Page 6 of Ruthlessly Mated (Shared Mates #2)

I am dripping semen as Tailor picks me up. He is not nearly as rough with me as Conroy was. He’s almost reverent as he wraps me in his arms and carries me out of the bar to a series of cheers that seems to get louder and louder every time even though I am actively escaping the area now.

Tailor takes me upstairs, past the velvet rope that keeps people who respect ropes off the stairs, and through a solid metal door that deals with people who are less respectful of boundaries.

I find myself inside the true den of Port Denhome.

This is where the masters live, and it is clearly where all the proceeds of the port have been funneled.

There are three armchairs, each of them in very different styles.

There’s a big brown leather one sitting in the middle of a rug facing the fireplace.

There’s another one to the left of it, made in better quality everything.

It’s smaller, stiffer, but looks like it would probably still be very comfortable.

And then there’s a black chair, set to the far right side, just barely in the realm of the fireplace. That one’s got to belong to Damon.

Tailor carries me into the place like I’m his personal prize. The darker-haired quiet guy does not seem bothered. He follows like a shadow.

“I’m going to strip her down.” Tailor says. “We can lick her clean. She’s still so messy.”

They keep talking about me as if I am not here, as if I am something they are trying to work out.

“Oh, yes, she is,” Conroy agrees, his tone deep and satisfied.

Tailor takes me into the bathroom, which is large and sparsely appointed. There’s a large bathtub and big tiled floors and a sink that has three toothbrushes lined up in their very own glasses along the side of it.

They take my clothes off me, everything including my socks.

I see that the one who hasn’t said anything has my effects from down on the bar. While I was being railed by Conroy, he was making sure nobody stole my Zip. He seems cool.

Standing naked before men who I intellectually know are my mates, but the part of my brain that has been fighting a solo battle forever won’t acknowledge that way, I struggle for words that will renew my independence.

Some of them manage to fall out of my mouth, though they do a very poor job of explaining how I really feel.

“I’m not interested in being anyone’s mate. And if there’s a problem with port tax, I’ll go ahead and pay it. You know it’s not really that big a deal, to…”

Conroy’s mouth comes down gently, but firmly on the back of my neck and the words fall into their composite consonants and syllables and then collapse completely.

It is a surprisingly intimate experience, being made naked and then cleaned by three tongues, all of which are agile and excited by their work. I have no choice but to lie back and accept their ministrations.

“You don’t even know me,” I moan. “I’m not…”

The one with the short, dark hair kisses me. Deeply, passionately. With enough intensity to drive all thoughts of not being known out of my head. I can feel my instincts shifting toward them. With every breath I take, their scents enter me, all three of them becoming part of my internal chemistry.

He does not say a word, but he looks down at me with what I can only describe as a dark tenderness. I feel something in him speaking to something in me, the part of me that never really gets to express itself.

I reach for him. He catches my hand and lowers it, giving a little shake of his head, as if I do not get to…

“Oh, my god,” I moan as a hot tongue laps along the length of my slit.

“Don’t pleasure her again,” the leader, Conroy, says roughly. “She doesn’t deserve to have her pussy feel good. Not until she’s been punished for her disobedience.”

“Fuck you,” I curse as the blond lifts his head away from me, patting my pussy reassuringly as he moves away.

“You will be fucked soon enough, but on our schedule, not yours,” the asshole in charge says. “That little hole hasn’t earned any reassurance, let alone enjoyment.”

“What the hell is your problem?”

“My problem,” he snarls, looming over me, his hand now cupping my sex firmly, holding me like my pussy belongs to him.

“is that you’re a spoiled little brat who doesn’t understand how much fucking trouble she is in.

You tried to get away with breaking our rules, and now we are going to break you instead. ”

He’s so mean, even as his fingers move in a subtle rubbing motion between my legs, somewhat undermining his gruff point. He’s soothing and settling me with his touch while lecturing me sternly.

“Don’t swear at me again,” he says. “Or I’ll spank this pussy before I fuck it again. You think there’s a limit to how many times we can breed you? There’s three of us, baby; we can fuck you day and night if we want to, keep you full of our cum until you birth us our pups.”

I suck in a breath as he parts my lower lips by spreading his fingers. He is so comfortable handling my body as if he owns it, like he’s done this dozens of times before, as if I have always belonged to him.

“Stop it,” I mutter.

“Is that what you want?” He pulls his fingers away, then slaps my slit. “You want me to stop?” Another swat lands again. “You want to have your pussy punished?”

“No!”

“Too bad. You’ve earned it now.”

He spanks me between my legs again. I try to close them, but the others each take a leg and hold me open for the pussy spanking.

“You need to understand what it means to be owned by me. I mean, by us. We are not gentle men. We are not men at all. We are wolves, and this pussy belongs to us now, do you understand?”

He punctuates the question by slapping my lips again, making my sensitive folds sting.

“No,” I say, defiant, and because I have no intention of making him feel like this is working on me, even though it is totally working on me. I might be able to talk them out of this mate stuff. If I can’t talk them out of it, I’ll act them out of it. I am not ready to be anyone’s mate.

“Now. Come here,” he says, dragging me over his lap. He is still clothed, and I am entirely naked, cleaned in the most animal way. My ass is up high over his lap, exposed as he starts spanking me hard.

“This is what happens to little whelps who come to our port and defy our orders. You think you’re above our laws? No. You’re going to be even more subject to them. You’re going to suffer worse than anybody else would, I can assure you.”

Every word is punctuated by another one of those vicious slaps. I cry out, because it fucking hurts, and because I have absolutely no chill.

“Be nice!”

“Nice?” He chuckles down at me. “I am not going to be nice to you, little mate. I am going to start handling you the way you need to be handled. Firmly, and painfully. I am your mate, and your alpha, and you will obey me in all things.”

His palm continues to whip my ass until I start to sob. This hurts, and it is humiliating, and I am scared not just about what he is doing to me, but what he is going to do to me after this. There’s no escaping now that I am naked.

He’s made me so wet, so fucking needing of relief that I stop fighting. Fuck, it, I tell myself. I can want this. I can fuck three hot guys and then run away. This will just be another story I tell in a few years’ time, a wild night on the dark side.

“You said the other ones could have me,” I say. I just can’t help causing trouble right now. I don’t want to just submit to this, especially to Conroy, who has a particular effect on me, arousing and infuriating me in equal measure.

“She’s right,” Tailor says. “She’s not yours to use over and over. You can’t tell me not to lick her pussy and then make me watch you spank her lips.”

Conroy makes a sound of annoyance, but he knows we’re right.

“I’m not good at sharing,” he says. “Not when something is this precious.”

“My tolerance for your foibles is wearing thin,” Tailor says. “We’ve let you have command of the port, and we’ve all taken our roles, but she is not yours to own or command.”

“Yeah. I’m not yours to own or command. I’m everyone’s. Wait. No. I’m my own. I’m my own and none of you can have me.”

“Now can I handle her?” Conroy growls. “Or do you want to fuck her into submission, Tailor?”

“You are ours,” Tailor says.

“Nope. I’m not,” I snap back.

Damon is watching in the back, saying nothing. He’s smirking slightly, nothing more. He’s amused by this, I think. He’s not buying into it like Conroy and Tailor are. I watch as he folds his arms over his chest and leans against the wall, his eyes locked on me.

“Why doesn’t he say anything?”

“Damon doesn’t speak.”

“Why not?”

“You’d have to ask him,” Tailor says. “And he wouldn’t tell you.”

Damon’s expression has shifted slightly. He doesn’t seem so amused anymore. He seems pensive.

“So you’re a mute?” I ask him.

He doesn’t reply.

Conroy grips my chin and turns my face back to him. “You can get to know us later,” he says. “Once you’ve submitted to us properly.”

“I’m not going to submit to you, asshole. Why is that so hard for you to understand?”

Conroy picks me up, carries me into the den, and tosses me over the back of his armchair. There’s no preamble. No warning. No nothing besides the certainty that I am going to get fucked, and fucked hard.

“You’re gonna fucking regret this,” I curse as he slides inside me. I can barely form the words, but at least he won’t be able to pretend I didn’t warn him. Men like him think they’re in charge of everything and everyone.

His cock feels like it was made for me, thick enough to stretch me wide, deep enough to fill me.

I know I’ve only had sex once before, and that was maybe fifteen minutes go, but I am almost certain he was truly made for me, and me for him.

I let out a moan that makes it very obvious how much I enjoy this.

“That’s right,” he purrs down at me. “Someone hasn’t been properly fucked before, has she?”

“She’s never been mated properly,” Tailor agrees.