In Calling Doctor Wolf, Dr. Oscar Thorne is turning his grandparents’ house into a hospital for shape-shifters, helped by his best friend, carpenter Danny Davies. The paperwork is never-ending, so he hires office manager Ambrielle Watson. Oscar and Danny are both wolves and both Doms. Ambrielle’s a human and a sub. Is she a perfect match for them?
In The Wolves Catch Their Attorney, Attorney Sierra is committed to becoming a partner in her law firm. Fergus and Campbell, werewolf shape-shifters, know she’s the perfect woman for them to share. But Sierra’s busy dealing with Dr. Oscar Thorne’s cousin George, who wants the clinic for himself.
In The Patient Is a Shark, Wynter’s a shark. She needs knee surgery after a near miss with a fisherman, but how can she get across the country to the shape-shifter clinic? Quinn and Rainer come to escort her. Just as well because someone doesn’t want the clinic to succeed and tries to prevent Wynter from arriving safely.
CALLING DOCTOR WOLF
Danny nodded, watching the rider take some things out of a saddlebag then remove his full-face helmet. Her helmet. A cloud of black hair tumbled down to her waist. She unzipped her leather jacket, rolled it into a tight ball, and put it in a saddlebag. Then she unzipped her leather pants and rolled them down long legs to her knees. She reached onto the seat of the bike, picked up a bunch of green fabric, and flipped it over her head. It became a long green skirt. Quickly she removed her boots and pants, put them in the saddlebag, and stepped into pumps. The skirt now hid her legs, which had been encased in cream leggings, so unfortunately he hadn’t seen an inch of her flesh. Now she brushed her hair, put on a cream blazer, picked up a purse and a folder, and began walking to the main entry of the hospital.
“I’ll go let her in, shall I? I assume that Shaun is a he, and that this is Ambrielle?” asked Danny, trying not to breathe heavily or lick his lips. She had a very nice body indeed. Just the kind he liked with those long legs and rich curves at hip, ass, and breast.
“Tell her to wait on one of the seats in the entry there. Shaun—and yes, he’s male—is scheduled for the first interview, but I’ve set up a little test for them both before they even come into the room,” Oscar said mysteriously.
Danny just shrugged and hurried back to the main entry, eager to get a closer look at Ms. Ambrielle Watson. Of course, close up she might be quite ugly. And even if she was pretty she could be married, or have a significant other—or others, he reminded himself, thinking of his and Oscar’s plan to perhaps share a woman.
Fuck, she was lovely. Shiny black hair poured down her back, huge, sparkling black—no, dark brown—eyes in a pretty face, and round tits that made his mouth water. His cock was trying to climb out of his pants, too, so he escaped to stand behind the reception desk, where he could spread his legs wide apart and give his aching dick some space. “May I help you?” he asked, playing innocent.
“My name’s Ambrielle Watson. I have an interview with Dr. Oscar Thorne at eleven.” Her voice was sweet and musical, but held the faintest undertone of nervousness as well. That was interesting. Her body language expressed confidence. Hoping his dick would behave, he gestured to the three chairs against the wall. “Please take a seat and I’ll tell him you’ve arrived.”
Danny kept his back to her as much as possible as he left the reception area and headed back down the hallway to the lounge room. As he left, his phone beeped. That meant it was ten forty-five and time for Shaun’s interview to begin. Maybe Shaun had come into the building through a side door or something. But the room held only Oscar.
“That was Ambrielle.”
“Yes. I just texted Fergus. I need to watch, though.”
“Huh?” Danny had no idea what Oscar was talking about, but followed him out another door, through a back hallway, and then they circled around through some other rooms until they were behind the reception area and had a good view of Ms. Watson sitting primly in a chair, her purse at her feet and her hands resting on the papers on her knee. She was looking at her hands, perhaps staring at her bright green fingernails that matched her motorcycle and her skirt.
Fergus was one of the nurses at the hospital. He was also a wolf with a red coat, which was very distinctive and meant he could never hide among a pack of dogs. Suddenly Danny understood. Oscar had been way ahead of him and was going to test his interviewees about their reaction to shape-shifters. Oscar could have used Campbell, the other werewolf nurse, who had brown fur and could quite easily be mistaken for a rather large dog. Instead, it was to be Fergus.
Just then the shape-shifter nosed open a door and stalked into the entry area. He was moving slowly and gracefully, not in a threatening manner at all, but quite definitely a presence. Ambrielle seemed to sense him and looked up. Then she smiled and held out a hand. “Well, aren’t you a beautiful boy. Have you come to say hi to me?”
Fergus gave a toothy grin and crossed the room to stand at her knee. Ambrielle bent over, petting his back, stroking his fur, and rubbing behind his ears and under his chin. She kept up a soft conversation with him, telling him how handsome he was.
Oscar nodded to Danny and they silently withdrew. Oscar gestured with his thumb to Danny and Danny nodded, then walked briskly into the entry area.
“Fergus, it’s time for you to go. Ms. Watson, can you follow me please.”
She jumped to her feet, snatching her papers and her purse, then walked beside him into the lounge room. Oscar was standing by a group of chairs, and said, “Thank you, Danny. Ms. Watson, how about you sit here.” He pointed to a chair where both he and Danny would be able to watch her face clearly.
“Thank you for giving us your time today. I see you like animals,” said Oscar.
The woman gave him back bland look for bland look. “My aunt is very fond of cats. All different types of cats. She spends a lot of her time surrounded by them.”
She gasped as he swung her into his arms and carried her over to the bed, placing her in the very center of it.
Immediately he sank down her body and began licking her clit and her slit. This time she gasped louder, audibly. His tongue was slightly rough, rasping over her tender flesh, and it was going to send her flying real soon if she didn’t deliberately hold herself back a bit.
Then her brain kicked into gear. He’d never actually said, “I’m a shape-shifter,” to her. Nor had Danny. But they’d both said things like, “our wolves.” She couldn’t remember right now, but they might have even said “we wolves,” although she rather thought that would have stuck in her mind. But endless hints had been present right from the beginning. When she’d so instantly recognized Fergus they must have assumed she’d recognized them, too, but she’d been blind and lust-ridden instead of attentive. But now she understood. Oscar’s tongue was a little rough because he was a wolf. So she was not only about to experience her very first ménage, she was also about to be fucked by two wolves. Well, wow!
Oscar’s tongue was damn talented as he flicked it over and around her clit, then along her slit and inside her pussy. It was taking all her efforts not to relax into his touch and let herself explode.
Danny lifted her head and placed it on his lap, then bent over to kiss her. After a few sweet and gentle kisses on her lips his hands began teasing her breasts and nipples. Ah hell, she’d never be able to hold on at this rate.
Danny cupped the globes, teasing along the sensitive skin of their undersides, then used his thumbs on her nipples while his palms teased the rest of her breasts. She looked up into his eyes, the exact brown of rich, dark, chocolate and just as decadent. He smiled as he touched her, whispering, “Do you like this?” before moving his hand slightly.
“I like everything both of you are doing. I like it so much I might not be able to hold on much longer.”
Oscar lifted his head to gaze into her face. “There’s no need to hold on. Let yourself fly.” Her cream glistened on his chin, and that, coupled with his tangled black curls and cheeky grin, were very nearly too much for her control.
Danny dropped his head to her breast and took almost her entire globe into his mouth, sucking hard, then flicking his tongue over the nipple. His tongue was slightly rough, too. The thought that two men, two wolves, were making love to her—two men who she admired, appreciated, and may even be falling in love with—was all it took to throw her off the cliff.
Ambrielle shuddered as her orgasm burst through her and her cream poured from her cunt where Oscar’s fingers and tongue were driving her higher and higher. She pushed her breast into Danny’s mouth and her hips up into Oscar’s face as her body shook and quivered with her release.
She expected one of them to plunge his cock straight into her pussy while she was still convulsing, but the men surprised her by crawling up the bed and holding her tightly between their bodies. Danny’s cock pressed into her ass crack, a thick, hard line resting between her butt cheeks. Oscar’s cock pressed into her belly as they soothed her. “I thought men didn’t cuddle,” she said, confused. Then she bit her lip hoping she didn’t sound totally self-centered and stupid. That wasn’t what she meant at all. She was appreciative of being cuddled, just surprised.
“Wolves like to snuggle together,” explained Oscar.
“Yes. We’re used to being in a pack,” agreed Danny.
“Just as well I found me some wolves then, isn’t it?”
Danny pressed kisses along her shoulders and on the back of her neck. He pushed his cock deeper between her ass cheeks. “Have you had anal sex before?” he asked.
“Yes, but it’s been a while.”
“We both want to take you, together. If that’s too much for you, especially so quickly, that’s okay, but I’m just saying it because it’s what we’d like.”
Her cunt clenched tightly and more cream dripped onto her inner thighs. “It’s what I want, too.”
“Are you sure?” asked Oscar.
Once again, she expected to be flipped over onto her front immediately, and her ass opened with the butt plug they’d brought with them. But once again she was wrong. They continued to hold her and pet her, stroking her skin, kissing her in unusual places, just being together.
Finally Danny moved back from her a little way, lifted her upper leg over his, and began to play with her ass. He was very slow and gentle, teasing her more than anything else, arousing her using the many nerve endings surrounding her rosette.
Almost imperceptibly another orgasm began to build deep inside her. By the time he was thrusting his fingers in and out of her ass, she was whimpering and wanting so much more.
Oscar, who’d been playing with her breasts, hips, and stomach, sat up and rolled a condom on his cock, then he slid a leg between her lower leg and the mattress, and pushed his cock into her pussy. Oh, yes, that felt good. She was stretched, filled, satisfied at last.
He wiggled his hips against hers, and pressed his pelvis into her mound. Hell, yes, now that was even better. Behind her Danny was moving around, then she felt the head of his cock at the entry to her rear channel. Not the butt plug, his cock. She was more than happy to skip a step and move directly to the main game.
“Are you ready, man?” asked Oscar.
“Just about. Give me a moment or two. Ah, now that’s better.”
Danny thrust his cock deep inside her. If she’d felt full before she was tight, stretched, overfull now. But not in a painful way. In an exciting way that screamed possession, belonging, contentment. She was also desperate for the men to move. Having them both inside her at once was like being possessed by a huge itch that simply had to be scratched. “Move, dammit,” she begged.
THE WOLVES CATCH THEIR ATTORNEY
Attorney Sierra Bond stared at the web of ropes high in the air. It looked like an overgrown fishing net, then became just two ropes, one she was supposed to walk along while holding on to the other one. Fucking hell. The things she did in the name of winning new clients.
“Perhaps the little lady would prefer to try the easier ropes course instead,” suggested a partner from a competing firm, his face one big sneer.
She gave him her most professional smile in return, then cast an obvious glance at his paunchy belly bulging beneath his company T-shirt. “I’ll be fine, but thank you for your concern.”
Determinedly she turned and began climbing the ladder up to the starting point. It must be fifty fucking feet up in the air. Just as well I’m not afraid of heights.
After climbing about one hundred twenty rungs of the ladder she was beginning to be grateful for her daily workouts at the gym and the fact she had some upper-body strength, because she sure as hell needed it now. The regular regimen of weights at the gym, as well as running on the treadmill, and cycling, was about to pay off—she hoped. If I don’t fall, of course.
At the top of the ladder she was grateful for the time to catch her breath while the instructor clipped a safety harness around her waist. She also took the opportunity to assess the ropes course from here. Now she could see the web was actually quite wide apart and she’d have to work hard to make her way across it to the single rope path.
“Off you go then,” said the instructor cheerily.
“Thanks,” she grunted, stepping out onto the first loop of rope.
It was damn hard to move one foot at a time, always making sure she could reach the next loop from where she stood. Several times she ended up with both feet in the same loop to stretch far enough for a hand grip. “Team bonding my fat ass. Killing off the competitors is more likely.”
Then when she got to the end of the web, she found she’d miscalculated. She was too low on the fucking net to be able to climb up onto the rope line and reach the safety line to hold onto. Fortunately she didn’t have to backtrack very far to climb higher. This time she made sure she could step down onto the walking line, still holding onto the web, and then grab the hand line. By the time she was on the single rope her body was running with perspiration, her hair was stuck to her face and neck, her hands were slippery with sweat, and even her feet were starting to slide around some inside her athletic shoes.
She hooked one arm around the safety rope and dried one hand as well as she could on the seat of her shorts. Then she turned sideways to dry the other hand. Even her shorts were wet, but at least now she had some hope of holding on. Although…Why use her hands to grasp the rope when having the line wound around her arm would support her and leave her hands free to maneuver herself better? Thoughtfully she wound both arms through the safety line, so it went over her forearm and under her wrist. She could still slide her feet along the walking rope and felt more balanced.
More confidently now, she made her way for another twenty feet along the line. Moving slowly, she rested her gaze on the end of the line. Getting off was going to be another major challenge. “Was this fucking ropes course built for seven-foot-tall basketball players or something?” Sierra was an average woman—average weight, average height, five foot five precisely. But to get from the rope line where she was standing, to the zip line which would transport her back to the ground, would involve stepping over a gap she was pretty sure her legs couldn’t span.
She slid closer to the end of the rope and began to rock backward and forward. Yes, that’d do it. If she timed it right she could swing the entire line a foot closer to the zip line and would be sure to catch the handlebar with that bit of extra reach. She kept working the rope like a swing, mentally timing the laps and watching for the distance they covered. When she was sure she could bridge the gap she stretched out her right hand and grabbed the handlebar of the zip line, pulling it to her. Then it was easy to bring her other hand across, swing her feet off the rope, and let the momentum of the mini cable car send her down to the ground at the end of the course, her body swinging backward and forward to keep it moving.
She landed neatly on both feet, running until she was steady, and then she let go of the handlebars. She stepped to the side so the zip line could be pulled back up for the next person attempting the ropes course, and waited for the instructor to unclip the safety harness from her waist.
“You did well. I can see now why your group wanted to do the red course. Usually people coming here to do a team-bonding exercise only do the blue course. Some of them don’t even do that. They do the kiddy course, the green one,” said the instructor chattily.
“Life’s pretty boring without a challenge every now and then, don’t you think?” she replied. But what she thought was, I’m going to kill that goatish fly-bitten maggot pie of a manager.
Cam watched Sierra kneel beside Fergus and use her bare toes to tease along his legs before she sat down. Then she wiped her pussy up and down his belly and pelvis. Cam just knew her pussy would be wet, and not from her swim in the lake either. Fergus could possibly even smell her arousal they were so close. Cam would know when it was his turn. Damn not thinking to bring a condom. Oh well, it would be good to have her suck him. And he had all this time just to look at her naked body, which was pretty good, too.
Cam almost swallowed his tongue as he watched Sierra slide down over Fergus’s cock, and absorb it deep into her cunt. Little neon signs were flashing behind his eyes saying, “hot,” “erotic,” “carnal.” He licked his lips. “Wow!” was all he could think, or possibly, “Ye haw!”
“Come and get into position, Cam,” said Fergus.
Oh, so they were going to be together this time. That was nice. It made them even more of a threesome, although each time they’d had sex all of them had been involved. But simultaneously would definitely be even better. Although possibly it’d be so good his head would explode as well as his dick.
Cam tried kneeling, but his cock wasn’t quite high enough for Sierra to reach. She had to lean forward and that might spoil it for Fergus. So instead he stood up, very close to her, and gradually widened his legs, lowering his effective height, until his cock was exactly level with her mouth. Good.
Her amber eyes were sparkling and her cheeks were flushed so he knew she was very aroused. She placed a gentle hand on his cock and moved it to her mouth then nearly drove him insane by teasing his balls with her other hand. She rolled them with her fingers, and cupped them with her palm. She pressed her fingernails into his sensitive skin, making him shiver with anticipation. His eyes crossed when she delicately teased the skin of his inner thighs and the flesh either side of his cock. When she finally sucked his dick into her mouth he thought he might explode on the spot, but he managed to regain control of himself.
Fergus was holding her hips and moving her up and down on his cock. Cam could tell Fergus wasn’t doing all the work, although his feet were planted flat on the sand and his hips and thighs were pumping up and down. But Sierra was wiggling her hips in Fergus’s hands and twisting her body this way and that, all while keeping her hands and mouth on Cam’s own dick. Damn the woman was talented. How could she do that to the two of them at once? He couldn’t even watch her without his brain frying from lust and arousal.
Her breasts were bobbing up and down as she moved on Fergus. Fergus’s hands remained on her hips, obviously holding her where he wanted her, so Cam stretched out a hand to touch a perky nipple. He flicked it with a fingernail, then stroked her breast with his knuckles. Her skin felt soft and warm under his hands, so he cupped her globe carefully, making sure he wasn’t in Fergus’s way. But Fergus was concentrating on fucking her and this wasn’t a BDSM scene as such even though the event was planned by their Dom. There were no whips, chains, or handcuffs, and no dungeon. Cam was looking forward to when they played a real dungeon scene, but right now, having sex on the beach where theoretically they could be interrupted by anyone at any time, was exciting enough for him.
Sierra scraped her fingernails along the side of his cock, then pressed the pads of her fingers into the long vein running down his shaft. She followed this up by resting his cockhead in her mouth and teasing his balls again, then scraped her teeth over his sensitive head.
Now she was running her nails over his inner thighs again. Damn, the woman was a witch. Every inch of his skin was alive with fire, demanding more, yet her hot, wet mouth held his cockhead tightly and every now and then she sucked on him to raise his need higher.
In retaliation he trailed his fingers over her neck and down between her breasts, finally tweaking her nipple again. She gave him a glance so filled with lust he could hardly breathe.
“Now!” ordered Fergus hoarsely.
Cam rolled Sierra’s nipple between his fingers, elongated it, then pinched it sharply.
THE PATIENT IS A SHARK
She swam in a circle but there didn’t seem to be blood in the water around her so likely she was exaggerating the pain. “I’m just tired. Suck it up and keep swimming, princess,” she told herself firmly.
But by the time she got back to the small, hidden beach where she’d left her car, her entire body was one huge ball of pain. Telling herself to be tough wasn’t exactly working anymore. She stayed under water, looking around, but she’d swum so slowly it was already dark and the place was deserted, thank goodness.
Wynter transformed, and pulled herself up onto the sand. Quickly she looked at her left knee. It was very swollen and the huge gash seemed to be quite deep just behind her knee, but even twisting her leg and head right around she couldn’t see much. She’d have to look in a mirror at home to see if it needed stitches. Maybe just putting some ice on it is all it needs, she thought hopefully.
But she couldn’t convince herself of that. It seemed awfully sore for just a minor injury.
Time to go home, Wynter. Get moving.
She pulled herself to her feet and screamed, falling straight back onto the sand.
Holy shit that hurt!
When the throbbing eased off a bit she stood up again, this time putting all her weight on her right leg and just resting the left foot on the sand to balance herself.
It was a long, long distance to hop on one leg all the way back to her car but she made it eventually. Her naked body was dripping with sweat and she was afraid she’d vomit from the pain, but she got there.
As always, she’d buried her car key in the sand immediately behind her back driver’s side tire. Sticking her leg straight out behind her, she bent over and dug it up, smoothed over the hole, and popped the trunk.
Resting her body against the car she toweled herself dry and pulled on shorts and a T-shirt, not bothering with underwear. It was hard enough to get her shorts on without trying to put on panties first. She toweled her short, pale-blonde hair dry, then climbed into her car, grateful it was an automatic, not a stick shift.
She wasn’t sure what lie she would tell the ER staff, but she was too weak and ill to worry about it. She needed to get there and get some painkillers. She’d think of a good story to tell them when she arrived.
* * * *
By the time she was released from the emergency room the next day, Wynter was in a state of complete shock. She was limping along on hired crutches she hadn’t paid for, with a pile of bills she wasn’t sure she could pay, and a certificate to say she couldn’t work for three months, which she was almost certain meant her job would have mysteriously disappeared by the time she got back to work. She needed surgery, expensive surgery, and she couldn’t afford that either.
The nursing staff had been wonderful—helpful, caring, and polite. She’d been pumped full of painkillers, antibiotics, and fluids, her wound stitched, had been given a bunch of injections, and had more blood than she thought she could spare taken from her for various tests. So she’d expected that would be the end of the adventure.
But no. A doctor had sat beside her bed and explained clearly and succinctly, that whatever piece of metal she’d caught her leg on had “considerably damaged” her knee and she needed a full knee reconstruction.
“What we’re talking about here is an anterior cruciate ligament reconstruction. We should be able to use your own tendons to replace the damaged one which has to be removed, which in turn means there’s minimal chance of rejection. It’s a complex procedure, I won’t try to deny that, but twelve months after the operation more than eighty percent of patients report a favorable result.”
“You’ll most likely be on your feet in two weeks and back at work in twelve weeks, but it usually takes about twelve months for complete recovery. You’ll be hopping and jumping with equal hamstring strength on the injured leg as the uninjured one by then.”
Wynter wanted to ask about swimming but decided not to. There was a much more important question to ask first. “Roughly how much will it cost?”
“Assuming your insurance covers anesthesia and post-operative physical therapy and rehabilitation, on the order of three, three and half thousand dollars.”
Wynter gulped. Three thousand? She was going to be really struggling to pay the three hundred she already owed. She was on minimum wage with no insurance.
“And if I don’t have the surgery?” she asked.
He shook his head at her. “A torn anterior cruciate ligament will not repair itself. With careful management and pain relief you’ll be able to get by for some months, while the pain will gradually get worse and the limb less mobile. Once you start walking off balance to minimize the pain to your knee, you will start putting additional stress on other areas of your body such as your hip and your back, which will then begin to ache. I wouldn’t recommend delaying the surgery. If you wish, I can ask the hospital social worker to drop by and see you. There are organizations that will help you get a loan to pay for the surgery.”
Very carefully he rested his hand on her right hip, relishing the feel of her slightly rough skin under his palm. He could hear her breathing, soft and light, and Quinn’s, deeper and heavier, and guessed they were both asleep. Quietly he lowered his head to the pillow and lay still, basking in the pure joy of holding a beautiful woman in his arms.
He must have fallen asleep because it was starting to grow light when he opened his eyes next. Wynter was grinding her ass against his cock, and his cock was loving it. He loved it, too, but his brain was trying to remind him it wasn’t necessarily a good idea.
Before he could say anything, she lifted Quinn’s T-shirt off and threw it on the floor, then reached behind her and grabbed his cock out of his boxers in a determined fist.
“Wynter?” he gulped.
“Fuck me, please. Take me from behind so it doesn’t hurt my knee. Do it, Rainer, please, please, please. I need you to fuck me right now.”
She let go of his cock and placed her hands on her panties, trying to tug them down. His brain was out to lunch right now, but his hands instantly cooperated in sliding the tiny garment down her legs and off over her feet.
“Quinn, suck my breasts. Lick them, bite them, help me to come,” she ordered.
Rainer’s cock was already trying to push into her pussy from behind but with his last functioning brain cell he managed to ask, “Wynter, are you sure about this? Are you sure you want us to fuck you?”
“Yes, yes, now, please. Fuck me now.”
Rainer couldn’t wait any longer. It was what he wanted above all things anyway. He pressed his cock between her legs into her hot and welcoming cunt. She was very wet, very ready for him, and he held her hips and began to pump into her, his mouth pressing kisses to her shoulder as he did.
On the other side of her, Quinn was groaning, his mouth on her breasts. Well Quinn wasn’t holding back saying it wasn’t professional either.
Rainer stopped thinking and started feeling. Feeling her skin pushing back against him, her ass cheeks no longer soft, but rough and scratchy now, her back the same. Feeling the tightness and heat of her gripping his cock in a warm, firm, wet fist, more wonderful than he could ever have imagined.
He pressed his chest to her back, holding her shoulders, kissing her skin, pumping into her with his hips working hard, wanting to pleasure her with everything he could offer her.
Wynter was making little whimpering noises now, her butt pushing back against him, her hips rotating and driving him wild. Quinn’s face was against her skin, and over Wynter’s happy little noises he could hear Quinn’s murmurs of appreciation, too.
He slid one hand down her side, stroking and petting her every inch of the way until he reached her hip. For long moments he drew circles on her skin with his fingertips, gradually working his way closer and closer to her pussy, until finally he could touch her clit. It was burning hot and engorged. Happily, he stroked it while he continued to thrust into her strongly, trying to penetrate her as deeply as he could with his cock, to pleasure her to the utmost.
Quinn’s face was buried between her breasts, and he had one hand on each, playing with the nipples. Rainer could see how huge her nipples were, could feel how aroused her clit was, and could hear more of the happy noises she was making. She was still pressing back onto his cock, driving him wild with need.