WeresDigest (2 page)

Chapter
One

Castle Darkwirth

Londo, After Midnight

Twenty-seven-year-old Max Dalton, one of three
grandsons of the Duke of Freemont, gasped and closed his eyes when soft lips
closed around his jutting, painfully hard manhood. At the same time, a soft,
yet firm feminine hand squeezed his balls, eliciting a groan from him. He
clutched the bedding beneath him, and raised his hips off the bed to give the
woman full access. He was close to exploding when a dry voice broke the silence
in the bedroom.

“Time to share, big brother,” Jake Dalton said with a
laugh. “Just come, damn it all. Stop being selfish.”

Max’s eyes opened to mere slits as he looked up and
above the woman’s head, his climax temporarily stalled. Jake was the youngest
of the triplet set to which Max belonged. Max, the second born, and brother
Simon had been born first.

Jake stood at the foot of the bed and unbuttoned his
pants. He’d already removed his shirt. Max’s gaze fell upon the woman again…
Maureen…whose attentions he and his two brothers had enjoyed before. Her
creamy, plump ass jutted out behind her where she kneeled directly in front of
Simon as she leaned down and serviced Max.

“You’re late so I started ahead of you,” Max
explained. “Seems to me Maureen’s in a perfect position for you to join us.”

Jake’s grin widened as he gazed down at the doxy’s
buttocks. “You’re right, of course. Pardon me, darlin’,” he murmured her ear,
“I don’t feel like waiting.”

Maureen, a compliant, easy to please doxy a bit older
than the men, raised her head, her head, adorned with fire-red hair trailing
over her shoulders and back. “No need to ask, sweetie,” she purred. “Be my
guest. I know ye be good for the coin.” Max and Jake laughed when she wiggled
her ass from side to side in invitation.

“Thank you,” Jake said politely, then dropped his
pants to the floor, took her hips in his big hands, spread his legs wide, and
rammed home his burgeoning cock.

The woman purred and sucked harder on Max’s cock as
Simon pistoned in and out of her slick, welcoming cunt.

The sight of Jake reaming the woman prompted Max’s
shaft to harden and pulsate. Within moments, he climaxed, too quickly to his
mind—like a young pup.
Damn!
He waited, arms folded beneath his head as
he watched the ecstasy on Maureen’s face, his gaze falling appreciatively on
her melon-sized breasts that bounced up and down with Jake’s thrusts.

Reaching out, he palmed one breast and closed his eyes
as lethargy stole over him. Now that he’d climaxed sleepiness invaded him, yet
the sex hadn’t quenched his thirst for more—but not from this woman. He felt
himself go limp and slide out of her cunt. He felt movement and opened his eyes
just as Maureen began to move to the side of him, lifting her legs over his
limbs while Jake used her still, rather roughly, Max noted, for the entire bed
frame shook from his powerful thrusting. Max caught the look of ecstasy on
Maureen’s face and relaxed, knowing she enjoyed his brother’s forceful taking.

Max’s body cooled and he closed his eyes. He caught
the scent of his mate in the air—had the last few weeks each time he went into
London for pleasure or business. Unfortunately, he had yet to find her, but
then he’d only recently recognized her scent as his—his mate—the woman meant
for him.

He had despaired of ever finding her, but now that he
had, he felt at peace,
knowing they would meet soon, and mate. Shivers
slipped up his spine at the thought of being able to lose himself—and the beast
inside him—within the welcoming cunt of his mate. He knew, without a doubt,
that she was lupine, like him. Never had he imagined her to be anything but
werewolf, not a human as his mother had been, but a true mate that would give
him children.

He’d shied away from believing any human woman could
possibly be his mate, for bearing children was his ultimate desire. Humans
found difficulty in conceiving children with a lupine, with the exception of
his mother, who seemed to have done a good job of birthing triplets for his
father.

A loud smack rent the air, and then another. As Max
slowly opened his eyes, he saw Jake coming, pumping his seed inside Maureen as
he smashed his palm over and over her plump right buttock.

Max sighed, studying the pure look of ecstasy on
Maureen’s face as his brother smacked her rump until he finished. He could
never understand how some women loved this rough treatment, though he admitted
producing enough coin seemed to help.

Max, Jake, and Simon had kept London and the surrounding
villages, safe for several years. There was far less rape, murder, and
robberies due to the mysterious appearance of three extraordinarily large
wolves, at varying times of an evening, suddenly appearing in the midst of an
occurring crime. The citizens gave no more thought as to who these wolves were,
but were grateful for their intervention in saving them.

Someone coughed and Max looked toward the door. There
stood his brother, Simon, grinning. Triplets, the three of them were, and
close—so close they shared many things, including the same woman—frequently
simultaneously.

Simon sauntered into the bedroom and kicked the door
shut behind him.

Max noticed the glazed look in Maureen’s eyes, and
Jake’s chagrinned expression—all attention focused on Simon now as he casually
unbuttoned his white, long-sleeved shirt, pulling the tails out of his
breeches.

Max and Jake were similar in appearance, both of them
very blonde and blue-eyed, as their mother. Even though they’d only been three
when they’d lost her, they remembered her well. Simon, though, resembled their
father with his bronze-colored hair, dark brown eyes, and tall, broad frame,
though he’d been nearly blonde as they had been as children. His shoulders were
enormous, as he preferred hard, physical labor and sporting activities outside
the bedroom as well as inside.

Having chosen to follow his father’s example, Max had
become a solicitor, with an office in London. Jake, a wiz with numbers, had
been trained by their grandfather to manage the Darkwirth estates.

Their grandfather. Max sighed, thinking how most
recently he’d become bedbound. But then, he was quite elderly and rested
peacefully in his bed upstairs in the castle, knowing his estate’s wealth had
been restored by Max and his brothers.

Simon, the first-born of the triplets and hence the
inheritor of the Dukedom, was what Max called the ‘do-gooder’ who helped
Darkirth’s tenants in repairing their dwellings or building new ones. He also
helped them manage their crops. Simon had always enjoyed watching things grow.

“Ah, I see I’m right on time,” he murmured, as he
chucked the shirt, his britches soon following.

“Welcome home, Simon. You’ve been gone longer than
usual,” Max said.

Simon shrugged. “Peter and I built a cabin for the new
tenants to the north. Couldn’t
have them going into next winter living
in a mud hut, could we?”

Jake sauntered over, naked still, and slapped Simon’s
back. “You have been busy. Now, if you gents will excuse us, Maureen and I will
retire to my room.”

Maureen scrambled awkwardly from the bed and rushed
over to Simon. “Not right now, honey. Simon and me got some catching up to do,”
she said with a smile on her red lips.

Simon raised his brow and jammed his hands on his
hips. “Is that a fact?” At her nod, he chuckled and stuck out his arm. “Then by
all means, let’s retire to
my
room.” He opened the door, swept his arm
ahead of him, indicating Maureen to proceed. With a wink to Max and Jake, he
rubbed Maureen’s saucy buttocks, and slammed the door closed behind him.

Max sat up on the bed, grinning after the two of them,
naked as the day they were born as they left his bedroom.

Jake grumbled as he pulled on his britches. “Damn it,
Simon does it every time, doesn’t he? What’s he got that we don’t?” he griped.

“I got to admit the ladies do like him. We seem to
float away into non-existence as soon as he makes an appearance.” He climbed
into his own clothes then slapped Jake on the back. “Let’s go down to the
kitchen and have a pint.”

“Better idea,” Jack replied, “How about heading down
to the den?”

Max sighed, thinking how dull the Weres’ Den was of
late. No new ladies about or new members to stir things up. Boring. “How about
The King’s Tavern, instead? I hear talk in London about some new serving girls
there that might be of interest.”

“Lead the way, brother!”

* * * *

Carrie Sweeney was a good Irish girl; her mum had told
her so, her da—now gone from this earth—her aunts and uncles, her four older
brothers, and her parish priest, had all confirmed the fact. But now, as she
stood within the muscular embrace of a tall, golden-haired man, her breasts
pressed tight against him, passion lurked deep inside her—a wickedness she’d
never felt before. She wanted to be wicked and make love with this perfect
stranger. She wanted to shed all of her clothing and feel his big body pressed
against hers, as it was now.

She’d come out the back door of her place of
employment, The King’s Tavern near Covent Garden in London, glass pitchers in
hand, to toss out the last drops of unconsumed ale when she saw him. At first,
her eyes had deceived her for she’d thought she saw hair on his face and on his
hands, and crouched on all fours. He appeared extraordinarily large, even
slumped over, but then he straightened up and she knew she must have been
mistaken, for he was a true flesh and blood man who now held her in his arms.

Besides, she’d left her spectacles in her reticule
behind the bar inside, and with her vision not being the best, she had to be
wrong—doubts assailed her again. Her vision wasn’t that bad! Hadn’t she seen
him down on the ground, as though he had four legs? Not likely, she decided,
for this was a desirable male of the human species standing on two legs, and
holding her with two strong arms.

Nearly swooning in his embrace, there was nowhere else
she wanted to be. His lips were pressed against hers, smooth, and cool,
enticing. Carrie stopped herself from purring aloud when he nipped at her lips,
then slid his tongue inside her mouth, sweeping it over her teeth. Her legs
weakened and she felt his hold tighten, holding her up since she couldn’t stand
on her own.

“You are so sweet,” he whispered against her lips.
“What is your name?”

“Carrie…Sweeney,” she said between kisses. “And you
are....”

His only response was to deepen the kiss, making her
think again how mistaken she’d
been—no four-legged creature was he—but a full-blooded man. She shook her head,
and silently scolded herself for her vanity and leaving her spectacles inside.
No one at The King’s Tavern knew she wore them. She saw well enough to carry
food and drink to tables, though she’d stumbled more than a few times over a
man’s leg stretched out in the aisle.

She’d always hated her weak eyes and dealing with the
spectacles, not to mention the fact the boys never seemed to pay her much
attention when she wore them. And Carrie, good girl that she was, wanted to
capture a male’s attention—one that would want her for his wife.

Carrie still had her arms around his neck and she went
up on tiptoes, not wanting the kiss to end. The man obliged her by sweeping her
up even closer to him, if possible, so her toes no longer touched the ground.
She enjoyed the embrace and the kisses, and thoughts of courting sprang into
her mind.

Why not? Just because she was a country girl, whom
many a man would think nothing of bedding, and then leaving her with a broken
heart, it didn’t mean she couldn’t dream. And dream she did—of her knight on a
white horse in shining armor come to take her away from her dreary, mundane life.
Not that it was a bad life. She lived in an adequate dwelling, had food on the
table, and family—her mother and brothers. Things could be worse. But then she
contemplated how she wanted to have her own house, and her own children
scampering about her legs, and not serving ale to drunkards each night.

Did that make her a ‘bad’ girl? She didn’t think
so—but then common sense made her stiffen in his arms. Yet, once again, his
insistent kisses shoved away her thoughts, until his big palm settled on her
bottom through her rough, woolen skirts. She groaned, feeling the firmness of
his hand, but also prickles of delightful sensations up and down her spine, her
buttocks, and thighs as he pressed her hard against his erection.

So, how did a good girl know about a man’s desire?
Having been raised as the only girl in a family surrounded by brothers had left
her somewhat unsheltered.

The man’s low growl made her pull herself free of him.
Her feet touched the ground and she stared at him in wide-eyed panic. Once more
she doubted her eyes, recalling the beast she’d glimpsed earlier, and she
asked, “Did I just see a…no…impossible,” she muttered.

“What did you see?” his low voice came.

“Why I thought you were a dog—a very large one.” She
laughed at her words and shook her head, adding, “Which I know is not
possible.”