Free Memphis Heat 1 Stakeout by Marteeka Karland and Shelby Morgen Page A

baton. Throwing her head back, Belle nipped at his upper arm and widened her stance to give him better access, but he didn’t move.
    “Keep your eyes out for the big blond,” he growled against her neck, his tongue snaking out to lick her skin as he spoke. “I saw him go in earlier. He seems to be their leader. Whatever they’re up to, the others don’t make a move without him.”
    Again a mood killer. Except he did move then, pulling the baton out and thrusting it back, burying its handle deep into her aching cunt with exquisite slowness. The fingers of his free hand played over her sensitized clit. Damn it, the man still knew how to drive her fucking nuts. And how the hell was she supposed to watch the guy across the street? She could barely keep her eyes from crossing when Jarod touched her like that.
    His clever fingers pinched and flicked her clit with expert familiarity. It kind of hurt that he didn’t seem as affected as she was, but right now, she’d take what she could get. She’d make him sort it out with her later. Right now, she needed… this! His hands on her. His body pressed against her so tight the thick bulge of his cock rested in the crease of her ass.
    Ah, yeah. That’s what she wanted. Hard. Deep. Fast. This might be part of their cover -- sleazy hotel room and all -- but right now she didn’t give a damn. She wanted -- needed -- everything he had to give her. She just wished he’d give her his cock. But this was the next best thing.
    A big black SUV pulled up in front of the warehouse. More big guys with not too well concealed guns under their jackets got out and headed in through a side door. If any of them noticed the display in the window, they didn’t seem to find it worth their attention.
    Belle was almost annoyed by that. Her tits were certainly worth a second look, even covered by an old Guns and Roses T-shirt. She raised one hand to pluck at a hard nipple through the worn fabric. With a groan that sounded like it had more to do with Belle’s nipples than the Russian mob, Jarod fingered the other.
    Yes. Yes! Finally ! Some sort of a response from him that was more than professional . He pinched her nipple, hard, and when the pain shot through her she came with a jolt like an electrical shock. Her eyes did cross then, and her knees gave way. The only reason she was still standing was because his body mashed hers tightly against the damned window as the spasms rolled through her.
    She heard his zipper whisper down and the baton slid out of her cunt, clunking loudly as it hit the floor. Jarod gripped her hips, his fingers biting into her skin almost painfully. For some odd reason, his nails -- which he’d always kept neatly trimmed -- seemed to pierce her flesh. It wasn’t an unpleasant sensation; in fact, the pain complemented the pleasure in a most exceptional way.
    For one glorious instant she felt his raging erection seat deep in her pussy -- before his curse turned into a howl. His cock swelled within her, and then he jerked back, shoving away from her. She stared at his reflection in the glass, hardly daring to believe what she was seeing. Shaggy hair. Scruffy beard. Long jaws. T-shirt fit to break where it stretched across impossibly wide shoulders. Fur… so much fur…
    “Jarod?”
    The reflection showed her a tortured howl.
    Belle swallowed hard. “Jarod, I don’t mean to sound ungrateful -- you’re still a great fuck -- but -- ah -- what the hell are you?”

Chapter 2
     
    What the fuck … Jarod stared at his reflection in the filthy glass. He’d known better. He’d been so sure he’d shift if he tried to have sex with Belle… It was why he’d slid away from their relationship. He always seemed to shift when his emotions were out of control, and no one could break his control the way Belle could. But… shift to this ? He couldn’t answer her question. What the hell was he?
    Always before, he’d shifted into a wolf. Just like the thing that had bitten him.