Hello, darlings! Here’s the last teaser from my short story “Bully Boys.” I know some of the references may not make sense unless you’ve read the rest of the story, but trust me, Hamm deserves what’s coming to him in spades.

Enjoy, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!

After accepting a tearful hug from his new housekeeper, a somewhat less tearful but much more enthusiastic hug from Maggie, and a solemn clap on the shoulder from Willie, Arthur sat down with his new pack for a cold evening repast that was far more enjoyable than anything he’d ever received from his former landlady. Once he cleaned his plate, he made his excuses and left the Staffs at the dining table, heading upstairs to Gunner’s bedroom.

My bedroom as well, now. He went to the wash basin and touched the water jug, surprised to find it still warm. Lizzie must have had every confidence that Gunner would bring her daughter home.

And now he’s out there killing her common law husband. Oddly enough, it didn’t disturb Arthur as much as he thought it would. Jimmy Hamm was a heartless scoundrel to sell a young girl like Maggie into brutal slavery. And while Gunner would undoubtedly be ruthless about his dispatch, Arthur suspected that the werebeast would also make it quick and clean.

Finish it, then, and come home to me.

Suddenly weary, Arthur stripped and poured some of the water into the washbasin, giving himself a quick, efficient scrub. He lingered when he reached his groin, cupping the sensitive flesh there and remembering Gunner’s mouth on it. I want to do that to him. I want to kiss him all over, lick his member, suck it, swallow his seed. I want him to bugger me and mark me from within.

I want him. So much.

His shaft began to thicken. Entertained by his own daring fantasies, he dried himself and crawled under the covers. One hand remained wrapped around his member, but only to hold it close. He wouldn’t allow himself release. That would come at Gunner’s touch or not at all.

He hadn’t realized he’d drifted off to sleep until he woke to feel another, larger hand caressing his hip. A long, warm body stretched out behind him.

“You fell asleep,” Gunner said in his ear, low and amused.

Arthur flushed. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to—”

His werebeast chuckled. “Don’t be sorry, love. I’m glad you had some sleep. Means you’ll be awake for this.”

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Happy Wednesday! Today’s teaser is a not-so-sexy but important section from my short story “Bully Boys.” In it, we finally get to see Gunner the Alpha in action with pack trouble and summoned with his new mate to see London’s Seer. Welcome to your new world, Arthur.

Enjoy, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!

Arthur jumped when Gunner let out a curse worthy of the saltiest tar who ever sailed. “Both of us?” he growled. “You sure?”

“You think I’d get one of ‘er messages wrong?” came the offended reply. “Both of you, as soon as possible, if you please.”

Gunner pounded his fist against the door frame, but with no real heat. He came back to the bed and started pulling on his discarded clothes, glaring at Arthur as he did so.

“Seer?” Arthur asked.

Gunner opened his mouth, then shut it again. Fishing in his trousers, he pulled out a pocket knife. Arthur stiffened in sudden fear, then relaxed when it cut through the ropes binding him to the bed.

Gunner paused for a moment, running a hand through Arthur’s sandy hair. “You need to get up and dressed,” he said gruffly.

Arthur sat up, comfortable now in his nudity, and gave the room a pointed look. “And my clothes are where?”

The great dark head shook at him. “You can’t wear those fancy togs where we’re going,” Gunner said, going to the armoire and rummaging through it. “Here, these should fit you.”

He tossed a shirt, an old but serviceable jacket, and somewhat ragged wool trousers to Arthur, who was still boggled at the description of his inexpensive suit as “fancy togs.” The solicitor held up the clothing. Damn his beautiful blue eyes, Gunner had judged the sizes well. “Where are we going?”

“To see the Seer in a bit. First, though, I’ve got pack business to handle.” Gunner grimaced. “You may as well sit in on it.”

****

Arthur found out what pack business meant when he saw the woman waiting downstairs in what must have been the brothel’s parlor. Thin and washed-out, her eyes were reddened and dried tear tracks could still be seen on her cheeks. A young boy clung to her dark skirts, giving Arthur a fearful look.

The woman bobbed a wobbly curtsey as Gunner walked in, keeping her gaze submissively on the floorboards. “Alpha, I come here beggin’ your help,” she said formally after a gulp.

Gunner took a seat on one of the brocade chairs. “Is it Jimmy, then?”

The woman steeled herself and nodded. “He’s been drinking these last few weeks, worse than I ever seen before. And then today he comes home reekin’ of gin and tells me he…he sold my Maggie.” She sobbed once, the sound harsh in the parlor. “Said she was old enough to earn her keep, and it would be one less mouth to feed!”

Arthur saw a grim expression cross Gunner’s face. “Where did he sell her, Lizzie?”

A fresh gout of tears coursed down the woman’s sallow cheeks. “To Mr. Day, down the goblin market. And you know what he does with his girls!”

From Gunner’s reaction and the furious look on Willie’s face, Arthur assumed that Mr. Grey didn’t simply hire girls for employment. “He didn’t have leave from you to do this, did he?” Gunner said.

Lizzie shook her head, lank hair flying into a halo. “We may be poor as church mice, but I’d never sell me own blood to Mr. Day!” she cried.

As quickly as it appeared, the high emotion retreated into despair. “Please, Alpha, help her. I’ll pay what I can, whatever you want—”

Gunner held up one large hand, cutting her off. “No one sells one of the pack to Day. I’ll get your Maggie back for you,” he said quietly. “But as of tonight, you’ll be a widow. That’s the price.”

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Hello, darlings! Today’s teaser is another section from my M/M short story “Bully Boys.” Naked but for a blanket, tied to a bed, and painfully aroused by the Alpha who grabbed him off a London back alley, solicitor Arthur Finter is about to get one heck of a visual treat.

Enjoy, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!

His captor picked up a smaller flannel that had been hidden within the towel’s folds and soaked it in the bowl of water. As Arthur watched he proceeded to wash himself, slowly running the cloth over his chest and arms and coating his skin with a sheen of water. All the time he kept his gaze on Arthur, as if daring him to look away.

Arthur couldn’t. The prosaic activity had somehow become the most erotic thing he’d ever witnessed. He licked his lips unconsciously as the flannel went back to the bowl for more warm water, then resumed its trip over his captor’s lean, powerful body.

He wanted to be the one washing the werebeast. In the safety of his own mind, beneath the outrage and ignominy of his current position, he could admit that to himself. He wanted to run the warm, wet flannel over firm muscles and pale skin, wipe away the sweat and dirt of the day, make his captor clean as a newborn.

And then…

The breath died in Arthur’s throat as the werebeast’s hand dropped to his groin, lazily washing the proud flesh there. The shapely cock began to rise, encouraged by the stroking cloth.

His own cock throbbed like it was on fire, and he could feel droplets of wetness dampening the head. A sudden image of the werebeast pulling down the blanket and crawling over him to mouth his foreskin and lick at the wetness made him moan.

His captor smiled, but said nothing. He finished rinsing his legs, turning slightly to expose a beautifully curved buttock with a muscled hollow in the side, then tossed the flannel in the bowl. “That’s better,” he said as he sauntered to the bed, resting a bent knee on the mattress. The movement made his now rigid cock bob, as if gesturing to Arthur.

He gasped as the blanket was yanked unceremoniously from his body, revealing his own cockstand. His captor’s eyes darkened as he studied it, head tilting to the side in a decidedly canine manner.

“You’re perfect,” he said softly. “Absolutely perfect.”

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Hello, darlings! Today’s teaser comes straight from Much Humping Upon the Moors, er, Victorian England, and is part of my short story “Bully Boys.” This continues on from last week’s tease, and Arthur is about to find out that no matter how much he protests, his body has other ideas about his sexy captor.

Enjoy, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!

Arthur’s organ twitched, hardening at the man’s low, luring tone. “I’m not your mate. I’m not your anything,” he insisted, wishing he could bring his legs together or at least raise his knees for camouflage. “You’re not even human!”

A flare of anger made his captor’s eyes darken. “I think and reason, just the same as you,” he growled. “Only I can do it in two shapes. That’s more than I can say for you.”

He stood and picked up the jug, pouring hot water into the bowl. “And I have the sense not to wander the alleyways by myself like a foolish pup,” he said, putting the jug down with a thump. “What were you thinking, walking by yourself like that? And not even a penknife on you for defense.”

Arthur blinked at the utterly unexpected scolding. “I was simply trying to get home,” he said defensively. “It wasn’t my blasted fault there was a fire on High Holborn.”

The man grunted. “Well, stay out of the alleys unless I’m with you.”

“You’re not — why are you not listening to me? We are not mates, and I have no idea…why…”

He trailed off as his captor slung the towel onto the bed, stripping off his shirt and revealing the beautifully muscled torso Arthur had seen all too briefly in the alley. Trousers and undergarments followed, revealing that the rest of the man’s body was just as lean and muscular. Arthur tried to look away, but his gaze was drawn to the irresistible sight of the werebeast’s beautifully formed cock, nestled in a halo of black curly hair.

He swallowed. “If you lay even one finger on me, I shall have you arrested,” he said, appalled at the breathlessness in his tone. “Don’t think I won’t!”

The man glanced down at the now-tented blanket over Arthur’s groin and smirked. “That cockstand you’re sporting says otherwise, Mr. Finter. But have it your way.”

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Hello, darlings! Today’s teaser comes straight from Much Humping Upon the Moors, er, Victorian England, and is part of my short story “Bully Boys.” In it, mild-mannered solicitor Arthur Finter takes an ill-advised short cut through an alley and comes face to snout with a gorgeous Alpha shifter who announces that Arthur is his mate, much to the solicitor’s shock. What happens then? You’ll just have to buy the anthology when it comes out from Evernight!

Enjoy, and make sure to hit the list after the teaser to see other great Mid Week Teases!

When Arthur awoke, he was tucked up in bed. The awful scene in the alley drifted through his memory, dim now from sleep. It was just a nightmare. Oh, thank goodness.

He tried to turn over, only to be stopped as his arms jerked unexpectedly against restraints.

His eyes flew open. He was in a small bedroom lit only by a coal fire in a blackened grate. A row of hooks on the far wall held coats and a collection of what Arthur assumed were shirts, and an armoire hulked in the corner. A plain wooden table stood next to the bed, bare of anything except a candlestick with an unlit candle.

Looking up, he saw a length of hemp rope had been tied around his right wrist and woven with very little slack through tarnished brass that was not his own plain white enameled headboard. The other end of the rope had been attached to his left wrist, effectively pinning his arms wide.

He flexed his feet and found that his legs were bound as well, with the same amount of slack given to his arms. To make matters worse, someone had removed his clothes before tying him to the bed and covering him with a thin blanket.

“Help!” he shouted. “Please, I need help!”

The door opened, and the handsome werebeast from the alley sauntered in, carrying a wash bowl and water jug. He’d taken the time to rinse the blood from his face and slick his hair back, and an old, threadbare towel hung casually over one shoulder. “Someone’s up, I see,” he said in a strong Northern accent.

Arthur felt his belly quiver, but gave the man his best glower. “Untie me immediately, sir!”

“Can’t do that. At least, not just yet.” The man approached the bed, giving him an appreciative look. Arthur belatedly remembered his state, and was grateful for the cheap blanket that protected his modesty. “I suppose you want to know why you’re here.”

“Indeed I do,” Arthur declared, hoping he sounded braver than he felt. “I am a solicitor, sir, and if you do not untie me this moment you will find yourself in grave trouble with the law.”

The man shrugged. “Won’t be the first time. Doubt it’ll be the last.” He moved to the side of the bed where the table stood and deposited the jug and bowl on it, then sat down on the mattress. That blue gaze trailed over him dispassionately, but there was as flicker of something else as well, something that tugged at Arthur’s senses and caused his breath to come faster.

The man reached out and grabbed the edge of the blanket, dragging it down to just below Arthur’s waist. The solicitor flinched as the cool air of the room hit his skin, causing his nipples to pebble up in a most embarrassing way.

“You’re trim. I like that in a bloke,” the man said conversationally. “Don’t spend all of your time on your arse, do you?”

Arthur gaped at the impropriety. “I — how — that’s none of your business!”

“Oh, but it is my business.” His captor sounded oddly amused about that. “Everything about you, Mr. Arthur Finter, is my business. Now that we’re to be mates and all.”

The bizarre comment would have made Arthur laugh in other circumstances. “If you mean we’re to be friends, sir, I can assure you that I feel no such friendship with anyone who ties me to a bed and terrorizes me in such a manner.”

The man tilted his head to one side, and Arthur was forcibly reminded of his other shape. “You’re tied to my bed to make sure you don’t run away,” his captor said. “I know you saw what happened in the alley, and I’ll explain it in good time. As for terrorizing you, it wasn’t what I had in mind for us tonight.”

He reached out and touched one of the tawny nubs on Arthur’s chest, tracing a tiny circle on it. The caress caused an indecent zing of pleasure to arrow down to the solicitor’s groin.

“Thought so,” the man said in satisfaction. “You yearn for the touch of a man, Mr. Finter. I’ll be that man for you tonight and ever after. We’re mates, you and me.”

“M—” The other, more marital meaning of the word burst in on him, the calumny he’d hoped never to hear addressed to himself. “Are you implying that I’m a, a filthy sodomite?”

“Implying?” His captor laughed shortly. “I’m saying it full out. You’re as queer as I am.”

“That is a foul lie!”

“The bond don’t make mistakes,” the man said, caressing Arthur’s nipple again and causing more of those horribly delicious sensations. “It chose you because you wanted a man in your bed, between your thighs, doing unholy things to you.” He smiled, then, straight white teeth unlike anything Arthur had ever seen before among the London poor, or its upper classes for that matter. “So I’ll tup you tonight, and put my mark on you. I’ll give you the pleasure you’ve craved for so long. Then you’ll understand.”

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