Light Beyond the Darkness by Tami Lund Page B

while she continued to murmur naughty suggestions and grind her groin against his ass.
    Somewhere, on some far away plain, he recognized it wasn’t him she wanted, as much as it was anyone other than Quentin. But the haze of lust was too thick for him to truly grasp that thought, use it to focus his senses, to step away from the danger and temptation she represented. Instead, he turned fully around, grabbed her by the waist, and twisted them both, so that her back pressed against the pool table, and his dick pressed against the front of that barely there skirt. She jerked up her skirt and proved her own words true. There was nothing underneath, nothing except a tiny slice of heaven.
    “Oh yeah,” she said, her chest heaving, her eyes dilated. She hopped up onto the table and spread her legs. “Come on, Reid. Fuck me.”
    Sleazy women weren’t normally his thing. He had always been more attracted to the quiet, reserved ones. They were the ones Quentin tended to leave alone.
    But today, this moment, all he could see was her. Quentin’s sexy little paramour, laid out on his prized pool table, her body, her face, full of promise. They were alone in the house. This wouldn’t take long.
    He pushed his jeans and boxers over his hips. Stepped between her legs. She lifted her hips, pressed one palm against the felt, teased herself with the other hand. Reid watched her, while she stared at his dick.
    “No gray,” she said. “And so big.”
    His pride swelled at the insinuation that he was bigger than his pack master. He wrapped one hand around his dick and the other around her hip, positioned himself, and thrust. Her back arched off the table and she cried out her pleasure. He grabbed her hips with both hands and began pumping. Fates, it felt so damn good. Whether it was the forbidden fruit concept or that she was just that good, he had no freaking idea. He only knew that he was probably not going to last long enough for her to come. He sucked in a breath and slowed his pace, focusing on prolonging the experience.
    “Faster,” she demanded. She watched his face, but then her gaze darted to the side, her eyes widened, and suddenly, she struggled to pull away from him. Confused, he clung more tightly to her hips. What the hell?
    A hand clamped down on his shoulder and jerked him away from her. His dick slid out with a wet pop , and his jeans fell to his knees. He turned his face right into Quentin’s fist, which smashed his nose. Blood spurted, spraying his furious pack master and the three other shifters who flanked him.
    Shit .
    “Decided you wanted to know what it feels like to be pack master, Hennigan?” Quentin taunted. He punched him again. Reid stood there and took it, knowing if he did anything else at all—especially try to defend himself—it would make the experience ten times worse.
    “Was she worth it?”
    Reid didn’t respond.
    “Get her,” Quentin commanded, pointing at the female shifter who was now crouched in a corner, her arms wrapped around her shaking body. One of his guards strode around the table and grabbed her by the arm, lifted her to her feet, and then stood there, clearly waiting for further direction.
    “Get on the table,” Quentin said, and Reid realized he was speaking to him.
    “Huh?” His voice sounded nasal, thanks to the broken nose.
    Quentin pointed at the table. “Lay down. On your stomach.”
    Reid hesitated only for a moment, before he tugged his pants up to his waist and crawled up onto the table, wondering what the hell Quentin intended to do. Blood dripped from his nose, leaving dark spots on the green felt. He wondered if he would be punished for that, too, even though Quentin had ordered him to climb onto the pool table. Unfortunately for Reid, his pack master was not exactly a rational or forgiving man.
    “Hold him.”
    A moment later, there was a shifter holding each wrist, while Quentin tugged Reid’s belt out of the loops of his jeans, then grabbed his shirt,