Then Grant pulled his length from inside her. Sherrie’s body let go reluctantly and he groaned at the friction as he pulled out. When he pushed back in, it was John’s turn to recede, relinquishing territory slowly. The sea-saw motion continued with one man then the other filling her. There was no need for Sherrie to move at all, not to thrust or reach for either of them. They passed her pliant body back and forth between them in a gentle rhythm at first which gradually grew faster.
A low, rumbling growl sounded from deep in John’s chest. His brown eyes gleamed golden, and the hair on Sherrie’s nape rose at the wolfish display. He gritted his teeth and they seemed sharper and longer than normal. He pumped into her harder now and more erratically, not timing his thrusts with Grant’s.
When they both filled her at once, Sherrie cried out at the intense sensation.
Grant hissed near her ear, either a warning to John or from sheer pleasure, and his teeth scored the juncture of her neck and shoulder. She gasped and jerked more from surprise than from pain. Her senses were already overloaded, her body teetering on the brink of orgasm, and Grant’s bite was enough to put her over the edge.
She yelled as her body contracted and stars and fireworks burst in her head. Her climax was so profound, tears stung her eyes.
A yowl of pleasure came from Grant, and he bucked against her once more before holding still and pulsing inside her. John groaned quietly and pumped fast several times before he came too. He held her tight, fingers digging into her hip and his narrowed eyes focused on hers. That was John. He always made that connection with her unless he was fucking her from behind.
Gasping through the tail end of her climax, Sherrie blinked and looked back at him, treasuring their bond which had grown to be much more than a sexual one. She enjoyed playing with Grant, but she was falling in love with John.
They remained frozen in their multiple clench for another moment before Grant disengaged and rolled away from Sherrie, heaving a long breath. “Good,” he groaned.
Sherrie heartily agreed. She remained in John’s embrace with his softening cock inside her for a little longer. Burying her face into the crook of his shoulder, she licked salt from his skin. “Okay?” she whispered, knowing his ambivalent feelings about sharing her with Grant.
He nodded and nuzzled the side of her head. “It’s fine. I know you’re mine,” he murmured back.
She knew it too. Raising her face from his shoulder, she looked into his eyes and saw the unabashed devotion in them. The strength of his commitment rocked her. All the aborted relationships in her life seemed paltry now, and she wondered why she’d wasted tears on any of those men. John was the real deal, a faithful, dedicated man—all right, were-creature—who would stand by her forever.
The longer she knew him, the more she found they had in common. They both liked outdoor activities like hiking, biking and climbing, although John wasn’t overly fond of swimming or boating. “Wolves and water don’t mix,” he’d once told her. He wasn’t a huge fan of the arts, but was happy to go to movies, concerts or plays with her, even though it entailed driving miles to the nearest large city.
Sherrie had found him to be even-tempered and calm, a good balance to her more volatile nature. But most of all she loved the way he simply loved her—unreasoning, elemental emotion without strings attached. She thought this might be their last time with Grant. It was no sacrifice for her to give up their occasional threesomes if that made John more confident of her feelings for him. Grant was sexy as hell, but he wasn’t indispensible to her like John was.
“How about that coffee now?”
Sherrie pulled away from John and glanced over her shoulder. Grant’s amber eyes blinked, and his brows rose.
“You were going to make it, remember?” she said.
“Was I?” He feigned ignorance.
“I’ll do it.” John rose from the bed and padded across the room. Sherrie watched the graceful swagger of his naked backside with interest.
When he was out of the room, she turned to Grant. “Tell me the truth now. Did you go after Evan? Is he dead?”
He widened his eyes, looking so exactly like a cat pretending he hadn’t just eaten the goldfish that she nearly laughed. But this was no goldfish. They were talking about a man’s life, albeit a dangerous man who’d killed a few people and threatened many more. They were talking about a man who might be her half-brother, a man who might share her blood.
“Did you?” she demanded.
Grant shrugged. “Wolf law isn’t our law. We do things our own way.” It wasn’t an answer. Sherrie continued to stare at him, waiting.