Seduced by Silver Read online

  Keefe needed no further encouragement. He levered himself up smoothly, positioned his body between Meadow’s long, sleek legs and drove the head of his cock into her pussy.

  “So good,” he groaned. His eyes drifted shut and he lowered his mouth to her throat. “So fucking good.” Meadow’s hands were on his back now, holding him tight, keeping him close. Her nipples were full and lush, pressing into his chest. Her thighs slid over his and Keefe had never felt anything as perfect, as right as joining his body with Meadow’s. It felt as if they were made for each other, and the lonely wait of eighteen long years following his wife’s death were finally at an end. He sank his cock into Meadow’s welcoming heat. He’d never been inside a pussy that was this wet. She was deliciously tight too, and he rocked his hips slowly, filling her inch by slow, tantalizing inch, torturing and thrilling them both.

  Meadow groaned and clutched her lover’s back desperately, loving his gentleness, the exquisite slide and retreat of his cock. He claimed her slowly despite the screaming need she sensed in him. Keefe Rand was indeed an Alpha like few others. A man of mercurial passions, yet in full control of them. Even now, as he sank into her a little deeper and Meadow arched desperately and raked his back with her nails, instead of punching into her, maybe hurting her, he shuddered and growled and held himself still for the span of a heartbeat then continued his exquisite, careful slide into her.

  Movement caught her eye and she turned her head toward the doorway. Killian. His face was drawn and sad and…and aroused as he watched his father’s ass flex. Tipping his head nervously, Killian watched Keefe’s cock sink into Meadow’s pussy, then withdraw. Killian’s hand moved to his own cock and his mouth fell open. He watched them blankly, compulsively, almost like he was drugged. Pressing his back against the wall, Killian began stroking himself as he watched.

  Meadow bared her teeth at him, but Killian didn’t even notice. He was so focused on the tableau playing out before him, he had eyes for nothing above her neck. Meadow turned her face away from him, cupped Keefe’s jaw in her hands and kissed him. As soon as his tongue touched hers, she thought about nothing else but Keefe and the pleasure he gave her. He was deeper inside her now, exquisitely deep and the stretching and sliding were almost overwhelming. His strength and size took her breath away and Meadow clung to him, letting her desire rise and meet Keefe’s. Wherever he wanted to take her. However. Whenever.

  Keefe’s tongue moved over hers like his cock was moving inside her body, slow and deep and drugging and after a long, long minute he lifted his mouth from hers, cupped her head in his big hands and looked down at her.

  “You all right?” he breathed, his hips still rising and falling gently, his cock still easing in and out of her pussy like he was frightened his strength would overwhelm her.

  “Yeah,” Meadow murmured and stroked his brow. “You?”

  “Good. I’m good.” Keefe groaned softly and dipped his mouth to her throat, nipping her gently then lifting his eyes back to hers. “Ready?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Uh huh. You sure?” He was nodding and the heat in his eyes had turned them completely black.

  “Please,” Meadow begged. She licked her lips and her voice rose in intensity. “Keefe, please.”

  Nodding one more time, Keefe anchored his hands beneath her shoulders. He lifted his torso off hers so he could look down at where they were joined then growled fiercely as he shoved the final few inches of his cock into her hard and with a finality that made Meadow’s neck arch up high and drew a long, drawn out cry of fulfillment from her throat.

  Grinning ferally, Keefe began to piston Meadow with deep, full strokes, showing her his strength. He drove her to fulfillment while holding on to his release with a ferocity that made him snarl and snap his teeth together over her throat. Meadow was the only woman he’d ever handled this savagely, but she didn’t cower from him. She didn’t cry out in fear when he showed her the extent of his power, his ferocity, his strength. Meadow held him close, tearing up his back, and he roared in response. Drops of blood dewed his skin as they seeped from a network of small rends. He threw his head back, howled loudly, and punched his hips into her, giving her what her body so obviously craved, grinding into her at the end of each stroke when she arched up to meet his thrusts.

  Meadow’s howls and snarls met his just like her body did, with equal power and volume and he tipped his hips, rasping the head of his cock against the front wall of her sheath. He looked down at her and loved how beautiful she was with her passion rising, the way it shaped her brow and the way she dragged her tongue over her lower lip. He sucked her lip into his mouth, bit down on it hard enough to hurt then released it slowly.

  Keefe filled her so perfectly. His loving was so intense, so primal that Meadow despaired of ever feeling this way with another man. She needed him, needed his cock driving in and out of her, his hot breath on her forehead, his massive chest crushing her breasts. The coarse hairs sweaty and grinding against her breasts, his belly slapping hers. His rough thighs moved between hers and she lifted her hips greedily when the first tremors of an orgasm rumbled through her, fisting her belly and twisting and making her core convulse around him.

  Keefe groaned so loudly he hurt her ear. “Squeeze me, baby. Yeah. You’re my pussy. Squeeze me again.”

  His words aroused her cruelly, sending another harsh twist of sensation pulsing through her sex, and the man over her trembled and cursed when her heat clamped down on him a second time, then a third. Keefe was sweating openly now and riding her hard, harder than any man had ever dared but it seemed like he knew her body, knew what she wanted, what she needed and wasn’t afraid to give it to her. He firmed his grip on her shoulders, anchoring her body under his and drove his cock into her—hard, furious strokes that made Meadow cry out and cling to him desperately.

  “I can’t,” she blurted out. “I need to come.”

  “Come on, baby,” Keefe barked, his voice rough and demanding. “Come for me, Meadow. Come on my cock.”

  Her head was flailing now, the sweat-moistened ends of her hair whipping their skin. Ecstasy tinted Meadow’s beautiful face and chest and he drove into her harshly, not sparing her his strength as her body tightened and drew up taut beneath his. Her mouth opened and she cried out, incoherent begging for him not to stop. Never to stop. Lifting her knees, she exposed her clit fully to the pounding of his pubis. Her breasts were swollen and the tips were so hard they punched into his chest. Again she cried out—a shuddering cry of release as her body convulsed beneath him. Around his cock her sheath pulsed, hard, rhythmic, shredding whatever veneer civility or evolution had granted him and he was simply a male thrusting his cock into the perfect female—ripe and willing and his—and then he was coming. His hips punched forward into that perfect body that fisted his cock brutally, milking the come out of him as he buried himself as deep and hard as he could, spilling himself against the mouth of Meadow’s womb, straining for it, flooding her body with his seed.

  Keefe had just managed to fill his oxygen-starved lungs with air, had just forced his eyes to open and blink, when he became aware of someone in the room with them. Another male, hovering nearby. He heard the muffled groan of a man reaching orgasm and he snarled, roared and surged to his feet. His fists clenched and his teeth drew back, ready to rip the throat out of any male who dared get his cock this close to his female.

  Keefe stopped suddenly and staggered backward. His legs hit the mattress and dropped him on his ass when he saw his son, Killian, tears on his cheek and white glops of semen dewing his belly. His fist still worked his deflating cock as he looked between Meadow’s spread, exposed body, and his Alpha’s killing rage.

  The mattress shifted and Meadow was moving behind him. He saw her, out of the corner of his eye, rise to her feet and face Killian. She was composed and ethereally beautiful and terrifying. She took a step toward Killian, then another.

  “You gave me to him,” she said quietly, almost conversational
ly, but there was a flatness to her voice, a controlled power and fury that underscored each word and made the hairs on the back of Keefe’s neck stand up. “You gave me to him and you have the gall to stand there and get off on us fucking? You. Gave me. To him.”

  Keefe drew back in horror when he saw Meadow lift her foot gracefully and set it on the chair beside his dresser, saw her slender fingers reach between her legs, sink inside her pussy and come out dewed with a mixture of his seed and her cream.

  “I am not a possession,” Meadow hissed with such controlled rage that Killian’s cock shrunk. His balls withdrew into his body. “You haven’t any right to use me. I own you, remember?” She lifted her hand, bringing it to Killian’s face, and Killian trembled and moaned quietly. His eyes were wide and wild.

  “Meadow, don’t,” Keefe pleaded. He looked away so he didn’t have to watch. She had every right to, and he wouldn’t stop her if she didn’t want to be stopped, but he couldn’t bear the thought of his son’s face literally being rubbed in the evidence of his and Meadow’s lovemaking. “Please, don’t,” he repeated quietly and fell silent.

  Keefe knew the second she recanted without having to see her drop her hand back to her side and lower her foot to the floor. He felt the energy in the room ramp back like the ebbing of the tide. He lifted his head, stood, wrapped his arms around Meadow’s shoulders and faced his son. “Maybe it would be better if we—”

  “No, Dad,” Killian sighed resignedly and looked away from the two of them. “I’ll…I’ll go someplace. For the night. I need…”

  Killian needed to get some distance between himself and the two of them and it was written so plainly on his face he didn’t need to say the words. He walked out and they heard him enter his room, open a drawer, throw a few things into a duffle bag and walk out through the garage. The last thing they heard was the quiet rumble of the automatic garage door opener and Killian’s beefy slider pulling away.

  Chapter Five

  Keefe lay stretched out on his back. Meadow lay next to him, her head on his shoulder and he was brushing his fingers over her disheveled, dark blonde hair. His eyes focused on nothing in the predawn light. Meadow shifted lightly and her round, soft breast pressed into his ribs, comfortable and familiar and right. He felt her breath across his chest.

  He knew she was awake too. Killian had left them hours ago. They hadn’t slept well, had barely slept at all. Keefe only knew he hated the rift his choices had created between him and his son. He also knew he was still holding Meadow, that she was still in his bed, still in his arms with his scent running through her veins, and hers running through his.

  It was the cruelest irony of all that a man could be so content and so at a loss at the same time.

  “Thank you.”

  Meadow’s quiet voice in the near-darkness made Keefe smile. After so many years, it felt good not to be alone. He pressed his lips against her forehead. “For what?”

  “For stopping me. I love Killian. He’s my friend but I was so…furious and I couldn’t hold it back.” She exhaled dismissively. “Some Alpha I turned out to be. Only the worst ones can’t control their passions.”

  “But you did control it, Meadow. In the end.”

  “Not without your help.”

  “Maybe,” he acknowledged easily. “Maybe all I did was give you a little…push. In the right direction. It’s what an Alpha does.” Keefe stroked Meadow’s delicate jaw and tipped her mouth up to his. “For those he takes responsibility for.” He kissed her, slow and deep and gentle, recapturing her taste on his tongue. Slipping his hand over her breast, he held it tenderly then leaned back and sighed. “But now, now I need to find my son and have a talk with him.”

  Meadow lifted her head off his shoulder. “I’ll come with—”

  “No, love.” Keefe silenced her with a kiss. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up. He looked back at his lover, so beautifully disheveled in the predawn light. Her pale hair was a glorious halo, spilling over her shoulders and his pillow. One slender arm held the sheets over the firm mounds of her breasts as she levered herself up onto her elbow. He smiled down at her and touched her cheek. “Right now, I think your presence would only confuse Killian more. Like it did last night,” he added gently. Meadow’s head flopped back down on the pillow. Her arm fell across her forehead as she nodded in grudging agreement.

  He didn’t stop her from padding into his en suite behind him, from stepping into the shower with him and reaching for a bar of soap and smoothing it across his back and shoulders. She washed away the smears of blood on the back of his neck. Meadow turned, lifted her hair and Keefe washed away the evidence of his harsh claiming from her body as well, then kissed the shallow puncture marks and finished washing her back.

  A little while later, Meadow stood on the front stoop of his house, barefoot, with her wet hair brushed neatly down her back. She wore one of his bathrobes. It was big enough to cover her twice over, but instead of being dwarfed by it, she looked composed and resolute as she lifted her hand and waved briefly as he backed his slider out of the garage and drove away.

  “Killian,” Keefe’s voice was low and gentle as he sat down on the edge of the bed in his assistant’s guest room. He looked back at the doorway where Jenny was hovering. A long sweater was wrapped tight around her plump body and her graying hair was rumpled. Worrying her lower lip with her teeth, she looked down at the two of them with unguarded anxiety and affection.

  Keefe hadn’t had to search for his son. He knew where he’d go. He nodded reassuringly and Jenny disappeared down the hallway.

  Killian sighed resignedly and rolled over. He hadn’t been sleeping. He sat up beside his father, scratched his shoulder restlessly and waited.

  “Why’d you bring her to me?” Keefe asked, his eyes traveling over Killian, betraying his inner turmoil as he looked at his son’s tousled, too long, dark brown hair—so like his own.

  “I…I don’t know what you mean.”

  Keefe sighed and looked around the room at the thoughtfully chosen but slightly impersonal decorations, the quilted coverlet that was a little too feminine, visible now that the rising sun was peeking around the drawn curtains. Jenny’s house always smelled like lavender and cooking with a hint of those cigars she couldn’t get her husband to quit sneaking in the bathroom.

  “Killian, you are a lot of things but stupid isn’t one of them.” Keefe raised his hand in a violent motion, then slowly lowered it to his side. “You brought Meadow to me, as sure as we’re sitting here.” Keefe hadn’t meant to lose his temper but maybe it was the most expedient way of getting through to his son. “You know I need a Mate, even more than you do because of my age. There aren’t as many single women around me now as there were when I was your age,” Keefe admitted, and raked his long fingers through his dark hair. “You’re not ignorant of Eupanorian physiology. You’d know I’d find a woman like Meadow irresistible, especially when you made it so clear that your relationship with her was ending.”

  Keefe stood and paced the room restlessly. “I hate that I came inside a woman you’d had less than twenty-four hours ago. You had to know how that would mess with my head.” Keefe stood still and faced his son. “Just like it messed with yours. Why did you bring her to me?” Keefe bit out. Repeating, almost word for word, Meadow’s accusation.

  “B-because you need her. More than I do,” Killian admitted flatly and laid his head in his hands. “I just didn’t know how embarrassing my reactions to you claiming her would be,” he admitted and blushed furiously. “You’re one of the strongest men I’ve ever met, Dad. I know you loved Mom. I know it. But I also know she wasn’t nearly as strong as you. She was good enough, but just barely.”

  Killian balked when anger colored his father’s face, but his shoulders went down when, after a moment, Keefe nodded grudgingly.

  “I figured…I knew that’s why you never took another Mate. You didn’t think there was a woman out there who was strong like you. And you
need a Mate, Dad. You and the Pack. You need one because I’ll never be the man you are, and because of that, I’ll fail if you hand over control of Rand Mining Concilium to me some day. Hell, I’m not sure I even like the silver industry.”

  Keefe’s eyes widened and he sat back down beside his son, his backside hitting the mattress hard.

  “This isn’t just because of last night, but I’ve been thinking about changing my major to Art History,” Killian pressed without giving his father a chance to interrupt. His voice rose in intensity and enthusiasm. “Maybe manage the company’s art collection. Maybe study silversmithing more, improve my own skills.” Killian smiled ruefully. “That’s the last thing you want to hear from me—that your one and only child isn’t exactly revved up about taking over the business from you. That you’ll have to leave it to business associates or sell it to strangers.” Killian pulled his shoulders back deliberately. “I’m not you, Dad. I never will be. But I can live with what I am if you can.”

  Keefe sighed, low and quiet and long then cupped his son’s neck in his hand and pulled his head to his. “You’re wrong, Killian,” he said resignedly. “That’s not the last thing I want to hear from you. The last thing I want to hear from you is you’re going to join a celibates’ colony in the mountains somewhere and never give me grandkids.”

  “Okay, Dad,” Killian replied with a quirky grin. “I promise to sacrifice the celibate dream for you. But only ’cause it’s you.”

  Meadow heard the low, beefy rumble of Keefe’s slider and stepped out on the front porch. She hadn’t felt right waiting in Keefe’s house naked in case Killian returned, so she’d dressed in a simple, tailored, cream linen dress than reached mid-thigh. Her small, beaded sandals slapped the cobblestones as she jogged across the drive. Keefe offered her a reassuring smile when he climbed out of his slider.