Page 69 of Claimed By the Damned

Featherlight, she stroked him and then squeezed at the base until he moaned against her.

His fingers expertly circled her clit, and her breath came in short little gasps. He let go of her nipple and murmured against her lips, “Come for me, baby.”

She didn’t need further encouragement, and the tone of his command sent her over the edge. She bit her bottom lip to muffle the sound of her moan.

“Good girl,” he rewarded with a smirk. He then grabbed her hips and turned her to face the bookshelf, bending her over and yanking down her panties.

Kicking her feet apart, he slid inside her in one smooth motion. She gasped at the fullness, her head falling back. Even over Drake’s moan, she could hear a group of girls laughing as they walked by the front of the shop, but she didn’t care. Instead, her nails dug into the wood of the shelves. She never thought she’d be the type to get off on having public sex, but the guys seemed to bring out parts of her that she didn’t know existed.

“Fuck,” he ground out, trembling.

She wiggled her hips against his grasping hands, and he got the hint. He began to move inside of her. Every inch of him stretched her, and the feeling quickly sent her over the edge. Her pussy rippled around his length, and he moaned as it did, spurring him to move faster and harder.

Books shimmied their way off the shelf and fell at their feet. She didn’t bother muffling her cries of pleasure anymore. She was eager for more, for anything he had to give, so she pushed her hips back against him, forcing him deeper. She gripped one of his hands, nails digging into his skin, as she hurdled toward another orgasm. “Fuck, Drake,” she moaned out.

His fingers dug into the thick flesh of her hips to the point of bruising, and his deep groan as he came inside of her plummeted her into an orgasm. Her legs shook beneath her weight, and as she came down from it, she rested her head against the shelves as she tried to catch her breath. “Jesus, you are too good at that.”

He chuckled under his breath, leaned to kiss her shoulder blade, and pulled out. Next, she heard the zipper of his jeans before he passed her her dress. “Let me help you put the books back.”

Chapter Thirty

Amara

Outside the shop’s windows, the stars shone down on the city. The moon was dotted out by clouds, causing them to glow, and bats swooped by every now and then to catch their evening meal.

It was close to closing time, and Amara filled the time doing little tasks. After Drake had left that morning, she had a fairly uneventful day. There was a steady stream of customers, a few of whom came in just as the two of them finished dressing. Drake had left with a smirk and a kiss on her cheek, leaving her to tend to the customers and finish picking up the books that had fallen.

She got an order of books in that afternoon but had to wait until the traffic calmed down enough for her to restock the items. She didn’t think she’d be able to get them done before closing, but she could at least make a dent. Unlike before she met the guys, she no longer wanted to stay at the shop longer than necessary. She wanted to be back home, with her mates.

Exhaustion also clung to her, however. She had been getting tired quickly the last few days, and she wasn’t even showing yet. The idea of what the rest of the pregnancy would bring didn’t seem so appealing. She wasn’t looking forward to being even more exhausted the bigger she got.

Briefly, as she counted the cash in the register, she wondered if the guys would still find her as irresistible as they did now if she looked like a cow.

After the cash was counted, she stuffed the last of the books on the shelf that needed restocking and sighed as she pushed herself to her feet. A wave of nausea overcame her, and her hand flew to her mouth before she turned and bolted toward the bathroom. She made it just in time before everything she had for dinner came rushing back out.

When she was done, she weakly clamored to her feet, flushed the toilet, and shuffled to the sink. After she washed her hands, she splashed water on her now sweaty face and then proceeded to brush her teeth. She was rinsing out her mouth when she heard the sound of glass shattering.

Her heart pounded as her stomach turned once more, thinking someone was vandalizing her store. She hesitated for a few moments, not wanting to surprise them only to have them come after her.

And then the smoke alarms blared.

She rushed out of the bathroom only to slam straight into a wall of thick, dense smoke. She gasped on instinct, inhaling the plumes only to splutter and cough. From the sound of the alarms, her ears rang, but she had enough wits about her to move toward the front door.

The heat from the flames was suffocating, and they were blocking her escape, crawling up the walls and engulfing the shelves. The entire front of the shop was ablaze, the door shrouded by a wall of hot, bright fire. She turned on her heel and bolted toward the back door, pulling her cell phone out of her back pocket as she did so.

She shouldered the back door, coughing and unable to catch her breath. But the door wouldn’t budge.

It was as if something was blocking it from the outside. It hit her then, when she gave one last shove. The fire was intentional.

Someone had set fire to her shop and made sure that she couldn’t get out.

She was gagging on the smoke as she fumbled with the locked screen of her phone, trying to stay as low to the ground as possible. It took longer than she would have liked to pull up the first number, but eventually, her shaking fingers clicked on Knox’s contact.

As it rang and she lifted it to her ear, she tried to stay as calm as possible, but the panic was beginning to set in. With every ring of the phone, the fire spread further and faster. Bookshops were full of kindling. If she didn’t get help soon, she was never going to make it.

“Are you missing me, little bunny?” Knox asked cockily when he answered. The sounds of the bar filled the background.

“Knox,” she began before a fit of coughs. She struggled to breathe as she spit out, “I can’t . . . the shop . . .”

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