Page 7 of Ruthlessly Mated (Shared Mates #2)

They’re discussing me like a specimen while I am coming undone in every direction possible.

“You’re the only person who has ever fucked me,” I remind him. “So if it was done badly, that’s your fault.”

“Shut up,” Conroy growls, thrusting deep and hard inside me. His words make me tingle deep inside, like I love the fact he’s being rough and kind of rude to me. My attitude goes absolutely nowhere with him.

It hurts. But it feels good. I don’t know how much more of this I can take, but I know I need this. He is feeding an appetite I didn’t know I had. He’s making me confront myself in ways I never wanted to confront myself. I don’t have the time.

His cock is getting bigger, thicker. There’s another knot forming inside my ravaged pussy, a twisted natural function designed to increase the chances he gets to knock me up.

“Now you’re feeling it, aren’t you, little fucking brat,” he snarls, thrusting in, even though the extra girth makes it almost impossible. He fucks me until he can’t fuck me anymore, until he has to come inside me, filling me up for a second time.

I end up limp and weak over the chair, leaking semen and feeling far too dazed and confused to orient myself to the situation I am now in. What the fuck is happening to me. Why am I letting this happen? Why aren’t I fighting harder?

Stupid body. Stupid wolf nature. Stupid having the instincts I always try to repress.

I do not have time for this.

I really don’t have time for this.

“It’s our turn. My turn,” Tailor says. I hear his voice as if it is coming from a distance.

I push up from the chair. “I can’t. I have to go.”

Tailor steps forward, caresses my cheek, then gives my face a little tap. Not quite a slap, not quite not one.

“I know you’re a little rebel,” he says. “But we are much bigger rebels, and we know how to keep order. It’s going to hurt you to disobey us.”

There’s something about this one. He’s sort of elegant, and probably somewhat twisted. Conroy is straightforward rough and domineering. Tailor is going to have his way with me too. I am anticipating that right now. I can feel myself tingling again, and not just because I have been ravaged twice.

I am so hungry for him. For all of them. I am adrift on a sea of mating hormones that make me feel as though I am going absolutely mad. But the fact remains I am on a dangerous mission, and now is not the time for me to get sidetracked.

“I need a break,” I say. “Just a little time.”

“Okay. Just a little while,” Tailor says.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” I say.

“She should be accompanied.”

“I can pee alone,” I say, walking into the bathroom and shutting the door behind me.

Bathrooms are great because they always have a lock on the door.

I make use of that lock, and then immediately try to climb out the bathroom window.

It’s an old trick, but it’s worth trying because it’s the only option I have right now.

Creak… Bam!

They’re onto me quickly. The second the hinge squeaks, the door bursts open and three wolves come pouring in. Conroy grabs me furiously and pulls me close to his face, his teeth snapping at the end of my nose.

“Don’t you dare run away,” he growls, as if he’s personally insulted by my attempted escape.

“Let me go!” I don’t know why I bother saying that. Obviously he doesn’t care what I have to say, or what I want, or what I need.

“No.”

“I have to go. Don’t ask why, just let me go.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Conroy snarls at me.

“Okay. Fine. You want me for your own? You don’t even know me. You idiots think I’m just out here for the taking.”

“You quite literally were.”

“Yeah, and now you’ve knotted me and come inside me. Moron.”

“If you don’t start talking with some respect, you’re going to be crying from having a cock in your ass.” Conroy’s threat is vicious, cruel, and more than a little bit frightening.

My eyes narrow at him, and I decide not to tell him in just what way he is fucking up. Fuck him. He might be my mate, but I don’t have to like him. A mate is just a cock nature chose to fuck me. It doesn’t mean he’s a good guy, or even worth basic decency.

Damon

Conroy thinks he can brute force every problem.

He’s often right, but with this little minx, he’s wrong.

She can’t be forced. She can be pinned down, fucked, mated, bred, but none of that is going to get to the core of her.

He’s being especially bull-headed right now.

She probably thinks he is stupid. He isn’t. He’s just stubborn. As is she.

I don’t like talking. Words are a waste most of the time. Action suffices. But I know the subject is going to come up sooner rather than later.

Conroy drags her back into the lounge, where she stands, furious and naked. I find a blanket for her and wrap it around her shoulders, covering her body. I indicate that I will wash her clothes, and she follows me as I take them to the washroom, which is located next to the bathroom.

She watches as I load her clothes into the washing machine, taking off all the bits and pieces that would be ruined in the machine, or ruin the machine. She is silent with me, and the quiet between us feels very calm.

“Thank you,” she says. “That’s nice of you.”

I nod and give her a little smile. I want her to feel comfortable.

I want to know her. I want to know where she comes from and what she’s doing and what her childhood was like, and what her middle name is, and what her favorite color is, and what the hell she is up to—because I know she’s up to something.

None of these things can be discovered without asking her questions, and I cannot find my voice, not yet. Maybe not ever.

“You have such big, dark eyes,” she says. “You have so many thoughts behind them, I imagine. And you’re with that growly idiot out there. What do you and Tailor see in him?”

There’s a pause in which I do not answer.

“Oh, sorry,” she says. “I forgot you don’t talk.”

She reaches for me and puts her hand on mine. “Can you talk?”

Her hand is soft. I am the only one of us she has reached for, initiated touch. That means a lot to me, even if none of the others so much as notice it.

I nod.

“But you don’t.”

I nod again.

“I respect that.” She smiles at me. “Everyone talks too fucking much anyway.”

We stay in the washing room together until her clothes are washed, and then I put them in the dryer, and then they get dry, and she barely talks and I don’t mind at all, and she doesn’t mind at all either.

“Do you write notes?”

She scrabbles through her stuff. She has a lot of stuff. Some of it is paper and pen; she takes that pen and she writes a single word on it: Hi.

I hesitate for a brief moment, then take the pen from her and write a word back.

Hi.

She smiles so broadly I feel as though I have done something truly wonderful for her.

“I bet that was hard for you,” she says. “It’s okay. You don’t have to write me an essay. Hi is enough for now.”

I give her the pen back. I don’t usually write things down either, unless it’s an absolute emergency.

Talking is not only overrated, it is painful for me.

Words stick in my throat, feel like massive boulders pushing against the most sensitive parts of my innards.

Talking feels like I am a goose being stuffed for pate.

We stay in the laundry room as it gets warmer, the heat of the dryer taking the chill off the air. I take her by the hand and lead her back into the bathroom. There, I run the bath and gesture to it.

“You want me to bathe?”

I nod.

“You’re right, being licked clean probably isn’t sanitary when fish guts are involved,” she says. “Though I’m glad I’m a wolf. Imagine if I was just a person. Imagine if you all were. We’d all be so disgusted.”

I sit by the bath as she gets in and starts to wash herself off. She is very pretty naked, very curvy and very cute. I let my eyes run over her generous breasts, and an ass already marked with Conroy’s belt. There’s no way she and he are going to avoid conflict.

Tailor is more refined, more patient. He can seem more laid back, but in truth he is just more methodical. It will take a long time for him to react, but when he does it will be truly devastating.

She looks at me, and I see fear in her eyes.

It’s a quiet fear. The kind that hides like a wounded predator, knowing that to have a weakness discovered would be akin to death.

She doesn’t want anybody to know how scared she is, and how much hurt she carries, but I see it all. She cannot hide it from me.

I lower my head to hers, and press a gentle kiss to her forehead. I hear her let out a little whimper, and the water sloshes slightly as her hips make an unmistakable grinding motion.

She’s been stimulated a lot, but she’s looking for a sexual comfort that Conroy isn’t really capable of giving. He knows how to dominate, but he hasn’t yet learned how to soothe.

I slide my hand into the bath, letting my fingers curl around her inner thigh. She meets my gaze again, then lowers it again, her cheeks turning even pinker. Her thighs spread a little, inviting me deeper.

My other hand runs through her hair and clenches deep in the roots, tilting her head back enough to make her eyes rise naturally to mine.

The jolt of carnal excitement that runs through me as she looks at me is so perfectly primal.

A soft, low growl escapes me, the closest utterance to words I’ve made in years.

The sound has an immediate effect on her.

I feel her tremble in my grasp, and then I feel her legs part even more.

I have yet to move my hand. I am making her be patient, forcing her to anticipate my touch.

A slight smile teases the corners of my lips, letting her know I am well aware of what I am doing.