Trace Dakota, a polar bear shifter, lives by his own set of rules, and makes no apologies for it. He owns a bar, drives a Harley, and expects compliance in all things. He doesn’t need nor want a mate and is content having one-night stands. But all of that changes when his shy, curvy mate walks into his bar.
Candace Jace, a wolf shifter, doesn’t want a man in her life, but knows she is in trouble when she meets Trace, an overprotective and barbaric biker that thinks he has some kind of claim on her. He seems intent on calling the shots and making it known she is his mate. Is Candace ready for a demanding alpha mate? And is she ready for his ex-wife to come back into his life?
Be Warned: rimming, anal play
With determination and animal prowess running through his veins, he walked around the bar and made his way toward her. The closer he came to his strawberry blonde mate, the stronger the scent of peaches and vanilla intensified in his nose. Shit, she smelled good, like really fucking good. He could have come from the aroma alone. Trace didn’t stop the low rumble that left him as he saw the human’s hands all over what was his. The weak looking man glanced up at him, and his eyes widened a fraction. Good, at least he knew when he was no match. He stepped back quickly, held his hands in the hair, and moved away from her. Trace allowed himself the luxury of watching her. She was a wolf shifter, yet he also smelled the liquor she had consumed, which was probably why she seemed oblivious to his presence. Her long, wavy reddish blonde hair hung loosely down her back, nearly touching the top of her ass, and sending his head reeling. He loved a female with long hair. The image of gripping those strands and wrapping them around his hand, tugging on them hard until her neck was bared, and then sinking his canines into her to mark his territory, ran through him deep and hard.
He took a step closer until he felt her body heat spear right into his bones. He wrapped a hand around her waist, and a guttural groan left him when he touched his mate for the first time. She was soft and curvy, and all fucking his. He spun her around at the same time a startled noise left her. It was just a tiny mewling sound, but it was one that had his cock jerking in his pants. Her hair was a fan of strawberry strands, whipping around and intensifying the scent of peaches. I bet her fucking pussy tastes as sweet as she smells. Her chest was now flush with his, and his throat tightened at the feel of her large breasts pressed against him. The moment their eyes locked he swore the ground tilted beneath him. Her blue eyes slowly widened, and he sensed the very moment she realized what he was to her. Mouth parted, all Trace could do was stare at those succulent pouty, red lips. She licked her bottom lip, just fucking dragged her tongue along the swell of it so slowly, so innocently that need slammed into him. For several seconds all they did was stand in that position: his hardness to her softness. He fucking knew she could feel his cock, because he wasn’t making it a secret what she did to him.
“Get off me.” There was no heat behind her words, but he smirked nonetheless. So she was trying to deny him? Not fucking likely. He pressed his crotch into her belly more insistently and let his grin spread across his face when a shocked gasp left her. He was blatant and obscene, but beneath her outrage over his dominating manner, he also smelled the instant she became wet. Her body and wolf knew he was her mate, and instinctively those two yielded to him irrevocably. Her mind might be trying to make sense of what was going on, but he wasn’t a patient male, and would show her rather than say words on what the hell was going to go on between them. There wouldn’t be any reason for her to contemplate and second-guess what the fuck was happening. Just looking into her gorgeous face, he knew that his little wolf mate was going to be a handful.
“You’re feisty.” He ground himself against her again. She placed her hands on his chest, and he knew it was to push him away, but instead she curled her fingers inward. An involuntary grunt of lust left him. She closed her eyes, and the crescent shape of her lashes, ones that were a shade darker than her hair, looked so delicate against the fairness of her skin. “Tuesday’s Gone” started playing, and he slipped his arm around her lower back, and pulled her impossibly closer.
“Who are you, and what are you doing?” The way she spoke, all soft and hesitant like, made him think that she would sound like that after he fucked her good and hard. He would take care of his mate, make sure she was thoroughly pleasured, and after it was all said and done she would be too fucking exhausted to speak in a normal tone. Fuck, he really needed to quit thinking about this shit right now. All it was doing was making his dick throb and his pants become tighter.
He leaned in, wanting to get as close to her as possible. This need to have her was bordering on insane, but he was on autopilot, letting his animal take control and lead the way. And to think he’d said he didn’t want a mate. It sounded fucking ludicrous now. Pushing her hair away from her neck, he felt her tense against him, and that had him smiling again. His lips barely brushed along the shell of her ear, but when they did she shivered. As much as she was trying to understand what was happening, she also couldn’t deny the pull between them. It was something only mates shared, and undeniable in every shape and form.
“You know who I am and what I’m doing.”