasure.

Chapter Two

The council would kill him.

Veyr sat at the head of the table and listened to the squabbling going on around him. They weren’t listening to him, instead debating pack politics and precedence in ever-increasing voices. He sighed and rubbed at his temple.

Images of Cyan spread out naked over the tiles in front of him kept replaying in his mind. Her soft skin and softer sighs, the warm, silken feeling of her body around his fingers. The shudders that racked her body as she’d come hard and fast over his hand.

He bit back his groan and readjusted his position in his chair to conceal the raging hard-on trying to punch through his pants, and ordered his body to calm down. In a room full of werewolves, all with an excellent sense of smell, his condition wouldn’t remain a secret for long. Not if his damn brain kept up presenting him with images of Cyan in various seductive poses. He couldn’t wait to get back to her and finish what they’d started earlier.

“I’m telling you, this will
not
fly.” Jacob McCauley almost shouted, his face flushed as he faced down Alex, alpha of the Kingwood pack. Brave move. The Kingwood’s were distant cousins of the Langdon bloodline, and some said that every so often the old stone-wolf genetics re-emerged.

Veyr’s gaze slid sideways to an empty seat at the council table, the back carved with the Langdon coat of arms. It had been empty for years, left that way as a mark of respect for the cursed alphas that couldn’t be with them. He’d never seen the Langdon’s, cursed to stone by a witch centuries before in an ironic parody of their true natures, but he had fought those with stone wolf blood in the ring. He’d won, naturally, but only just.

Legend had it that stone wolves were the product of Werewolves and Gargoyles. Which meant, like both their parent races, they were hard as nails and twice as difficult to kill. Times fucking two.

Veyr’s face split into a grin and he sat back to watch the show. Alex Kingwood was one of the younger alphas on the council, but rock-solid, confident in his own skin, unlike the always pushing Jacob. But now, his eyes flashed with anger and he didn’t back down from Jacob an inch. Perhaps Veyr wouldn’t have to deal with McCauley after all. Fights between alphas weren’t unknown. Pack leaders could be replaced by rite of challenge. It would be a little odd for Alex to hold two seats on the council…

Veyr bit back his amusement. One for each asscheek?

“I don’t care what you know, or what you
think
you know,” Alex snarled, his voice deepening with his wolf halfway until it became a full-out rumble. “This is pseudo law. Spurious. Just the way things have always been,
not
what is written into law.”

“Law or not, would you want your bloodline corrupted by a filthy human?” Jacob all but screamed, spittle flying from the corners of his lips. His words dropped into silence, and Veyr’s amusement vanished. They’d been discussing borders between pack territories. He should have known Jacob would bring it right back to this.

It was obvious the fact Veyr hadn’t picked his sister at Midwinter ate at Jacob, niggling away under his skin. At every opportunity, he steered the council’s discussion toward how unlawful it would be for the Master of the City to take anything but a pure-blooded lycan woman to his bed.

“Corrupted?”

“Filthy human?”

Alex Kingswood and Nick Trevais spoke at once, their voices so cold they were almost arctic. Both had reason to be. Alex because he always took comments about pureblood lines to heart, and Nick because the woman Jacob had taken such a dislike to and had just described as a filthy human was his sister.

“I suggest, Jacob,” Veyr said, his words dropping into the silence in the room with precision. “That you retire from the current discussion to consider your words, and the thinking behind them.”

Jacob had apparently not learned his lesson because he whipped around to face Veyr, fury on his face. “I will do no such thing. I have a
right
to be here. You cannot dismiss me like an errant schoolboy!”

Veyr pinned him with a hard gaze. “Then I suggest you stop acting like one. Before you face down a challenge.” He glanced toward Nick and Alex, both still bristling with rage. Why was he trying to smooth this over, rather than just throwing the little shit literally to the wolves?

He sighed inwardly. Because he was the Master of the City. The one who everyone looked up to, was scared of, but who had to do the most compromising to keep everything running smoothly so everyone else wouldn’t have to.

All. The. Time.

Fuck. It would be easier to run a damn kindergarten. For ferrets. Or plait jam. He liked jam. Juggle soot in a white suit… Any number of frigging things.

Somehow, Jacobs’s obviously underdeveloped survival instincts kicked in and he blinked at the two bristling wolves. He bent his head, backing off.

“Perhaps it is time for the council to call a recess.”

Veyr’s teeth ground as Jacob spoke, somehow making it seem as though he was the one to decide what the council did or did not do. Perhaps his ambition didn’t just extend to ensuring his sister mated the Master of the City, perhaps he cast greedy eyes to the main seat himself…

“Indeed, it is.” Veyr stood, not bothering to hide the lethal grace in his movements. He hadn’t been brought up with a silver spoon in his mouth like most of the council. He was a fighter, a scrapper from the streets. “And Jacob?”

Jacob, already on his way to the door, turned to look over his shoulder. Veyr extended a single claw, running it over the table in front of him as he walked around it. An impressive feat, since only full and powerful alphas could part shift with such precision.

“Don’t try my patience any more. It will not go well for you.”

***

“Do you plan to take Cyan to mate? Or are you just going to use her as some kind of fuck-buddy?”

Veyr had managed less than five steps from the door to the council chamber before he was accosted. Holding in the sigh that wanted to escape his chest with effort, he turned to face Nick Trevais, Cyan’s brother.

One of the calmest members of the council, Nick was usually the voice of reason, the one who could be counted upon to inject a measure of reason into even the most heated of battle plans. Just last month when the city’s territory had been breached by scouting parties from a city to the west, Nick had advised caution. His suggestion had been to return the errant wolves with a diplomatic envoy rather than sending them back in pieces, as was custom.

His instinct had paid off. Turned out that the wolves were young, and had been out without permission. The Mistress of their City had torn them off a strip right in front of the envoy, whom she had asked to convey her deepest gratitude to Veyr. Turned out that one of them had been her nephew, so killing them would have caused an all-out war, something that Veyr wished to avoid.

Now though, Nick was anything but calm. Anger shone in his eyes, the amber color warning Veyr that Nick’s wolf was close to the surface. So close in fact, that fur poked through the skin under his collar as he glared at Veyr. Although his sister couldn’t shift—unusual for an alpha’s sister—that Nick could shift was very obvious.

Veyr knew he had to tread lightly or this could end up in a challenge fight. Which he would win. There was no way on Earth Nick could match him for fighting ability. But trying to explain to the woman he loved that he’d killed her brother? That would not end well…

He paused. Blinked.

He loved Cyan.

Time dilated as a warm, fuzzy feeling spread out from the center of his chest. He’d never thought about love. Lust and the need to possess, emotions driven by his wolf, took precedence, but under all that was a deep, a soul-deep, connection. A need to have her in his life. Always. To wake up with her next to him every morning.

“Well?” Nick’s voice had dropped to a snarl and Veyr snapped his head up, met the other wolf’s gaze.

“I don’t plan to take her to mate, no.” He put his hand up as Nick surged forward, fury radiating from every line of his body. “There’s no planning involved. I will mate her. No matter what the council and that fucktard Jacob says about it.”

Nick relaxed, the amber vanishing from his eyes and the fur disappearing from his collar. “Thank fuck for that.” He chuckled, as though a little embarrassed. “Because, dude, I really was not looking forward to you handing my ass on a plate. But she’s my sister, you know… it’s all about family honor.”

Veyr chuckled and looped his arm over Nick’s shoulders as they walked away from the council chambers. “My friend, I would do nothing that puts a pack’s honor at risk. Don’t worry.”

As they walked away, neither of them noticed the figure lurking in the shadows at the end of the hall or the brief, satisfied flare of amber in its eyes.

Chapter Three

“Yeah… You’ll need to order from Giovanni’s. And tell Nick to check the utility bill. They always fuck it up so you need to be onto customer service to get them to sort it out. At least until we can get a different provider. Which honestly, can’t come quick enough for me.”

Cyan sighed and tucked a loose lock of her hair behind her ear as she spoke into her cell. She sat waiting for Veyr in his office, speaking to Melanie, one of the Trevais wolves back at the pack-house. None of them had foreseen her abrupt departure to live in the Master’s household, and with Cyan running the place, it had left them in disarray.

“Okay, yeah. Get Nick to check it, and whatever you do… don’t let my mother anywhere near the ordering system, okay? Yeah, you too. Take care, hon.”

She pulled the cell away from her ear and clicked it off, only to have it plucked from her grasp by a large male hand. This time she didn’t squeak, just turned around and found herself enveloped in Veyr’s arms. His mouth covered hers in a quick, hard kiss that left her breathless.

“What was that about coming quickly?” he asked when he lifted his head.

Unbidden her hands smoothed over his chest, bare beneath his jacket. He rarely wore a shirt, one of his quirks, but she didn’t care. It allowed her easy access to his deliciously hard body. Her fingertips brushed over his nipples, which caused a flare of amber in his eyes.

Still on edge after this morning, when he’d brought her to an earth-shattering orgasm but still hadn’t fucked her, she grinned slyly. Two could play at the temptation game.

“Coming quickly? Oh, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Keeping the innocent look on her face, she pulled away and dropped her hands to his belt. His nostrils flared, darkness seeping into the amber of his eyes as she undid the buckle. Already he was hard, the thick ridge of his cock pressing against the fabric of his pants at the same time the scent of his arousal wrapped around her.

Parting the fabric, she reached in and slipped her hand around the rigid shaft. Like shirts, he also seemed to have a thing against underwear. Not that she was complaining about that. His cock pulsed in welcome, as though pleased to see her. She hummed in pleasure, reaching up to plant a quick kiss on his lips before she slid to her knees.

“Fuck me,” he muttered, one hand reaching for the edge of the desk he leaned against and one driving into her hair.

“Maybe… if you’re a good boy,” She threw back and liberated his cock from his pants. The thick, flushed head bobbed just in front of her lips and his hand tightened in her hair. A smile on her lips, she flicked a glance up at him to find him watching her, his attention rapt… fixated even… on her lips.

Just to be evil, she licked them, her tongue almost whispering against the sensitive head in front of her lips, but not quite. His groan seemed to roll up from his toes, but his grip in her hair remained constant. She almost expected him to use it to force her head forward and her lips over his cock, but he didn’t. That wasn’t Veyr. Not at all.

Uber-masculine, alpha male he was, he did not need to force to coerce her into anything.

Not when everything he asked she wanted to do anyway. And then some.

Leaning forward, she swiped a lick over the flushed tip. It was a quick touch, no more, but he jerked like he’d been hit by lightning. His back arched, and his hips thrust forward. She smiled, knowing she had him at her mercy. Parting her lips, she licked him again. A long, slow lick over the bulbous head, with a pause to flicker the tip of her tongue in the groove at the top. He swore, all the muscles in his arm standing out in high relief. She didn’t stop though. Instead, she moved forward and took him deep.

His cock was long and wide—very wide—but she didn’t care. Humming with pleasure, she slid him deeper, until her mouth filled with cock. Her nostrils flared and she closed her lips around him, sucking as she pulled back.

He said nothing, but the small groan and the cracking of wood as his hand closed around the edge of the desk was enough to tell her he liked what she was doing. Like,
really
liked it. Spurred onward, she slid him deep again, relaxing her throat so she could take him in further.

“Fucking hell, babe… that’s sexy,” he panted, breaths ragged as he attempted to keep his hips still.

“That’s it, just like that. Not too fast…”

Screw
that
. She wanted to test his control, wanted him to lose it. They had the best sex when he did. Hard and fast and dirty. And she needed to keep it that way—dirty—or she was in danger of losing her heart to him, which would never do. Not without a mating mark on her shoulder. She was just the Master’s Woman, not his mate.