[Siren Classic ManLove: Erotic Alternative Paranormal Romance, M/M, werewolves, HEA]
Peter is up for a coveted job at Wellington Enterprises, and when he catches the eye of the brutally sexy Jarred Wellington, he wins a far more seductive position than he ever dreamed.
Jarred is helping his father fix their struggling business when the annoyingly gorgeous Peter Andrews arrives to screw up his plans. Peter is the one, the werewolf mate whose appearance is a harbinger that the current alpha, Jarred’s father, is about to die.
Jarred has no intention of giving in to fate, but the inescapably erotic mate-bonding process has begun—and Drew Wellington is not the only one in danger. Secrets about Peter are about to be revealed, even to himself. A rival wolf with an old claim and a new plan unleashes an alpha transformation Peter cannot control. Saving Drew and claiming Jarred will mean learning to tame the power of the wolf.
A Siren Erotic Romance
He snatched up the cup, which still had a small pool of coffee clinging to the inside. That’s when the head rush hit, and he plopped the cup right back down while he leaned on the granite counter, trying to stay upright.
“What the fuck is happening?”
Was he drugged? Maybe he should be drinking a gallon of water to flush the toxins out. Or else he should stick a finger down his throat, try to puke it up before the rest got in his system. Or maybe it wasn’t a drug at all. He might have caught some mysterious flu. He’d had fever and dizziness in the shower, before the coffee. And there was the matter of the weird hallucination involving the mark on his hand.
He held his shaking palm up in front of the stained mirror. The mark was gone again. Still, he caught a glimpse of something else strange in the mirror, and he frowned.
He reached out to wipe the glass clean, and he gasped at his reflection. His eyes were glowing, not in their usual fuck-me blue, as a former lover had once called them, but a dark blue-gold. He shut them and shook his head.
“You are totally losing it,” he said. “You’re seeing things again.”
The sounds returned in his head, the restless undertones of a nighttime forest and the faint, far-off howl. A low, snarling growl rumbled out of this throat in reply.
That’s when he heard the knock at the door.
“Peter?” a man asked. “Is everything all right in there?”
“Jarred fucking Wellington,” Peter breathed, this time well enough under his breath to make certain it wasn’t heard. Then he called out, “Yeah. Sure. I, uh, just need a minute.”
The door wasn’t locked, however. Jarred could stroll in at any moment and see him like this. He turned and raced into the nearest stall, locking himself in and sitting on the toilet. He buried his head in his hands as he heard footsteps on the tile.
“What’s going on?” Jarred asked.
“Like I said, I’m just not feeling myself. Look, I’m really sorry about the meeting, but I don’t want to keep you from it. Go ahead. I’ll be out soon.”
“Fuck the meeting,” he said, and his voice came from right in front of the stall. Peter glanced down and saw the tips of Jarred’s black dress shoes beneath the door. “We need to talk about what’s happening.”
“There’s nothing to talk about. I just need a little privacy. That’s the usual reason a man closes himself inside a stall in the john. And no offense, but it’s a little weird to be talking to a guy through it.”
His palm flared with new tingles, and he begrudgingly flipped it over. The mark was back. “Goddamn it,” he whispered.
“Open the door, Peter,” Jarred said.
Another low rumble began in his throat, and Peter cleared it rapidly to push it back down. “Not now.”
“You can’t stay locked in there forever.”
Picturing Jarred standing just a couple feet away, with his immaculate suit and sexy-as-hell face, became something of a mistake. With that image in mind, Peter very much wanted to open the door, all right. He wanted to yank the man in right by his tie and use it to restrain him while he did things that would sully Jarred’s suit and reputation forever.
He covered his head with his hands and tried to suppress the urge to claw the door right off its hinges and fuck the man standing behind it.
“Peter,” he heard, and the voice was decidedly lower than before. “Open the goddamn door, or I’ll do it for you.”
“Please,” he said, his voice muffled in his hands. “You don’t want to do that.”
“Like hell I don’t.”
The challenge in Jarred’s insistence sparked something in Peter, a sort of rage combined with the need to dominate. How or why he wasn’t certain, but the lowly new hire was ready to burst with the wild urge to take charge of the heir to Wellington Enterprises.
He yanked open the stall door to find Jarred’s eyes wide in shock and glowing with the same fire Peter felt, and they stared at one another for a long and heavily weighted moment. Then Jarred pressed himself into the stall right along with Peter. He took hold of the edges of Peter’s suit.
“How the hell is this happening to you?” he asked.
“I have no idea what you mean,” Peter said, trembling harder. “But I do know this.”
He’d meant to give Jarred an innocuous push out of the stall while he explained why he had no intention of carrying on a conversation beside a toilet. But what was meant to be a small shove sent Jarred off his feet, flying backward through the air. Peter watched in stunned horror as the man soared away and hit the mirror, which cracked in a spider web pattern before Jarred landed with his ass on the counter.
Jarred tore off his towel, flinging it onto the floor before sliding silently under the sheet beside his new lover.
“My turn,” he said, and he climbed on top of his still-slumbering mate’s thighs.
There was indeed a pair of boxer briefs between them, as well as the hand Peter had shoved inside them. Jarred impatiently pushed both out of the way and stared at the man’s body. His chest had a nice smattering of hair, with a thinner line that trailed down his flat stomach to the thick curls around his red, pulsing cock.
The urge to rake his nails along that sensual flesh called to him, and Jarred gave in. He made sure to drag them over the tiny brown buds of Peter’s nipples on the way down.
“Wakey wakey,” Jarred said in a smoldering tone, and then he leaned over to pin both of Peter’s hands over his head.
The nipples he’d dragged pink nail marks across tightened, and he couldn’t resist. He pulled one into his mouth and bit down gently.
Peter moaned lightly in his sleep and shifted his hips.
“Wake the fuck up, Peter,” Jarred said around that little hard nub. “Time to pay the price for dirtying my good suit this morning.”
When he lifted his head, it was just in time to see Peter’s eyes snap open. When they did, they fastened on him with a wickedly supernatural azure glow.
“Then you shouldn’t have threatened to force your way into the bathroom stall,” he replied hoarsely. His biceps flexed with effort as he attempted to pull out of Jarred’s grip, but he clamped down on the man’s wrists tighter.
“You know you have zero control,” Jarred said, and with a tiny smile, he lifted himself up and scooted forward so he was restraining Peter’s arms with his knees as well as a tight grip. “Which is why I will wind up in charge.”
“I have no control? I was minding my own business, sleeping here all innocent, when you decided to hop on and hold me down.” His smoldering gaze slid erotically along Jarred’s body. “Not that I’m complaining.”
“Your definition of ‘innocent’ needs work. You had a choke hold on that magnificent, long dick of yours. I was practically forced to take action before you started coming all over the clean sheets I just changed this morning.”
He slid his hips forward until the tip of his straining cock nearly touched Peter’s lips.
The man licked them and spoke in a harsh whisper. “And did you change those sheets because you’d been dreaming about me, Mr. No Control?”
“Shut up and suck my cock.” Jarred gave Peter his best dirty little smile. “Bitch.”
The feral gleam in Peter’s eyes dialed up even brighter. “Suck mine and I’ll think about it.”
Peter thrust his hips upward, but with Jarred sitting high on his chest, the motion did little more than give him ideas.
“Do your eyes always glow like wildfire when you’re desperate to get me to fuck you?” Peter asked, still grinding his hips. “Because it’s working.”
The growl that followed came from deep in Jarred’s chest. “You should see yours.”
“Turn around,” Peter growled. “I want your balls hanging right over my face.”
That did it. Jarred let go of Peter’s hands and twisted around, straddling the man’s head while he bent over Peter’s dick. It bobbed against his stomach, begging Jarred to taste it. So he did.
He inhaled musk and sex while he took that stiff shaft into his mouth, swirling his tongue around until he saw Peter’s thigh muscles tense.
“Jesus, yes,” Peter said, arching his back. “Suck me good and hard, boyfriend.”
Jarred felt the man’s hot breath caress his nuts when he spoke, and he lowered himself to press them closer to Peter’s mouth. The man took the hint and parted his lips, flicking his tongue along the underside of Jarred’s dick and all along his balls. They tightened in exquisite, almost painful pleasure, as did his cock.
That was when he realized that while he might be on top physically, he’d gone and obeyed exactly what Peter had told him to do. He let out a gruff sigh of irritation. Pushy little bastard, trying to control the action. Even worse, Peter was holding back on Jarred’s cock. His hot tongue barely teased his nuts, and the tip of his jumping prick dribbled fluids until Jarred thought he might explode.
Jarred finally pulled his mouth away from Peter’s rod and reached between his legs to point his cock where he wanted it. “Stop trying to play alpha boy and suck me. Assuming you know how.”
Peter responded not only by letting Jarred succeed in pushing the tip of his cock between his lips, but he grabbed Jarred’s ass cheeks and forced him down, jamming the entire aching length inside his hot, wet mouth.