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"Bleacke's Geek" (Bleacke Shifters 1)
by Tymber Dalton writing as Lesli Richardson
(mf, paranormal, wolf shifters, erotic romance)
When girl meets geek, the fur’s gonna fly.
Dewi Bleacke is a no-nonsense Prime Alpha wolf. As head Enforcer of the Targhee pack, she’s in charge of Florida. Her assignment is to kill a dirtbag who sold his daughter. She doesn’t expect to find her handsome, albeit geeky, soulmate in the process.
Dr. Heathcliff McKenzie Ethelbert lives a quiet, boring life. A professor at USF, he has no girlfriend, no car, and is a devout vegetarian. So when a mysterious woman with mocha eyes literally drags him out of his booth and then proceeds to have her way with him, it’s not his average night out. When she follows their sexy interlude by abducting him after killing a man, he suspects life has just taken a drastically odd turn.
Now Dewi, her partner Beck, and her surrogate father Badger, have to educate her new “grazer” mate on the ways of the Targhee wolves. “Ken” does his best to fit in. But an old killer lurks in the shadows--the wolf who murdered Dewi’s parents. Can she keep Ken safe, or will her mate prove to everyone that he’s a lot more than just Dewi Bleacke’s geek?
The parking lot of a crowded neighborhood sports pub in north Tampa, not too far from the University of South Florida, on a steamy early June Saturday night.
Nothing unusual about that.
Leaning against her car, she patted her hip. Through her black, double-breasted oilskin coat she felt the comforting weight and profile of the 9mm Glock in its holster. The coat, a man’s style that she’d had custom tailored to better fit her, hung midway down her calves, the back split up to her ass, allowing her unimpeded mobility. Tonight she wore black jeans and an oversized black, button-up shirt under it, with a black tank top on under that, along with her black leather motorcycle boots.
Admittedly clichéd, but it hid blood well, if necessary.
Pushing away from her black Saleen S281, she strode toward the pub. Two college-aged guys standing outside the front door went slack-jawed and silent as they stared at her approach. She didn’t need her special abilities to know what they thought as they watched her progress across the wet parking lot. Coat billowing behind her, combined with steam rising from the tarmac, a smooth gait that made it seem as if she floated, and a kick ass car.
She could practically hear their erections rising.
Frat Boy One shifted position a little so he could crane his neck to look around her and get a better view of her ride.
“You walk within ten feet of it,” she muttered, just loudly enough that they could hear as she passed them, “and I’ll rip your balls off and have them deep fried as my appetizer.”
Both men immediately took a step back, out of her way, giving her a wide berth as she entered the pub.
No one inside noticed her entrance, as she’d expected. It was a busy Saturday night. The waitresses looked frazzled, while the puck drop of the Bolts-Blackhawks playoff game on TV held most of the patrons’ attention.
Her intended mark sat in a far corner booth, with his back to the door while he shot the shit with three of his scumbag human friends.
Good. He’s not expecting it. Stupid fuck. How could you sell your fifteen year-old daughter to a drug dealer and not expect retribution from pack elders?
It boggled her mind.
She preferred to not take him down inside the main dining room, especially since there were a few kids in the pub. At least, not kill him in the open. Maybe if he got up to take a leak, then she could do him in the bathroom.
One of the harried waitresses noticed her and waved her hand around the dining room. “Sit anywhere you want, hon. We’ll be right with you.”
She nodded and slid onto an empty stool at the bar where she could see her mark. Jonathan “Jay-Jay” Peckingham, Junior.
Peckerhead would be a better name for him.
He sat, totally unaware of her presence, while laughing with his friends and stuffing his face full of fried cheese sticks, totally unaware he was consuming his last meal.
Good, that means he’ll be there for a while if they’re only on the appetizers.
She ordered fried mushrooms and water and waited for her chance. While she watched, her mark and his friends killed a pitcher of beer and immediately ordered a refill.
The hockey game didn’t interest her despite her love of the sport. Not even when the Bolts managed to score two back-to-back power play goals midway through the first period. She kept her focus on the men, although it would appear to anyone else that her attention was fixed on the TV across the bar.
Unfortunately, the call of nature strikes even pack enforcers.
I can scout the back, at least.
When the bartender walked past her seat at the bar, she left a twenty by her plate and said, “I’ll be right back. Little girls’ room. Keep the change. Don’t give away my seat.”
He smiled, as much from the nearly fifteen dollar tip she left him as from the silent command she sent him to forget her face.
On her walk through the pub, she considered her options. Deep in thought, the unexpected scent slammed into her as if she’d been sucker punched, stopping her in her tracks.
No. Oh, hell no. Not tonight!
She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to force her feet to move. Even when a waitress struggled to scooch past her, she didn’t step aside.
Forward, she commanded her feet.
She opened her eyes and scanned the room. Of their own volition, her feet turned her away from the back hallway where the bathrooms lay and to the left, into the other side of the pub’s dining room.
Please let him be married. Taken. Fuck, let him be gay!
She had to take down Peckingham tonight. Those were her orders from the tippy-top of the Targhee pack food chain, not that she needed orders, in this case. She was happy to take the fucker out. But considering an edict from the Alpha had been issued, if she didn’t, her hide would, literally, be on the line. Not that any of the pack’s high podunks could touch her if she decided to disappear, but making life miserable for herself wasn’t in her game plan.
She also refused to allow another child to be put in harm’s way by not taking the fucker out.
But if she didn’t take care of claiming her mate now, she wouldn’t be able to focus on her job.
Threading her way through the tables, she rounded a room divider where two more rows of booths and several tables were located. She came upon a slightly geeky-looking man sitting alone in a booth. He was hunched over a laptop with his back to her, a stack of papers haphazardly sitting on the far side of a basket of fried mushrooms.
Well, at least we have that in common. That’s a start.
She stepped up to the table and stared down at him, waiting. Mr. Mystery Geek finally looked up when he noticed her standing there. No rings on his left hand, and what looked like a college class ring on his right. He wore wire-rimmed glasses that didn’t hide his sweet, brown eyes. He kept his brown hair neatly styled, and his cheeks clean-shaven. Maybe one-eighty-five soaking wet, if he was lucky. She couldn’t tell how tall he was, but judging from his torso length he likely stood a few inches taller than her.
Thank the Goddess for that, at least.
When she didn’t speak, he nervously said, “Um, may I help you?”
She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.
If she didn’t claim him now, even if she didn’t get herself killed trying to take out Peckerhead because she was distracted thinking about this guy, she would drive herself nearly mad trying to track him down again if he got away from her if the crowd bolted and cleared the pub.
“Are you married?” she softly asked after she opened her eyes again.
“I beg your pardon?”
She fought the urge to bare her canines at him and take him right there. Her tongue flicked over the point of her right one as she felt the pleasant ache of it wanting to slide out. “I asked if you’re married.”
Looking obviously puzzled, he shook his head.
That seemed to motivate him to righteous indignation. “Look, just because I’m an academic and single doesn’t mean I’m gay!”
She spotted his computer bag in the other seat. She grabbed it, scooped up his papers and slid them into it, then shut the lid on his laptop and dumped it in, too. When he tried to protest, she nailed him with her eyes and held a finger to her lips.
His eyes widened as he clearly heard and understood her silent command. Looking shocked, he slowly nodded.
She dropped two twenties onto the table to take care of his order and anything else he might have coming from the kitchen. Then she slung his bag over her shoulder and grabbed his arm. When she pulled him out of his seat, it was like peeling fresh, wet newspaper off a windshield. No resistance whatsoever.
She looked up at him. She’d guessed right. At least he’s taller than me. Not quite six feet tall, though.
Jesus, Badger’s going to laugh his ass off.
Stifling her aggravated moan as well as her desire to claim him right there in the middle of the crowded dining room, she kept her fingers clamped around his wrist and led him toward the back. She had to have him.
* * * *
This can’t be happening. When he’d felt the woman’s presence by his table and looked up into her beautiful large, mocha-colored eyes, he wondered at first if she was pissed off at him for maybe taking her usual spot or something. She stood there, just staring at him. A ball of intensity, heat shimmers seemed to radiate off her.
Now after answering her questions and watching her clear his stuff off the table, he found himself being dragged along behind her.
Why am I not fighting this?
Why the hell would I fight this?
It was almost like he could hear her muttering under her breath, even though it sounded in his brain and not in his ears against the noisy backdrop of patrons watching the hockey game. Not that he paid the game any attention. He hated violence of any kind, even sports.
But they served great fried mushrooms here.
Wait, focus. Hot woman taking me somewhere.
When he hesitated at the ladies’ restroom door, the mystery woman dragged him in behind her as if he didn’t have several inches and at least fifty pounds on her.
Jesus, how strong is she, anyway?
She could give Buffy the Vampire Slayer a run for her money. Actually, he realized that description seemed to fit her, except she had glossy, dark auburn hair that beautifully accentuated her creamy skin.
He wanted to believe it. “I think that’s the part that I’m still struggling with.” He smiled down at her. “What does that say about me that I can come to grips with the wolf stuff faster than I can the fact that a beautiful woman is in love with me?”
“I think it says I’m glad you only had stupid women in your life before me.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“You can ask me anything.”
“Last night in the pub, you asked me if I was married or single. Why did that matter?”
“Because if you weren’t single, no matter what I felt for you, I would have walked away.”
“And if I was gay?”
She shrugged. “If you were single and interested, I would have had to think about it.” She nibbled on his hand, making his cock hard again. “If you were totally not interested, I would have made myself walk away.”
Who was he kidding? Just having her within ten feet of him made his cock hard.
“Well, lucky for both of us I was straight and single.”
She crooked a finger at him, motioning him to lean in. He did, and she slipped her hand around the back of his neck, her fingers twining in his hair. She pulled his lips down to hers and kissed him.
Instinct took over. He rolled her out of his lap, onto the grass, and stretched out on top of her as he kissed her. She softly moaned into his mouth as both her arms encircled him. He braced himself on his arms, trying not to crush her under him, until she pulled him down, their bodies tightly pressed together.
He felt the world disappear around them. His universe ended outside the circle of her arms. And he wanted to fuck her. Hard and fast and furiously.
Ken sat up, his gaze never leaving hers. He unfastened her jeans and smiled as she arched her hips up, allowing him to yank her jeans and underwear down after she kicked off her sneakers.
He pulled his shirt off over his head without unbuttoning it all the way. After kicking off his shoes, he shed his slacks, enjoying the sultry smile that creased her face when he stood towering over her, naked.
Something took over, an urgent desire even more than normal to be inside her, to own her. He reached down and caught her by the wrist, then flipped her over onto her stomach as he dropped to his knees behind her. She pushed up onto all fours as she cast a look over her shoulder.
“Please take me,” she whispered.
His cock already felt like it would explode. He felt something stronger and more raw than lust or primal need take over. He grabbed her hips and sank his cock home deep inside her, enjoying the way she threw her head back and let out a happy sound that almost sounded like a growl.
“Yes!” she gasped.
He dug his hands into her hips to hold her in place. Hard and fast, the sound of his flesh slapping against hers filled the clearing, their panting breath, her soft, mewling sounds of pleasure. The he felt her explosion, and the feeling of his own body responding, answering as his release burst from him.
The force of it robbed all strength from his legs. He fell forward onto her, gasping for air, his face buried in her hair at the base of her neck. She reached back, found his hand, and laced her fingers through his.
Nothing had ever felt so good. It seemed that every time she made him come, it was harder and better than the previous time.
“I think I’m going to have bruises on my hips,” she playfully teased.
He immediately felt bad. “I’m sorry, I—”
“No, don’t be sorry.” She tipped her head back, a sated smile curling her beautiful lips. “I like it.”
Their eyes met and he felt his cock go hard inside her. Christ! He’d never gotten this hard this fast before.
Hell, he’d never been this hard before.
He sat up, pulling her back onto her knees, his fingers wrapped around her hips even more tightly than before. She wiggled her butt against him, urging him on.
“You want it hard, baby?” he asked her. Who was this person possessing his soul? He’d never felt like this before.
“Yes!” she begged.
Deliberately, he took long, hard, strokes, as deep as he could, feeling his member sliding all the way home inside her slick muscles. He withdrew slowly, making her whine and beg for it before slamming home.
When she begged for him to go faster, he slowed down, making her plead with him. “Don’t tease me,” she begged.
Darkness settled in the woods around them. He felt a new darkness of his own deep within him. “You’ll take what I give you,” he said, the words spilling out of him as if he had no conscious will.
Her whole body undulated beneath him as she dropped her shoulders to the ground, her fingers digging into the grass as she squirmed in his hands.
He felt a surge of power roll through him. She was his, all his, and he had her at his mercy.
He kept up his teasing pace despite her impassioned pleas. Sometimes he’d speed up just enough to make her cry out with pleasure as a smaller orgasm rolled through her before he slowed down again, forcing his own release to build into epic proportions.
When he knew he couldn’t hold it back anymore, he reached down and grabbed her hair, pulling her head back. “Who do you belong to?”
His hips shot forward, pistoning his cock deep inside her. “Who’s your mate?” What the hell is wrong with me?
“You!” she cried out again as he felt a huge climax take her.
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