Page 10 of Tamed Wolf (Rejected Mates of the Shelter #4)

Blake, Now

I should have known better than to let that asshole Camden make our plans for the weekend. That guy is completely obsessed with women. I know that’s going to bite him in the ass when he finally meets his mate, but whatever. Let him learn his own damn lesson.

“Let’s get this over with, then,” I complain as I follow my identical brothers down the hall.

I’ll give them this; it smells a hell of a lot better than I thought it would in here.

There’s something incredibly mouthwatering floating around, something that smells like a maple bar or something, which feels like a strange choice of air scent for an upscale strip club, but it only gets stronger as we’re led to a private room.

If I look at this somewhat objectively, it’s sort of nice that Camden went through the trouble to do this for us, and I think in his own strange way, he’s honestly trying to help us seek out some dopamine and boner-mine, but it still feels a little uncomfortable.

“Since you’ve never been here, I just need to let you know our rules. Our girls will be respected at all times, understood? Your companion will get close to you and touch you if you’re comfortable with that, but you are not to reciprocate in any manner. There are a couple of bodyguards inside to ensure her safety; she’s the owners’ most cherished dancer and they won’t be happy if she’s disrespected. She’s the favorite for a reason though. I was told you don’t want anyone blonde, and well, she’s as far from that as you can get. Absolutely stunning, sweet as pie, and she’s going to have a great time giving you an unforgettable evening.”

Wow. She really knows how to sell this. I’d probably be slightly more clearheaded though if she hadn’t just flashed us her cunt a few minutes ago. Makes it a bit difficult to take her completely serious.

Until we get in the room anyway, where a pair of massive bodyguards eye us up and down like they’d like nothing better than to return us to the dirt. I throw up my hands. “Chill, we’re cool. We’ve got a kid; you can bet we ain’t looking to get into any sort of trouble.”

They don’t do anything other than grunt and nod their heads towards a collection of chairs.

“Now, do you handsome men have any objections to being touched? We need to get consent beforehand. Triplets, huh? Wow. I thought you looked awfully similar out there, but it’s impossible to miss when you’re sitting together like this. Mistress Ryot is going to have so much fun!”

I look at my brothers as if to ask, we really doing this? But the damn scent is getting stronger still, making my mouth water. “Can we revoke consent later if we change our minds?”

“Oh, absolutely. Mistress Ryot is very accommodating. Even if you decide to not be touched, she’ll be a feast for the eyes.”

“She can do whatever,” Beckett mumbles, somehow already popping a chub. Amateur.

Fuck, I am too.

“Enjoy, gentlemen. Oh, and it’s vital that no recording of any kind takes place within these walls, or you’ll be thrown out on your cute little asses, understood? Toodles!”

She slips out and for some reason, my heart is racing in my chest. Getting a private dance at a strip club is a hell of a way to break a dry spell.

My eyes can’t look away from the pole centered in front of us, my ears taking in the slow, sultry beats that start pumping through the hidden speakers.

The chairs we’re in are plastic and easily disinfected thank the good gods, but they’re sturdy and mostly comfortable. The room feels luxurious and expensive though, total opposite from our décor at home. All dark, rich jewel tones everywhere cascaded in soft lights, and with the doors closed it feels like we’re shut away from everything. There are no sounds from the rest of the club bleeding through, just the three of us fidgeting and waiting; that is, just the three of us besides the guards we’re going to pretend aren’t there to watch us embarrass ourselves.

I’m guessing that’s mostly their role, I don’t really know much about how these situations work.

The lights flip off completely and then start pulsing for a second at a time. A silhouette appears from seemingly thin air, that maple scent rich and fucking incredible. What the hell is that perfume?

“Hello there, Storm Pack, it’s my pleasure,” and she emphasizes that word with a throaty purr, “to take care of you this evening.”

Her voice turns my chub into a raging hard on; that’s embarrassing. I had no idea how much I missed sex.

When the lights flip on back to the low, intimate setting they were on prior, there’s a woman upside down on the pole in front of us, legs completely parallel to the floor and open wide, wearing a black corset thing that’s covered in little rhinestones that keep catching the light.

It cuts over her ass cheeks so they’re bared completely, and my eyes nearly bulge out of my eye sockets as her crotch just hangs out so close to us, so barely covered by fabric.

“Fuck,” one of my brothers mumbles.

She starts doing spins, slowly, working the pole like it’s a lover and not a piece of equipment, caressing it and flipping her hair around expertly.

“Gods, you’re fucking beautiful. I thought we were getting a talented dancer, not a damn angel,” Beckett remarks like a total simp.

She giggles at this, and it honestly sounds genuine to my ears, but I’m sure she’s used to drowning in compliments. But thinking of that makes me realize she does this all week, and that all kinds of men get to see her like this, and I really don’t like that at all.

What does it say about me that the first time I come to a strip club, I want to what, abscond with the stripper and throw her in my clothes and see her in my bed and establish some sort of claim on her? Maybe bake some blueberry muffins together? Fuck, I love a good brunch.

I’m fucking delusional.

She’s a little older than us I think, but her body is so fucking curvy and she’s so admirably strong that I get completely lost watching her dance for us. She’s not even onto the lap dance portion yet, but the way my body is reacting to her, you’d think she’s rubbing herself all over me, not a pole.

She makes it safely to the ground and puts her back to the piece of metal that I desperately wish I could shift into, sliding down slowly with her knees out and spread, making eye contact with each of us. I swear to the gods my heart fucking stops.

If I hadn’t already met and lost my fated mate and seen the kid we produced with her, I’d be damn near certain this woman was meant for me.

Maybe they put some sort of hallucinogenic drug in the air? Something that makes anyone watching think that they’ve got a sacred connection, so they’ll tip the women better?

But even as I think that it doesn’t sit right with me. There’s something sad deep in her eyes that I don’t think she’s ever able to fully banish, even when she’s smiling at us like the temptress she is.

“Not often do I get such pretty playthings for the night. Anything special I can do for you gentlemen tonight? I feel like I should be the one paying for the pleasure of your company.”

Brooks snorts. “Flattering, but no fucking way. You’re proof that the gods have favorites. I’m sure you hear this all the time, and I know that other lady said you were the owners’ favorite, but fuck, I can see why. I don’t think anybody else in this club is going to do anything for me after this. You’re stunning, love.”

For the compliment, the woman, Mistress Ryot I guess, heads toward him first.

Brooks goes stiff as a board as she straddles him, looping her arms over his shoulders to hold onto the back of his chair. The music flows seamlessly into another song, her body sliding and twisting to it like she’s the one creating it. I can’t look away.

It looks like she’s whispering sweet nothings into his ear, and I’m so fucking jealous. What I wouldn’t give to have all of her attention, my brothers be damned. It’s like I’m under a fucking spell or something, but I really don’t think I am.

She sends me a wink as she flips around and starts wiggling her ass all over my triplet’s face, his white knuckles and heavy breathing proof that he’s definitely about to blow his load.

Mistress Ryot’s head tips back and exposes her neck, making my mouth water even more and my canines throb. What the fuck is wrong with me?

I have to suffer through her dance with Beckett as well before she can touch me, and it sort of feels like I just won the damn lottery when she straddles me and looks into my eyes. Her voice is low, just for me to hear, and even though I just saw her communicate this way with my brothers, I feel special and sought out.

“What are such fine gentlemen doing out tonight, hmm? Surely, you’ve got a special lady at home that you’ve swept up.”

Her words seem to travel straight to my brain, massaging it. “W-we’re widowers actually. Not to kill the vibe, but yeah. You have no idea how badly we needed something like this. We’re just here with a buddy of ours, but fuck. I had no idea how much I’d be getting out of this.”

Just to add another ‘holy fuck’ to the list, she’s a goddessdamned wolf. It makes sense since Cam’s dads own the place, but like, for some reason the thought of wolves as strippers wasn’t something I even considered.

Yep, I’m in love.

“Is that so?” her hair is down to her waist in long straight layers, black so dark that it shines blue in some of the brighter lights when they pulse. Her cheeks are round, and her lips painted blow job red, her gray eyes looking for something in me I’m dying to give to her.

“Can I just say you smell fucking incredible? Please tell me where you bought your perfume because I’m about to go by stock in the company and live the rest of my life rolling around in it sprayed over everything I own.”

She laughs as her head falls back onto her shoulder, exposing that exquisite column of flesh again.

And the way she’s moving over me is hypnotizing.

“I’m actually not wearing anything right now. What do I smell like to you?”

I groan low in my throat. “That’s just your natural smell? Fuck, woman. How soon can we get married? Is a kid a deal breaker? He’s cute, I promise.”

She laughs again, but it’s more fragile this time. “Not sure marriage is in my cards, but congrats, you’re my first proposal today. You really want to discuss children when my ass is making imprints on your jeans?”

“You make an excellent point. And you smell like a maple bar and a cinnamon roll fucked and had deliciously decadent offspring.”

“There you go talking babies again; I think we know what’s on your mind.”

She flips around and presses her back to my chest, and I have to fight so damn hard to keep my hands from wrapping themselves around her stomach and pulling her into me. “Can you blame me? You’re just so fucking sweet. I didn’t even know women like you existed.”

Fuck, I want to kiss her.

Time seems to stand still as she finishes up her set; it takes hours but at the same time only minutes, keeping me suspended in this haze where I’m so enamored that nothing else matters except the way her body contorts and twists, the way her breathing lifts her chest and the way her eyes keep trying to look at us when she doesn’t think she’ll be caught.

I just want to grab her and run away. But obviously, I can’t do that. Right? Right.

I expect the feeling to disappear soon after the private dance is over, and surprisingly my nuts are still unbusted, though they’re definitely throbbing. It feels like an insult though to go jack off to the thought of her; that’s too cheap for a woman like her. So, when she exits the room with a lip bite and an over-the-shoulder air kiss, I throw myself onto the floor, thankful I can’t catch sexually transmitted diseases.

“Fuck,” one of my brothers chokes out.

I have to turn my head to give them focus, because none of my senses are working correctly. “I don’t think she was real. I think she was a fucking angel animatronic or something; can robots feel warm like that? Fuck .”

“Did you propose to her?” Brooks asks, not seeming too upset.

“Fuck yeah. You miss 100% of the shots you don’t take. That’s the saying, right?”

“We should leave. If she has to come back in here and sees us like this, she’s going to think we’re total losers. She needs to leave with the impression that we’re mysterious and sexy.”

I look at Beckett, who’s also slumped on the floor. “I highly doubt that’s what she’s thinking right now. Highly doubt she’s thinking of us at all, actually. A woman like that?” I whistle, shake my head, and force my body to stand up.

“We need to go thank Camden for helping us to find love,” Blake whispers in a totally deranged voice.

The door clicks open again, behind us this time, and other than the logistics of how Mistress Ryot left in front of us, part of me thinks it’s going to be her, tiptoeing back into the room to tell us how incredible it was to spend a few minutes with us. And also, maybe we should run away together?

Of course, it’s ‘here’s my vagina’ lady, ready to bring us to the party.

“I think she ruined women for me,” I mumble.

“Funny, you’d think that would be our ex-mate’s claim to fame,” Beckett tries to tease, but it falls flat.

“Ew. We tried to make it work with her why?”

“Gotta be honest, I’m actually blanking on her name,” I say, not too worried.

Camden is surprisingly still somewhat sober when we get to his VIP section, topless women serving him and sitting on the laps of some of his friends that we don’t really know, but none of the pretty women hold any interest at all for me.

My eyes roam around the club as we sit and drink and try to make ourselves have fun, hoping to see Mistress Ryot again. Really wish I knew her actual name so I could go buy a notebook and write it a few hundred times in pink gel pen. Throw some hearts in.

“What’s with you?” Camden asks, kicking my foot to get my attention.

My brothers are also studiously avoiding the women, though their eyes linger occasionally. “Just taking in the atmosphere.”

Beckett snorts. “No, you’re not. You’re hoping for our dream woman to come back into view.”

“Oh yeah?” Camden asks, taking an interest. “Tell me more.”

“Like you don’t know her,” Brooks says. “That woman you set us up with for the private dance. Fucking stunning, man.”

“Yeah, you don’t…please don’t talk about her,” Camden says as he slings back a drink. And then another.

“Why, you involved with her?” Beckett asks, getting slightly alpha.

“Me?” Camden asks like it’s the most outrageous thing he’s ever been asked. “ Fuck no. New subject. Stat.”

We don’t get to linger on her like the lovesick men we are, and instead are forced to sit and paint on smiles when Camden and his buddies tell all the stupid stories they’ve seemingly been saving up for this very moment.

All I really want to do now that the shiny has rubbed off is pull my phone out and stare at the photos that Aspen has been sending us of Rowan sleeping peacefully, then make my way home to him. It feels wrong to be sitting in a place like this when our son is with others.

“I think it’s time to go, Camden. Thanks a lot for inviting us out. Happy birthday, man.”

“Already? Alright, I guess I appreciate you three coming out. We’ll have to do this again sometime.”

He stands up to give us a bro hug goodbye, and then we’re making our way outside, the cool air hitting us like we’re waking from a fever dream.

“Did that actually happen?” Brooks asks once we’re back in the parking lot staring back a bit wistfully at the club.