Once Upon a Shifter (116 page)

Thomas pushed his hips forward, still holding onto the base of his cock, and felt himself slide into the tight ring of pleasure. He muffled a moan, grinding his teeth together, willing himself not to make any noise.

“Oh my god,” hissed Gavin, his voice almost lost in pleasure. “God
damn
that feels good.”

Thomas could only pant and grab onto Gavin’s wide shoulders as the head of his cock finally popped through that ring of muscle and suddenly his cock was sliding smoothly into the other man. It felt like lightning or fireworks — almost indescribable, like his brain was short-circuiting.

“Oh, fuck,” he whispered into Gavin’s shoulder.

He paused for just a moment, gathering himself, balls-deep inside the other man.

Then he reached around and took Gavin’s cock in his hand, sliding it all the way down and then back up, earning a whimper from Gavin’s throat.

“Fuck me,” Gavin growled.

Thomas felt something untamed and wild take him over — maybe his bear, closer to the surface right now than usual — and he felt almost like his body was out of his control as he pulled back, leaving only the head of his cock inside, and then thrust deep inside again, that tsunami of pure, mindblowing pleasure washing over him and making the skin all over his body tingle.

Gavin let out a tiny moan, and Thomas could just see the other man’s hands, one against he SUV’s back window and the other clutching the back of the seat, his knuckles going white with the pressure.

“Don’t stop,” Gavin hissed. “I need it harder, faster. Until I’m screaming.”

“Better not scream,” murmured Thomas. “We don’t need visitors.”

“Fuck them,” said Gavin, his voice a half-moan as he tilted his head back, eyes closed in ecstasy.

Thomas kept on pumping himself into Gavin, harder and harder. He knew that he was rocking the SUVs on its wheels, making the big car bounce back and forth, but he felt like his body was no longer under his control — he could only act on pure, animal instinct, and what the animal wanted was to fuck Gavin as hard as humanly possible.

“Come on,” Gavin growled, his rock-hard arms now braced against the window. “
Fuck
yes that feels good.”

“I’m gonna cum soon,” panted Thomas. “God, I’m so close.”

Gavin just nodded.

“Give it to me as hard and deep as you can,” he said, his voice a low growl, Thomas’s hand wrapped tightly around his cock, pumping in time with the cock in his ass.

“I’m gonna cum,” said Gavin, his voice getting louder, not giving a damn who heard or saw them at that moment. “Don’t stop, just fuck me, yeah—“

A door in the wall opened, and Thomas froze, balls-deep inside Gavin, both men sweating and breathing like they’d run a marathon.

The bartender from before stepped out, a full trash bag in one hand.

“Oh god,” moaned Gavin.

Thomas clapped a hand around Gavin’s mouth, holding the other man’s back against his front, his cock pulsating inside him. He could practically feel Gavin’s cock swell in his hand, like he was just about to cum all over everything.

Not seeming to notice anything, the bartender walked to the dumpster, right next to the SUV where the two men were fucking.

Gavin’s cock pulsed again.

“Don’t cum,” whispered Thomas in his ear, all too aware that Gavin wouldn’t be able to control himself when he did. “Don’t cum, don’t cum.”

Gavin squeezed his eyes shut, and Thomas could feel his jaw clench below his hand.

The bartender opened the dumpster and tossed the bag of trash inside it, wiping her hands against each other when she was done.

Gavin twitched a little and Thomas felt himself slide just a millimeter further into him and he bit Gavin’s shoulder to keep himself from crying out.

Gavin made a tiny noise, a strangled moan, beneath Thomas’s hand as the bartender began walking back to the door she’d come through.

At the sound, she cast a quick glance at the SUV, and Thomas felt the blood run cold through his veins, his cock nearly exploding.

Then she half-shrugged to herself and walked back through the door.

Thomas let Gavin’s mouth go and gave one last, thrust, slamming himself into the other man as a moan exploded out of his chest.

Gavin growled, words completely failing him, and Thomas could feel him clench around his cock, the muscles in his ass working rhythmically on Thomas even as Thomas pumped hard at his cock.

Long, sticky ropes of semen jetted from Gavin’s cock, getting on the door handle and a little on the window, and then, gritting his teeth, Thomas lost control of himself and let the pure pleasure take him over, thrusting into Gavin again and again until he was utterly, completely spent.

For a few long moments, he leaned against Gavin, his softening cock still inside the other man, their sweaty bodies stuck together from knee to shoulder. Gavin leaned his forehead against he window, his shoulders and arms going slack with total relaxation.

“We made a mess,” he said, his voice back to normal.

“Again,” said Thomas.

Then he pulled out, grabbed a tissues, and handed the rest to Gavin.

“I’ve got upholstery cleaner at my place,” he said.

Gavin sat next to him, and Thomas could see beads of sweat still making their way down between his thick pectorals, onto his washboard abs.

“Someday, they’ll notice,” he said.

“Not today,” said Thomas.

“No,” said Gavin.

Chapter Eight

Sofia didn’t want to open her eyes the next morning. She could tell, even while still half asleep, that she was still on the couch with the TV on.

She could also tell that opening her eyes was not going to be pleasant. Even with her eyelids shut, the light hurt her head, but her neck was at a terrible, awkward angle, and she knew she hadn’t brushed her teeth the night before.

One deep breath, and she forced her eyes open.

She’d been right. It was terrible.

The TV was showing one of those morning shoes, with a couple of too-perky hosts on a white couch, one of whom was enthusiastically explaining something involving a big pitcher of water to the others.

Sofia hated her instantly.

On the coffee table, about a foot from her face, was an almost-empty bottle of wine and her cell phone. She sat up slowly, her joints protesting after being curled into a ball for hours. The underwire in her bra dug into her right boob, where she’d been lying awkwardly, and it felt like her underpants had migrated all the way up her ass.

She put her elbows on her knees and rubbed her face hard with both hands, then reached out to turn off the TV and pick up her phone.

One text, from a number she didn’t know:

Hey, it’s Thomas. Text me when you get this so I know you made it home alive?

Sofia bit her lip, reading and re-reading the text.

He
did
care that she’d stormed out of the bar, at least enough to text. Maybe it wasn’t enough to follow her or anything, but he cared some.

It was a small comfort. In a perfect romance, he’d have come running after her, sweeping her off her feet in his strong arms as he kissed her.

In a perfect dirty romance, he’d have done all that and then take her into the bar’s back room, where they’d be joined by Gavin, the sexy bartender, and then she’d have had her way with them both.

Sofia exhaled hard and stood. Too bad life wasn’t either, and she was going to have to settle for Thomas being a very friendly acquaintance who was nice enough to text after a rough night, even if she’d never get to sleep with him.

Crankily, she dumped out the dregs of the wine, plugged her phone in to charge, and got in the shower.

***

Sofia usually got to the library by eight-thirty or nine, but this morning it was at least ten before she arrived to check in with Francis, signing her name on that sheet yet again.

“Room’s still intact!” Francis said brightly.

Sofia, hangover still raging, thought about some horrible things she could say to the other woman, but instead she forced a smile.

“Great!” she said, barely meaning it.

Down the stairs, through the hallway, and then to the California History Room’s door.

As she opened it, she saw something on the floor just inside: an envelope. It was a fat rectangle, some sort of pearlescent white, like a wedding invitation.

Her name was on the front in cursive. Whoever had written it had very nice handwriting.

Sofia picked it up without opening it, too tired and hungover to think about whatever function she was getting invited to right now. It was probably some sort of library fundraiser or something and she was just being invited out of politeness. She wouldn’t go, of course, because it wasn’t like she had many funds to donate anywhere.

She put her bag down on a chair and pulled her laptop out, plugging it in the same place she did every day, then putting her face in her hands again while she waited for it to boot up, a tired, totally half-assed To-Do list starting to run through her head.

There was a light knock on the door to the room, and one more time, Sofia cursed the library policy that meant the door had to be kept locked at all times. Clearly, it hadn’t been effective when it really mattered, and right now, she just wanted to lose herself in scanning old maps rather than get up and get the door every time someone else wanted to come in.

Thomas stood on the other side, holding two mugs full of coffee.

For just a moment, Sofia was furious at him.

What’s your fucking deal?
She thought to herself.
You want to fuck skinny girls who throw themselves all over you, and then you show up here with coffee after texting me?

Am I a backup for you? If the skinny girl turns you down, you come here and the chubby one is so grateful that she puts out?

But just as quickly as it had come on, her moment of fury passed, and she managed a smile.

“For me?” she asked.

“Of course,” he said, handing her the mug.

Sofia led him back into the room, and he put his bag down on the table and went right for the still-broken-but-closer-to-fixed microfiche reader. She drank the coffee —
hot and strong, just like I like my men, haha
, she thought — and looked at the to-do list she’d half started before he got there.

It just said,
do work
.

Not helpful, hungover Sofia
, she scolded herself.

“What’s that?” asked Thomas, a screwdriver already in his hand, nodding toward the fancy invitation.

“Oh, I forgot to open it,” she said, reaching for it.

The paper was cool and heavy, textured in a way that somehow felt like snakeskin.

“Looks like you’re getting invited to events I haven’t even heard about,” he joked.

The flap of the envelope popped open easily, and inside was a card with a picture of flowers on the front. Sofia raised her eyebrows and opened it, briefly regretting that she probably wouldn’t be able to attend whatever function it was.

Inside, in the same flowing, lovely hand, was written:
Go home, tramp
.

“What the fuck?” she said out loud. Sofia turned over the card, but there was nothing interesting on the back, and nothing else on the envelope either.

“What is it?” asked Thomas.

She showed him the inside of the card, and he frowned.

“What the fuck?” he asked.

Sofia just shook her head and dropped the card on the table, too angry for words. Thomas picked it up along with the envelope, turning them both over in his hands, as if he were looking for clues. Sofia pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingertips, closing her eyes as she did.

She thought she saw Thomas smell the envelope, but she couldn’t be sure.

“Fuck it,” she said. “I’m hungover, and some bitch wants me to leave town, and she left me a nice note because apparently smashing up the library and taking the books I need wasn’t enough.”

Then she paused for a moment in her ranting, and turned to look at Thomas.

“It was those girls who were all over you last night.”

Thomas’s jaw flexed beneath his skin, just slightly.

“Janelle and Monica? They wouldn’t do this,” Thomas said, though he didn’t make eye contact.

“Are you sure?” she said, getting angry again. “They could barely wait until I left to hop right on your dick last night.”

Then she clapped one hand over her mouth, her eyes going wide.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice muffled by her hand.

“They’re just friends,” Thomas said, a little lamely. “I swear, I’m not interested in them.”

Sofia said nothing, but dropped her hand and took a deep breath. Besides being confused and upset, she still felt a little nauseous from the hangover.

“It’s none of my business,” she said. “Look, thanks for the coffee, but I’m going to take the day off, try to figure out what I should do, okay?”

She turned and closed her laptop, starting to pack up the power cable, when Thomas reached over and grabbed her wrist.

“I’m not interested in them,” he said, pulling her closer to him.

Sofia stumbled a little, her shins hitting the chair.

“What are you doing,” she whispered.

“Things are... complicated,” he said. “But those girls have been throwing themselves at us since high school, and they’re still unsuccessful.”

“Who’s ‘us’?”

“Gavin and me.”

Sofia took another deep breath, fighting down a little wave of hangover nausea.

I shouldn’t have drunk that coffee
, she thought.

“How long have you and Gavin known each other?” she asked, trying to buy herself time. Even if Thomas
did
have sexy intentions just then, she knew that puking wasn’t a great move.

“Most of our lives,” he said, and his eyes narrowed, something in his manner shifting. “Why?”

“You guys just seem... close,” Sofia said.

Suddenly, she remembered the way they’d been flirting at the bar the night before, and between that and the sudden change in Thomas’s attitude, she put two and two together.