Patrick rested his hand on the hood of his Jeep and studied the engine. The source of the annoying rattle eluded him. Okay, he knew his vehicle was a cranky old thing. It always sounded like a shelf of pans in an earthquake when it motored up the hill to home, but still, a new noise coming from the engine was unsettling.
Not least because he didn’t have the tools here in the Redwood Shifters’ camp to fiddle and fix the way he’d used to in his previous life. Then he’d been a mechanic in the local garage, but that seemed a million years ago. Not that he was complaining—contentment was a nice way to live.
“You okay, babe?”
Strong arms wound around his waist and he leaned back against his mate, Greg. His heat and solidity was always comforting, no matter what the situation. Greg made Patrick’s world complete the way no one else ever could.
“There’s something clunking behind the radiator. I’m not sure what.”
“But the Jeep is still moving?”
“So don’t worry.”
Patrick sighed. “Trouble is, it’s the only vehicle here. I’m responsible for it. Imagine if we hadn’t had it when Julie went missing?”
“But we did.” Greg pressed a kiss to the top of Patrick’s head—standing at six and a half feet tall, it was easy for him. “So don’t sweat it.”
Patrick plucked a rag from his front pocket and wiped his hands as he stared at the oily engine. “I guess.”
Greg ran his palm over Patrick’s butt and squeezed his left cheek. He kept his lips close to Patrick’s head, just above his ear. “I have to go speak to Aleco, but then, as it’s Saturday, I thought we might head to town and grab some of that takeout you like.”
“That would be a treat.” Patrick smiled. Shifters didn’t often splash their money on takeout, but as one of the humans in the pack, Patrick appreciated it when Greg decided to.
“Pizza?” Greg suggested, slipping his hand to Patrick’s other buttock and massaging. “Will that do?”
“Good with me.” He arched his back a little and his cock stirred. Even though they’d been together over five years, whenever Greg touched him it was like their first time. He was just so good with his hands—and every other part of his anatomy, for that matter.
“As long as it means you have energy for some fun later, and you’re not all weighed down with food,” Greg murmured.
“I always have energy for you.” Patrick spun within Greg’s arms and slipped his arms around his waist. “But you know that.”
Greg smiled. His jaw was coated in a thick layer of black stubble and his craggy eyebrows hung low. In his dog form, he was a huge black creature with shaggy hair and sharp eyes. When Patrick had first seen him that way, he’d been more than a little scared.
“Good. I’ll catch you in a few.” He swept his lips over Patrick’s, his stubble brushing his chin.
“I’ll be in the cabin. I need to clean up.”
“I like you dirty.”
“Not this type of dirty.” Patrick laughed and pulled away, still holding the grubby rag. “See you in a minute.”
As he watched Greg walk toward Aleco’s house, Patrick’s cock swelled further. Damn, he was one lucky guy. His mate was not only the Beta male in the pack, he was the epitome of manhood. The ideal representation of strength, beauty and passion.
Sure, he took a bit of handling sometimes, like when Pedro had started to lose it when Julie had vanished, and when Davey had brought a mountain lion shifter into the camp. But that just kept life interesting. And Patrick had the measure of his mate. No one else could win him over, calm him down or handle his passion when it spilled over.
A shiver of desire wound up Patrick’s spine as he shut the hood of the Jeep. Going into town would be fun. He always enjoyed a trip there. But he wouldn’t be opposed to shutting the cabin door and having an early night, either. Just the two of them, naked, in bed, giving in to everything they craved from each other.
“Fuck it,” he muttered. Now he had a full-blown hard-on. He shook his head and frowned, then walked stiffly toward their cabin, which was situated just in front of Aleco’s and faced the horseshoe wall in the center of the camp. Jeans could be damn uncomfortable at times like this.
He nodded hi to Flo, who was fussing over her goats, and ignored the fact her gaze lingered on him a second too long. He wasn’t about to stop and explain that his mate had gotten him all hot under the collar in the middle of the day in the middle of the camp. He had to give an air of some self-control.
Opening the door, he stepped into the cool and glanced around at the dimly lit kitchen area. The Redwood forest was a beautiful place to live and Greg had made their cabin super comfortable. Patrick couldn’t imagine calling anywhere else home.
Needing relief from the pressure in his pants, he popped the upper two buttons on his jeans. He’d have a cool glass of water and get a handle on his desire. Then when Greg returned to the cabin, he’d be ready to go to town.
Oh, but what if he didn’t? What if Greg returned and decided not to waste a perfectly good erection? Patrick would happily bend over for him and take whatever Greg had to give.
“Will you just stop it.” Patrick tutted and moved to the sink. At this rate his hard-on would still be raging when Greg showed up.
He filled a tumbler with water and downed it then set about washing his hands. But as his fingers and palms filled with suds he clenched his buttocks. The week before, Greg had soaped him up in the shower, then fucked him. The smell of the soap brought memories flooding back. It had been hot, steamy and wild. Greg had roared as he’d come—no inhibitions, just raw passion.
He rinsed his hands then dried them.
As he hung the towel over a chair, the door opened.
Greg stepped in, his shadow spilling over the floor. He stilled when he saw Patrick standing in the middle of the kitchen, the top two buttons on his jeans undone and his cock straining the material.
“Something I should know about going on here?” he asked, raising one eyebrow.
Patrick said nothing. His balls tightened and his cock twitched. Damn it. He’d had ten minutes to get a grip and he hadn’t managed to. Now, his mate was looking at him like he was his next meal and the takeout was off the menu.
Not that it’s a problem.
Greg shut the cabin door then went to the window and pulled the thin curtain across it. The light still glowed through the material and sent fingers of sunshine over the wooden cabin walls. He then stepped up to Patrick and hooked his finger beneath his chin. “Seems you’ve been thinking about more than pizza.”
“Yeah.” Patrick nodded as Greg’s scent swirled around him—the outdoors, musk, pine needles. He swallowed and the smell laced his throat. “I have.”
“Are you gonna share?” Greg tipped his head and brought his face lower to Patrick’s.
“I was thinking…of last week…in the shower.”
A smile tugged at Greg’s lips. “Were you now?”
“Yeah, and the soap, when I washed my hands, it reminded me…”
“It reminded you of me fucking you, didn’t it?” Greg ran his fingers over Patrick’s cheek, over his ear, then cupped the back of his skull.
Patrick managed a small nod and his belly tensed.
“It reminded you of me filling my hands up with your cock and balls, soaping you, toying with you.”
Patrick nodded again. His mouth was dry, his cock wedged up against the buttons on his denims. It seemed his mate had plans about what was going to happen next.
And he wasn’t complaining.
“You remember me finger-fucking you, don’t you?”
Patrick whimpered. His knees were weak.
Greg’s eyelids drooped. “You remember me bending you over, shoving my big cock into your small hole?” He paused. “I hope so, because I want you to remember every time I’ve fucked you.”
“I do.” Patrick rested his hands on Greg’s T-shirt and balled his fists, gathering up the material. “I remember every time, and every time is special, Sir.”
Greg made a low rumbling noise in his throat.
Patrick guessed it was the effect of the word Sir. It was no secret Greg enjoyed playing at being boss.
Hell, who was he kidding? In the bedroom, Greg was the boss. He called the shots, ran the show, and he was the guy on top.
“You can forget about pizza.” Greg slid his free hand down Patrick’s torso, dipping into his slight waist then over his hip. He slowly, agonizingly slowly, slid his palm over Patrick’s groin, applying just enough pressure to send an ache of longing racing between Patrick’s legs and tightening his ass.
He groaned and rested his head into the cradle of Greg’s hand. Greg took advantage of the new angle of his face and kissed him, spearing his tongue into his mouth.
Patrick drank him up and hung on. His mate had a good hold of him. He could rely on him for support.
“I’m surprised you haven’t burst out these jeans,” Greg murmured.
“I’m glad I haven’t. They cost enough.”
Greg chuckled. “Perhaps I should just keep you naked when we’re in the cabin. Have your sweet little body accessible at all times.”
“Works for me.” He locked his knees and concentrated on the way Greg was rubbing him over the material. It was super sexy to feel the coarseness of the denim fibers scraping over his engorged and sensitive shaft.
“Hot as it is, having you like putty in my hands, I want you naked.” Greg released the last three buttons.
Patrick groaned as the pressure gave way.
“So get these off.” Greg stepped away, stooped and gripped the waistband. In one fast move, the jeans were around Patrick’s ankles.
He clutched Greg’s shoulders as Greg pulled the pants from his feet. He was glad he’d gone commando that morning.
As Greg rose before him, to his full height, he took Patrick’s T-shirt with him. It landed on the floor, next to his jeans. “Fuck, you’re such a cute little thing to play with.”
Once Patrick had objected to being called cute. But he’d come to realize Greg used it as a term of endearment. And although Patrick wasn’t small-built, he was in comparison to his mate—a fact Greg seemed to enjoy.
“So, play,” Patrick said, resting his hands on his hips. His cock jutted forward as if begging for attention.
“I intend to.” Greg gripped him in a passionate embrace, swooping his mouth down to claim Patrick’s.
Patrick whimpered and surrendered to it. When Greg’s kisses spread over his cheek, to his jawline then down the column of his neck, he fluttered his eyes shut. He didn’t know what was coming next, but he did know it would be good.
Greg’s hands were everywhere, touching his back, his ass, his thighs. Eventually, he reached for Patrick’s cock and squeezed.
“Tell me what you want?” Greg growled.
“You. I want you to do whatever you think I need.”
“I don’t know.”
“You do. Say it.”
“I need your touch.”
“Do you need my mouth?”
“Oh God, yes, please.”
Greg slid downward, his body rubbing against Patrick’s as he went. Once on his knees he gripped Patrick’s buttocks and wasted no time in licking the end of his cock.
Patrick ran his hands into Greg’s hair and tugged it. He stared at the way his cock angled toward his mate’s mouth, the end now shiny with saliva.
Getting head from Greg was always a wild ride, and he didn’t expect this time to be any different.
When Greg seemed sure he’d licked every last section of flesh on Patrick’s cock, he opened his mouth wide and took him deep.
“Ahh, yeah.” Patrick tensed and was lost to the sensation of the hot, wet mouth taking him in.
Has anything ever felt so good?
But he didn’t stand a chance of taking control. That was all down to Greg. He pulled back, then sank deep, using his tongue and his lips to stimulate Patrick’s shaft and glans.
His balls retracted and his skin tingled. The need to come was getting stronger. Soon it would reach the point of no return. “Oh, fuck…”
Greg didn’t let up. On and on he worked Patrick’s cock, taking him to the back of his throat on each deep ride.
Patrick wasn’t sure if he’d be able to stay standing. It was taking all of his concentration to keep his legs locked. “Please…Greg…Sir.”
Greg slipped his finger to Patrick’s asshole and pressed at the center.
“Ahh…” Patrick gasped. “Oh, yeah…”
With firm insistence, Greg eased into Patrick’s rear passage with not one but two fingers.
It was as if he’d had a whack behind his knees. Patrick crumpled and bowed his spine.
But Greg had him locked within his hold and kept him upright.
Bright lights shot over his closed eyelids. He opened his mouth to cry out his pleasure but no sound emerged.
Damn, it felt good. Wickedly good.
Greg tipped his fingers forward and pressed on Patrick’s hot spot.
“Ah, yes, yes, yes,” Patrick hissed. He held his breath and allowed his climax to ravage him. He came down Greg’s throat, loving the sensation of his mate swallowing around his cockhead. It tugged the skin as his slit widened and released his pleasure.
He gripped Greg’s shoulders and seated himself on the invading fingers. He’d never get enough of having his mate stimulate him there. It was so intense, and with his cock buried in Greg’s mouth…
“Oh, my God,” he gasped as the last shot of cum left him. He opened his eyes, surprised by how bright the room was. His pulse thudded in his ears and his belly was tense.
Greg slipped from his ass then sucked backward on his cock until it left his mouth.
Patrick watched, panting, as Greg wiped his forearm over his lower face. His lips were shiny and puffy, and his eyes sparkled. “You should fit in those jeans now.”
Patrick laughed, but it was a fractious, strained sound spiked with hysteria. Coming so hard had stolen some of his self-control.
Greg smiled and stood, gathered him close.
The smell of his chest, and the feel of his body hair against Patrick’s cheek were welcome. He wrapped his arms around his big hulk of a mate and thanked his lucky stars for the day he’d met the shifter who’d changed his life.