Backfire (MM) by Gale Stanley
Heat Rating: SCORCHING
Word Count: 23,133
[Siren Classic ManLove: Erotic
Alternative Paranormal Romance, M/M, shape-shifters]
Jack Remus
has always been a player. While his pack mates value their relationships, Jack
is only interested in casual sex—one night of passion, then a parting of the
ways, never to see each other again. And that’s exactly what he’s looking for
at the Silverado Saloon, but his plans backfire when he follows an intoxicating
scent and ends up in the middle of a brawl.
Dakota is on
the run from an abusive Alpha. He has a temporary job at the Silverado, and
when he earns enough for a bus ticket, he’ll be on his way. When his boss tries
to seduce him, Jack steps in to play the white knight. A new lover is the last
thing on Dakota’s mind. He knows it's time to move on, but his plan backfires
when the dark stranger follows him. Jack is on Dakota’s trail, but it’s a path
that just might get him killed.
A Siren
Erotic Romance
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Story
Excerpt
The winking
neon lights and the smell of human testosterone lifted Jack’s spirits with
promises of good times ahead. A delicious thrill of anticipation coursed
through his body. Not knowing who stood on the other side of the door gave the
hunt an added edge of excitement. A major letdown sometimes followed the
pleasurable expectation of finding what he wanted, but tonight he had high
hopes for success. Besides, he’d rather be on the prowl than sitting at home
jerking off.
Boredom had
brought him to the Silverado Saloon, boredom and loneliness, two things that
could get a wolf into big trouble. His frustration level, now at an all-time
high, had him itching to fuck or fight. He’d prefer the former, but he’d settle
for either one.
A slow-moving
crowd entered the honky-tonk, and Jack followed the partygoers, letting his
nose search for that special someone. Perfume, scented shampoos, and
deodorant blended with human pheromones to tickle
his olfactory receptors, but no one stood out. He wouldn’t let it
discourage him. The night is young.
He knew the
staff was friendly and polite, but the big beefy bouncer at the door was
downright chummy, holding Jack’s hand a beat too long when he checked his ID.
The man’s steroid-bulked body might appeal to some, but it wasn’t his type. He
offered the doorman a noncommittal smile and made his way inside.
The racket
didn’t bother him in the least. On the contrary, his sensitive eardrums reveled
in the din. Instead of lowering the tuner in his brain to make the noise
level more manageable for his ears, he raised the volume so he could
hear the sounds of glasses clinking, and the thump of mugs on the bar, as
well as the loud country music coming from the bandstand. More than alcohol, he
thirsted for the sounds of humans talking and laughing, and drunks slurring
their words. Even the announcements coming over the loudspeaker were a welcome
change from the dead quiet of home.
The old barn
itself was a lot more interesting inside than out. Exposed rafters created a
rustic cathedral effect in the center, and the lofty, angular space made the gargantuan
room look that much bigger. Rustic barn wood paneling
was festooned with western and American Indian artifacts. Whiskey
barrel tables surrounded the dance floor and a long,
rough-hewn wooden bar lined the back wall. That was where he headed, fighting
his way through a sea of humanity. Aware of the admiring glances from the
ladies and the resentful glares from the men, he wished it was the other way
around.
He knew he
looked good, and he’d dressed for success. A white shirt in a simple western design
set off his dark tan. Like the others in his pack, he always went commando,
less clothes to worry about when shifting. He’d already experienced the agony
of getting his foreskin caught in a zipper, so he wore ball-crunchingly tight
button-fly Levi's. There was no risk of cock damage, and they had the added
benefit of increasing his profile, not that he needed it.
His pack
mates limited their exposure to the public and avoided attracting attention,
but Jack didn’t mind being looked at. He never denied being vain. If a man had
charisma, he should use it to his advantage. And six feet, six inches of toned,
hard body could hardly be disguised. Why try? Besides, it was more than thick
chestnut hair, amber eyes, and a big package that drew hungry looks from humans
on the prowl. It was wolf genes, plain and simple. His pheromones attracted
beings of the same species, but his lupine biology gave him a primal, predatory
edge that turned human heads as well. He’d used it more than once to get what
he wanted.
He squeezed
himself onto the only vacant barstool, and the doe-eyed bartender
honed in on him, giving him a big smile. A knockout in her early thirties, clad
in skintight low-ride jeans and a bikini top, she had long, wavy brown hair and
a tattoo on her left arm.
“What’ll you
have?” she asked him, in a way that signified he could have just about anything
he wanted.
If he wanted
pussy, he could have stayed home and fucked one of the she-wolves, but he
hadn’t touched any of the women since the Alpha stopped forcing the pack mates
to breed. He knew they wouldn’t turn him down, but he preferred the back door
to the front and a big, beautiful cock and balls beat double-Ds any day. Just
to be nice, he smiled back at the brunette and ordered a beer.
Adult
Excerpt
Jack’s big
hands on his dick felt so damn good. He was trying to thrust into Jack’s fist
and at the same time trying not to because he knew he was on the edge of
coming. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and his skin flushed hot. His balls drew
up, and he wanted to beg Jack for more, but he didn’t feel he had the right to
ask for anything. Jack stopped suddenly, and Dakota cried out with frustration.
Jack was
talking, but Dakota didn’t hear a word. His dick throbbed, and his brain was
mush. “Please, please…”
Jack leaned
over him, a hand on either side of his head. “Please what, baby? Tell me what
you want.”
He couldn’t
get the words out. Never in his life had he asked for what he wanted. Moaning,
he looked up at the dark Lycan. The man was really gorgeous. What is he
doing with me? He turned his head away, trying to tamp down his arousal.
A wet tongue
flicked over his nipple, and he inhaled sharply at the contact. Jack licked,
sucked, and moved on to the next one. Dakota arched against Jack’s mouth, and
his breath quickened. No one had ever done this to him before, and his muscles
twitched under Jack’s attention.
Jack raised
his head and smiled. “I like to hear you moan. I like knowing I’m the one
causing it.”
Dakota looked
up, confused. Was I moaning? He hadn’t even realized.
“Tell me what
you want, what you like.”
Dakota bit
his lip and looked up helplessly.
“Guess I’ll
just have to find out for myself.”
Dakota didn’t
have time to consider his words. The big Lycan shifted position and wrapped his
lips around the head of Dakota’s cock, tonguing the slit. Dakota jerked and let
out a sharp cry. Wet heat enveloped his shaft as Jack swallowed his length, and
his eyes rolled back in his head. All too soon that devouring mouth drew back
along his rod and released him.
Jack looked
up at him, grinning. “Like that, do you?”
Dakota nodded
his head. No point denying it. He was hard as a rock and visibly throbbing.
“If you want
more, you gotta say so.”
“Yes,” he
hissed.
“Good, me,
too.” Jack’s fingers circled Dakota’s cock as he bent his head and rubbed his
stubbled jaw along the sensitive skin. Then his long, wet tongue soothed the irritation.
Everything
Jack did sent sparks of electricity shooting through his body. Dakota writhed,
wishing he had the courage to tell Jack to suck his cock—hard. Somehow Jack
seemed to instinctively know what he wanted because he parted his lips and took
Dakota inside the fierce heat of his mouth. Fireworks exploded when Jack
increased his suction, and Dakota fought a losing battle against thrusting
between Jack’s lips. Each suck at his dick tugged at his heartstrings, and he
worried that he was reading too much into Jack’s actions. It was only sex.
Wasn’t it? Maybe it was for Jack, but Dakota wished it could be so much
more. Stop tasting clouds, Dakota. You’re always dreaming about things
that can never be.
A hand
reached under his ass and traced the crease. His toes curled as a finger teased
his hole before pushing past the muscle and penetrating his tight passage. When
the tip massaged his prostate, his balls went tight, and he let out a hoarse
cry. He yanked on Jack’s hair, trying to warn him that his orgasm was coming,
but Jack paid him no mind, increasing his suction and fucking him with his
finger.
