George's Turn [Brac Pack 8] by Lynn Hagen Page A

Maverick chuckled as he pulled Cecil from the ground. “Met your match.”
    “Nah, I let him win.” Cecil pulled the straps off, holding his arms up for Maverick to pick him up. Maverick bent down, pulling his mate into his arms. “Come on, I’ll let you win.”
    “What are we playing?”
    Maverick laughed evilly. “You’ll see.” He carried his mate off as the crowd broke up, Micah swearing to Oliver that something ached on him and that his mate needed to give him mouth to cock.
    Kota walked into the house with his hands held in the air, Blair pointing his pop gun at his back.
    George shook his head and laughed as he watched the last of them enter the kitchen.
    “Ready, Mr. Winner?”
    George turned, seeing Tank standing there looking hesitant. His curiosity getting to him, he followed. What would make his mate look so uncertain?
    “I want to show you something.” Tank pulled him past the tree George’s Turn
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    line, pulling his clothes off once they were out of sight of the back door.
    “I told you I’ve already seen it, gorgeous, too.” He watched as Tank revealed all his glorious skin. “We’re screwing in the woods?” Tank wiggled his brows. “After.” Taking a deep breath, he added,
    “Now don’t be afraid.”
    Nodding, George watched as his mate transformed into a wolf.
    Good lord, the wolf was the size of a pony! He wasn’t going to lie to himself. He was a bit frightened. His mate was huge.
    Deciding he could handle this, George ran his hand over Tank’s wolf form. “Show off.”
    Bowing down, Tank lifted his head up to his mate. “Are you serious? You want me to ride you?”
    The wolf nodded.
    “I didn’t bring a saddle.” George teased but slid onto the large wolf’s back. “No reins.”
    Tank huffed then stood.
    “Don’t go trying to buck me off.”
    Tank trotted along, carrying them deeper into the woods. George leaned his head back as he fisted Tank’s scruff. The night was clear, and stars were out everywhere. This may not be the open range, but it was peaceful nonetheless. He could hear crickets and see small animals scurrying away.
    He thought about Wyoming and the warm nights he’d slept under the stars, wondering how his life was going to turn out. Nothing close to this had entered his mind. He was a mate to a were-creature, and he was going to live one thousand years. That was a lot to take in, along with the fact that he now had vampire traits in him.
    A far cry from Wyoming indeed. He shifted slightly as Tank walked over a fallen log, being careful not to unbalance his load.
    George ran his right hand over Tank’s head, scratching behind his ear as he looked up at the stars. “It’s a beautiful night, Tank.” Tank stopped as George watched the deer sniff the air then take 88
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    off running.
    “Bully.” He chuckled.
    Tank pulled his muzzle back. George knew his mate was smiling.
    They arrived at a small clearing, Tank lowering himself. Sliding off, George stretched his legs.
    Tank shifted back, standing there as naked as the day he was born, and George drooled over the sculpted lines and muscles flexing as Tank reached out to him.
    “You like it?” Tank asked as he pulled George down.
    “Still think you need a saddle.” He grinned.
    Tank growled, pulling George on top of him as he lay on the ground. “Ride me.”
    “Ain’t it your turn?”
    Tank shrugged. “No clothes. I left my scorecard in my pants.” Rolling his eyes, George sighed, “I guess so.” His mate reached up, tickling him on his ribs. George fell over laughing, trying his best to scoot away. “Uncle!” he cried.
    “Get undressed.”
    “Bossy.” George stuck his tongue out but shed his clothes.
    “Damn, you are one delicious-looking man.” Tank patted his belly, indicating George to sit on him.
    George stepped over Tank but didn’t lower himself. Instead, he hitched his hips from side to side, his heavy and erect cock bobbing around. “You want some of this?”
    “You