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Chapter4 Attraction

Five years later

"Alright," she tossed her hair back and walked to the ice bucket to pop the champagne cork. She saw Dorian inhale as she drew closer, and Gwyn's eyes dropped to half-mast responding to the pheromones that she had attempted to disguise. She poured the champagne into the glasses on the table and gave one to each of them, leaving the table's surface clear.

She placed her palms on the table and lifted slowly until her legs wrapped around the pole, letting them appreciate the core strength that such a move required. She climbed the pole before beginning her routine. She picked one from several weeks before so that the moves were not repetitious of the routine that she had just performed and collected the cash shuffling the notes into a pleasantly thick stack as she set her feet back to the ground.

"I believe, considering what we have paid, we're entitled to more of your company," Gwyn observed. "A dance and an hour of your time, was what we were told."

She sighed. They had given her just over two grand. "What do you want, Gwyn?" She asked him, as she tucked the bills into her bra. "Why me? There are other women here… less risky women."

"We came here for you," Dorian answered. "To… talk to you, Harper."

"What is it that you have to say, then?" She demanded, resting her hip against the tabletop. "Oh, give me that," she reached out for the half empty champagne glass that Gwyn held and, when he surrendered it, tossed back the contents before refilling it for him.

Dorian, silently, offered his glass. She accepted it and drank what remained before refilling for him.

"We are back," Dorian spoke softly. "To help."

She laughed, shocked by the idea. "How?" She wondered, shaking her head on her laughter. "How exactly do you help the damned? Go back to where-ever it was that you have been. Go back," she dropped her voice to barely a breath knowing that with werewolf keen hearing they would hear her. "To where you were safe. Live free. Please."

"It is not enough," Dorian held her eyes. "We need to help our pack."

"They haven't been yours for a long time," the conversation was getting dangerous she thought. Although she was fairly sure that the booths weren't mic"ed, it did not mean that the men outside the booth weren't law enforcement in disguise with surveillance equipment on them. "You need to be more careful," she reprimanded Dorian. "You don't know…"

He laid his mobile phone onto the table, and she saw that a program was running on it, currently showing green. "We are clear," he told her. "We have learned how to be careful, Harper. Something that it appears, from your current place of employment, we don't have in common."

"The money is good," she told him defensively.

"What else do you sell?" He asked with the hint of a sneer. "A dance… A lap dance… a lap," he arched his brows, 'dance?"

"F-k you," she said between her teeth. "You gave up the right to judge me Dorian Hemming when you rejected the mate bond between us."

She saw the back-light of his wolf shine in Dorian's eyes as he reacted, his indrawn breath harsh and she turned away from him and triggered her music, the booth beginning to play her most popular song. She spread her legs before Gwyn and bent over to touch her toes, rising slowly, dragging her hands up her legs.

She heard him groan.

She carved a figure eight with her hips as she moved closed, bending over so that her breasts were on his face level and shimmying, before stepping between his parted legs and pivoting so that when she shimmied down, her arse rested against his c-ck for a moment, before she slid past, her outstretched leg stroking an arc across the floor before she rose and turned.

She placed a knee to either side of his hips and lowered her body in a snake-like movement until his c-ck pressed against the crutch of her panties, and she twitched her hips as she stroked her hands up her body and fisted them into her hair, grinding his c-ck between them.

"F-k," Gwyn's head fell back against the head-rest and his eyes were a glimmer trapped between dark lashes. She was not surprised that the fabric between them was dampened by his pre-come, between her pheromones, the mate bond, and the contact of their bodies, it was a wonder, she thought, that they were just dry-humping and not going for it in the bare.

He felt f-king perfect against her, she thought, and smelt wonderful, his aftershave holding a twist of forest moss and exotic spice. His body was hard, fit, and packed with muscle, and his c-ck would be impressive, she thought, freed from the fabric that tented over and restrained it.

She was aware that Dorian had risen to his feet, and, as she braced her hands against Gwynn's chest, she was expecting to be pulled from him. However, Dorian did the opposite, caging her body against Gwyn's pressing her chest against his. Dorian stepped between Gwyn's legs without any hesitancy or embarrassment, and slid his body against Harper's back, so that as she ground her hips against Gwyn, her arse pressed against Dorian's c-ck.

Dorian curved over her, scooping her hair to the side so that he could kiss the curve of her neck to her shoulders as his hands stroked up from her hips to her breasts, caressing just the outer edge before retreating back down to grasp her hips hard and thrust his c-ck against her arse with a groan, pushing her into Gwyn, whose moan was on the edge of orgasm.

"Oh f-k," Gwyn said through his teeth, and then sobbed in his breath, and Harper felt the throb and wet spread of his seed through the fabric that parted them. "Oh, f-k," he moaned. "I've just f-king come in my pants like a teenager, Dorian."

"Hmm," Dorian lifted Harper as if she weighed nothing, setting her back down onto Gwyn's lap, before stepping in, pushing her back against the other alpha as his lips found hers. He thrusted his c-ck against her, using Gwyn's body to hold her stationary and taking his pleasure of her.

She felt the orgasm rising with surprise, and her eyes met Dorian's.

"Yes," he growled at her, more werewolf than man in his passion. "Come for me, little Harper."

And she did, the pleasure washing over her, aware that Gwyn's lips were on her shoulder and his hands stroked up her waist, and that Dorian pressed hard against her, as if seeking to pierce the cloth that separated them, and saw his eyes lose focus as he came, his forehead slowly lowering to rest against hers.

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