Defending Their Mate, Part One: A BBW Shifter Werewolf Romance (The Last Pack) (5 page)

And her wolf wanted.

She rocked to her knees, facing Connor. The cure to the fever's wild ache was trapped behind that straining denim, so she reached for his zipper. "I'm burning up."

Connor slipped his fingers through her hair and twisted them tight. "You're killing me, Grace. I wanted to go slow."

"Going slow is killing
me
." She dragged at his jeans, pausing to trace her fingers along the edge of his boxers. His cock stood out beneath the fabric, looking every bit as big as Mac's had felt grinding against her back. "Please, Connor.
Please
."

He bit out a curse and tugged her head up with the fist in her hair. "Mac—"

"You heard the lady." There was a stern command lurking beneath the words. His hands ran lazily over her body—her bare hip, her spine, the curve of her ass—and he held her still as he cupped her pussy and teased his thumb just inside her. "She's ready."

"Okay, sweetheart." Connor released her with a glancing kiss to her forehead and stepped back. In seconds he'd kicked free of his clothing, leaving him lean and naked and
beautiful
.

He came back to the bed and sprawled in front of her, one hand extended. "Come here."

Grace hesitated. She'd expected him to take Mac's place behind her, or maybe flip her onto her back and shove her legs wide. But he was the one on his back, his cock thrusting up, hard and intimidating, and she didn't know to take him.

Mac guided her, urging one leg over Connor's, moving her hips until she was pressed against his bare cock. The base ground against her clit with every movement, and she gasped and braced her hands on Connor's broad chest.

"Hey." He cupped her cheek and rubbed his thumb over her lower lip. "If you can't wait, this is the best way. You take as much of me as you can, as quick or as slow as you can. And Grace?"

Speaking parted her lips, brushing them against the pad of his thumb like a kiss. "Yes?"

He smiled and rolled his hips, driving a gasp from her. "Once I've got your pussy clenching around every damn inch of my cock, I'll fuck you as hard as you want."

"That's a promise, Gracie." Mac gathered her hair away from her neck and pressed a kiss to her shoulder. "Nothing you don't need. But if it's too much, if it scares you—"

Growling, she whipped her head around and silenced him with a fierce nip to his jaw. "I want
this
. Help me."

He gripped her hips, his fingers digging in to her ample curves. He lifted her slowly, and the hard length of Connor's cock slid against her, gliding, caressing. Finally, the blunt head slipped between her pussy lips to nestle at her entrance.

Mac held her there forever, so close to bliss that she whimpered and squirmed. It was Connor who finally moved, gripping the base of his shaft as he pushed up—and into her.

His cock was
huge
, so much bigger than his fingers. Grace panted and tried to relax, but he had already frozen with a groan. "Fuck, honey, if you squeeze me that tight I won't last until I'm all the way inside you."

She didn't
want
him to last. She didn't understand why, but she was certain relief would come not with her release, but his. She dug her fingernails into Connor's chest and fought Mac's grip. "I can take you.
Now
."

"Then show him." Mac slowly relaxed his grip on her, leaving her to hold herself over Connor. "Don't tell him. Take it."

Mac hovered behind her, ready to guide her if she faltered. Connor lay beneath her, his muscles tense, his features twisted into agonized pleasure—but he remained still, as if he'd give her all damn night even if it killed him.

This moment was hers. So she took it.

Connor groaned as soon as she moved, and she joined him. Sliding down onto his cock was exquisite—the ache, the stretch, the
friction
, as if his hard flesh could touch a hundred places his fingers had yet to find. "Oh—"

"Yeah." Connor gripped her thigh with his free hand as his thumb swept over her skin in slow, soothing arcs. "This is what you wanted all along, isn't it, sweetheart?"

"Yes." She eased up a little, and shuddered as she rolled back down, taking him even deeper. The fever was riding her now, the urge to be full—to be
mated
—overriding everything else. Even the pain was inconsequential compared to the satisfaction of having him inside her.

And then the pain vanished entirely, driven away by the slow, slick pressure of Mac's fingertips on her clit.

Her body clenched. Connor bit off a curse and thrust up, driving all the way home. Pleasure and pain, rough and gentle—the dual sensations left her arching into Mac's arms as his touch sent bliss spinning through her.

"Beautiful." Mac folded his free hand around her shoulder and drew her to his chest. "You're fucking gorgeous, Gracie."

She'd never cared for the nickname, but every time Mac rumbled it, her heart jumped. It was intimate, possessive, just like his grip on her body and the commanding touch between her thighs.

She
was
beautiful. She felt it in her bones as she moved her hips to meet Connor's next thrust. "Oh God, oh
God—
"

"Do it," Connor growled, grinding up into her. "You came all over my tongue. Now come around my cock."

Mac's growl was lower, darker. "Watch yourself, Con."

Connor dug his head back into the pillows with a rough, desperate laugh. "You wouldn't be saying that if you were inside her. She's perfect, man. Fucking
perfect
."

"That's why you'll wait." He leaned forward and pushed his wet fingers between Connor's lips. "For her."

It was illicit. Dirty. So was the way Connor dragged his tongue over Mac's fingers without slowing the demanding rhythm of his hips. "For her."

Mac's fingers returned to her clit, tipping her past the point of reason. She came with a hoarse cry, shocked at how quickly pleasure flooded her, and how good it felt to be so very, very full.

Her body clenched tight enough to drive another strangled curse from Connor's lips, but he didn't stop. He clutched her hips in Mac's place and lifted her, giving him room for longer strokes as he fucked her through her orgasm and into another, even more intense one.

"Beautiful," Mac whispered again.

Grace swayed between them, clinging to Mac's arms. Her head rolled back against his shoulder and she closed her eyes as another wave of white-hot bliss started deep inside her and pulsed outward until her toes curled and her back arched.

"Now," she begged, not even knowing what she was asking for. "Now, Mac. Please. I need—I need—"
Something
. The final piece. To be sated not just as a woman, but as a wolf.

"Yes," he hissed.

As if it was a signal, Connor surged up and brought her with him. The world spun in dizzy circles that only stilled when she landed on her back, the sheets cool under her flushed skin, Connor above her and still inside her.

He braced his hands beside her head and rocked back. "You know what you need, don't you? You're so strong, so connected."

He slammed into her, and Grace groaned. This was what she'd been missing—the roughness, the
strength
. She scrambled to wrap her legs and arms around his body, trying to keep him close. "Your cock. I need your cock."

"Close." He moved in a slow circle, putting pressure on her clit that sharpened her thwarted need to a fine, wicked edge. "You need me to come inside you."

"Yes!" She scratched at his back, dragging lines into his skin without care. She needed that, needed his release, his pleasure. Her body knew, it had to, because it squeezed around him even as he pulled back.

She moaned at the loss—but only for a moment. He cut her cry short with another thrust, harder than the last one, driving her up the bed, and then another, the deepest yet, and she could only draw in enough breath for gasping sobs as pleasure shattered her into pieces.

But not alone, not this time. Connor growled and buried his face against her throat, his teeth scraping her skin as he sank into her one final time. He groaned, bit her—

And the world ended.

She
felt
him come. Not with her body, but with her soul. He flooded into her, and she screamed at the sudden, impossible relief. The hollow ache that had haunted her for days evaporated. So did the fever, breaking into giddy warmth and a glow that left her floating.

For the first time in months, she didn't hurt. The jagged pieces inside her, the pain left over from the last time she'd gone into heat—all of it melted away. She was whole, body and heart, woman and wolf.

Mac stroked her damp hair back from her forehead, his voice even softer than his touch. "Better?"

She struggled to open her eyes as Connor slipped away. She felt light, weightless, as if she'd drift away without them holding her. But she turned her face into Mac's touch with a slow smile. "I don't hurt."

"Good," Connor whispered as he curled against her side. His arm settled across her stomach, heavy and comforting. "That's good, sweetheart."

Mac stared down at her, his eyes almost black in the low light. Intense. "Rest. You must be exhausted."

She was boneless, wrung out and sated, and she didn't want to leave. Her own bed seemed miles away, coldly empty. Not like these rumpled sheets and their entwined scents. "I don't want to sleep alone."

"You won't." He nuzzled her ear, comforting and warm. "We're here for you. As long as you need us."

Nestled safely between them, Grace stopped fighting the pull of deep, peaceful sleep.

Mac was an asshole.

He consoled himself with the knowledge that at least he was able to admit it—there was nothing worse than a dickhead who didn't
know
he was a dickhead. But the consolation was slim, jagged, especially after the events of the night.

He'd told himself he'd be fine with it, with Connor claiming Grace, and it hadn't felt like a lie. It still didn't—the last thing he wanted or needed was a mate—but he couldn't deny the sharp sense of loss that had gripped him the moment Connor had given in and come inside her. In that instant, the reality of it all hit him in the fucking face.

He wasn't just stepping aside, denying his own unquenchable lust for Grace. He'd be losing Connor, too.

They weren't lovers. It wasn't that simple. But he was close to Connor, closer than he was to any of his other packmates. They hunted together, laughed together, fucked together. Comforted each other.

Connor was more than pack, more than his brother. And if he mated Grace, all of that would vanish.

It hurt worse than holding himself rigidly away from Grace. In his heart, Mac knew that Grace would understand why he couldn't risk taking a mate. Having to put Serena down had fractured something inside him, and the thought of having to do it again, having to do it to
Grace
, would do more than haunt him.

It would kill him.

But Connor existed, in many ways, apart from his wolf. Lots of things that were simply a matter of instinct to Mac and the others still eluded him. He'd been there in the aftermath of Serena's death, and he knew the hell it had put Mac through. But sometimes all Mac could see was the sheer, utter confidence Connor had in him. As if there was nothing Mac couldn't do, no obstacle he couldn't overcome.

No loss he couldn't bear.

If only that were the case. But the truth, the
reality
, had seared into his soul while Grace and Connor had shuddered through their orgasms. And he had to own it, embrace it as surely as he had his other failings.

He could step aside while Grace mated someone else in the pack. He could let her go, and he could wish the best for Connor. But losing them both, even to each other, would break what was left of him.

Blake met him at the foot of the stairs, looking rumpled and sleepily satisfied. But he froze when reached Mac's side, and his nostrils flared. After a moment, he tilted his head and arched one eyebrow. "Ashley was right, then. Grace was close."

Any closer, and she would have been in real pain. "Yeah."

Blake waited another few seconds, clearly expecting Mac to elaborate. When he didn't, Blake shrugged and started for Lucas's office. "I guess it's good. Maybe she'll have chosen a mate before trouble shows up."

"That would be for the best." Mac couldn't keep the growl—or bite—out of his words.

Just outside of Lucas's door, Blake stopped him with a hand on his arm. "If it matters to you, don't hold back."

Sure, he could do that. He could try to get Grace to accept him as her mate—and break Connor's heart. "You're happy, and you want that for everyone else, too. I know how that feels. The second part, anyway."

"Ah. Did she and Connor…?"

"Mate?" Judging from some of the discreet hints Blake and Lucas had dropped, there would be no mistaking that moment when it finally happened. "Not yet."

Lucas nudged open the door to his study, his face set and stern. "We have a situation to discuss."

"More than one," Blake agreed, following Lucas. "Mine's easy. Ashley might be done puking and hitting me."

"You can take it." Mac dropped into one of the chairs in front of the alpha's desk. "Grace is in heat."