Read Memphis Heat 1 Stakeout Online
Authors: Marteeka Karland and Shelby Morgen
Tags: #BIN 06040-01938
Memphis Heat 1 Stakeout
Marteeka Karland and Shelby Morgen
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2012 Marteeka Karland and Shelby Morgen
BIN: 06040-01938
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Publisher:
Changeling Press LLC
315 N. Centre St.
Martinsburg, WV 25404
www.ChangelingPress.com
Editor: Katriena Knights
Cover Artist: Marteeka Karland
Table Of Contents
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Marteeka Karland and Shelby Morgen
Memphis, Tennessee. One of the top ten poorest big cities in the U.S. Where there’s poverty, there’s crime. The Russian mob’s moving in. And where there are criminals, there are cops. Ours just happens to be a werewolf.
Jarod took a bullet to the chest. But he didn’t die. And since he woke up, nothing’s been the same. Because while he was lying there bleeding out, he was bitten. By a werewolf. And that thing about silver bullets? Myth. Shoot
anything
in the mouth, spill its brains all over the sidewalk, and it dies.
So Jarod’s got no pack, and his bite didn’t come with instructions. What he doesn’t know about being a werewolf would fill a book. He can smell his partner’s sexual attraction -- she might as well be in heat. But if he lets Belle have what she wants, will she wake up with a strong desire for raw meat? Not knowing means trying to talk her out of the sex she’s determined to have with him because he hasn’t told her he has a furry side.
Yeah. Two partners who always have each other’s backs and can share anything -- and everything -- but the one thing he needs to share the most.
“You’re a real asshole, you know that, don’t you?”
“Yes, dear,” Jarod answered with a suppressed chuckle in his tone.
She was going to smack him any moment now. “That. That right there. That’s the reason you’re paying alimony to two ex-wives. Fuck you and your
yes, dear
. I’ve had shorter dry spells between engagements. I. Need. To. Fuck.
Now
!”
“You’re just bored.”
Belle squirmed in her chair, practically grinding her pussy against the worn upholstery. “No shit. What gave it away?”
“Told you not to come. ADD and stakeouts don’t go well together.”
She pointed the butt of her service revolver at him, resisting the urge to throw it. “Somebody has to watch your back. Besides. You used to be better at keeping me distracted.”
A sideways grin quirked his face. “We used to have… interesting… ways of keeping ourselves entertained, didn’t we? Not exactly professional, but…”
“
Used to
being the operative phrase here. What the hell is wrong with you, anyway?”
“Wrong with
me
? I got shot, remember?”
As if she could forget. “Yeah. And by all reports you should have died. But you didn’t. And ever since you’ve been treating me like…”
“I’m
trying
to act like a professional. I’ve been treating you like a cop. Like my
partner
.”
He attempted to look offended at that. Nearly pulled it off.
Professional, my ass.
“We were a hell of a lot more than just partners, Jarod. You can’t deny that.”
“Yeah, well, maybe if I’d been acting a little more like a cop and a lot less like your lover, we wouldn’t have been in a position where you could have gotten killed.” The bitterness in his tone surprised her.
She kept her voice low and steady, bottling up the frustrated anger that threatened to overwhelm her. “I wasn’t the one who got shot, Jarod.”
“Could have. Could have been you first up that alley, just as easy as me. And it would have been my fault.”
This argument was getting them nowhere. Damn it, she was horny as hell and he was
right
there! “Shut up and fuck me --” she reached for her police baton, “-- or I’ll do it myself.”
Binoculars focused on the dilapidated warehouse across the street, he didn’t even glance her way. “Go ahead.”
Did he think she wouldn’t? Staring at Jarod’s lovely backside, Belle unzipped her jeans and shimmied them down her hips enough to give herself access to her pussy lips.
It was his own fault. He was tall, handsome, built and reasonably single, if you didn’t count the excess baggage, but she still might have resisted -- if he didn’t smell like liquid sex poured into a cop suit. She wanted to reach over, undo his belt, and suck his cock right down to the root. Then they’d see how professional he could be. Fuckhead.
With that thought Belle kicked the jeans the rest of the way off and switched the baton around so the handle lined up with her pussy. With one thrust she impaled herself right down to the crossbar.
Fucker. If he didn’t get off on that, he was gay.
“Shit, Belle! What the hell are you doing?”
“We’re undercover. Normal people do not sit in sleazy, run-down motels next to vacant buildings for hours at a time and stare at locked doors. Only reason to be here is to fuck.”
As if he’d suddenly gotten into the spirit of things, Jarod reached out and grabbed her shoulders, throwing her against the window. His mouth found the juncture of her neck and shoulder, and he bit down with more aggression than she was used to from him, but she was so horny, she didn’t give a shit.
He yanked her head back, and his mouth found hers in a jaw-breaking kiss before he broke away, pushing her back. “You wanna play? Fine. Your turn to watch the Russians.” He pulled her closer and spun her around. She braced her hands on the dirty plate glass window.
Yeah.
That
was romantic. Would have totally killed the mood, except his other hand replaced hers on the baton. Throwing her head back, Belle nipped at his upper arm and widened her stance to give him better access, but he didn’t move.
“Keep your eyes out for the big blond,” he growled against her neck, his tongue snaking out to lick her skin as he spoke. “I saw him go in earlier. He seems to be their leader. Whatever they’re up to, the others don’t make a move without him.”
Again a mood killer. Except he did move then, pulling the baton out and thrusting it back, burying its handle deep into her aching cunt with exquisite slowness. The fingers of his free hand played over her sensitized clit. Damn it, the man still knew how to drive her fucking nuts. And how the hell was she supposed to watch the guy across the street? She could barely keep her eyes from crossing when Jarod touched her like that.
His clever fingers pinched and flicked her clit with expert familiarity. It kind of hurt that he didn’t seem as affected as she was, but right now, she’d take what she could get. She’d make him sort it out with her later. Right now, she needed… this! His hands on her. His body pressed against her so tight the thick bulge of his cock rested in the crease of her ass.
Ah, yeah. That’s what she wanted. Hard. Deep. Fast. This might be part of their cover -- sleazy hotel room and all -- but right now she didn’t give a damn. She wanted -- needed -- everything he had to give her. She just wished he’d give her his cock. But this was the next best thing.
A big black SUV pulled up in front of the warehouse. More big guys with not too well concealed guns under their jackets got out and headed in through a side door. If any of them noticed the display in the window, they didn’t seem to find it worth their attention.
Belle was almost annoyed by that. Her tits were certainly worth a second look, even covered by an old Guns and Roses T-shirt. She raised one hand to pluck at a hard nipple through the worn fabric. With a groan that sounded like it had more to do with Belle’s nipples than the Russian mob, Jarod fingered the other.
Yes.
Yes! Finally
! Some sort of a response from him that was more than
professional
. He pinched her nipple, hard, and when the pain shot through her she came with a jolt like an electrical shock. Her eyes
did
cross then, and her knees gave way. The only reason she was still standing was because his body mashed hers tightly against the damned window as the spasms rolled through her.
She heard his zipper whisper down and the baton slid out of her cunt, clunking loudly as it hit the floor. Jarod gripped her hips, his fingers biting into her skin almost painfully. For some odd reason, his nails -- which he’d always kept neatly trimmed -- seemed to pierce her flesh. It wasn’t an unpleasant sensation; in fact, the pain complemented the pleasure in a most exceptional way.
For one glorious instant she felt his raging erection seat deep in her pussy -- before his curse turned into a howl. His cock swelled within her, and then he jerked back, shoving away from her. She stared at his reflection in the glass, hardly daring to believe what she was seeing. Shaggy hair. Scruffy beard. Long jaws. T-shirt fit to break where it stretched across impossibly wide shoulders. Fur… so much fur…
“Jarod?”
The reflection showed her a tortured howl.
Belle swallowed hard. “Jarod, I don’t mean to sound ungrateful -- you’re still a great fuck -- but -- ah -- what the hell
are
you?”
What the fuck
… Jarod stared at his reflection in the filthy glass. He’d known better. He’d been so sure he’d shift if he tried to have sex with Belle… It was why he’d slid away from their relationship. He always seemed to shift when his emotions were out of control, and no one could break his control the way Belle could. But… shift to
this
? He couldn’t answer her question. What the hell was he?
Always before, he’d shifted into a wolf. Just like the thing that had bitten him. Now… now he was something more. Not a man. Not a wolf. He stood upright on two legs, his cock swollen and aching, reaching for Belle’s cunt. But he had fur. And a… a muzzle. And weird-ass ears, like a friggin bat.
And Belle… Belle was raging at him, and his brain was so abuzz he could barely make out her words. “… when you were shot? And you never told me? You don’t think something like that’s -- oh -- just a
little
important? Something maybe your
partner
ought to know? Three months. Three
fucking
months… make that
non
-fucking months.”
His vision seemed to tunnel, to focus entirely on Belle. The roar in his head became worse, finally drowning out her words. All he could think about was her. Belle. He needed her like he needed air to breathe, only worse. White-hot lightning sizzled through him, threatening to burn him alive from the inside out if he didn’t get a handle on whatever was happening to him.
His cock seemed to have a life of its own, jumping and throbbing in time to his heartbeat. The scent of her arousal was a tangy, citrusy spice clinging to his skin… err… fur… so that he’d never be rid of it. Not that he wanted to. In fact, he wanted to bury his nose in that creamy cunt and breathe her into his lungs so he’d always be able to find her, no matter how far she ran from him.
Madness. This was total madness. She would run. She had to. He was a monster, an abomination. Proof God had given up on the world. He couldn’t hold her forever. He couldn’t even hold her for now. But he knew he wasn’t man enough to give her up, no matter how much he needed to, not even for her own sake. Something inside him refused to even consider the thought. He’d needed her before he’d been bitten, but this… this attraction, this need to possess her, wasn’t natural.