*-*-*-*
It wasn’t helping, Trace realized, even as he forced himself to finish off the bag of cold blood that was turning his already full stomach and forced himself to grab another one as he stood there fighting the urge to go back upstairs and-
Shoved another bag to his mouth as punishment until even that wasn’t enough. Tearing the empty bag from his fangs, he threw it in the sink with the others and found himself groaning when he heard the shower turn on upstairs. He tried thinking about something else, tried telling himself that he didn’t care that his wife was upstairs taking her clothes off, or how good it felt to run his hands over her soft skin, the way she licked her lips when he ran his fingers through her hair only to find himself rubbing his palm over his trapped cock as he thought about her heart-shaped ass, the large breasts that he’d forced himself to ignore, and the soft thatch of dark hair between her legs.
As he pushed his trousers down and freed his aching cock, he thought about all those things that his father hoped that he didn’t see when they’d lived in whore houses. He thought about the way the whores had moaned when they’d been fucked, the way they’d lifted their skirts and bent over so that they could be fucked up against the wall, over a table, on the floor, and all the things they did to make a man hard and he imagined that it was Samantha doing all those things for him.
As he wrapped his hand around his hard cock, he wondered what it would feel like to have his wife wrap her small hand around him. He wondered what it would feel like to watch her wrap her lips around his cock and suck him. He wondered if she’d moan, if she’d continue to stroke him as she took him in her mouth.
He wondered what it would be like to touch her breasts, if they’d be as soft as the rest of her. He wondered how it would feel to take her breast in his mouth as he slid his hand between her legs. A loud moan was torn from his lips as pleasure rode through his cock.
Groaning, he cupped the tip in his palm and his other hand wrapped tightly around his cock as he found himself rolling his hips. He wanted to go upstairs and join his wife in the shower. He wanted to press her up against the wall as he grabbed hold of her hips so that he could pull her back and slide his cock inside her as she moaned his name and-
“Samantha.”
Chapter 25
Miriam, Nebraska
“She’s fine.”
“Would you stop fucking saying that?” Ethan snapped as Indie laid there, feeling like she was being burned alive.
“I mean, at least she has some color back in her cheeks,” Jacob said as he gestured weakly at her while she couldn’t help but wonder why they weren’t putting her out of her misery.
“That’s because she has a fever, asshole!” Ethan snapped, rubbing his hands roughly down his face before he dropped them away with another curse.
“What was on that blade?” Jacob asked as he reached over and-
“Stop fucking touching her!” Ethan growled, shoving the shifter’s large hand away before he could start poking at her incision, something that she was immensely thankful for.
“It doesn’t look infected,” Jacob said, frowning down at the incision that she deeply regretted starting at this moment.
Ethan mumbled something that had them both frowning.
“What was that?” Jacob asked, glancing from her wound to Ethan and-
“Holy oil,” Ethan said, with an unreadable look as Indie laid there, absently nodding even though she had absolutely no idea what that was supposed to mean for her.
Frowning, Jacob looked from her to Ethan and back again. “But that shouldn’t…” he mumbled absently only to shake his head in confusion as they stared down at her, something that she really wished they’d stop doing.
“Kill…me…” Indie mumbled as she closed her eyes and waited for them to do just that.
There was a heavy sigh and then…
“Indie,” Ethan said softly, “I need to know what you are so that we can figure out how to fix this.”
Her hold tightened around the surprisingly comfortable comforter that she’d passed out on earlier as she said, “I don’t know.”
“Indie, I need to know,” Ethan said as she felt him brush her hair back behind her ear.
Opening her eyes, she mumbled, “I don’t know. They never told me.”
For a moment, he simply knelt there, watching her while he ran his fingertips down her jaw.
“Oh, thank fucking god,” Jacob said, shoving a Reese’s peanut butter cup in his mouth and headed for the hotel suite’s door when a knock sounded. A moment later, he was walking back over to the bed with a large man with short dark hair and the kindest green eyes that she’d ever seen.
“I hear you’re not feeling good, Indie,” the man said with a warm smile as he reached over and-