Memphis Heat 1 Stakeout Read online

  Memphis Heat 1: Stakeout

  Marteeka Karland and Shelby Morgen

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright ©2012 Marteeka Karland and Shelby Morgen

  BIN: 06040-01938

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  Publisher:

  Changeling Press LLC

  315 N. Centre St.

  Martinsburg, WV 25404

  www.ChangelingPress.com

  Editor: Katriena Knights

  Cover Artist: Marteeka Karland

  Table Of Contents

  Memphis Heat 1: Stakeout

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Marteeka Karland

  Adult Sexual Content

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  Memphis Heat 1: Stakeout

  Marteeka Karland and Shelby Morgen

  Memphis, Tennessee. One of the top ten poorest big cities in the U.S. Where there’s poverty, there’s crime. The Russian mob’s moving in. And where there are criminals, there are cops. Ours just happens to be a werewolf.

  Jarod took a bullet to the chest. But he didn’t die. And since he woke up, nothing’s been the same. Because while he was lying there bleeding out, he was bitten. By a werewolf. And that thing about silver bullets? Myth. Shoot anything in the mouth, spill its brains all over the sidewalk, and it dies.

  So Jarod’s got no pack, and his bite didn’t come with instructions. What he doesn’t know about being a werewolf would fill a book. He can smell his partner’s sexual attraction -- she might as well be in heat. But if he lets Belle have what she wants, will she wake up with a strong desire for raw meat? Not knowing means trying to talk her out of the sex she’s determined to have with him because he hasn’t told her he has a furry side.

  Yeah. Two partners who always have each other’s backs and can share anything -- and everything -- but the one thing he needs to share the most.

  Chapter 1

  “You’re a real asshole, you know that, don’t you?”

  “Yes, dear,” Jarod answered with a suppressed chuckle in his tone.

  She was going to smack him any moment now. “That. That right there. That’s the reason you’re paying alimony to two ex-wives. Fuck you and your yes, dear. I’ve had shorter dry spells between engagements. I. Need. To. Fuck. Now!”

  “You’re just bored.”

  Belle squirmed in her chair, practically grinding her pussy against the worn upholstery. “No shit. What gave it away?”

  “Told you not to come. ADD and stakeouts don’t go well together.”

  She pointed the butt of her service revolver at him, resisting the urge to throw it. “Somebody has to watch your back. Besides. You used to be better at keeping me distracted.”

  A sideways grin quirked his face. “We used to have… interesting… ways of keeping ourselves entertained, didn’t we? Not exactly professional, but…”

  “Used to being the operative phrase here. What the hell is wrong with you, anyway?”

  “Wrong with me? I got shot, remember?”

  As if she could forget. “Yeah. And by all reports you should have died. But you didn’t. And ever since you’ve been treating me like…”

  “I’m trying to act like a professional. I’ve been treating you like a cop. Like my partner.”

  He attempted to look offended at that. Nearly pulled it off. Professional, my ass. “We were a hell of a lot more than just partners, Jarod. You can’t deny that.”

  “Yeah, well, maybe if I’d been acting a little more like a cop and a lot less like your lover, we wouldn’t have been in a position where you could have gotten killed.” The bitterness in his tone surprised her.

  She kept her voice low and steady, bottling up the frustrated anger that threatened to overwhelm her. “I wasn’t the one who got shot, Jarod.”

  “Could have. Could have been you first up that alley, just as easy as me. And it would have been my fault.”

  This argument was getting them nowhere. Damn it, she was horny as hell and he was right there! “Shut up and fuck me --” she reached for her police baton, “-- or I’ll do it myself.”

  Binoculars focused on the dilapidated warehouse across the street, he didn’t even glance her way. “Go ahead.”

  Did he think she wouldn’t? Staring at Jarod’s lovely backside, Belle unzipped her jeans and shimmied them down her hips enough to give herself access to her pussy lips.

  It was his own fault. He was tall, handsome, built and reasonably single, if you didn’t count the excess baggage, but she still might have resisted -- if he didn’t smell like liquid sex poured into a cop suit. She wanted to reach over, undo his belt, and suck his cock right down to the root. Then they’d see how professional he could be. Fuckhead.

  With that thought Belle kicked the jeans the rest of the way off and switched the baton around so the handle lined up with her pussy. With one thrust she impaled herself right down to the crossbar.

  Fucker. If he didn’t get off on that, he was gay.

  “Shit, Belle! What the hell are you doing?”

  “We’re undercover. Normal people do not sit in sleazy, run-down motels next to vacant buildings for hours at a time and stare at locked doors. Only reason to be here is to fuck.”

  As if he’d suddenly gotten into the spirit of things, Jarod reached out and grabbed her shoulders, throwing her against the window. His mouth found the juncture of her neck and shoulder, and he bit down with more aggression than she was used to from him, but she was so horny, she didn’t give a shit.

  He yanked her head back, and his mouth found hers in a jaw-breaking kiss before he broke away, pushing her back. “You wanna play? Fine. Your turn to watch the Russians.” He pulled her closer and spun her around. She braced her hands on the dirty plate glass window.

  Yeah. That was romantic. Would have totally killed the mood, except his other hand replaced hers on the 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 s
ensitized 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. Now… now he was something more. Not a man. Not a wolf. He stood upright on two legs, his cock swollen and aching, reaching for Belle’s cunt. But he had fur. And a… a muzzle. And weird-ass ears, like a friggin bat.

  And Belle… Belle was raging at him, and his brain was so abuzz he could barely make out her words. “… when you were shot? And you never told me? You don’t think something like that’s -- oh -- just a little important? Something maybe your partner ought to know? Three months. Three fucking months… make that non-fucking months.”

  His vision seemed to tunnel, to focus entirely on Belle. The roar in his head became worse, finally drowning out her words. All he could think about was her. Belle. He needed her like he needed air to breathe, only worse. White-hot lightning sizzled through him, threatening to burn him alive from the inside out if he didn’t get a handle on whatever was happening to him.

  His cock seemed to have a life of its own, jumping and throbbing in time to his heartbeat. The scent of her arousal was a tangy, citrusy spice clinging to his skin… err… fur… so that he’d never be rid of it. Not that he wanted to. In fact, he wanted to bury his nose in that creamy cunt and breathe her into his lungs so he’d always be able to find her, no matter how far she ran from him.

  Madness. This was total madness. She would run. She had to. He was a monster, an abomination. Proof God had given up on the world. He couldn’t hold her forever. He couldn’t even hold her for now. But he knew he wasn’t man enough to give her up, no matter how much he needed to, not even for her own sake. Something inside him refused to even consider the thought. He’d needed her before he’d been bitten, but this… this attraction, this need to possess her, wasn’t natural.

  But what if…

  He didn’t want to even think the words, but now he had no choice. What if even this limited contact, the few stolen moments when he’d buried his cock balls-deep in her cunt, before he’d managed to pull away, what if… What if he’d turned her, if he’d ruined her life the way that bastard had ruined his before Jarod had shot him dead…

  Then he’d have a partner. A real partner.

  Selfish bastard!

  He should have eaten a bullet the moment he knew what he’d become. Werewolves couldn’t be allowed to roam the city, infecting others with their foul disease. Condition. Whatever the fuck it was. He’d known then what he needed to do. But he couldn’t do it. Not till he made sure there weren’t any more. Not until he was sure they wouldn’t come after his partner. He had to protect Belle. Even if that meant protecting her from himself.

  “Ouch!” The sting of Belle’s slap pulled him out of his internal argument.

  “So you can speak. Are you listening to me? Have you heard anything I’ve said? What the fuck were you thinking, trying to hide a thing like this from me!”

  His cock ached for her with a madness that threatened to break him. “No choice. Can’t -- no control. Might hurt you.” His voice was gruff, husky, nearly more growl than human. “Besides. You’d have locked me up.”

  She barked a short laugh that sounded more than a little desperate. “I still might.”

  They stood there, staring at one another, the stakeout all but forgotten. Finally, Belle moved. She planted her hands on his chest and shoved him back onto the ancient excuse for a bed. “You’re bigger than I remembered.” She licked her lips. “Everything still work the same?”

  She couldn’t… Not even Belle… But she was reaching for his wallet, for the condom he’d always kept there for emergencies. He swallowed hard. “No idea.”

  The thin latex stretched in protest, but it didn’t break. “Then I guess we’re going to find out.” She snapped her cuffs around his thick wrist, passing them around the bedpost, then held out her hand for the other arm. “Just the way we’ve always done things. Together.”

  She’d leave him there. Cuffed and naked. Jarod bet the local bureau had cells just for guys like him.

  This was Belle… He wanted to trust her. He did trust her, damn it. He did. Almost. She was everything he wanted. Everything he needed. He’d shared his secret with her, intentionally or not, and she was still here. He wasn’t alone. Closing his eyes, Jarod put his fate in her hands.

  And howled like the beast he was when she straddled him to sink down over his swollen, aching cock.

  “Fuck, you’re big. I’m not sure you’re gonna fit.”

  “You’re so tight!” he managed, bucking up into her, aching to drive his cock home.

  “And whose fault is that?” She eased herself down, pulling back, and trying again. “If you weren’t such an idiot, we could have figured this out months ago.”

  “Yeah, well…”

  Up. Down. Deeper. “Admit it.”

  “Admit what?”

  She raised her h
ips, then sank back down, harder this time, her pussy juices easing the way, her heat wrapping around him nearly to the balls. “That you shoulda told me, you moron.”

  Up. Down. Hot, wet friction covering him in need stronger than anything he’d ever felt before. “If I’d thought…” The urge to snap the cuffs and take her, really take her, was nearly more than he could suppress.

  Thighs like steel gripped his hips, riding him now. Her pussy held him like a vise before letting go, only for her to thrust down again. Liquid fire consumed him as her tits bounced with every stroke, adding to his torment. “Men don’t think,” she breathed.

  “Pinch your tits for me.”

  “Admit it.”

  It. It was so many things. “I admit it. I’m a guy.”

  Laughing, she grabbed her thick, puffy nipples and twisted, harder than he ever would have, in any form. Holy fuck, that was hot. She must have thought so too because she leaned forward, grinding her clit into the thick, coarse hair at his crotch, squirming against him with every stroke. He howled, speech no longer possible. Unable to do anything else, he bucked up against her, trying desperately to give her what she wanted. What they both needed.

  I am an idiot, he managed, out loud or not, he wasn’t sure. “Need you. Need this. Need… you.”

  “You’ve got me,” Belle gasped, head thrown back, cunt spasming around him. “You’ve got me, baby. I’ve got your back, and your cock. Mine.” She looked down again, a frown of warning on her face. “Don’t break the bed.”

  He realized he was trying, and might succeed at any moment. The wolf in him needed to dominate. To control. “Mine,” he agreed. His cock was swelling, so thick and hard now he was sure he’d hurt her. “Mine!” he screamed. And he came, but not all in a rush -- no -- in slow, searing jets that didn’t stop, just went on, and on, and on…