LOGINThe howl that tore from Selene’s throat as she came around Lucien’s knot was the spark that ignited the wildfire.The entire pack answered , a deafening chorus of raw, primal voices rising into the night sky. The moment the Alpha’s orgasm peaked, the circle broke. Bodies surged forward. Clothes , what little remained , were torn away. The clearing exploded into a frenzy of fur, skin, teeth, and desperate need.Lucien was still locked inside Selene, his knot pulsing with every aftershock. She stayed straddled over him, grinding slowly, milking the last drops from his swollen base while she watched her pack descend into chaos.A young female , barely twenty , dropped to all fours in front of one of the older males. He mounted her instantly, thick cock slamming into her dripping pussy from behind. Within seconds his knot swelled, locking them together as he rutted with short, brutal thrusts. She howled, claws digging into the dirt.To their left, two males had pinned a curvaceou
The full moon hung low and heavy over the Blackpine clearing, bathing the ancient pines in silver light. The pack had gathered in a wide circle around the central bonfire, their bodies humming with restless energy. Tonight was the first full mating season for one of their own.Lucien stood at the edge of the firelight, twenty-five years old, broad-shouldered and lean with muscle earned from years of running the forest. His dark hair was damp with sweat, golden eyes glowing with the fever that had been building for days. The mating heat had hit him hard this year , the first time it had truly taken hold. His cock was already half-hard beneath the loose linen pants the pack wore during the ritual, throbbing in time with his racing pulse. Every scent in the air felt sharper, every heartbeat louder.The pack watched him in silence. Young males shifted on their feet. Females licked their lips. But all eyes turned when the Alpha stepped into the circle.Selene was thirty-five, the undis
The black SUV idled outside the club at 2:17 a.m., tinted windows hiding the chaos inside. Ava Kensington, twenty-two, heiress to a shipping empire, stumbled out of the VIP entrance on six-inch heels, champagne buzzing in her veins and a wicked smile on her lips. Her bodyguard, Marcus Kane, was already waiting by the open rear door , thirty-eight, ex-Special Forces, six-foot-four of disciplined muscle in a tailored black suit that did nothing to hide the hard lines of his body.He had been her shadow for two years. Stoic. Professional. Never once cracking, no matter how shamelessly she teased him.Tonight she was done waiting.Ava slid into the backseat, the short silver dress riding high on her thighs. Marcus closed the door and took his usual spot in the front passenger seat, nodding to the driver.“Home, sir?” the driver asked.Marcus’s deep voice answered, “Straight home. No stops.”The moment the partition rose, Ava kicked off her heels and crawled forward between the seat
Sophie had been home from college for less than three hours when the house grew quiet.Her mother was already asleep upstairs , early flight the next morning for a work conference. The only light left on was in the living room, where Marcus sat in his usual spot on the big leather couch, watching a documentary with the volume low.Forty-five. Still powerfully built from years in construction and the gym , broad chest, thick arms, strong hands that had once carried her on his shoulders when she was small. Salt-and-pepper hair, a short beard, and those dark, watchful eyes that had followed her through every awkward teenage phase and into the confident young woman she was now.Sophie stood in the doorway in nothing but an oversized t-shirt that barely reached mid-thigh , one of his old ones she’d stolen years ago. No bra. No panties.Marcus looked up. His gaze lingered a second too long on her bare legs before he cleared his throat.“Thought you’d be asleep by now, princess.”“I
The penthouse on the 58th floor was silent except for the low hum of the city far below. Richard Harlan, fifty-two, stood at the floor-to-ceiling windows in nothing but a towel wrapped low around his hips. The last three years had been brutal , hostile takeovers, endless boardroom wars, zero personal life. His neck and shoulders felt like knotted steel cables. He’d booked the late-night mobile massage on a whim, the agency promising discretion and “full-body relief.”The doorbell chimed at 11:03 p.m.He opened it himself.Lina stood in the hallway , early twenties, tiny, barely five-foot-two, with a petite frame that made her look even smaller next to his six-foot-three bulk. She was Korean-American, porcelain-pale skin glowing under the hallway lights, long black hair pulled into a sleek ponytail. Her agency uniform , white polo and black yoga pants , hugged her delicate curves. She carried a small rolling bag and looked up at him with calm, professional dark eyes.“Mr. Harla
The backyard barbecue had started innocently enough.Jake and I, both twenty, sophomores at State, had shown up at his mom’s house expecting burgers, beer, and maybe some awkward small talk. What we got was something else entirely.Mrs. Lauren Reynolds, Jake’s mom, was forty-two, divorced for three years, and built like every fantasy I’d ever had. Voluptuous hips, heavy breasts that strained the thin white tank top she wore, long auburn hair pulled into a loose ponytail. She moved around the grill in cutoff denim shorts that rode high on her thighs, laughing loud and flirting shamelessly with both of us.Her best friend, Vanessa, was forty-four, athletic, toned from years of running and yoga, short blonde hair, sharp green eyes, and a wicked smile. Recently single after a messy divorce, she wore a black sundress that clung to every curve and showed off long, tanned legs.By eight o’clock the sun had gone down. The four of us had moved inside to the living room, empty wine bottles







