Free Wanted by the Alphas (An Extremely Sensual Paranormal Shifter Romance) by Dawn Steele Page B

doesn’t seem to care.
    “God, I need you now,” he murmurs against her
mouth.
    He fumbles with her skirt. She is fully
dressed. Her jacket is in the push trolley together with the rest
of their groceries just outside this door. He hikes her skirt up
and gropes for her panties. She is already very wet, and her juices
have soaked through the thin strip of material which forms her
crotch.
    “Lucien, someone will see us.”
    No one in the little storeroom, which is
white-tiled. The air smells of refrigeration and the room is filled
with racks laden with goods and deep freezers. A passage leads to
somewhere else, and Shannon can hear voices in the next room.
    “I don’t care. I need you too much,” he says
heavily.
    He unzips his jeans. Out springs his enormous
erect cock. He takes out a condom in a foil wrapper and quickly
snaps it onto his hot flesh. Her arms are around his shoulders as
he lifts her up and sandwiches her against the wall. The entire act
is rough and urgent, and it is also thrilling and filled with the
danger of public discovery.
    She realizes how much she has missed his
touch.
    He doesn’t take her panties off, but instead,
pushes it to one side so that her pussy is revealed. Then he
penetrates her with one swift stroke and seals his mouth on hers
before she can cry out. This time, the pleasure is instantaneous. I
must be getting used to his girth, she thinks. Their coupling is
frantic and graceless. Her ears have too much of a blood rush in
them for her to hear what the supermarket workers in the next room
are saying, but it sounds as though they may come in here anytime
soon.
    But she is too lost in her own pleasure to do
anything but let him pound into her. There are no niceties this
time – just a good, hard fuck where both of them will derive the
maximal amount of pleasure in the shortest period of time. The
smell of sex from their joined organs mingles with the air of the
stockroom.
    “Need two cartons of Stella Artois over at
Aisle 7!” says someone who is striding through the passage. His
shadow is thrown against the wall.
    The urgency to finish sends her over the
edge. She tips herself over to orgasm as she clutches as his neck
and shoulders tightly.
    “Ohhhh!”
    Her cry explodes something inside Lucien as
well, and he climaxes as a stock boy carrying a box comes into the
room.
    “Oh!” he says in surprise.
    Lucien uncouples from her and smoothens down
her skirt. Her panties are still askew and she is flushed and
bothered and very embarrassed.
    The boy backs away as quickly as he came.
    “Sorry,” he calls out, although they should
be the ones who are supposed to apologize for being in a place they
shouldn’t.
    “No problem,” Lucien calls back. He chortles
as he rips off the condom, drops it into a trash receptacle by a
shelf and tucks his penis back into his pants. “You decent?”
    Her cheeks are burning hot. She checks
herself. She left her purse out there in the trolley, and she hopes
no one has made off with it. But this town is known for a very low
theft rate. Unsolved killings, yes, but a very low theft rate.
    “I think so.”
    “Great. Then let’s go before we get into
trouble.” He grins.
    They check themselves out of the stock room.
The trolley is still there with her purse and groceries. A woman
with a funny straw hat more suited for a vacation in the Bahamas
gives them a funny look as she selects a carton of milk. But other
than that, no one seems to be perturbed.
    The excitement of unrestrained and unexpected
sex stays with her through the rest of their shopping journey.
Lucien is still on a high, and his hands run down her back often,
craving the contact with her.
    When they reach the checkout counter, Lucien
takes out his wallet.
    “No, Lucien. This is mine.” She withdraws her
wallet from her purse.
    The girl at the checkout counter does a
double take at the sight of Lucien. No doubt someone who looks the
way he does doesn’t line up at her aisle often.
    “I