Reluctant Mates - 21 Paranormal Romance Stories (Werewolf, Vampire, Minotaur and Monster collection) (61 page)

“Plant a bomb. Alright everyone. This is the end of the line. Let’s get this thing done and find out wherever we’re going next. These people deserve peace. We’re going to bring it to them. I’m not going to lie to you though, this is going to be hard; that camp is packed full of tough-as-shit mercenary vamps who do this sort of thing for a living. We’ll have our work cut out for us.” He saluted, as he always did, and went to prepare.

Around the Wolves camp a few moments later, none were talking but heads were nodding, fists were clenching, and boots were being tied. Miller broke the somber silence.

“Hey, boss, I thought you said someone was going to be upset. I mean, we’re all pretty much doing what we’re best at.  This is what we do, y’know? What’s the problem?”

Bolton looked confused for a half second, before he was struck by memory. “Oh! That. I forgot the punch line. It was a bad joke anyway. Moreno. See, Moreno’s not gonna...”

Miller groaned and Andrews rolled his eyes, chuckling a little bit.

“Good thing you’re so good at this mercenary shit, boss.” Miller said, patting Bolton on the shoulder.

“Oh yeah, and why is that?”

“Because if you tried to make a living as a comedian, you’d starve to death.”

“Unless I ate the audience.” Bolton chomped the air.

“Ah, yeah. I had a feeling you were going to say that.” Miller patted him again, chuckled and turned away.

“What? That was a good one!”

Somehow, even knowing there was a very high chance at least one of us wasn’t coming home, we all laughed for a minute.

In the hazy darkness of early morning, Miller retired to the radio room as the rest of us Wolves tied down side arms, grabbed our favorite tools-of-the-trade, and waited for the signal to advance.

***

B
olton peeked out of the tent that we had been sharing lately. “Mathis! Mathis, over here for a second,” he said in an urgent whisper. I followed, not particularly sure what he wanted, but what can I say? It was early, I was on edge, and if nothing else, he looked
good
with that trim little waist and those low-riding, camouflage BDUs. Come to think of it, he’d probably look good in jam shorts and a clown wig. Luckily, he never tried.

The hard, tight line of his jaw led to a beautifully sculpted neck, powerfully sloped shoulders, and biceps that looked ready to burst. I just stared at him for a long moment, barely able to make out more than a silhouette of his body in the tent’s darkness. “Come over here, Mathis, something I want to tell you.”

“Is there – do you need something?”

His tone was decidedly less jokey than it was a moment ago.

“Look. I’ve been feeling guilty about, well, everything. We rescued you, then while you were still trying to figure out was happening with your job and all that, we turned you into one of us. I can admit now that I was wrong. I shouldn’t have done it. I’m sorry.”

I had absolutely no idea how to take this. Bolton was John Wayne and Rambo rolled into one man’s body. He wasn’t emotional, wasn’t the type to apologize. I put a hand on his shoulder.

“You have nothing to feel bad about. My whole life – everything I’ve ever done, I did because I want to help people. I didn’t go into medicine to make a billion dollars and have three trophy... er... men. You know that. What we’re doing right now, what we’re about to do with those vampires and that asshole Moreno helps. Plus, who wouldn’t want to be a werewolf? I’m surrounded by gorgeous, incredible men all day long; I’m doing real, actual good for people. And, seriously, I’m a werewolf. How awesome is that?”

I prodded his chin with the tip of my thumb and kissed him. That seemed to do the trick. He bent his neck around to let me nuzzle him. I ran a hand up the side of his face, caressed the line of his jaw, and sucked his bottom lip between my teeth, giving him a little nibble.

“I guess we can’t do this right now, huh?” I asked, so coy that I almost made my own saccharine alarm go off. Bolton didn’t seem to mind.

“Well, we’ve still lots of hours before that sun comes up,” Bolton began, “I’m sure the guys won’t even notice. They’re probably off doing something similar instead of getting ready to run.”

The Wolves are a close-knit bunch. And when you spend so much time with the same six guys in the middle of the jungle, things tend to go a certain way. What I’m trying to say is that this place was as much of a hot-house as church camp can be.

He unbuckled the holster I had latched around my midsection and tugged my belt. I traced a line down the middle of his chest and unhitched his buttoned-up fly before helping him with mine. My hand lingered on his for a second, and I felt
something
move through him and into me. We’d been close since the beginning, but I daresay that at this point, it felt almost like love. I won’t say that though, Bolton might read this and get embarrassed. Hate for that to happen.

He looped his fingers through mine, kissed me again, and then grabbed a handful of rough pants fabric that happened to have my stiffening cock in it. “Oh,” he said with a grin, “looks like you aren’t taking your time. That’s alright. Neither am I.” As he spoke, I fished around in his BDUs and figured out what he was talking about: Bolton was rock hard already. I wrapped my hand around his shaft, tugged him a couple of times and then kissed him again. When I brought my face to his neck, I inhaled his scent. Since becoming a Wolf, my senses had gone absolutely nuts. The things I could smell were just incredible and right then, I drank in Bolton’s sweaty and musky man scent. I wanted to ram my dick straight into him, or have him do the same to me. We had a little time to play though.

He wriggled his fingers around my cock and we stood there for a second, hands in each other’s pants, stroking, and staring into one another’s eyes. He was a beautiful man, and a good one. I don’t know why, but I immediately thought that if we lived through this ridiculous mission, that I never wanted to be without him. I think he felt the same way.

After I tugged on him a couple more times, I needed more than some in-the-pants-jerking. I wrestled his trousers down, having a little bit of trouble getting them over his tented-up dick but I managed. As soon as I got them down to his knees, his cock sprang up, finally free from all that military cloth. The first time I saw him naked, what seems like forever ago, I was actually kind of afraid. He is big – big enough that you wonder if you’ll be able to stretch enough for him.

When he was free and his cock was standing straight out, I just had to suck him. I dropped to my knees, sloughed off my own trousers, and wrapped both of my hands around his shaft, giving him a squeeze. Recently, I had become very familiar with Bolton’s gear – but every time I got to stick it in my mouth was like the first time. I parted my lips, slipped the tip of his head inside, and ran my tongue around it in circles. Slow, sloppy circles.

“Oh my God Mathis,” he groaned, “you really aren’t letting me take my time here. God that feels good.” He ran his fingers through my hair, tugging a little, and pushing his cock further into my mouth. “Look up at me,” he said, putting a finger beneath my chin and tilting my head up, “just for a second. I want to see those eyes.” He smiled down at me, and then relaxed his neck, letting his head roll around his shoulders.

He’d never acted like this before. Sentimental almost, it was completely unlike him. I made a mental note to ask later, what was going on, but before that, I had to take care of the dick in my mouth.

I pulled my lips up to the ridge of his cockhead, trailing my tongue on the underside. I moved my hands up his spit-slicked dick, twisting and squeezing harder the closer I got to the tip. On the third stroke, I felt a drip of Bolton’s pre-cum trickle over my tongue. Shivers ran down my spine as he twitched in my mouth and thrust in deep again.

My alpha officer ran his hand back through my hair, getting a handful and tugging. The pulling on my scalp was feral, fierce and passionate. He looked down at me again, his brown eyes warm and caring. I think the sight of me down there with his dick half in my mouth did something to him – set him off somehow. He lifted me up, pulled me against his delicious, naked body and kissed me hard. His tongue lanced into my mouth, I tried to wrestle against it with mine, but he just overpowered me. The way he had pulled me in, our cocks were sandwiched between our flat bellies. Every time either one of us moved, thrills shot through both of us. Somehow, I managed to work a hand between us and get it around Bolton’s dick to give him a little tug-off as we pressed together.

“Now, now, now, I need you now. I can’t wait anymore.” His mouth trembled ever so slightly as he spoke. This was
definitely
not the Bolton I knew. Something had to be bothering him. He kissed me again and went to his knees in front of me, sucking my cock deep into his mouth and making sure to leave plenty of lubricating spit all over me.

He pulled me down on top of him, and pulled his cock up so that it lay between our bodies. I bit him on the shoulder, just like he liked, and guided the head of my stiff, slick, aching prick to his asshole. As I pushed the tip inside him, Bolton’s body stiffened and then relaxed with a rattling shudder. Fucking him was nothing new, but for some reason, he felt better right then than he ever had before. Maybe it was the danger, maybe it was the emotion, the desperation, the urgency – I don’t know what it was, but all I could do was smile.

While I was working slowly into my alpha lover, he had other ideas. He scratched down my back and then grabbed my ass, hard, and pulled me in. He let out grunt as my cock speared him and I felt the warmth of his ballsack on my pubis. I pulled out about half way and then rammed in again, which got another little grunt of pleasure. I looped my arms under his hips and pulled him up just a little so that I could get up on my knees.

“I want to watch that huge cock of yours slide between my hands while I fuck you,” I said, “that okay?” Bolton just grinned and relaxed his head on to the ground. He helped me adjust positions and started to stroke himself off.

“You,” Bolton started to speak in between heavy breaths, “you feel... right, somehow.”

I nodded. “You do too.”

I watched him play with himself for a second, and I just had to help. I grabbed him hard, shoved my cock deep and stayed, rocking my hips back and forth to rub my dickhead exactly where he liked it best – all the way inside. I squeezed him, making my grip lighter at the base of his shaft and tightening as I tugged closer to the tip. Every single pull I gave made him shudder a little, made him gasp and wiggle around.

To my surprise, he started to push against me, like he was trying to get up on top. The way we were arranged though, his legs were looped over the top of mine. He pushed again, his hands on the ground, those huge forearms bulging. “Let me climb Mount Mathis,” he said in a whisper, “I want a ride.”

I gave him a little grin and pushed my feet out in front of me so he could shift up on top. Very slowly we shifted positions and he ended up on top, my cock never slipping out. I stretched my feet out in front of me, pushed my hips up against his body and shoved Bolton’s knees aside so I could keep jerking that big, beautiful tool. He thrust his hips in quick, short little bursts as I tugged hard and slow. Leaning back, Bolton braced his weight against the floor and let me drive. I bucked my hips so hard that he was bobbing up and down off the floor. I pumped his cock with my hands, banged hard against his ass and before very long, sweat started to bead on my forehead. My breath came in quick, hot bursts, and when I looked up at Bolton’s straining face, I knew he was in the same place I was.

Bolton let out a sighing rumble and I felt his asshole begin to clench, squeeze and massage my cock as I plunged it inside him over and over. Finally, it was just too much for the both of us. He gritted his teeth, and made an honest effort to keep his jizz inside, but it was no good. A trickle of pre-cum ran over my yanking hands and then he erupted, shooting a jet across my chest and alternating between sucking air and grunting. I drove my hips upward, and the instant his balls hit my skin, I surged, filling him and gasping for breath. After the first shot, crackling heat radiated through my belly, my eyes rolled back in my head and I thrust against that incredible massaging ring of his as it milked every last drop out of me.

Spent, he collapsed on top of me, kissed me hard one last time, and pushed up.

“I... thanks, Mathis.” Bolton said, looking oddly thoughtful. I considered asking him what was upsetting him, but he reverted to himself before I could. His eyes narrowed, and he touched a match the end of a cigar I hadn’t even seen him find. “You ready to ruin some jerk-off dictator’s day?”

I had to grin. To think – when I first met the men, I thought this guy was some kind of super-serious, all-business soldier. Now, he’s the hottest fuck I’ve ever had, and he can’t manage to go fifteen or twenty minutes without blurting out some one-liner that would be right at home in 1986. He was amazing, and yes, I was ready.

I was starting to get into this mercenary thing.

“Hell yes, let’s break some Ray-Bans.”

He squinted at me, seeming a little lost on my reference.

“Er... you know, dictators with the mustaches and sunglasses and the things on their shoulders...?”

“Yeah, I get it. It just wasn’t funny.”

I glared at him for a second, and he just reached over and gave my shoulder a squeeze and a pat. “You need to work on your one-liners. A lot.”

***

E
ven though the jungle was still full dark, it was alive. Monkeys were beginning to stir, some kind of bizarre bird swooped down from the canopy and nipped at Samson who frowned sternly, and the curious white flowers that dotted the wall of green surrounding our camp were opening. It was time to go. I surveyed the men, more out of curiosity at their kit than anything else.

Samson refused firearms out of principle. He said they were less sophisticated than hand weapons, but I suspect he just likes the
crunch
of a fist on a face. Two bandolier-type straps crisscrossed his chest and a third was belted around his waist. No guns, no bombs, no grenades. The one around his midsection held nothing but fist weapons. He had spiked steel knuckles, small ones that fit in the palm of the hand and were tipped on either side by stabbing blades, and then his favorites, simple iron knuckles that I had personally witnessed him use to punch through concrete and rebar. His knives were arrayed across his chest. Throwing knives, small spikes to sprinkle on the ground, two retracting-blade knives and one ridiculously big Bowie knife strapped in the center. Around both ankles were smaller holsters with his two combat knives, that he had predictably named ‘Ebony’ and ‘Ivory’ because of, you guessed it, the handles. He hated when you made fun of those, but everyone did. Still, his ferocity had no match that I’d ever seen. Hell, I’d never even seen him in an actual fight, but during sparring sessions with the other guys he was in a different league. There was – there is, as far as I know, no one on the planet that can stand toe-to-toe with him,
especially
if he’s angry. A Norse god out of time, you know? Thor come to Earth. Out of any of us, he’s the one I’d expect to be able to fight his way out of a ten-to-one matchup, and probably come out without a mark.